Chapter Text
Nobody understood how Connie had managed to get Jean out of his room to watch a soccer game. Not only he didn’t even know what the game consisted of, but also he wasn’t a big fan of anything that envolved social interaction. However, it was kind of endurable-
“Fuck!” He cursed, when a short girl dropped her drink all over his jeans. She shoot him an apologetic look, and then returned her attention back to the game.
... This was a fucking nightmare. The worst thing was that he wasn’t even able to go back to his room and change, because he had promised Connie and Sasha he would watch the whole game with them. And Jean was a man who stuck to his word, or, at least, he tried. He wished he was more of an asshole, so he could just stand up and never ever return to this hell. How could people enjoy this? Unbearable girls screaming a sweaty guy’s name while he ran after a ball. What was the point of it? Why did he do that? Was he going to save the world if he could stop the other team from touching it? And what was that smell? It was like… vomit mixed with rotten french fries.
“Man, change that face!” Connie, his roommate, laughed. “What’s the problem? Aren’t there any hot guys to stare at in the field?”
Sasha couldn’t help but smirk and, imitating Jean’s voice, said: “No homo though.” Then both of them burst into a fist of goofy giggles while Jean glared at them.
“Could you both shut up for a minute or two or forever?” He snapped, making the pair laugh even harder.
Jean sighed and focused on the field, as if he could force himself to really enjoy the match. His eyes wandered through it, trying to catch something interesting to watch. Until he spotted him.
Okay, that sounded really gay, and Jean was definitely straight. He just happened to see an, erm, ‘fine’ guy sitting on the bench who caught his attention. He didn’t seem to be having a better time than him, probably because he wasn’t playing, and that saddened Jean a little. Why couldn’t the coach make everyone play? Maybe you are not good enough to be there the whole time, but at least you deserved a chance, right?
He seemed to be Jean’s age or so. At least a thousand freckles were scattered all over his cheeks; he couldn’t quite catch his eyes’ colour, but they seemed to match his dark hair. He had a sad smile plastered on his face, which made it quite obvious he wasn’t enjoying himself on the bench.
Jean didn’t know why, but the guy caused a weird effect on him. It wasn’t the typical warmth you feel on your chest when you see the love of your life for the first time, nor something uncomfortable in his pants… it was just as if he needed to talk to him; he wanted to run over to where he was sitting and make him laugh until that gloomy look from his face vanished forever.
He slapped himself.
“… Are you alright, man?” His roommate was staring at him, concerned, but with a funny look on his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m just… tired, I guess.” Jean had the skill to lie smoothly. When he was six, he had convinced all of his classmates that he was an alien. He had inherited that from his mother.
“Do you want to go back to our room? I don’t mind. There’s plenty of other games we can come to.”
The thought of having to survive to this any other time had Jean shaking his head franatically. “I’m just stressed. This will make me feel better.” Yeah, sure.
Sasha was about to say something when, all of a sudden, a high-pitched whistle made her shut up, and then everyone was cheering, clapping and screaming. Jean felt like a little child lost in the middle of the supermarket. He assumed the match had finished and that their team had won, but couldn’t get why was everyone so ecstatic because of it.
His friends told him to get up and follow them to the exit, so he did just that, trying no to step on any food leftover or to turn around and look for any signs of the freckled guy.
A few minutes after getting back to his dorm, Jean found himself texting his english classmate, Reiner. What he was about to do was the supidest thing he could ever think of, mainly because if he found out his real intentions, he would tease him forever. Yeah… Reiner was a good friend, don’t get him wrong; the thing was that he was constantly molesting other where he knew it made them sick.
Anyway, Jean had nothing to worry about. He wasn’t comitting a crime. He just needed to satisfy his curiosity, that’s all.
To: Reiner
Hey
I need you to tell me something
19:23
It was just a few seconds later when his phone buzzed in his hands.
From: Reiner
what do u need
19:23
To: Reiner
Theres a guy in your team that i think i’ve seen before
19:24
From: Reiner
so?
19:24
To: Reiner
I want to know his name
Just to know if he’s the one that i think he is
19:25
From: Reiner
youre so gay
19:26
Jean glared at his phone’s screen. What was with this guy?
To: Reiner
Shut the fuck up and help me
19:28
From: Reiner
lmao jk man
describe him to me
19:29
To: Reiner
You are a fucking asshole
He was in the bench
And he has freckles on his cheeks
Like a thousand
And he has dark hair
Idk if thats useful
19:31
From: Reiner
omg
19:34
To: Reiner
What?
19:34
From: Reiner
that’s Marco
Marco Bodt
OMG DO U HAVE A CRUSH ON MARCO????
19:37
To: Reiner
Shut the fuck up I don’t
I thought he was someone else, jfc
19:37
From: Reiner
yeh sure
19:39
Jean couldn’t help but roll his eyes and toss his phone to the other side of the bed. His friends, if that’s what you could call them, were annoying as fuck. He didn’t know why, but they always thought he had a thing for men, or at least they wanted him to. Everytime they were watching a movie or something and a hot guy appeared in the screen, they immediatly started teasing Jean, telling him things like ‘please don’t get a boner’ or ‘Jean we accept you by who you are’. He assumed they were this way because they knew that it bothered the hell out of him, and they enjoyed seeing him suffer.
Or, as Connie said once, “we want to get you out of the closet as soon as possible”.
When his phone buzzed, telling him that he had fifteen new messages from Reiner, he wanted to kill someone. Why had he asked Reiner this guy’s name? What could he use it for? Why did he even want to know it? He was just a random guy who happened to get into his field of vision.
He glared at the ceiling and then groaned for the millionth time in the day. It wasn’t even eight o’clock, but Jean was going to sleep just for everyone’s sake. Mostly his.