Pairing: Platonic!Wonwoo x Chan
(main: Vernon x fem!reader)
Synopsis: What’s a better way to find love in the modern day than through dating apps? Eight months after his breakup with his long-time girlfriend, Vernon is finally ready for the dating scene once more - or so he thought. Finding the new game of love more challenging than he remembered, he reaches out to you, Chan’s best friend and legendary wing woman, for help.
Genre: fluff, crack, angst, slowburn, sm au, university/recent college grads au, mild love triangle(?), S2L, tsundere!reader, sweetheart!vernon, best friend!chan, ex-lover!Jeonghan
Warnings: Insecurities, profanity
A/N: WONCHAN SUPPORTERS RISE!!! LOLOLOL. Fun fact: they are my favorite pair (not in a weird shipping way lol) in Seventeen!
Anyhow, I feel bad about leaving you guys hanging for two weeks with nothing and I didn't really have the heart to study today . . . so naturally, I wrote a bonus chapter for y'all! This one's especially for you @wisteria-woo 😘
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts on the story!
City-slicker Jean Kirstein is forced to come back to the small town he spent one year in for a funeral and runs into hell-raiser Eren Jaeger, apprentice to the local mechanic.
“If you want the best and fastest, go to Hannes’ garage and ask for Levi,” Connie told Jean. “But don’t talk to Levi. If possible, try to avoid looking at Levi.”
“He’s not that bad,” Sasha said, coming up behind her husband. “Don’t listen to him. Hannes’ garage is the best. Take it there and we’ll see you in a few hours.”
Every year tourists would flock down the coast and flood the small town of Sina. Jean had been one of those tourists, back when his parents were still together. Then, one day they called it quits and suddenly, for one painful growing year, Jean was a townie. That year, when he was thirteen going on fourteen, had been the best and worst year of his life. That was the year he lost all of his city friends and gained a whole set of new friends, the kind of friends you have for life. That was the year he confessed to his best friend Marco that he liked guys and after one awkward and wet kiss Marco said he didn’t but that was okay they could still be friends. Jean moved away before the next school year and he didn’t see Marco again until they stumbled into each other on college campus. And like that they were best friends again.
Jean didn’t know why he drove the car down instead of take a Greyhound. Actually, he did know. He wanted to show everyone from the small town that he was no longer the same dork whose mom dropped off his forgotten lunch on the first day of school. But in so doing, he realized he had become one of those fudgies who only showed up for the beach, ice cream, and fudge. When he pulled his foreign make car into the Springer’s driveway, only then did it dawn on him that this was a bad idea. Sasha excitedly told him she’d made up the guest bedroom for him and when Jean told her that he’d already made a reservation at a hotel, the look on her face crushed him. He had just wanted to show everyone he was making good, not flaunt his wealth. He cancelled the reservation and spent the night on the pull-out futon that made up the guest bed, smelling the floral sheets and staring at his cellphone.
The next morning, as Jean started up the car to grab some donuts for everyone, Connie pointed out that Jean’s lights didn’t work. Now he was forced to go to some dirty local garage to get the car checked out. They probably had never seen a model like Jean’s before, let alone touched one.
“Hey, I called in earlier about getting my headlights replaced?” he told the secretary, who was buffing her nails and looking very disinterested.
“Sorry, Petra’s on her break. What can I do for ya?” a voice called from around the counter and a man with grease stained coveralls and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes waved him over.
“Both of my headlights are out so I’d like them both replaced,” Jean said, walking over with his hands in his suit pockets.
“Both of ‘em?” the man wrinkled his nose.
Jean caught sight of ‘Eren’ written on the patch on his uniform or maybe it was ‘Elen,’ it was hard to tell with that grease smudge.
“When did they go out? Because what you actually might need is—“
“Right, I’m going to stop you right there,” Jean cut him off dismissively. “I’m not some dumb idiot with a flashy car who can be talked into a new set of tires or a fan belt that doesn’t fit right so I have to get replaced when I get back to the city.”
“I wasn’t—“
“I know it’s your job, but don’t upsell me. Don’t even try. Just replace the lights.”
“It’s just that the lights run at $1500 a pop and instead you—“
“I know how much the lights cost. Just give me that.”
“But, instead—“
“Look, I don’t want your greasy redneck hands even looking under the hood. Do we understand?”
“Hey!” the attendant shouted, growing heated. “I’m only saying that—“
“Jaeger!” snapped a short and angry looking man, coming around the corner. “What have I told you about arguing with the customers, eh? I am sorry, sir. My assistant, he is…how you say, not so big on the brains, eh?”
The man gave a thin, wolfish grin, wiping off his hands on a towel. Jean figured this must be Levi.
“Now what is it you need?”
“He says both of his—“
“Idiot!” the man said in a heavy eastern Slavic accent, so the ‘o’ stretched out nice and long, snapping his towel at Eren.
Eren pursed his lips and wiped his nose on his sleeve in embarrassment.
“I need both of the headlights replaced on my Maserati. I was told you have the parts. I will pay the cost of the headlights and labor, but no more. I’m tired of places tacking on unnecessary prices. It’s like you vultures see an expensive car and immediately come up with ten other things to add to the bill. I’m a very busy person and I’ve got places to be!”
“I apologize for my employee. I will do the job myself. Here, sit, sit. Have some coffee, my wife made it. It tastes like shit, I apologize. You can watch me through that window right there. I will be careful with your baby.”
“But Boss—“ Eren started again.
“Ah!” he cut him off. “The gentleman wants his lights replaced, I do that. You! Brat! Clean something! And you—“ he pointed at the woman doing her nails. “Coffee!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Eren looked frustrated and followed him through the door and Jean could see him arguing through the glass.
“Coffee?” the woman asked in a bored voice.
He accepted. It tasted like shit.
Eren lost the argument and Jean smirked as he went and got a broom to sweep up a different part of the shop, tail between his legs. Levi was quick and wiped away even the smallest of fingerprints with a clean towel.
“See? New headlights! No hassle! All good,” Levi said, and Jean had to admit he was impressed.
Eren stood behind his boss, sulking.
“Now, my wife will ring you…Petra!”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled and brought out the invoice.
Jean handed her his card and she ran it through and he signed, Eren glowering in a corner the entire time.
Yet when Jean went to go start the car, he flicked the lights on and…nothing happened. He stormed back up to the counter.
“What the hell?” he shouted. “They’re not working!”
“You said you wanted headlights replaced. I replace,” Levi said, shrugging.
Eren snorted, barely hiding his laughter, and his boss elbowed him in the ribs.
“I just paid a lot of money!” Jean waved his arms. “I want them fixed.”
“Oh!” Levi said, faking shock. “You want them to turn on?”
“Yes!” Jean said exasperatedly.
He was tired of angry hicks and ex-Soviets jerking him around.
“Here,” Eren said to Jean, taking pity on him and hiding his smirk.
He walked around the counter and grabbed a $3 box of fuses. In a matter of seconds, he replaced the dead fuse in Jean’s Maserati and then flicked all the lights on. Furious, embarrassed, and flushed up to his ears, Jean could only shake in rage.
“I—you—“
“You’re welcome,” Eren said simply.
“I want a refund!” Jean blurted out.
“I want my money back!”
“Pfft, no. You wanted the lights replaced so that’s what you got. But hey, we’ll throw in the box of fuses for free,” Eren laughed, putting his hand on his hips.
Levi let out a low growl.
“No, we will. We will,” Eren insisted and Levi rolled his shoulders and mumbled a reluctant affirmative.
“Fuck you. Fuck this fucking backwards town and fuck you,” Jean shouted flipping twin birds before hopping in the car and gunning it.
He was still fuming three miles later when his wheel snagged a pothole and popped a good ten miles out from the church.
“Why?” he sighed, putting his head down on the steering wheel before dialing AAA.
<*>
The phone rang inside the dead garage and at first Levi ignored it, intent on mopping up a streak of oil, but then, when he could no longer stand the sound, he stomped into the clean white room and picked up the phone, glaring at the red-haired woman blowing on her nails.
“Levi,” he snapped to the person on the other end. “Right.”
He hung up and then shouted.
“Eren!”
“Yeah boss?”
“You got a call out. Go. GO!” he waved and Eren ran to put away his tools.
“And you,” Levi said in a low rumble to Petra as Eren grabbed the keys behind her. “What I pay you for? Hm? Would it kill you to answer the phone?”
“You pay me squat to sit here and look beautiful,” she replied unconcernedly, filing her nails and popping her gum.
“Maybe I should give you raise?” he said, catching her chin.
Eren rolled his eyes and shook his head, closing the door on Petra’s giggle as he hopped in the Hannes’ tow truck.
<*>
“You have got to be kidding me,” Jean said recognizing the grease stained hat and coveralls behind the tow truck wheel.
“Well ain’t this somethin’,” Eren said, looking incredibly smug.
“I didn’t call you, I called AAA, so you just move on and I’ll wait,” Jean waved.
“You called AAA and AAA called me,” Eren drawled.
“Fuck, well then get on with it,” Jean waved, checking his phone and letting out a sigh.
Eren set up the jack and Jean paced.
“Hey, how long is this gonna take?” Jean asked, leaning over Eren.
The mechanic looked up at Jean, squinting against the sun and Jean realized that beneath that grimy cap of his, he had thick, dark eyelashes (to match his caterpillar brows, Jean thought derisively) and extraordinarily bright green eyes. The fact that his new nemesis was extremely good looking only served to anger Jean further.
“Why you got someplace you need to be?” Eren asked, flashing a toothy grin. “You city folk. Gotta go, gotta move.”
“Yeah, I got somewhere to be!” Jean said, now actually anxious he might not make it on time.
“Where is this somewhere?” Eren asked and Jean thought he heard him mutter, “A douchebag convention?”
“A…church,” Jean said, scratching the back of his neck, hoping he wasn’t getting a sunburn.
“You going to a wedding, Mr. Kirstein?” Eren cheeked.
“Ha, no. I wish,” now it was Jean’s turn to mumble. “A funeral.”
Eren peeked up at him from the brim of his hat.
“Ah, sorry to hear that. Someone you were close to?”
“My best friend actually,” Jean shrugged.
“Ah.” Eren tongued at the corner of his mouth.
Eren was quiet for a bit, focused on his work, and Jean wasn’t inclined to interrupt him. He kept checking his phone for the time, growing more and more agitated.
“Uh oh,” Eren said.
“What? No ‘uh oh!’ What?”
“Well you’re out of alignment. Must have happened when you caught the edge of the pavement here.”
“And?”
“I’m not gonna be able to get the spare on. I’ll need to take ‘er in.”
“This is just fucking perfect,” Jean cursed.
“Hey, the funeral in’t for another hour at least,” Eren said, hopping up. “And it’s a quick fix. Levi will have ‘er up and ready in plenty time to get there.”
Jean didn’t ask how he knew when the funeral was. It was a small town. It was likely everyone knew.
“I told his mother I’d get there early to help set up,” Jean said, kicking a rock, scuffing his new shoes.
“Hey, how about I get her up on the rig here and I can drop you off at the church. Then when you get out I’ll have it ready for ya. Sound good?”
Jean grunted but agreed. He was over a barrel here.
Eren dropped Jean off on the church steps and Jean watched the tow truck drive away with the most expensive item he owned, hoping he hadn’t just been robbed.
He helped Marco’s younger siblings set up a stand full of pictures of Marco and then stood next to his mother greeting and thanking people for making it. The organist started up the music and halfway through the first hymn, Jean saw people sneaking in the back. He turned a little to the side, holding the hymnal to his chest and caught sight of Levi, Petra, and a few others from the shop shuffle in. Jean’s mother turned to look as well. Levi gave a curt nod and Mrs. Bodt returned it. Then, just like that, the group slid out of the pews and left. They stepped around Eren as he entered. He’d cleaned up some. He surprised Jean by wearing a suit and he’d removed his hat, but there was still a dent in his wild, dark locks. He sought out Jean in the crowd and when he found him he waved, shaking Jean’s keys in his hand.
No. Please no.
Eren made to toss them.
Don’t you dare.
He threw them underhand just as the song finished and Jean snatched them out of the air in a loud clang. People turned to stare. Flushed up to his eyebrows, Jean shoved them in his pocket before realizing it was the same pocket as his phone. Father Nick eyed them both with a severe expression. Jean switched the pocket the keys were in and then turned forward only to turn around again as Eren reached a hand out behind Jean to tap Mrs. Bodt’s shoulder.
Jean glared, but Mrs. Bodt appeared delighted, hugging him and cupping Eren’s boyish face in her hands and kissing him on the cheek. Father Nick fixed Eren with a death glare.
“I can’t believe Jaeger made it,” Jean heard Connie mutter across the aisle.
Jean sized up Eren, who grinned and gave Jean a thumbs up, then jerked his head in greeting at Connie and Sasha and the rest of Jean and Marco’s high school friends. Sasha bounced the baby who waved toothlessly at Eren.
Father Nick started on a long biblical passage and Jean checked the church program and sighed when he realized this was only one of several very long sermons, none of which had anything to do with Marco or his life.
“Let us pray,” Father Nick instructed.
Jean bowed his head, but turned a little to the side so he could inspect Eren behind him. To his surprise Eren was staring straight at him. Wordlessly, Eren thumbed at the doors. Jean cast a look around. No one was looking. Save for Father Nick who was staring down both of them. Jean took a sideways step. Father Nick’s eyes narrowed. Jean leaned, the majority of his torso out of the pew. Father Nick didn’t pause his sermon, but he did turn his head slightly to the side. But Eren was already in the aisle, backing up for the door. Jean’s weight finally forced him to stumble to the side and he chased out after Eren.
“Man, I thought Father Nick was gonna swallow me whole,” Eren laughed as the heavy doors shut on them. He tugged his tie open and threw his suitcoat into the tow truck.
“You? He was glaring at me!” Jean protested. “I’ll hear about it for sure when I go back in there.”
“Naw, he hates me. I’m still technically not allowed in from that time I broke into the kitchen and got drunk on the communion wine. He’ll just chalk it up to my bad influence.”
Jean chuckled.
“Here, your baby is over here,” Eren jerked his head. “Levi was able to patch up your tire, so you’re not stuck driving on the spare, but if I were you I’d replace all of them when you get back to the city. We fixed the alignment.”
“Great. How much do I owe you?”
“No charge.” Eren shrugged. “Figure you’d had enough of a shitty day already.”
“Ha. Yeah. Well…thanks. That’s decent of you.”
“No, thank you!” Eren said, suddenly bright. “I’ve never gotten to even touch one of these, let alone drive one!”
He realized what he’d said and flushed.
“I mean, that was the fastest way to get ‘er here. Don’t worry, Mr. Kirstein, I took it nice and easy.”
Eren looked up at Jean hoping he wasn’t angry with him, his bottom lip in his teeth and a tinge of pink across his cheeks. And Jean couldn’t help be amused that a person his age called him “Mr. Kirstein.”
“Wanna go again?” Jean asked suddenly.
“What?” Eren blinked.
Jean tossed him the keys.
“They’re gonna be a while, right?”
“Hell yeah!” Eren said excitedly.
He quickly rolled up his sleeves, giving Jean a nice look at his tan forearms. Then he slowly slid behind the wheel with an audible moan and Jean chuckled at his enthusiasm.
“Now I assume you know how to drive a stick but—“ Jean felt his head slap the headrest as Eren peeled out.
“Oh yeah!” Eren let out a whoop. “I know how to handle ‘er real good.”
Despite the way he gunned it out of the church parking lot, Eren was a cautious driver. Jean rolled down the window and leaned his head out, drinking in the warm air. He let his hand ride on the gusts of air streaming by his window, splaying his fingers and feeling the wind pass on through.
“How fast you get ‘er up to?” Eren asked.
“Uhhh, I think 90 once. But that’s it.” Jean wasn’t exactly a speed demon.
Eren eyed the expanse of smooth country road and flashed Jean a roguish grin that Jean didn't quite grasp the meaning of until he watched the needle on the speedometer climb higher and higher.
“Eren,” Jean said, shifting uncomfortably.
Eren let out a hellcat whoop.
“Eren!” Jean said, grabbing the window frame.
“Yeah! Fuck yeah!” Eren yelled. “You ready?”
“EREN!” Jean shouted, bracing himself.
“Hold on!” Eren said, letting up on the clutch with the throttle down at the same time.
He jerked the wheel to the side and then Jean saw the whole world spin on its axis and he screwed his eyes shut. Jean was only vaguely aware that he was screaming and only when the car had ceased moving did he stop. He opened his eyes one at a time to see Eren grinning at him, the car purring happily under his direction.
“That was amazing,” Jean said hoarsely. “Do it again.”
The second time, Jean leaned back in his chair screaming with laughter as Eren hollered and whooped. Every time Eren drifted, Jean felt his stomach drop in delight, like the first dip of a rollercoaster, then catch up in a rush of pleasure and fuck if that didn’t go all the way to his cock.
“Okay, okay,” Eren gasped with laughter as Jean writhed breathless in his seat. “Last one?”
“Please!” Jean begged.
Jean had gotten the car purely for aesthetic purposes, but under Eren’s hands it was a beast. And the way Eren slid his palm over the stick before allowing each finger to wrap around was stirring Jean’s belly in a different way. The kid was a maniac, sure, but goddamn if he didn’t know how to fucking drive.
Eren started gunning it again and Jean leaned back watching the sweat trickle down from his hairline past his ear and disappear under his shirt collar. There was still a smudge of grease on the underside of his chin. He tossed a look over at Jean, who was breathing shallowly, throat tight as the trees and fence posts began speeding by in a blur. Without warning, he grabbed Jean’s hand and positioned it over the stick.
“Ready?” Eren shouted, his palm hot and heavy over Jean’s.
Jean only nodded.
“Now!”
Eren and Jean pulled together and then the red farm at the end of the road was suddenly in their rearview mirror. Eren let out a howl like a wolf, releasing Jean’s hand and Jean laughed with him and would have continued if the sudden blip of a police car hadn’t ruined their fun.
“Shit,” Eren hissed, looking over his shoulder in a panic.
“It’s okay, relax,” Jean said. “Keep your hands on the wheel where he can see them.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eren continued in a little whimper. “Afternoon, Officer Dawk.”
“Eren, what did I tell you about taking your boyfriends out for spins in the garage cars, hm?” Officer Dawk said, removing his Aviator’s, leaving small marks on the bridge of his nose. “What do you think Levi is going to do when he finds out you’re out spinning donuts in his customer’s cars? He won’t let you work at the garage anymore that’s for sure.”
Eren gulped.
“Uh, sorry officer, it’s my car,” Jean volunteered, waving. “I asked Eren to drive.”
Eren smiled nervously and Officer Dawk peered inside.
“You sober?” the officer asked.
“Of course, sir,” Jean answered truthfully, taken aback by the question.
“Plates are from New York, what brings you down here?” Officer Dawk continued.
“Uh, a funeral, sir.”
“Ah, right. Sad thing that. Family?”
“Best friend,” Jean gave a wan smile.
“Wait, you Peggy Kirstein’s little boy?”
“Yes, I am,” Jean said and then he vaguely remembered his mother mentioning a date with a police officer in the past. Ew. Please no.
Officer Dawk appeared to be deciding something.
“Well boys, I understand that with a lot of death around you feel the need to do a little livin’ but your friend has a mother and you out here isn’t helpin’ her. You understand?”
Not really.
“Yes, sir,” they chorused.
“You got someplace you should be,” Officer Dawk continued as Eren and Jean put on identical contrite faces.
Eren made to start up the car but Officer Dawk stopped him.
“Eren, boy, were I your father or Hannes I would have whooped your ass. If I catch you out here again, I’m throwin’ your turkeyneck behind bars, you hear? You’re too old for this shit. Thought having a friend like Marco woulda done you some good. Is that how you want to honor his memory? By acting like a teenage jerkoff? You’re not driving, give the man his keys back.”
Eren put his head down and slid into the passenger side, chewing on his dirty nails. Only when Jean started up and cruised at exactly the speed limit, with Officer Dawk following closely behind them, did he finally breathe.
“I can’t believe it.”
“I think that guy fucked my mom,” Jean said wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“Sucks,” Eren nodded sympathetically.
They pulled into the church parking lot and Officer Dawk drove off.
“I should probably go back,” Jean said after a few moments, turning off the idling car.
“Yeah,” Eren nodded in agreement.
They were silent.
“Thanks…for getting me out of there,” Jean said quietly.
“Thanks for getting me out of trouble with the pigs. And for letting me drive. I just can’t believe it. I finally got to drive one of these. Levi won’t let me work on the expensive cars. This is my first time even sitting in one!”
He tangled his fingers in his windswept hair and gave Jean that same aw shucks smile and Jean remembered how Eren’s fingers felt over his own minutes earlier. Feeling a little dangerous and reckless, Jean gave a cocksure grin.
“Want to make it your first time fucking in one?”
It was crass and bold and Jean knew it was a risk, so he half-expected rejection, but what he didn’t expect was the slow way Eren’s smile was wiped from his mouth.
“Huh?” Eren asked in a little laugh, confused as if he thought Jean was making fun of him.
“I’ve got time, it’s like what…another twenty minutes of service left? Let’s fuck.”
Any hint of humor was gone from Eren’s face. His eyes darted around the empty parking lot and his fingers drifted over to the door handle.
“I mean I’m only in town for tonight and then I head back for New York so we should have some fun.”
“Yeah…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why, you got a boyfriend? I don’t mind, I’ll be discreet,” Jean said allowing a smirk to hide his nerves.
He was putting his foot in it, he knew, but what did he care? He didn’t need to prove himself to Eren the mechanic of all people.
“C’mon, you’re hot. I don’t like you and you don’t like me, it’s the perfect set up.”
Disgust had now crept into Eren’s face.
“Perfect set up for what?” Eren asked, wrinkling his nose again.
“Hooking up,” Jean continued. There was a flush starting to creep up his neck and he really hoped Eren thought it was a sunburn.
Eren let out a laugh. It rocked all the way through his body and he clutched his hand to his chest. He opened the door and got out still tittering.
“What’s so funny?” Jean asked heatedly, leaning over to shout at Eren through the window.
Eren grabbed his cap from the cab of the tow truck and adjusted it over his dark locks.
“What?”
“You got problems, man. You’re pretty fucked up.”
What? He was fucked up?
“Fuck you!” Jean stuttered. “I don’t have to take that from some dumb hick who watched too much Dukes of Hazzard as a kid and drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on his dick.”
Eren howled with laughter.
“Hey! I make a fuckton of money, own my own apartment and this car! What the fuck do you do, huh? Who the fuck are you?”
Eren didn’t answer, he simply started up the noisy tow truck and pulled out of the parking lot. The moment the rumbling passed, Jean realized it was just him alone. He put his head against the steering wheel for a few moments, before dragging himself back into the church. He slid back into the pew and Mrs. Bodt slid her arm around him and rubbed at his back.
Connie and Sasha looked around at him.
“You okay?” Connie mouthed.
Jean nodded.
He must have looked like he had been crying, he realized. Not taking a joy ride with a former altar boy. He had just spent a good part of his best friend’s funeral trying to get laid. He stared at the hymnal, eyes blurring until all of the notes ran together. The burial followed the service and then the wake. He shook hands and washed the dishes for Mrs. Bodt and helped collect the flowers from the church.
“Ah Jean,” Mrs. Bodt said appreciatively. “You look exhausted. I’m sorry we couldn’t have you here. My aunt can’t stay at a hotel.”
“It’s fine, Connie and Sasha are putting me up.”
“Next time you come to visit I’ll make up a room special for you.”
“Thanks.”
But he wasn’t likely to visit again. Now that Marco was gone, there was truly no reason to come back.
Tucked into bed, Jean couldn’t sleep. He kept checking his phone, time slowly crawling along, listening to Sasha and Connie’s cats fight in the living room. He opened Facebook and checked the chat.
[Marco:] hey, what’s up?
[Jean:] nm, about to head out and get happy hour with some coworkers. what’s up with you?
[Marco:] nm, left work early.
[Jean:] :O
[Marco:] i have a killer headache. ://
[Jean:] sucks.
[Marco:] yeah if it doesn’t get any better tomorrow, ima go see the doctor
[Jean:] okay, we’re heading out, feel better!
[Marco:] cool, have fun!
And that was the last time they talked, nearly three months ago. That’s all it took for an aneurysm to burst in Marco’s brain, the same thing that had taken Marco’s father nearly twenty years ago. His family kept him on life support for a few months but pulled the plug last week and now Marco’s heart was beating in some Virginian 14 year old girl’s chest. Just like that a candle was extinguished. Jean didn’t know how he was supposed to be handling it, but everyone appeared more concerned for him than he actually deserved. He didn’t feel that sad. He felt guilty. Guilty he wasn’t more upset. Guilty he hadn’t made it down for Marco’s last birthday. Christ, he didn’t even cry! Wasn’t he supposed to cry? Maybe he was fucked up.
Setting down his phone, he closed his eyes and willed away disruptive thoughts. He willed away Eren and the way his rough hands felt over Jean’s own. He willed away Pastor Nick’s lecture. He willed away all of those sympathetic handshakes and looks sent his way.
He pushed back everything but Marco’s freckled face and shy laugh.
