Frére Jaques (Jeanmarco Oneshot)

Frére Jacques

"No serious organs were damaged, but the ambulance came too late. He was nearly bled out by the time someone on the road spotted him," the nurse said.
"But he'll be okay, right? He's gonna be okay. Marco is always okay. Always,"
"I'm sorry, Mr Kirstein. Your friend is dead.
➖
Dead.
He's dead.
Dead.
The word rang through Jean's head as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Your friend is dead.
His friend, huh?
Jean turned on his side.
They were never just friends. When they were together, really together, it felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of them. Marco was his everything. Marco couldn't just cease to be like that, he would always be there, he would always linger. He couldn't be gone.
➖
"Let's get outta here," Jean said, grabbing Marco by the hand.
Marco laughed. "And go where, Jean? You're funny when you're drunk."
Jean scowled and blinked. "I'm not drunk."
Marco smiled, and Jean's heart skipped a beat. It was one of his rare angel smiles Jean was sure nobody but him had seen. He was so beautiful in that moment, Jean had to blink to stop himself from kissing the boy right then and there, in the middle of the bar. "Whatever you say, Squad Leader," Marco chuckled.
"You're the squad leader, Marco," Jean said. "I'm not,"
"But you're a much better leader than I am. You're good at assessing the situation, and you know how to make split-second decisions."
"Shut up and come with me," Jean blushed at the praise. He led Marco out of the bar and into the parking lot, to his dad's old blue van and instructed him to go in.
Marco followed directions, and despite his inquiry as to where they were going when Jean started the car, he was denied such information.
When they arrived, Marco looked around the scenery and glanced at Jean inquisitively.
"Where are we?"
"Just follow me," Jean took his friend's hand, more for the contact than to lead him.
The moon served as the only light in the small clearing Jean had parked in. The woods they entered were thick, and the ground was dappled with fractured moonlight, lighting up the crisp fall leaves on the path.
Marco kept close, constantly glancing around and squeezing Jean's hand whenever he heard a rustle in the bushes behind them or a twig snapping in the distance.
Jean stopped after a while and looked at Marco incredulously.
"Are you afraid of the dark?"
"No!" Marco's voice was high. "I'm afraid of dark forests in the middle of the night! You know slender man? And there are wolves in the forest, you know? There's been a population boom recently, and the deer population isn't enough to sustain them. There are hungry wolves in this forest!"
Jean laughed. "You've been training to be a police officer for three years only to be afraid of some wolves, who, by the way, do not eat humans?" Jean unclasped his hand from Marco's and wrapped his arm around the other boy's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from the scary scary monsters,"
Marco pouted. "Shut up, you're the one scared of our military instructor."
"That's because Shadis is a fucking psychopath,"
Marco laughed. "Yeah, he kinda is."
They continued down the path, which soon opened up into another clearing, inhabited by a stream and a brilliant beam of moonlight. On the other side of the clearing was a ladder that lead up to a rickety old treehouse.
"What's this?"
"It's the treehouse I used to play in as a kid. I visit here sometimes, just to remind myself of the good old days," Jean shrugged.
"And you're showing it to me?"
"I guess it just felt right. To make new memories here with my favorite person," Jean blushed, and looked down.
"Jean..." Marco whispered.
"Yeah?" Jean looked at Marco, and curled his toes in his boots. His heart was beating faster, and he felt his palms getting clammy.
"I think there's a wolf over there,"
Jean looked behind him at the bush Marco was pointing to, and saw a pair of eyes reflecting the moonlight.
Jean grabbed Marco's hand and rushed to the rickety ladder. Once they had climbed up, they knelt in the entrance and looked back at the bush only to see a stray tabby cat, slinking off into the bushes. Jean snorted. Marco turned bright red, which was barely visible in the moonlight. Jean burst into laughter and clapped his hands on Marco's shoulders, giggling nonstop. When he had calmed down slightly, Marco batted him in the head lightly.
"Shut up,"
"Your face, though!" Jean started laughing again. "You looked like you'd just seen a ghost!"
Marco pouted and crossed his arms. Jean's fit of giggles died out, and the two ended up staring at each other in the moonlight, which felt like forever for both of them.
Finally Marco whispered,
"I can't believe you spent your childhood in a dump like this,"
"It wasn't this old when I used to play,"
And then Marco smiled and wrapped his arms around Jean's neck. "I would've liked to have met young Jean. Maybe you used to be cute,"
"Hey!" Jean began to protest Marco's insult, but he had already pressed his lips to Jean's, and tangled his fingers in his hair.
Jean was dumbstruck for a second, and then he began to kiss back, not really knowing what to do with his hands. He pressed them against Marco's chest, grabbing onto the boy's shirt and tugging him forward.
When they pulled away for breath, Jean stared at his friend, and blinked once, twice, and then three times before smashing his mouth against Marco's again, this time more confident in what he wanted to do to the boy. He had been in love with his friend for longer than he cared to remembered, and he had longed to do this for ages. Now he couldn't stop. His lips migrated from Marco's mouth to Marco's jaw, to Marco's ear, to Marco's neck, to Marco's collarbone, to Marco's Adam's apple, to Marco's shoulder. Jean wanted to kiss Marco's everything.
"Jean," Marco pulled Jean's head back up, so he was looking the other boy in the eyes. "Be my boyfriend,"
In response, Jean kissed him.
➖
"It sucks that Marco's in New York for your birthday," his roommate Armin said from the couch.
"He had to go to his aunt's wedding. We're going to celebrate next weekend on our anniversary,"
"I see," Armin nodded, "Six months, huh. It feels like jut yesterday you two finally realized how in love you both were,"
Jean blushed. "Hey, you still haven't asked Hanji out, so I don't want to hear it."
Armin turned red and began to protest, but Jean raised a finger. "You can spout your 'she's my superior' bull all day long, but nobody believes you,"
"Shut up," Armin murmured. "Hanji's too good for me,"
"So? Marco's too good for me. I'm a bitchy, conflict-prone asshole who can't even be in the same room as Eren without starting a fight. Marco can always calm me down, even when I'm so angry I'll legitimately punch a wall. Marco deserves someone better than me. Someone easier. But it's really up to Marco to decide who he wants, and I'm not allowed to change that, no matter what. Just because you think Hanji's too good for you, doesn't mean she does. And trust me, she doesn't."
Armin smiled. "Thanks, Jean. And you really should stop having fights with Eren. It's part of the reason you got fifth place in the top ten rankings."
"I know, I know, he just makes me so angry sometimes."
Armin's phone dinged. "Speak of the devil," He showed Jean the message from Eren. "He and Mikasa are on their way."
"Cool," Jean nodded.
"Oh, and Sasha and Connie," Armin said a minute later.
Jean nodded and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until he came to a network playing old Tom and Jerry cartoons.
Armin and Jean sat in silence for a while, Jean watching the kids cartoons, Armin texting on his phone.
"Who're you texting?"
"Hanji," Armin said. "She's with Mike and Erwin at a bar, and Mike just sniffed the guy sitting next to him."
Jean laughed. "Sounds like Mike,"
The doorbell rang, and Armin jumped up to answer it.
Eren and Mikasa stepped in, both holding wrapped presents.
"Hey, guys," Jean said, getting up to greet his friends. Armin collected the presents and placed them on the table in the kitchen. Sasha and Connie arrived soon after.
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, you look like a ho-orse, and you smell like one too!" Sasha and Connie sang as Connie popped a confetti blaster and Sasha placed a party hat on Jean's head.
Jean laughed and scooped some of the confetti off the floor and sprinkled it in Sasha's hair and on Connie's head.
The three laughed for a bit and Sasha promptly made her way to the kitchen and the snacks that lay within. The friends all stood in the kitchen laughing and talking, waiting for the others to come.
Ymir and Christa arrived with a giant present nearly as tall as Christa.
"We had to get Bertl to help  us wrap it, because it's so big!" Christa said.
"I would've wrapped it if you had asked me, Christa," Ymir grumbled.
"I'm sorry, Ymir, you're just not very good at wrapping!" Christa smiled at her girlfriend guiltlessly and Ymir scowled.
"It's so hard to be mad at you," she stated.
Christa grinned. "I know."
Reiner and Bertholdt arrived with Annie, and Bertholdt smacked into the top of the doorway when I tried to get in.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Armin rushed to Bertholdt to see if he was okay, which he always did when the tall boy came over and smacked his head on the doorway.
Jean observed his friends all there, with him, for his birthday. He watched Sasha sneak up behind Mikasa and tickle her, receiving a glare. He watched Christa politely steal the cookies from the table and hide them behind Ymir while she ate them. Ymir glanced back at her girlfriend and made a "I-don't-even-know-why-I'm-surprised-at-what-she-does-anymore" expression while shaking her head.  Jean watched Armin check his phone, presumably a text from Hanji, and smile. All of his friends were so in love and so in place with their loved ones.
Jean wished Marco was there. He always made Jean better. Jean could talk to people without offending them with Marco around. Jean ached as he missed his boyfriend.
The doorbell ringed and everyone looked around for the people who hadn't shown up yet. Nobody. All of their training unit was there. Who could be at the door?
Armin went to the door and cracked it open, only for it to be slammed open by a scantily clad, drunk Hanji, along with Levi in a party hat, Erwin in a tutu, and Mike holding a stack of presents.
"Happy birthday, Armin's roommate!" Hanji sang, pinning her eyes on Jean.
"His name is Jean, Shitty Glasses," Levi muttered to his friend.
"Happy birthday, Jean!" Hanji repeated. She was wearing a low cut, pink tank top that said 'On Wednesdays we wear pink" and a pair of ripped short shorts. The tank top was a bit too short, though, so a sliver of tan belly poked out from above her shorts. She had a bottle of vodka in her hand, and whipped out a shot glass and presented Jean with it after she'd filled it.
"Um, thanks," Jean held up his hands. "But no thanks."
"You look sad! Who the fuck is sad on their birthday? Come on, it's just a bit of vodka!"
Jean marveled at how she had spotted his sorrow and gave up. He took the glass and threw his head back, swallowing the liquid.
Hanji clapped and took a swig from the bottle before offering some to the others. Reiner gladly accepted one, and, surprisingly, so did Christa.
Armin appeared next to Jean and apologized for Hanji barging in.
"She does this sometimes, I'm really sorry."
"It's fine," Jean smiled.
The other incomers had already mixed in, Levi with Eren and Mikasa, Erwin talking with Bertholdt, and Mike and Connie sniffing each other while being filmed by Sasha, who was cracking up. Hanji was yelling something about putting on music and grabbing onto Armin, asking if he would put on some Twenty One Pilots or something. Armin obliged, and the beginning of Heavydirtysoul blared through the apartment.
The party continued with more music and drinking, and more Hanji being crazy. Sasha and Connie convinced Armin to play Never Gonna Give You Up and danced through the whole thing. Ymir and Christa rapped and sang the entirety of Airplanes, and Erwin busted out some sick moves alongside them. Hanji got Levi into a dance-off with Mikasa which ended in a lot of screaming and breakdancing. Who knew Mikasa could breakdance? Not Jean. He saw Hanji pulling Armin into the hall at around midnight. They both emerged a while later, hair mussed up and holding hands. Reiner did a fabulous impression of Ymir, and Christa got a piggy back from Bertholdt. Jean watched his friend's antics and decided that, even though Marco wasn't there, it was still a fun party.
Jean's phone rang at three AM. It was Marco, and he wondered why the other boy would be calling him so late.
"Is this Jean Kirstein?" The voice wasn't Marco. He didn't even recognize the voice.
"Yes? Who is this?"
"I'm a representative of St Jude Emergency Hospital. You are the owner of this phone's most recent call. We would like to ask you a few questions."
"What happened? Why is Marco in the hospital?"
"What is the owner of this phone's name? Marco?"
"Marco Bodt. What happened?"
"What relationship do you have to Mr Bodt?"
"He's my boyfriend. Tell me, what the hell happened?"
The others at the party had started noticing Jean's distress. They were asking what was wrong, but Jean wasn't listening.
"Do you know when the last time you saw Mr Bodt was?"
"Thursday morning, he was driving to New York for his aunt's wedding," Jean growled. "Now tell me what the FUCKING hell happened!"
There was a silence. Then a breath. "Mr Bodt was in a serious car accident,"
Jean froze.
"Is he okay?"
"We don't know yet."
"You're at St Jude? Where is that?"
The woman told Jean how to find the hospital and Jean thanked her before hanging up.
"What's going on?"
"Who was that?"
"What are you doing?"
"Are you okay?"
His friends looked at him with concern and confusion.
"Marco got into a car accident," Jean muttered.
The others gasped. Armin rushed to Jean's side and clutched his arm.
"Where is he? Maycomb? Cambridge?"
"St Jude. I have to go see him," Jean grabbed his coat and his keys.
"Wait, Jean, you're drunk!" Armin said.
"So is everyone else here. I can't leave him like this, Armin. I need to see him."
"I'm not," Mikasa stood up. "I'm not drunk,"
"Come on then," Armin ushered her out the door and followed them out.
The hour and a half it took to get to St Jude's hospital was passed in silence. Armin was breathing heavily like he always did when he was worried, and Mikasa's hands were white from clutching the wheel too hard.
When they arrived, Jean slammed the door open and rushed to the desk.
"I need to see Marco Bodt immediately."
"I'm sorry, but only family and loved ones are allowed to visit,"
"I AM HIS FUCKING LOVED ONE. LET ME SEE MY BOYFRIEND!" Jean yelled, slamming his fists on the desk.
The man at the desk seemed unfazed. He typed something into the phone on his desk and picked it up. After a bit of murmuring Jean couldn't hear, a nurse led Jean to the ER.
Marco was on the bed, half of his body torn away. His face was pale, and the freckles that smattered his nose and cheeks, the freckles that Jean loved to count late at night, Were covered instead by smatterings of dried blood.
"No serious organs were damaged, but the ambulance came too late. He was nearly bled out by the time someone on the road spotted him," the nurse said.
"But he'll be okay, right? He's gonna be okay. Marco is always okay. Always,"
"I'm sorry, Mr Kirstein. Your friend is dead.
➖
Jean vaguely remembered a poem he had heard once, and, itching to find the whole thing, looked up the one line he remembered. It turned out to be a W. H. Auden poem.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Jean's eyes pricked with tears, and he let out a shaky sob.
"Marco..." He repeated the name until his lips wouldn't move anymore and his face was salty from tears.
➖
The light was bright and Jean was crouched in a corner, his clothes white and his hair longer than usual.
"Frére Jacques, Frére Jacques,
Dormex vous? Dormex vous..." Singing wafted to Jean's ears. The song was one his mother used to sing to him, but the voice was male, and one he hadn't heard for nine days.
"Marco?"
The boy came into focus across the room, and Jean stumbled to his boyfriend, tears streaming down his cheeks. Marco was translucent, as if he wasn't there at all. But Jean's fingers met skin, and his lips found no words, only whimpers of joy and sorrow.
Marco continued to sing. "Sonnes le matienez, sonnes le matienez!
Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong."
Jean slowly calmed down, and Marco wrapped his arms around Jean's neck.
"I miss you," Marco whispered, after he finished singing. "Come live with me, please."
"How? Marco, where are you? Why did you leave me?"
Marco choked on his words as he said,
"I didn't leave you, Jean." Marco had to swallow his tears. "I was taken from you, and I can't bear to be here without you,"
"Tell me how to come to you. I miss you, Marco. I need you,"
Marco leaned in close to Jean and whispered in his ear.
➖
Jean awoke, clutching the blanket, a poor replacement for his boyfriend. He recalled a strong purpose. Jean staggered out of his bed and opened his window. He looked down the long drop and at the people on the street below. He climbed onto the windowsill and fixed his eyes on Marco standing on the street, smiling at him with his arms out.
"Frére Jacques, Frére Jacques."