wipesfaith | ( appointments )

[It's late in the evening hours when Marco returns to the apartment, just as it was the day before. However, things are different now. He himself isn't even sure what happened. It's like the last few weeks, especially the last few days are just a blur. What has he been doing? ...No, he knows what he's been doing, but why? What possessed him to do such a thing? What finally snapped him out of it? Somewhere in the back of his mind, there's an image of a girl. A dancing girl wearing a very odd white dress. She did something to him. She helped him.

How did he get home? He can't remember that much either. He must've wandered back in a bit of a daze. Now that the painful feeling in his chest is gone, the full force of exhaustion is hitting him hard. He's sore, tired, but above all he's ashamed. Ashamed of the way he's been behaving and ashamed of the way he treated Jean, who was only trying to look out for him.

Just like the day before, he slips through the door as quietly as possible. He expects Jean will be waiting for him again- ready to scold him again- but this time he won't avoid it. Jean has every right to get mad at him, he realizes that now.]

[Jean wasn't going to wait for him again tonight - he learned his "lesson" last night, loud and clear. Marco doesn't want his help, doesn't care about his concern. Fine. Let him mess up and realize Jean was right all along. These are the thoughts that sour inside of him, a product of raw and bitter anger.

But a bigger part of him knows he can't accept that. He can't just stop worrying about his friend. So when dinner passes and Marco still isn't back, again, he finds himself pacing in the living room, throwing his eyes toward the door every few minutes. His thoughts fall on his journal, but he doesn't trust Marco to pull his head out of his own ass for long enough to check for a message.

By the time Marco comes back, Jean has settled onto the couch, arms crossed, eyes already on the door. He doesn't say a word this time, letting his unwavering glare communicate with his friend instead: I'm still keeping an eye out for you, whether you want it or not.]

[He notes that glare, even if he can't quite decipher it, and the actual silence between them is almost deafening. He was such an idiot, letting things get this out of control between them. Jean's his closest friend and he'd always trusted the guy's judgment before. He should've never doubted his intentions.

For a few seconds, he just hangs his head, unable to meet that glare any longer. Then he steps further into the apartment. He knows full well it's up to him to make the first move. What he doesn't know is whether Jean will accept it so easily.]

... I'm sorry. I... I don't know what came over me the other day.

[The person standing before him now resembles his friend more closely than the stranger he fought with yesterday. His eyes soften tentatively, still carefully trained on Marco, his mouth still set in a firm scowl.]

Did you finally come to your senses?

Yeah... I think so. [He's exhausted, both his body and mind screaming for him to get some sleep, but he's thinking a lot more clearly now than he's been doing for over a week.]

Thanks for trying to look out for me, Jean. If you wanna punch me, I won't mind. [He manages a bit of a smile. It's half a grimace, really, but at least it's a genuine effort.]

[That smile is something he hasn't seen in a while. He sighs, and his shoulders sag a little in relief.]

...Nah. I think I'll save it for the next time you start acting like a total dumbass. [But he hopes there isn't a next time.]

[He chuckles, his hands moving down to his waist so he can remove some of his 3D maneuver gear. Normally, he'd put it away in his own room, but right now he's just too tired. He drops it in a corner near the door and wanders over to the couch so he can plop himself down on it.]

[His eyes follow Marco until he sits down, and then his eyes drop and a frustrated hand rakes through his hair. Marco seems like himself again, but does that just mean they're gonna go back to pretending everything is fine again?]

Look, about yesterday... There was something else I wanted to say. [It just...got shoved aside by their flaring tempers before.]

[He sits back on the couch, careful not to cause any discomfort to his wings as he does so, then closes his eyes for a moment. Ahh... Sitting down never felt so good. What was he thinking, doing so much training for days on end? He gets the feeling his muscles may never recover.]

Hm?

I know things have been...weird between us since I got here. [He doesn't know how else to phrase it, so there it is.]

I get that a lot has happened, and maybe I'm a little different from what you remember. Half the time I wish I wasn't - I wish I was still that arrogant, self-absorbed dumbass from training. [Because he was happier, because he knew what he was doing, or at least thought he did...] But I can't be anymore.

[He shakes his head.] Point is, I'm still your friend, and you're still mine. So don't feel like you have to hide anything from me, or act like everything's okay when it isn't. [Here, he looks at Marco again.]

[There were quite a few things that Marco was expecting his friend to say, but all this certainly isn't one of them. The mere fact that Jean is admitting all this in the first place just proves that he is different from the boy Marco remembers. That Jean wouldn't have bothered bringing this up at all, or maybe just worded it very bluntly.

It's both a good change and a bad one. Jean's growing more mature every day and that's great, but in a way it also makes Marco feel even more left behind. He's got a lot of catching up to do. Might as well start now.]

I know. I know I shouldn't hide stuff, I just... [His eyes slip open again and he turns his head to glance at Jean.] I can't really help it. I don't know how I feel about it either.

[He thought he knew, up until today. Up until that strange girl pulled the heavy feeling out of his chest. Now he's not so sure anymore.]

...Yeah... [Seeing Marco here, when he'd thought he would never see him again, had jarred a complicated knot of emotions loose. He was happy, relieved, to have more time with his friend, but it came intertwined with heavy regrets and the reminder that while he was obligated to view his stay here as temporary, Marco had only the end of his life to return to. And he'd had to pass on that blood-chilling message to him.]

You probably would've been better off if I'd never shown up, huh? Then you wouldn't have to know.

[But this logic is full of leaks, and he knows it. Even if he had never come here, someone else from their class could have come eventually, inevitably, and it would be no different. The truth is unavoidable.]

No! [The word's left him before he even fully realizes he's opened his mouth. He sits up a little straighter, turning in his seat to face Jean better.

It's true that ever since Jean gave him the bad news, he's been anxious and mulling over things he shouldn't be mulling over. He hasn't been able to enjoy the little luxuries of Luceti the way he did back when he'd just arrived. He often finds himself staring up at the ceiling when he should be sleeping. Even so, he doesn't regret Jean's arrival at all. He wouldn't regret it, no matter who the bearer of bad news would've been.]

I needed to know anyway. It was really tough to hear, but... I needed to know. [A faint smile tugs at his lips.] I'm just glad to have a friend around to stop me from doing something stupid.

[His eyes jump to Marco, surprised by the force behind that answer.

Then there's a heh, and he finally cracks a quiet grin.]

Right...forgot you don't need a babysitter to coddle you. [Marco isn't the kind to cower and hide from the truth. He's tougher than that. Jean lightly punches him in the arm.] But I'll stop you from being a moron any time you need it. What are friends for?

[It's about time he started paying Marco back.]

[When Jean punches him in the arm, he flinches mildly. Not because he was startled or because Jean put too much force behind it, but because his muscles are incredibly sore right now. He can't wait to take a hot shower and then crawl into bed. Even so, he shoots Jean a wide grin.]

I'll try and stop you from being a moron too, but no promises. There's only so much I can do on my own.

Gee, thanks. [But even through the sarcasm, he can't help but keep grinning.]

It's good to have you back... [Back to normal, and just...back.] I guess I never said that before.

[When they had first crossed paths the day Jean arrived, they moved so quickly through the dissonant torrent of emotions and came out on the other side already trying to fall back into the way things always were. He never had a chance to tell him.]

You didn't really need to say it.

[He knew it from the moment he'd had time to process Jean's initial response to seeing him here in Luceti. He realized just how hard his death had hit Jean. They should be enjoying the time they have left here, because once either of them leaves, that's it. They'll probably never see each other again. Then again, it's the same way back home. You always run the risk of losing someone close to you, especially when you're in the military.]

But... It's still nice to hear.

Just thought you should know.

[He'll have to go back eventually. He knows this. While it's far easier to acknowledge his own return than Marco's, it still feels like a looming deadline. But it's one he has to accept. Instead of fixating on the endpoint, which could be tomorrow, or it could be a year from now - he won't know - he'll try to keep himself in the time they have until then.]

[He stands, stretching his arms over his head and looking back at Marco over his shoulder.]

You've gotta be exhausted, right? [And he won't say "I told you."]

[That's still kind of an "I told you so" in Marco's eyes, but he doesn't mind. Jean has every right to say that, and more. He's got no one to blame but himself for being this exhausted.]

Are you kidding? I feel like I could sleep for days. [In fact, part of him doesn't even want to bother getting up from the couch anymore. He could curl up right here- it's comfortable enough.]

Hey, I'll give you a free pass to ditch school tomorrow if you wanna catch up on sleep instead.

[He snorts loudly. School isn't mandatory in Luceti- heck, he's the one who had to drag Jean over there in the first place- but the idea of 'ditching' class still brings a smile to his face. It's a good thing Professor Sage is nothing like Instructor Shadis.]

You'll really let me? Thanks, Jean. You're a real pal.

I know, I'm just too nice. I'll even lie to Professor Sage for you, tell her you're sick or something.

[He has turned to face Marco straight on now, and he throws together an impression of a good, meek student, raising his hand to speak.] Sorry, Professor, Marco couldn't make it to class today...he's suffering terribly from the shits.

[The- What-

He's become acquainted with Jean's bad sense of humor and foul language over the past years, but every so often he still gets caught offguard by it.]

J-Jean! C'mon, that's not funny!

[A burst of laughter, because the look on Marco's face is priceless, and this feels so effortlessly normal in a way that it hasn't the whole time he's been here. He holds both hands palm out in a lazily placating gesture.]

Okay, okay...I'll cut you a break. You can be boring and have a cold instead, alright?

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