A/N: Went a little in depth about some drugs in this chapter, uhhh, don't do drugz kidz.
December 31, 2020
New Years Eve
2:00 PM
"Seriously Marco, thank you so much for doing this."
"Don't thank me!" The freckled boy laughed, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Thank my parents for going away."
Jean groaned loudly, irritated by his friends attempt to brush off Sasha's gratitude. He threw an arm loosely around Marco's shoulders, pulling his neck down into his chest. "Just say no problem- stop trying to act like a goddamn angel." His other hand loosely ruffled Marcos brown hair. He mimicked him then, repeating in a shrill voice, "Thank my parents for going away."
"Get off me!" Marco laughed, with a smile etched on his face. He shook his head until Jean released him. Then looked between you, Connie and Sasha. "I'm glad you guys could be here. I know some of us live kinda far apart."
"It's pronounced 'you're welcome'."
Marco rolled his eyes at Jean, yet his smile was still there.
"Man, as soon as you texted us 'empty house' for winter break I was packing my shit." Connie threw both hands behind his head. "I don't care how far I had to drive, I'm not leaving you alone."
"You gonna cuddle him all night or something?"
"Jean!"
Jean put his hands up in defense, "What? I'm just making sure Connie didn't drive all this way to confess his feelings. I want a drama free weekend this year." Jean pestered the two boys, usual antics between them.
"I'm not gay."
"Connies not my type."
The two boys both responded, with Connie looking appalled and Marco looking right at Jean. That wide smile he had on his face now replaced with a scowl.
You gulped, noticing the few seconds of silence that followed. Jean's comment feeling anything but playful and that look Marco was giving Jean, you had never seem him make that face before. With how close the two were, you didn't think it was even possible for Marco to look at Jean like that. You wondered what happened last year, what drama ensued between the friends.
Sasha cleared her throat, rolling her suitcase in front of her body.
The noise caused your new friends to settle. Connie closed his mouth and took a step away from the taller two, his body inches away from touching your own now. Jean, on the other hand, sucked in a huff of air and now with a faraway expression on his face he stared out the window.
Marco dropped his glare, his eyes scanned Sasha's bag then moved onto your own much smaller one. A grey duffle with only a few days worth of clothes inside. "So how long are you two planning on staying?"
"Whenever Sasha want's to go back." You nodded over at the brunette who was nodding along to what you were saying.
"I'm her ride." She said with a smile, although it felt forced as her body was still tense.
Marco folded his arms across his chest as he continued to examine the bags. Once again, he surveyed your small duffle, and looking at you with an eyebrow raised he spoke, "It's either someone under-packed-" he then looked to Sashas massive suitcase, "-or over-packed."
"Always be prepared." Sasha's hand quickly went up in a salute. "Scouts honor, or some shit."
The two boys playfully scoffed at her actions. "Well if you need any clothes, since you packed light, please just ask." Marco offered you.
"Yeah, same - my suitcase is open." Connie piped up, reaching down and yanking the duffle out of your hands. "Fuck this is light!" He exclaimed lifting it up to his face, and then down. He repeated his actions twice.
You face turned red, embarrassed that they were picking on you - even though you knew it was just a fun poke. "I packed the essentials." You mumbled, glancing at Jean again - who was still looking outside the window. You tried to read his face, but found yourself ogling it for a moment more than understanding. Your eyes traced down his long face, taking in the blank look in his amber eyes, the straightness of his nose, how tight his lips were on his face and the way it seemed like he was barley breathing as he stood amongst the three of you.
"Well if you need anything, a sweatshirt, don't hesitate to come to me first." Connie dropped your bag on the ground, it landed with a thud. He then did his usual flirting with you, his long arms wrapped around your shoulders, his head tapped your own lightly and with a low tone he let you know, "I'd love to see you in my clothes."
You were used to this by now though, no longer blushing at his antics. "In your dreams."
Connie clicked his tongue. "Oh trust me, you're already there."
That comment made Jean snap out of his trance, his eyes went to Marco, then Connie, and finally you. You held it for a moment, trying to read his expression. But once again, you failed. With another huff he went back to staring out the window.
It felt like again, he was avoiding you. Which was quite typical of Jean to do. Not too long ago the man used to flee the room if you were inside, or make up wild excuses to get out of a situation if he knew you were there. At least now he didn't run, however he remained distant.
Part of thought he was getting better, a big part hoped that he finally was getting over whatever his issue with you was. Truly, the only thing you did to the man was make him cum - surely he couldn't hate you for that. A reason why you thought he was changing, allowing you to exist within his close circle, was because of your relationship with Marco.
Marco and you, ever since that weekend that Jean went home, had gotten close. Right now at Trost your top five friends were; Sasha, Connie, Marco, Eren and Mikasa. You didn't expect a relationship with the freckled boy. Yet you found yourself hanging out with him one on one, more and more.
Marco was sweet, charming, and always down to smoke a bowl.
You felt out of place with being so close to the three of them, and being practically strangers with Jean. It was annoying too. Jean was so annoying about it all. Sometimes, when the five of you were together and you were under the influence of something - you really had to hold yourself back from calling him out on his bullshit.
You liked when he talked to you. You found Jean Kirstein to be funny, charismatic, almost charming in a way. Not to mention you still thought he was attractive, he did fit every ticker on the check list of men that are your type. But none of those positive traits overrode the simple fact that Jean Kirstein was a cocky asshole, through and through. And for some reason he hated you.
Back when you transferred Sasha and Connie said that you and him would get along, and it was only natural that you did. The two knew from that first day that you and him would be friends, the dynamic duo being surprisingly good at reading people. When Jean let down his walls, those few times he didn't run away, you cherished those interactions because albeit - they were good.
If only you hadn't fucked him, maybe if you hadn't done that you and him could be friends. There was no point in regretting things of the past, though. You can't change what you've already done. When you wrapped you head around it all, really thought hard about the whole situation a part of you understood.
You treated your own hook-ups the same way, by flat out ignoring them.
But what you didn't understand is why in this case it couldn't be situational. Yeah maybe if you were a random girl, the whole ignoring thing would be the right move. But Jean was a part of this group that you had settled into. It wasn't like you could avoid him, he was everywhere all the damn time. He was at the dining hall, he was in the hallways, he was at every party you went to, and icing on the cake- he was always at your dorm.
He was your friends, best friend. How can ignore that?
It was irritating beyond belief. All you wanted was for him to be normal around you, you didn't have to be besties. But when you thought hard about it, what could normal even be for the two of you?
"Stop." Sasha commanded her friend, knowing his silly flirting never got him anywhere.
"I know, I know - we've established I'm not her type." Connie let go of you to run a hand through his hair, "Although I do vaguely recall you saying it was due to my lack of hair." He wiggled his eyebrows at you. "I am growing it in."
"Connie." Sasha warned.
"Connie." Connie himself, mimicked back.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Dude."
"Dude."
"Stop copying me!" She threw her hands up in the air, then looked to Marco and Jean. "Tell him to stop!" Marco did nothing, Jean still was looking away.
"I will not." Connie, instead of mimicking, spoke different words to Sasha.
"You're being annoying"
"No, you're annoying me."
"Grow up."
"No. You-"
"-Connie." Jean cut him off, finally entering the conversation. "You can't just repeat the same thing when you don't know what give back." He ran his thumbs over his temples. "You sound like a child."
"You sou-" Connie stopped himself. "Never-mind."
Jean rolled his eyes, while the rest of you smiled at his defeat. Now, finally out of whatever trance he was in he was ready to participate in life. "We should smoke."
"We should." Marco looked around at you all, hoping for a unanimous agreement on Jean's statement.
"Hell yeah! You have your bong here right?" Sasha, agreeing for all, perked up. Excited about using Marcos prized possession.
"Of course I do, Sash." Marco shot her a wink. "Let's go upstairs to my room, that's where my shit is."
Marco's bedroom was a typical male bedroom. The blue comforter, the dark walls with only a few band posters on them; all alternative and indie rock bands. Atop his desk, which was a dark wooden piece of furniture, there was a sight to behold, though. On top of that desk was the most amount of drugs you had ever seen in your life. Which was not typical of a room at all.
You had known that Marco liked drugs. You had known that Marco did drugs. You had even gone so far as to do said drugs with him. But you didn't expect this.
"Broooo, you could get like, fuckin' arrested for this shit!" Connie picked up a dime bag from the desk. He brought it up close to his face, inspecting the insides. He had placed it just under his nose when Jean slapped the back of his head.
"Don't sniff that, it's a plastic bag you fucking dumbass."
"I wasn't going to sniff it! Chill." Connie pulled the baggie away from his face, dangling it forward right in front of Jean's eyes. "It's like Christmas Day in a bag, get it a white Christmas."
Marco looked to Jean, catching his attention with an eye roll; both of them choosing not to respond to the stupidity.
However, Sasha did, "My cousins used to tell ghost stories on Christmas Eve. They said that if Santa stole enough children from the naughty list then we would have a white Christmas. You know, since he ground up their bones after he ate the bad kids."
You all blinked at her.
"What the fuck is wrong with you." Jean finally ended up stating. "The both of you." He looked between the two.
"Nothing! I was just telling you a fun Christmas story."
Fun?
"You know, in my family we-"
Before Connie could go any further, an unamused Jean cupped his hand and slapped the back of Connie's head.
"Ow!" Connie threw the bag back on the desk now, his hand going up to rub the spot of impact. "That was mean."
You couldn't help but mutter out, "It was deserved."
"Exactly."
In that moment, you realized that for the first time - Jean had agreed with you.
Both you and him turned to one another, your mouth open in shock. But he looked away just as quick as you caught your eye. Always looking away.
"You guys agreed on something." A slow laugh came from Marco as he eyed up both you and Jean.
Of course he had to point it out. You and Jean never agreed. You and Jean barely ever talked. This was a first.
Marco's comment was embarrassing. And the two of you, like toddlers fighting, turned opposite one another. You stared out the window, and he stared at Sasha- the both of you not saying anything in response to Marco. Your actions acknowledged his words enough.
When Marco cleared his throat was when you looked back at him. The bong in his hands was extended out in your direction. "You get the first rip my friend."
Sasha flopped down onto his bed, "Let's make a toast!" She suggested.
You turned to her, confused. "We don't have drinks?"
"A bong toast!" She went on, explaining what kind of toast was to happen.
"That's not a real thing." Jean muttered.
"Well, it is now." She took a hand off of her face, waving it your direction. "Go, go- take a hit."
And so you listened to her, a low bubble coming from the bong. You puled for the first rip of a long day.
"To another year of us!"
8:00 PM
You knew you had smoked too much when a couple of hours later you woke up in Marco's bed with a blanket thrown over you. The room void of your friends. You knew you should have cooled it with the hits, but you wanted to match Marco and Jean. Which was a stupid idea considering the fact that you got so high you fell asleep.
You had a wake and bake, midday. And now it was fucking dark out.
You unraveled you body from the blanket, getting out of the bed. Part of you was bothered by the fact that no one woke you up; however if you were that high maybe taking a nap was needed so you could actually enjoy the night.
Marco's room still had a heavy scent of weed, so you did him a solid and opened one of his windows just a crack. You chose one the furthest from the desk.
Curiosity got the best of you and instead of heading downstairs you chose to snoop through Marco's room. Interested in what the hell he had going on up here. It wasn't likely that you would be in his room again alone.
You were most curious about the drugs on his desk. You all knew that Marco was a dealer, it was an unspoken thing of your group. Marco was not one to bring up what he sold, when he sold or where he sold. He always gave your friends drugs if anyone wanted, so asking about it was irrelevant. Your friends would love him regardless of knowing the trades of his little secret.
You hovered above looking down at what was sprawled across the wood.
On it was large glass jars which contained hundreds of green nuggets of weed, scattered across were lighters of every different color and pattern, except of course a white lighter - a stoners superstitions urban myth.
That was the extent of you knowledge of the drugs on the table, though.
There were many more baggies and containers, none of it was labeled. You were scared to touch them to take a closer look, freaked out that if you picked something up your finger prints would be stamped on the bag or pill container for eternity.
So like a weirdo, you bent your head down hovering just over the drugs to try and figure out what they were.
"You sniffing my drugs?" You jumped back, hitting into his desk chair as you turned to the owner of the voice.
"Kind of?" You squeaked out, embarrassed to be caught in this situation.
Marco laughed, shaking his head and coming over to where you stood. He wasn't upset, nor angry about what you were doing. "Glad you woke up by yourself, I was just coming to get you." He was now at you side, looking down at his desk.
"I guess I smoked too much."
"Just a little... Next time don't try and match me and Jean. I know you're a big pothead and all but we're pretty big guys..." His voice trailed off and his hand patted down on your shoulder, holding it there and cupping his fingers around it to give you a squeeze. "You had me worried."
You looked down at his hand, and your stomach fluttered from his concerned tone. You gulped, whispering out a soft apology as you looked up at his face.
He squeezed you again, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you. Then he harshly blinked once, his face scrunched up only to roughly turn away from you and look down at his desk. "So...you looking at my inventory?"
You cringed at his choice of description, of course he referenced the fact that he was indeed a walking pharmacy. "How could I not?"
He laughed. "Which drugs got you confused, the pills or or the powder." He reached down, picking up a baggie of a darker powder and one of the unlabeled pill containers. "Maybe both?"
"Both." You admitted. "I don't know too much about drugs other than weed, I grew up in a small town."
"So did I." Monotone.
You bit your lip. "I know that powder there is cocaine because I remember what it looked like from when we did it." You pointed to a baggie that remained on the table. "The rest I'm not so sure about, I was thinking maybe molly or something but the last time I checked molly was a pill, right?"
"Drugs come in all forms." He put the pills back down on the table, holding the bag up closer to yourself. "Did you know that heroin can be snorted?"
"I did not." Panic overwhelmed your entire body. "Wait, is that heroin?"
"No, fuck no." He shook his head quickly. "I don't touch that shit, ever. I'm just telling you that street drugs come in a lot of forms. This right here." He shook the bag. "This is molly, which I got in a pill form and then crushed up. I find that snorting it gives me a better rush, rather than taking it like a pill."
"So if you crushed that one up, why not crush up the rest of the pills you have?"
Marco's lips twitched, his voice lowering an octave. "Are you actually interested in this stuff?"
Yes.
"Kinda." You didn't wanna admit that it was fascinating beyond belief. "I don't know much about it, so my interest has been piqued."
"Alright." He put the bag down and started to point at the bottles. "I got Adderall, Xanax, Perc's in that one and in the last one, theres some Oxy."
"And have you tried all of these?" More fear. More panic. More interest.
"No." He denied. "I like a good upper, but some of this shit can really fuck you up. I'm not in the mood to overdose and die in the next couple of years." He pointed to one of the pill bottles. "Xanax can destroy your life - i've seen it happen."
The tightening feeling in your chest softened. "Noted." You nodded. "So when did you start dealing?"
"I've been smoking since middle school, and when I got to high school I was surrounded by a couple burn outs that liked pills and shit- they weren't smart so I ended up selling for them since I didn't want them to get caught." He laughed at his confession. "When I got here I just kept on going, I mean who suspects a 4.0 student to be dealing cocaine?"
"Literally no one."
"I know." He smirked, like he was pleased with himself. "Most people that just deal weed only sell it to smoke for free, which I guess I used to do but honestly I get a fucking rush whenever I sell something- and I like that feeling."
You looked up at Marco with an eyebrow raised. "So you're an adrenaline junkie?"
He sounded shocked by your suggestion, but agreed. "I guess I am."
"All these drugs kind of freak me out Marco." You admitted how you felt to him. Just looking at everything he had made you feel uneasy- it was so much.
"They freaked out Jean too at first, but he got over it really fast." Jean...Jean was freaked out too. It was weird to think of Jean getting spooked by the drugs, but he was human just like you.
"I guess I should get over it too." That seemed difficult. It also seemed like thats what he wanted from you. "Accept that it's normal."
"This isn't not normal. It's anything but." Marco's tongue darted out of his mouth, his teeth playing with his lower lip for a moment as he thought about his words. "But you can accept me for who I am, and what I do in my free time. Isn't that what friends do?"
"I guess?" You didn't know the correct answer, or if there even was a correct one to a question like that. "Marco..."
"Yeah?" His breath hitched in his throat at the tone you used to say his name. It was so soft, so gentle. He waited for what you had to say, the boy on his toes.
"You said-" You stopped yourself, not sure if you wanted to open this can of worms. But, you needed to know more. You needed to understand. "You said Jean got over it fast." A part of you was annoyed that Jean accepted Marco for being a drug addict and dealer quickly and still wasn't able to accept you.
Marco waited a long time to reply to your statement. Trying to figure out what he could say without putting himself in an early grave. He settled on, "Jean's a good guy."
Without skipping a beat, you argued back. "He hates me."
"No he doesn't." Marco was very confident in his answer, scoffing it out. "Jean just doesn't know how to talk to girls. Especially you." He added, but regretted the words as soon as they spilled from his mouth.
"What do you mean by that?"
Marco cursed that you still spoke to him soft, warm, calculated. You were trying to get an answer out of him that he didn't want to give. He couldn't give. "You're just...different."
"Different how?" You placed your hands on his desk, standing your ground. Marco's eyes were locked on you. "Please..." You uttered.
Soft. Warm. Calculated. Marco's heart twitched as you begged. As his vital organ failed, so did his mouth. Fumbling out of it, like a toddler, was, "You're pretty."
You blinked, at a total loss for words. You tried to collect your thoughts, but more questions raced inside of you mind.
He took a big step away from you, putting his hands up. "I-" But nothing more came from his lips.
"Jean hates me...because I'm pretty?"
The boy bit his tongue, not wanting to admit that part of his answer was just him calling you pretty - like a child. But what could he say that wouldn't incriminate him as an affiliate to the mystery that is why Jean Kirstein treats you like he does. You couldn't know he knew, Jean made him promise never to tell. "He doesn't hate you." Marco settled on a repeat of words. Words that were true. Words that he could say.
Softly, "I don't believe you." Warmly, "Marco..." Calculated, " ...Are you saying that Jean ignores me because I'm pretty?"
"Not you specifically."
"What does that even mean!?" You laughed out. He was making this worse every time he spoke. He was confusing you so much. First Jean doesn't hate you, second he can't talk to girls? Oh, but it's because you're different - because you're, what, pretty? What does that even mean? What does he mean by not you specifically. That makes no sense at all.
"Sometimes when I'm around you I fumble over my thoughts because you're really nice to look at-" Marco tried again, stopping himself as once again he professed some weird hidden feeling he had for you. Quickly he tacked on, "And that's probably true for him too, or at least i'm assuming." He paused, opened his mouth, closed it, then again rushed out, "He's bad with girls, but even more so bad with you because you're a girl and you're pretty and you're around us all the time. So Jean just, well, he goes blank."
"You don't go blank." Soft, warm, calculated - the words came out. You pointed out a big difference between the two at the moment, wondering if Marco knew.
"Well I didn't-" And then he cut himself off.
Your eyes went wide, nearly popping out of your head. "You didn't what?" You snapped. Marco knew.
But Marco was a smooth talker, he was smart. His whole life he had gotten out of situations by using his words, using his intelligence. Lying. Playing games. When you grow up in a household where your parents scream at you for everything you do wrong, you become perfect within the lies you tell them and you go insane with all the secrets you begin to keep. "Well...maybe I did."
Huh?
His word choice threw you for a loop. Maybe...maybe Marco didn't know.
Then all the memories flooded into Marco's brain, all the things he knew about you because of his best friend and his inability to go after the girl. Marco knew every single detail about what you two did in that bathroom, down to the amount freckles on your body. For some reason, as this flooded to him he began to feel jealous. Envious of his best friend. Marco too thought you were cute from the second he looked at you, but Jean had claimed you first, literally. By their bro code rules, you were Jean's - even if he was too damn awkward to do anything about it.
Marco sat down on his bed, spreading his legs far out, and he looked up at you with a solemn look on his face.
You were confused. So, so confused. What were you even talking about again? Marco...Marco did what? "What did you do?" You ended up squeaking out in your confusion.
Marco laughed to himself. "I-" And he stopped. Purposely.
You sat down next to him on the bed, confused. Beyond confused. Your heart was racing. "You?"
Marco closed his eyes, licking his lips. "You're enamoring."
Out of all the compliments you've been given - that is one that you have never heard come from a man. "Enamoring?"
You no longer were thinking about Jean.
"Yes." He opened his eyes, looking at you. With hooded lids he scanned your face. Seeing if he got himself out of the situation.
"...So you think i'm pretty?"
"I do." He spoke slowly and let silence follow. At least Marco wasn't lying out of the situation, as yes - he too was attracted to you. How could he not be? A light sense of guilt pained his chest as he realized that he just got out of confessing that he knew you and Jean hooked up, by telling you he thought you we're pretty. What a scummy thing to do.
You hit his shoulder. "That's...nice to hear." You mumbled.
Marco looked back at you, reacting in an instinctual way to reach up and place his palm over the spot you just pounded. He dramatically rubbed into his collarbone. Over that scummy feeling, jealousy began to spread.
"Oh c'mon, that couldn't have hurt you." You nervously giggled and playfully nudged him this time around, leaning closer into him. Closer than friends would be.
"I'm delicate."
"Puh-lease." You reached your hand up to hit him on the arm, but Marco caught your wrist. "Ah." Your eyes opened wide, looking down at his hand.
"I-" Marco turned red in the face by his own actions, but chose not to release his grasp. He stared down at his hand his eyes slowly moving up your body.
You could have sworn he started to lean closer too.
Loud footsteps were heard downstairs, the sound of heavy shoes making their way up the stairs. Then the door opened. "Hey-" The footsteps has been Jean. You and Marco quickly pulled away from one another, startled by the sudden intrusion. The tall boy entering the room and staring at his friend, not bothering to look your way. "Everyone's waiting." He sounded bothered.
"Oh right." Marco laughed. "That's why I came up here." He shook his head laughing at himself and stood up from the bed."I came up here to get you for karaoke."
"You have a karaoke machine?"
"Yeah he does." Jean answered for him, taking long strides into the room to stand next to his friend. "Sasha and Connie dug it out of a closet when they heard it was lurking in there."
"Say no more, oh my god." You stood up quickly. Your face brightened up, whatever just happened between you and Marco now a far distant memory. "Is Eren here yet?"
"Unfortunately."
"Bet!" You started to walk over to the door, ready to leave the room. The two boys stayed behind, not following. "You guys coming?" You looked back at them.
"Give us a few." Jean placed his hands on Marco's shoulder. Marco tensed up from the touch.
"Uh." You looked between the two, Jean seemingly annoyed and Marco now looking uneasy. "Okay, guess i'll see you downstairs."
With that you left the room, going down to see the rest of your friends. Not thinking any more about the two boys you left alone upstairs.
"Well, well, well! Look who decided to grace us with her presence!" Connie spotted you first, waving a microphone in your direction like it was a wand. The wires of the mic flapping around wildly. "How was your nap?"
From the looks of it, the rest of your friends had arrived. Armin, Mikasa, Eren, as well as Historia and her friend Ymir that she brought with her, were all standing around. Mikasa, before anyone else, was the first to jump out of her seat and head on over to you.
Eren and Armin shot you a wave from where they stood at the kitchen, the two boys having bottles of beer in their hands.
You rubbed your cheek, "Good I guess...didn't mean to take it." Mikasa threw her arms around you. "Hi Mikasa." You laughed out, hugging the girl back. Your face stuffed in her shoulders, the grip around you quite tight.
"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."
"That's what happens when you live with someone and then suddenly don't." Sasha was quick to humble her, swinging the other mic around. Connies eyes went to the wires of it, and soon he was swinging his own mic back.
They started to fight amongst themselves, having a battle with the corded device.
"Shush." Mikasa hushed the girl, finally releasing you. "I'm just happy to see you."
"Lemme in." Historia bumped the dark haired girl, now taking the spot in front of you. "I don't get to live with her so it actually feels like forever." You gave the girl a hug.
"How's your break been so far?" Mikasa asked, peering over Historia's shoulders to make eye contact with you. The blonde finally let you go and you took a few steps back from them.
Marco and Jean still hadn't come downstairs yet.
"Good." You kept it simple, not wanting to go into any details. Out of the corner of your eye you continued to watch Sasha and Connie go at one another.
"Just good?"
"Just good." You repeated the words. "How have you guys been?"
"So good! Christmas was so awesome this year. My extended family came up and I got to meet some family members for the first time!" Historia seemed like she was already having a better break than the rest. "I have a baby nephew too, he's sooo small and so cute." She gushed.
"That sounds wonderful." And you meant what you said, Historia's past week sounded amazing. A functioning family, who has that these days?
"Yeah, it was." She blushed, quickly checking back to look at her friend. "Ymir, come here!"
"I'm good where I am." The girl responded back from the couch, where she sat very far leaned back. "I'm watching these idiots." Ymir nodded at Connie and Sasha who now were attempting to connect the machine to the TV.
Historia let out a disappointed huff, but plastered a smile on her face as she looked up at Mikasa. "How about you Meeks? Any fun things happen this year?"
"No, just another boring holiday. Carla got me a new phone though, so that was pretty cool."
"Carla?" You questioned, not sure who that was to her. You knew her parents passed and she lived with the Yeagers.
Both Historia and Mikasa turned to you, confused expressions on their faces. "She's Eren's mom." Mikasa answered.
"Oh." You nodded. That makes sense. "That's a really nice gift." You pointed out.
"Yeah, I'm very thankful for their generosity." She smiled warmly. "She's a good fake mom."
"She's probably better than my real mom." Historia added to the conversation, you however had nothing to add. Because both of their moms were better than yours.
You remained quiet for the remainder of the chit chat, just listening to their stories about family. You did't have much to relate to, but enjoyed hearing about their lives. Your friends were good people.
Eventually Marco had trickled down the stairs, and was immediately bombarded by the idiots. They required his aid to plug in the machine, and as soon as he got that up and running the night truly began. They started off, claiming the machine to themselves while the rest of you watched and dispersed around the room.
You ventured over to Eren and Armin in the kitchen, wanting to get a drink. It was no fun being sober. You gave the two of them a quick side hug in greeting and entered into their conversation- the boys not bothered by your presence.
"How was your Christmas?"
"It was nice, how was your's Armin?"
"Good, me and my dad went up to the mountains and did an off the grid few days. It was relaxing."
"I bet." You nodded. "You read anything good?"
"Oh yeah, I have tons of new stuff to lend you when we get back. Be prepared."
Once Armin and you had seen one another around a few times, it became common knowledge that the two of you were book worms. It was easy to talk to him about things you read and vise versa- so he became your book buddy.
"You two are nerds." Eren chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. "You don't have a drink." He pointed out, looking down at your empty hands.
"That is correct, well the drink part...not the nerd part."
"No no, both are correct." He looked to Armin, who nodded in confirmation. "Anyways, what do you want?"
"What does Marco have?"
"Literally anything." Eren shrugged. "Tell me your favorite drink, i'll make it." He offered, turning his back to you and walking toward the counter where Marco had placed liquor, mixers and cups. Eren grabbed a red solo cup off of the stack.
"Surprise me" You requested immediately; curious to see what Eren Yeager could concoct.
Eren's lips twitched. He screwed open the top of the vodka, his head turning back so his eyes could catch your own. He proceeded to play around with different beverages on the counter, you trusted he knew what he was doing.
The first song of the night was almost at an end, and Jean had finally come back downstairs.
"JEAN SING WITH ME." Connie's voice echoed around the room.
"Absolutely not." You turned to watch the boys interact, staring across the room as Connie stood in front of the boy and wouldn't let him pass. The word 'please' coming out of his mouth repeatedly. "Christ, if I say yes will you shut the fuck up?" Jean finally snapped.
You heard Armin laugh from next to you at them. You laughed too, it was a funny sight.
"Yes." Connie nodded, handing him his own mic. "Sasha, choose a song and give me your mic- Jeanboy and I are gonna do a duet." Sasha chucked her mic to the buzzcut, and turned her body to the machine sinking down to its level to choose the next song. You wondered what it would be.
"Here you go." A drink was placed down in front of you, the red solo cup filled to the top. It was a light amber color. "I made it strong, hope you don't mind."
"Never." You smiled up at him.
"That's what I like to hear."
The beginning chords of a slow romantic ballad shook the house. "No, I am not singing this." Jean warned, the mic far from his face. He was trying to push it back into Sasha's hands.
"C'monnnn." She whined, avoiding it so he would have to keep it in his hands.
"No. Not a shot in hell-"
Connie began screaming lyrics into the mic.
And somehow, Jean succumbed to hit fate. Let's just say, their performance was one of the worst things you had ever witnessed, yet the absolute fucking best.
Jean loved his friends.
And you loved them too.
11:55
"EVERYONE GET IN HERE!"
"HURRY UP YOU ASSHOLES!"
Connie and Sasha lead the charge on getting your friends to crowd into Marco's living room. Instead of lyrics on the screen, the ball drop now displayed.
It was almost a new year. Crazy how time flies when once you're actually having fun.
"Connie, can I kiss you?"
"Ew gross no!" You watched them from a different room in the house, seeing Connie push Sasha quite aggressively away from him. "I don't know where those lips have been!" He defended.
"You're such a dick."
"I mean I do have one!" He defended.
Your name was softly called, and you looked to where it came from. It was Marco, who was standing next to you in the doorway. He had a beer in his hands.
"Oh, hi." You blushed. You were tipsy, and for a moment your thoughts raced to before when you and him were up in his room alone. When he called you pretty. When you swore he leaned in.
"Isn't it nice?" He asked.
"Huh?" Maybe it was because you were slightly intoxicated, but you had no idea what Marco meant. Was what nice? Sasha and Connie's constant bickering? Nice was no the correct word for that.
"Our friends, all here celebrating together." He clarified, nodding into the room. "These are my favorite memories." He smiled at the sight of them. "You never know how much of the good times you have left, so you just gotta take them when they come." You followed his gaze around the room, looking at how your friends were situated around it.
Sasha and Connie bickering, the inevitable fate being them sharing a weird kiss in a few minutes. Armin and Mikasa sitting next to one another near the TV, sitting up straight in excitement of the year to come. Eren sitting down on the floor in front of them, nursing his beer as he looked up at the large screen. Historia and her friend Ymir standing off to the side, smiling at one another like no one else existed in the room.
Jean was hidden, leaned up against the far wall; his eyes glued on his two friends who were making a scene. He had a genuine smile on his face, eyes lit up as he soaked in the events of the night.
This would be a New Years to remember. One of the good times, before it all went to shit.
"That sounds morbid in a way." You finally responded after soaking it in. "You planning your death or something?"
Marco laughed, his free hand clutching his belly as his body shook with laughter. "No, never. I don't ever want to miss a second of this." He nodded back to the room.
"Me too." You quietly added. "I'm finally happy here."
"Yeah?" He sounded genuinely surprised. Marco's eyebrow arched up in curiosity at your statement.
"Yeah." You looked around the room once more, eyes falling on Jean for a bit longer than you realized. He was the only person in the room you could say you were less than happy to be around, besides Ymir since you just met the girl.
"Even though you think Jean hates you?" He teased you, knowing where your gaze had accidentally landed.
"He does hate me." You defended, not accepting whatever the hell Marco was getting at earlier as a proper defense for the boy.
"You and I see hate differently then." Was what he said back. "Sometimes when you dig deeper it's quite the opposite."
"I don't have a shovel."
"You're quick, you know that?" He laughed once again, eyes crinkling up at your wit. His face was so happy, so bright with emotion and love that it put a smile on your own face. Marco always made you feel warm inside, the aura he gave off just one of comfort. Marco was a good person.
"EVERYONE SHUT UP!"
"THEY'RE FUCKING COUNTING DOWN!"
Connie and Sasha screamed pointing at the screen, like everyone else in the room wasn't watching as well.
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
"Eight!"
"Seven!"
"Hey can I ask you for a favor?"
"Five!"
"Huh?" You averted your gaze from the screen, looking up at the freckled boy.
"Three!"
"Can I kiss you?"
"One!"
"S-sure." You agreed. Marco was cute. Marco thought you were pretty. Marco called you enamoring, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
You heard the cheers around you. Your new friends jumping up and hugging one another. Sasha chased Connie, trying to give him a kiss. Eren, Armin and Mikasa were standing now, clicking their cups together. Ymir and Historia were close to another another, arms interlocked as they drank the rest of their drinks down.
But you didn't see any of that, all you heard was cheers and then everything went mute.
You were up on your tippy toes, your drink now fallen to the floor. Marco's arm was tightly wrapped around your waist, your own wrapped around his neck and his mouth was on yours- moving much quicker than you anticipated.
What was a quick kiss turned into his tongue down your throat, the taste of beer filling your mouth as you moved against one another.
While your friends celebrated around you, they payed no mind to you and Marco in the doorway. You were half hidden from most of the room because of how much he had pushed you back when he made his move. He had pushed you up against the wall, one very large hand placed on your jaw, his fingers trailing down and pressing into your exposed neck. The other hand, gripping you hips, holding you in place. Forcing you to stay.
But you were enjoying it, you enjoyed Marco's kiss. You didn't need his iron grip on your waist to keep you there. His lips were warm, soft, and his kiss was so forceful - so rough and nippy - that your head was spinning from his actions being the polar opposite of how he was.
Marco Bodt was a phenomenal kisser.
What would have happened if you met him that night...
However, even in all the blissful celebration one person didn't feel quite the same as the rest.
He felt like someone punched him so hard in the gut, absolutely winded by what he was looking at. Betrayal was too harsh of a word for how he felt, maybe a bit of jealously- no, anger. What kind of friend does that... especially after what him and Marco just talked about.
You were off limits.
Jean tipped his bottle back, chugging down the last of his beer.
3:00 AM
You were unable to fall asleep, everyone else had passed out an hour ago but you just couldn't close your eyes that easy. You stood in the dark kitchen, a glass of water in your hands as you tried to hydrate your body with correct fluids- absolutely no more liquor.
You were very proud of yourself tonight, you didn't throw up or black out- an achievement. Now, since you stopped yourself a little after midnight you were sobering up.
You thought back to the events of the night. That event.
Your kiss with Marco was oddly passionate; however, it lasted a little more than a minute- with him pulling away first and curses of apology spewing form his lips. You literally had to console the boy after it happened, totally unsure of why he freaked out so bad.
You were startled by the lights turning on, the switch sounding louder than it should have been due to your growing hangover. You closed your eyes, reopening them in just a squint over in the direction of the light switch.
"Shit, sorry...Didn't know anyone else was up." From you slits, you made out the shape of Jean.
"Turn that off. Please." You groaned out. Surprisingly he did as you asked, shutting the light back off.
"Thanks."
"Yeah."He walked into the kitchen, paying little mind to you as he got himself a glass and filled it up in the sink. It wasn't entirely dark in the kitchen. There were a few lights around that helped you to see even though it was night, the little lamps and wall plug ins more tolerable than the bright overhead light.
"So, why are you up?" You asked him, taking a sip of your water.
"Couldn't sleep." Jean couldn't get the thought of you kissing Marco out of his mind. "You?" You watched him take a sip from his own glass, turning and leaning his back up against the granite counter. His eyes were locked on you, you could feel them and see his line of vision.
"Same reason actually." You let out a little laugh. "I'm tired but I just can't get to that point."
"You got something on your mind?" He questioned, tilting his glass in your direction. As if to motion to your brain.
"There's nothing going on up here." You tapped your head. "I drank a lot so it's pretty foggy."
He nodded, as if he understood.
This was one of the longest solo conversations you've had with Jean since that night.
"What about you, you got something on your mind?" You asked, so he would continue talking. You liked the sound of his voice. You liked that he was trying, for once.
He looked away from you, facing up and looking at the ceiling. "No." You could tell that was a lie.
Instead of responding in a sassy way, like you would have to anyone else, you just let out a sigh- and a big one at that. If he wanted to be like this, you would make it known that you were aware of his bull.
"Fine, I do." Jean looked back at you, reacting to your sound.
"I'm not gonna make you talk about it, if that's why you didn't wanna admit it."
"That's not why I said no." Jean wouldn't have admitted the reason to you anyway, he wasn't even sure that was the reason yet himself. But thinking about you and Marco together did make him angry, that was a real feeling.
"Alright." You didn't press him any further. Jean had gone so far to admit that he fucking lied, who was this man in front of you? Was he actually Jean Kirstein? Did the clock somehow hit twelve and change the entirety of his being?
"That it?" The sound of his glass hitting the counter was once again louder than usual. The silence of the house and your pounding brain making the little things worse than they were.
"Yeah." You sent him a warm smile, even though it was just slightly visible in the lighting. "I'm gonna go and try to get some sleep."
"Uh, I-yeah- okay." Jean fumbled over his words, blankly looking at your frame. Panicking because you were walking away so soon, how did you not want to know anymore. "Goodnight?"
"Night." You turned, taking a few steps toward the staircase to go back to the room you and Sasha were in.
"Wait. Y/n- I-I'm sorry." He exclaimed out, his hand moving from his side to run itself through his hair- a nervous gesture he did. You paused and turned, waiting for him to elaborate as you stared back. Was he finally brining up the fact that you guys fucked? "I'm sorry i've been treating you like shit for the past few months, I just wanted to apologize for being an asshole."
You controlled your mouth from gaping at him, biting down hard on your lip instead. Jean acknowledged his behavior. This was growth. "Apology accepted." Calmly you told him.
"Seriously, I-"
"-Jean, you don't have to talk about it any further. Just act different now that you know. Actions speak louder than words, you know." Yes, you wanted him to go further. You wanted him to grovel in a way, but right now this little moment was enough to make your chest flutter. You had to end it before you felt anything more than that. You turned, walking right in front of him. Your right hand extended out in front of his chest. "Happy New Year." You offered.
He was shocked at your choice of movement, but clasped his hand with yours nonetheless. His large hand swallowing up your much smaller one. "Happy New Year." The two of you both held it for a little too long until he finally released it, and the both of you lowered your hands down. With those hands that fell to your sides, the wall that had been built up between the two of you fell. They came crashing down with just a simple apology.
Maybe Jean Kirstein didn't hate you. Maybe Marco was right.
~
As of 12/6/23 this chapter has been revamped!
Thank you for reading, sorry for jumping around so much with times but this chapter was needed.
-erc