freckledpatriot
Marco hadn’t really slept. Trying to submerge his thoughts into something, anything.But the tension wouldn’t let up. You could see it on the faces of soldiers that saw. Almost a schadenfreude glee in the situation. It turned Marco’s stomach as he just tried to keep his head down. But it didn’t help, the moment he heard footsteps and Jean came running down the corridor, a look of complete panic and sadness over his face. “-J-jean!” Marco called out to him, but his voice was stuck in his throat and he hadn’t seemed to hear him and continued charging out of the hall away from the prying eyes of soldiers. What happened to make you so upset? He followed Jean without thinking. Pulled more powerfully by concern than his own selfish and petty feelings. No matter what he felt, Marco had never seen Jean look so distraught. He slipped out of the hall way and jogged to a slow walk, approaching the Sandy haired blond as he curled up in the shadows. The smell of vomit and bile touched his senses, churning his stomach more. How can I make you better? “Jean-!” He knelt down slowly, resting a gentle hand on the boys back. God he was shaking, the sobs wracked his body before he crouched down beside him, pulling him close. He wasn’t sick, Marco knew suddenly what this must have been from. “What happened.” He murmured softly, his voice was soothing and gentle. Only he matters right now, nothing else. Draping an arm gently over his back Marco resting his forehead against him, not quite pulling Jean into the tight hug he wanted to. Just stop crying, please stop crying.
He wasn’t aware of anything as he lay there, a sudden chill deep down inside of him that made him almost want to be sick again but he knew there was nothing left. He didn’t know how much time had passed as he lay there but he was quickly running out of energy, the panic attack having drained his body completely and leaving his limbs trembling in it’s wake and a huge urge to just close his eyes and go to sleep right there outside despite knowing he really should get up and return to Erwin’s office to give the explanation he promised.
But a suddenly arms was pulling him up and backwards into a warm embrace and he was too worn out to fight it. He assumed it was Erwin and let himself be moved away from the remains of his lunch, limbs heavy and half dragging across the floor just a little as he did so. But it wasn’t Erwin’s voice that asked him what was wrong. Wasn’t the thick muscled arms he loved so much that were wrapped around his body.
Fate seemed it had a really bad sense of humour right now..
“Marco..”
It hurt. It hurt so much.. He had cut things off with Marco in terms of them ever being together but Jean knew that he still liked him. Hell, Jean still cared for Marco but it just wasn't at all how it used to be back with their relationship during training. After assuming the other dead for so long, Jean had moved on and fallen in love with another. They really hadn’t spoken much since Jean had begun going out with Erwin and the topic was still an incredibly sore spot between the two of them. But even despite all of this he still felt like he could trust Marco. That after the years separation Marco was still somebody he could call a friend he could count on.
“I-I fucked up Marco..” He let his voice break, another wave of fresh tears running down his face he couldn’t bring himself to bother to hide. He was far too tired to even try..
