Chapter Text
Detective Levi kept trying to contact me a week after the camping trip. I pretended not to see him when he waited outside school, and didn’t pick up the phone when he called. What happened to Reiner was an accident; a tragic accident. Even if they found out about what Marco did, they’d have nothing to hold over his head. It was self-defense, and it was better to let it go, because the more they dug into this case, the more secrets would unravel.
Marco was the heart of the group, and I only fully realized that after we got back from the camping trip, and he didn’t leave his room for three full days. Armin and Historia did their best to fill up the space he left, but no one was as good at remembering random anecdotes about freshman year, and no one could ever spin silence into a joke as good as Marco. Now that Reiner was gone, there was even more space to fill.
And then there was also me; the anomaly. With Marco I never felt much out of place in the group. He would always make sure I fitted right in. Now everyone was quiet and sullen, and while Mikasa asked me a question every now and then I couldn’t help but hear the forced tone of interest in her voice. It was almost embarrassing of me to sit at their lunch table and pretend I belonged there.
It was in that week, the first week after Reiner’s death that my discomfort of not fitting in slowly turned into discomfort of fitting in. I truly did become closer to the group. And I still like to think this was only because life wanted it this way, and that death made us grow closer.
***
It was dinner time. The first day after the camping trip all freshmen would dare to point at us and whisper. Eren, like usual, managed to get them to stop with just one vicious glance. Now it was as if nothing had changed, except for when you looked at the corner of the hall where a table stood. A table with two pictures and candles, dedicated to our late friends Reiner and Berthold. None of us looked that way. We didn’t even talk about Reiner in the first place. The only person on my mind was Marco, who hadn’t left his room after days.
“Maybe we should do something for him,” said Historia. “Then she turned to me. “Have you seen Marco at all, Jean? Has he opened his door?”
I looked down at my uneaten food. “I tried,” I muttered. Though that was only half true. I walked past his room every day. I’d stand there, my hand hovering in a knocking position, and before I could knock I sprinted away. The only reason we knew he wasn’t dead was because Mr. Johnson made one of the cafeteria ladies bring him food.
“We can’t let him rot away there,” she said.
“Maybe he just needs space,” Mikasa said. “You know, it’s not nothing.” It, that was how we’d been describing the situation if we did mention it. Partially because we couldn’t afford eavesdroppers, and partially because the truth was so harsh that even muttering the words out loud felt like too much.
“We can make him a card?” Historia shrugged. “Maybe go into town, buy him some chocolates…how does that sound?”
Across from me Eren started to laugh. “A card?” He sneered. “Great idea! Let’s send him a card. We’re sorry that you killed our friend, know that it’s not your fault. Get well soon. He’ll be next to throw himself out the window.”
Mikasa shoved him, and Eren shot her an angry look. “What?” he spat. “It’s true. If you ask me, it’s best if we let him be. Reiner is dead, and he’s not coming back. Pretending that he didn’t do it will only make him feel worse.”
“So we just let him rot in his room?” Historia countered. “At least one of us should check up on him.” She shoved her plate of food away.
“I’ll do it,” said Armin suddenly. “I’ll talk to him.”
Mikasa frowned at him. “I don’t know,” she said. “Don’t you think it might be better if…you know…if he sees someone else?”
“Well, who do you suggest?” It was the first time I heard him sound irritated.
“Let Jean do it,” Eren said. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re probably the only person he might want to see right now. We all know that’s true.”
“What?” I let out a nervous laughter. My face turned red. “What makes you think that? He’s friends with all of you. Why would he not want to see Armin?”
The silence that followed was brief but felt unnatural. Historia and Mikasa exchanged glances, holding a conversation in silence. One I was not part of.
“Because you like each other,” Historia said.
My face was no longer only red; it felt like I was burning up. “That’s not-“
“You’re like, platonic soulmates or something,” she added. I released a breath. “I don’t know, Jean. You don’t have to, but I think it should be you.”
Armin shook his head. “But maybe I-“
“Armin, do you really think that’s a good idea?” Eren looked at him deadpanned. Then his eyes moved to me again. “What’d you think?”
While I did want to see Marco, the sudden shift of attention to me—us, made me uncomfortable. Of course I knew that they had noticed our close-friendship, and sure, there were feelings there that were hardly the same I felt for the others. But was I that obvious? I tried to think of every interaction we shared, about that time in my room with the buttons, what could have happened had Sasha not walked in…
I shook my head. “Of course I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll go there right now.”
Without even throwing them another glance, I stood up with my tray of uneaten food and walked out the dinner hall.
***
I was standing in front of Marco’s door like I had almost every day. I don’t know what made me too nervous to knock. I knew his grief and I knew how to comfort him. But I also knew what it was like to want to push people away—to hide in your room until people get tired enough to leave you alone.
I closed my eyes and knocked once. There was a five second silence before I said, “Marco? It’s Jean.” I knocked again, but no one opened up. “Marco?” I repeated. I looked at the doorknob. My hand moved toward it. Once my hand was on that knob I turned it without a second thought. It was unlocked.
Marco was sitting at his desk, his shirt unbuttoned, a bottle of vodka on the table. He wore headphones and was busy writing away in his notebook.
“Marco?” I said.
What I had imagined was Marco lying in bed with the curtains closed. What I imagined was a mess of a room (this was still true), and maybe some food laying around (also true). What I did not expect was for Reiner’s side of the room to be completely searched through and for two bottles of wine on the floor by the bed.
Finally, Marco noticed me. There was an unexpected smile on his face. There was nothing forced about it; it hardly seemed natural to me either. Marco always smiled. It was what I knew him for. Only this smile made him seem like a stranger.
“Jean!” He said, standing up. Marco made his way over to me and hugged me tight. “God, it’s good to see you!” I could smell the alcohol off his breath. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
I took a step backward and looked him up and down. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and his hair was ruffled out of place. “Are you okay?” I said hesitantly. “We haven’t seen you in days.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’ve been thinking—that’s all.”
“We’re very worried about you,” I said. “All of us.” I looked over to Reiner’s side of the room again. His drawers were left open, his clothes on the floor. The only thing that seemed normal was his desk, which was filled with notes and crumbled paper. It felt like the type of desk Reiner out of all people would have.
“Worried?” He said. “Why would they be worried about me?” He laughed.
“Are you drunk?”
Marco waved his hand and walked over to the window. I quickly walked over toward him. I didn’t even realize I was doing it before my hand was on his shoulder. “Marco.”
“Does it matter if I’m drunk or not?” He said. “I’ve just been thinking. Alcohol is good for the mind.” He ticked his head twice. Marco was very drunk. Not once had I seen him this out of his mind.
“Thinking about what?” I said, finally giving in to his game.
“Berthold,” he said. His eyes went to the window again. “There’s something I have to tell you, Jean.” He frowned but only slightly.
“What do you have to tell me?” My voice suddenly felt dry.
“Well, there’s a lot I have to tell you.” Marco laughed. “But let’s start with Berthold. Don’t get mad now.” Marco turned to me. His eyes were on me, his stare was so intense it made me want to look away. “You’re going to be happy—maybe.”
“Maybe?”
He took a step closer and I couldn’t bring myself to walk away. “You’re acting strange, Marco,” I said.
“What do you want to hear first?” He said very quietly then. He took another step.
“What are you talking about?” I sat down on his bed then. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. “Have you been taking drugs?”
“Not this time,” he said. “Don’t be crazy. You can’t take drugs when the ghosts are still here.”
“Marco,” I said. “You’re the one being crazy.”
He sat down beside me. There were drops of sweat on his chest and I tried my best to look him in the eyes. His pupils weren’t dilated, he wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t using any drugs.
“Let me tell you something,” he then said. Marco sounded irritated, impatient. “They don’t want me to tell you, but I think I should. I’ve always liked you, Jean. Always.” He put his warm hand on my shoulder. I swallowed. My throat was dry.
“What don’t they want me to know?”
“Berthold didn’t kill himself.” I expected him to burst out in laughter any minute. His face was expressionless. “It was an accident, but he didn’t do it himself.”
“Marco—“
“No, let me finish,” he said. His hand still on my shoulder. “There was a party, and there were drugs, and I wasn’t even there. He fell out the window.”
“Did- did someone push him?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Christ, do you think we’re all a bunch of murderers? We were just hanging out in my room, taking acid. I don’t know what happened. He was having a bad trip, I think.” Marco looked away and frowned. “Again, I don’t know. He fell out the window. It was an accident.”
“They didn’t find drugs in his system,” I said.
“Because police are dumb.” Marco laughed bitterly. “We didn’t want people to know we’d been taking substances…and now all of the sudden we turned into murder suspects. Reiner had been doing bad because of the acid.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. I looked at Marco. The frown on his face had vanished. I nearly forgot about how drunk he was until his eyes darted up at me again. “Aren’t you happy?”
“Why would I be happy?” I said.
“He didn’t kill himself!”
“And that should make me happy?” I was the one to frown now. “What else did you want to tell me?”
“It’s nothing,” he said. Suddenly Marco was squeezing my shoulder. My heart was once again racing miles and miles per hour. “I just wanted to get this off my chest. No one wanted me to tell you but I had to. At least you had to know this part of it.
“Part of what?” I shifted in my spot. “You said you wanted to tell me everything.”
“But isn’t knowing this even better?” Marco said. “I am drunk, Jean,” he said. “I am out of my mind wasted and I don’t want to talk about the other things. Remember that day in your room?”
Of course I remembered. I thought about it every time I looked at him. Even now. His green eyes glistened in the light of the room.
“Maybe I don’t want to talk about other things,” I said dryly.
His hand on my shoulder moved to the back of my neck. His eyes focused on my lips and my eyes didn’t know what to focus on, so they looked at the side of the bed. I was breathing heavily. I was speechless.
Before I knew it he pressed his lips against mine, kissing me. I kissed him back without hesitation. Marco laughed when we pulled apart. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about other things,” he said.
“Shut up.” I pulled him close to me and we started kissing again. It didn’t take long before we finally finished what we started, as he unbuttoned my shirt.