Deeply Devoted - A JeanxMarco AU

End

Marco's POV:

I found myself calling Jean.  It was a Facetime call, I wanted to hang out again... see his face.  I'm not going to lie, it was a pretty stressful day at the panel.  There were a lot more people than I'd expected, so public speaking grabbed my nerves and didn't let them go. 

I was at home now with everything still on except my shoes, really liking the outfit I chose.

In actuality, I wanted to take photos of myself in this outfit.  I have a hidden talent for getting all of my good angles, having a separate secret photo album of myself that no one has seen.  Most are just silhouette photos I've taken with different colored lights, some being NSFW.  But, I haven't shared them with anyone.  It started as a project for self confidence and now I do it every time when I'm feeling good about myself.  

Grabbing me from my thoughts, Jean answered the Facetime call, his face popping up onto the screen while mine went into the little corner.  

"Hey!"  I smiled at first, but the moment I saw his wet stained cheeks, my face fell, immediately going into worry mode.  "What's wrong.  Are you okay?"  

He sniffled through his nose and wiped his face frantically with the back of his hand, "Sorry, I thought I cleaned myself up before I answered... Yeah, I'm okay.  How was the panel?"  

"Jean," I trailed off, knowing he's lying.  Something must have happened between him and Emily again.  "Do you want to come over?  We can talk like we did last night?"  

It took him a second to respond, he seemingly looked around his car before answering, "Uh, sure.  I'm sorry for being a mess most of the time."  

You're in a shitty relationship, what are you supposed to do?  "Don't be sorry, we all get stressed.  I'll see you in a few minutes?"  

"Yeah."  

I smiled at him and waved through the phone screen as he did similar with a half-smile and hung up. 

Wow, I'm really worried about him.

I stood up from the couch and cleaned up my dishes from lunch earlier, straightening my small apartment with ease before Jean came over.  

After a few minutes of cleaning, there was a knock on the door.  

"Come in!"  I called out from the couch, not wanting to get up.  

The man opened the door and took off his shoes, leaving them on the place-mat by the door.  

"Hey again," he wasn't crying anymore, but he seemed exhausted.  

"Hi," I smiled to try and ease him a little bit, "come sit."  

He did as told and sat down next to me, running a hand through his hair.  "Thank you for letting me come over here... but pretty soon I'm going to have to go back and get clothes for a hotel stay.  I can't stand to be there with her."  

It must be really bad...

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"  I turned so I was sitting on my leg to face him, holding my hands in my lap.  

"She threw my sketchbook into the bathtub," he didn't hesitate to answer.  

"I didn't know you were into art.  But, excuse me if I'm overstepping... can't you just start a new one?"  

He looked at me with a forced smile, "I should've went into art instead of marketing, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to get a job.  But, no, I can't just make a new sketchbook.  She knew what was in there."  He paused and started picking at the skin around his fingernails, "My moms last drawing of us was in there.  She sketched it during her off times between surgeries when she was in the hospital."