Chapter Text
It’s not a party at Connie’s until someone drunkenly launches themselves off the professional-grade diving board— clothes and all— into the crystalline pool below. Tonight the culprits are Hitch and Historia.
Whooping and hollering, their friends gather around the pool edges as the two girls’ heads pop above the surface, giggling hysterically. Historia’s flowing, golden hair floats behind her as she paddles to the side of the pool, threatening to pull in her girlfriend, Ymir, who is teasingly videoing her with her phone.
“C’mon in, babe, the water’s great!”
Ymir steps out of her girlfriend’s swiping reach before she can catch her.
“I think I’m gonna need at least one more drink first,” Ymir replies, shoving her phone back into her pocket.
“Boooo!” Historia pouts before turning to splash Hitch.
Nearby, Thomas, Connie, and Sasha are shotgunning Y-bombs out of Red Bulls, with Sasha coming to a finish first, waving her can in the air.
“I told y’all you ain’t got nothin’ on me! I am the Y-bomb queen!” she howls as the boys finish off their drinks behind her.
A little ways from the pool deck is lit a blazing bonfire, loaded with twigs, charcoal, and other flammable debris (like yesterday’s newspaper) to keep it roaring all night long. Scattered around the dancing flames are numerous lawn chairs, occupied by more recently graduated seniors, such as Armin, Jean, Eren, and Mikasa. Currently, Jean and Eren are arguing over whether the turnpike or the backroads is the most efficient route across the state. Mikasa gently reminds them it will likely depend on the state of traffic. Neither heeds her point.
In a corner up against the wall of the house, Marco sips his drink and watches it all. He watches Historia and Hitch, now sitting on the edge of the pool, giggling with Mina (miraculously still dry) as they wring out their wet locks. He watches Thomas, Connie, and Sasha now swaying together in the moonlight singing along to Mr. Brightside which has just come up on the playlist. He consistently keeps glancing back at Jean and Eren’s bickering by the bonfire, noting the way Jean rises slightly out of his seat every time volleys back with a new retort against Eren, the sharp furrow of his dark brows knit together in frustration, the wide gesticulation of his hands, the fit of his Counting Crows shirt.
It’s their last night all together. He knows he should be participating, making the most of it— but he can’t help but soak it all in from the sidelines instead.
“Kinda sucks being one of the ones left behind, doesn’t it?” says a voice next to him. He looks up to find Ymir sliding down the wall, plopping a seat next to him. He pulls at a weed growing between the pavement blocks of the patio deck.
“Kinda does, yeah,” he admits finally. Ymir takes a sip of her drink, a few strands of her cropped brown hair falling into her face. Her eyes linger on Historia, who is still plenty happy-drunk, and already working on another drink.
“I hope she doesn’t overdo it tonight. They have a long drive tomorrow,” Ymir says, finally tearing her gaze from her girlfriend. Marco nods.
“In hindsight, a bonfire party may not have been the best idea before half the crowd goes on a cross-country road trip in a tiny van,” he says.
“Especially when that crowd includes Jean and Eren stuck together in said tiny van,” Ymir adds. They both laugh. How Eren and Jean manage to remain friends despite their near-constant bickering remains a mystery to pretty much everyone, including themselves.
“But nah, they deserve to cut a little loose,” Ymir continues. “They’ve been putting in so much work lately.” It’s true. Tomorrow six of their friends— Eren, Mikasa, Jean, Historia, Sasha, and Connie— will depart on a cross country trip to LA in the hopes of launching their band, The Surveyors. Since the start of summer (and high school graduation) Marco had hardly seen his friends as they’d all been working their asses off at various jobs saving up for this trip. When they weren’t at work, they were with each other at band practice, writing and fine-tuning their music. It’s the longest he’s gone without seeing Jean on a daily basis. Without seeing any of them on the regular, really.
Marco nods. “I just can’t believe it’s finally happening… they’re really doing this.”
“I’m proud of them,” Ymir says, the pride in her voice laced with something just a little too forced. “Totally, and completely proud. Because I am a supportive girlfriend.”
“Same,” Marco agrees, his voice cracking just a little too high. “Well, not ‘same’ to the girlfriend part, but I’m definitely their supportive friend who is totally and completely proud of them!”
Ymir snorts. “Nice save.”
They’re both quiet for a moment as they sip their drinks. Then Marco looks up at Ymir.
“We’re allowed to be proud and… a little sad too right? Even if we don’t tell them the sad part?”
She glances back at him, giving him a small, rueful smile.
“Yeah… I suppose that’s within our right… We’ll keep the sad part our little secret,” she says, holding a finger to her lips. They both giggle.
They reminisce some more about their senior year and good times with their friends until someone calls over to them:
“Ymir! Marco! Get over here, we’re doing a group picture!”
Marco winds up sandwiched between Jean and Connie as Sasha stands on top of a stool to get a good enough angle that includes everyone.
“SAY BRIE DOOFUSES!” This gets a genuine laugh out of the more-than-half-drunk crowd, as Sasha always changes the type of cheese she calls out when taking a picture. It’s become something of an inside joke amongst their senior class.
Sasha snaps a few pictures, then officially releases everyone to disperse back into the yard at their disposal. As the others scatter around them, Marco catches Jean’s expectant gaze and the pair of them linger on the patio deck together.
“Hey,” Marco smiles at him.
“Hey,” Jean says back. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all night.”
Marco looks down into his drink sheepishly.
“Oh yeah, sorry, I’ve kinda been wallflowering.”
Jean arches an eyebrow.
“How come? You ok?”
“Oh yeah, just… nervous about school starting soon I guess.” It wasn’t a total lie. With mid-August— and his start at Trost University— rapidly approaching, he was a bit nervous about the upcoming weeks. Jean cracks a smile at Marco.
“Oh c’mon you’re gonna be like the smartest guy there, piss off.”
“Armin’s going too, remember?”
“...ok you’re gonna be one of the smartest guys there, piss off still.”
“Damn, you didn’t even try to still pretend that I was the smartest? Tell me what you really think of me,” Marco teases.
Jean frowns and crosses his arms. “I feel like this is a trap.”
Marco just laughs and bumps his shoulder. Jean smiles at the gesture and bumps him back for good measure. They stand there for a beat before he suddenly says:
“Do you wanna go for a walk? There’s kinda something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Marco raises his eyebrows. “Sure. What’s up?”
Jean waits until they’ve cleared the yard and round the side of the house before he speaks.
“It’s about the band, and the trip. I—” he swallows, biting his lip. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, Marco.”
Marco’s brow furrows in concern. “What do you mean?”
“I just— I know you see this great musician in me, Marco, but… what if I’m only ever meant to play in my room? What if I get up on a bigger stage than I’ve ever been on and I just… freeze? Or slip up? I mean I’m a decent guitar player, but I don’t know that I really stand out, you know, who’d want to come and see me? And I’m no songwriter either, not like Eren. Or a singer like Historia. I just— what if I just don’t fit into this life, you know? Maybe there’s still time for me to enroll at the university— well I know not for this semester, but maybe in the spring. And—” They weave their way through the mess of cars parked on the side of the house as Jean speaks, and he finally meets Marco’s gaze with a look so vulnerable Marco almost believes that Jean will melt if it starts to rain. Luckily the skies are clear.
“Jean,” Marco says. “I think you’re psyching yourself out too much over this. This isn’t about following some grand destiny or life you’re ‘meant for’. I don’t think that’s how life works anyway. This is supposed to just be about following your passion.”
“I guess,” Jean sighs, toeing his sneaker in the dirt.
“So let me ask you this. Do you still love music?”
“...yes.”
“Do you want to spend your time making music and performing?”
“...yes?”
Instead of replying further, Marco gives him a knowing smile and cocks his head towards him.
Jean gives an exasperated sigh.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Always know the right thing to say to steer someone in the right direction.”
“I promise you that’s not true.”
“It is, Marco, ask anyone.” Marco just laughs and shakes his head. Jean continues as they shuffle along the cars.
“You know you’re the only reason I’m doing this right? Well, the only reason I’ve even remotely had the confidence to do it? No stop, don’t try to brush it off,” he says when Marco starts to protest. “It was your faith in me that got me to join the band in the first place. That made me believe I could do more than just second chair trombone in high school.”
Marco smiles at him, remembering the conversations he’s referring to.
“Just doing the world a public service.” Jean shakes his head and smiles— but it fades quickly.
“Thing is though… there are other reasons I’m kinda hesitant to go.” He stops in front of his own car, one of the last to arrive and therefore one of the furthest from the house. His green camry sits shrouded in shadows, the glow of a nearby street lamp barely reaching them.
Marco arches an eyebrow at Jean, confused. “Other reasons?”
Jean nods. “Ironically, they’re the same thing that made me want to go in the first place. Also makes me kinda want to stay. For reasons that aren’t stage fright.”
Jean is standing close to him now, hazel eyes boring into his. Marco’s heart flutters. He’s sure he’s just reading into things, sure that any second now Jean will pull back and offer a completely logical explanation, sure that soon they’ll turn around and head back—
“What makes you want to stay?”
And with that, Jean is kissing him.
At first, the kiss is a shock, so it’s slow-moving. Jean takes a step forward and places his hands on Marco’s shoulders, leaning up to press his mouth against his. It’s unexpected, but they fit together perfectly and Marco leans into it. He slowly begins to move his mouth against Jean’s, his hands coming to rest on his bony, angular hips. Jean presses forward with his entire body and like that, the kiss becomes much more urgent. Marco slips his tongue into Jean’s mouth, pulling him further into him with one hand against the small of his back, the other roaming up his back and curling in the strands of his undercut. Jean lets out a little groan at that. He pulls back slightly to pepper kisses at the corner of Marco’s mouth and down his jawline, coming back to push his lips against Marco’s.
They stay like that for a while, gently making out until they’re out of breath and finally they release each other’s lips, smiling at each other. Jean leans his forehead against Marco’s, his hands returned to their position on Marco’s shoulders, while Marco gently cards a hand through the longer upper strands of Jean’s ashy brown hair, his other hand resting at Jean’s waist again.
“I— I’ll be back,” Jean says, staring at Marco. Then he glances downward. “I don’t know when…” he admits. “We don’t really know what the plan is with LA and everything but… I’ll be back. I promise.”