𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢

𝟹𝟹. 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 & 𝚖𝚎

❥ trigger warnings: talk of death | after life, grief, talk of self harm, symptoms of a panic attack, brief mention of suicide attempt | ideation.

❥ the inspiration for marco was based off a friend i lost while i was still in high school, so this chapter is one of the most special to me. it was nice to be able to remember him in this way. i hope you enjoy bbs.

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| Jean's POV |

☼ sunday, afternoon.

The last time Jean was here, cooped up inside the solemn walls of his childhood home on Magnolia Court, he wanted nothing more than to die.

With every unwanted breath taken, every painful step paced, he found himself begging for the universe to cut away his misery that he had noosed around his throat and take him away, sending him to whatever the hell makes up the afterlife.

Now, swallowed by the grandeur that surrounds this same place almost a year later, Jean wants nothing more than to live.

It's not because he feels like he deserves to but because now that he knows what it's like to know you, to have every fiber of his being enraptured by you, he doesn't ever want to be faced with a circumstance where he has to stop. 

This short time spent away from you is punishment enough, he couldn't even begin to imagine an eternity.

The remaining 38 hours of this trip really need to speed the fuck up. He's so damn lonely without you, even more than you thought he'd be.

It's around 3 o'clock in the afternoon and he's in the living room that rests adjacent to the entry way. Surrounded by cream colored walls and a coffered ceilings, he sits on the padded bench resting in front the Steinway & Son's grand piano with Scout, who is curled up in a ball, sleeping soundly near his feet.

Eyes set before him, Jean looks at the three pane stain glass windows that this musical instrument lives in front of. His gaze travels upward, tracing the way it stretches tall enough to nearly meet the section of the ceiling that's made up of white and mahogany gothic-like framework that mimics an alter in a cathedral.

It's one of the most beautiful sections of this house. A place his parents used to have to bribe him to step away from.

A place he hasn't come anywhere near since the accident.

A place he's been sitting quietly at for the last fifteen minutes with his hands winging in his lap, warring with his head if he should try and play the keys of this piano he hasn't touched since Marco was still alive.

Jean's annoyed with the hesitation swimming inside of him, forcing everything around him to seem like he's been submerged into a body of water. It's not like he has an audience that he has to worry about, so what's the big deal?

His father, Adam, has been cooped up in the stand alone garage since he got back from his office this morning, working on one of his vintage cars. As for his mother, Charlotte, she's gone for the time being, busy running  Zofia around, taking her to her piano lesson and then dropping her off at one of her friend's birthday parties.

He offered to help out but she kindly declined, leaving him alone in this house with too much time on his hands and too much of you on his mind.