Freckled Love (a JeanMarco AU)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Marco was overwhelmed with joy when he was pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair. He wanted to be up on his feet and using his crutches, but it was hospital policy. And he probably wouldn't have made it all of the way to the car, anyway.

Marco turned around in his chair before they even made it to the parking lot, looking to his parents.

"Jean can come with us, right? Until the weekend is over?"

Jean felt himself blush. He didn't really feel comfortable with Marco asking something that big without even talking to him first.

"Well... If that's what you want," his mother replied.

"We can stop by your dorm so you can pack a bag," Marco said, now turning to Jean.

"As long as it isn't an inconvenience..."

"It isn't!" He smiled widely. Seeing him so happy made Jean's heart flutter.

With some assistance, Marco got into his parents' car, buckled in safely and a blanket over his lap. He insisted he was fine, but his mother worried he may get cold.

As his parents packed things into the trunk, Jean got in the back, buckling himself in.

"Are you still okay with driving in cars and all?" He asked softly, looking into Marco's warm eyes.

"Yeah... I mean, it was an accident. It doesn't give me nightmares or flashbacks or anything."

"Okay."

Jean let his hand slide along the seat until it found Marco's. He didn't want to be holding his hand so obviously that Marco's parents could see, but he still wanted to be close to him. It was amazing for him to think that, at one point, they weren't even sure if Marco would live. But he was here, alive, smiling, sitting up, walking. Going home.

"I think I kind of liked being in the hospital," Marco suddenly spoke up.

"What? Why?"

"Well, it hurt like hell, but... You're always staring at me now, ever since... what happened. In a good way, of course. I don't know, I just... Feel loved." He shrugged his shoulders lightly, glancing away. He had a thing about talking about the accident for too long. It wasn't that it gave him bad memories, since he hardly remembered the moments before it happened, but he felt guilty for making everyone worry.

Jean felt his cheeks heat up, and he clung to Marco's hand tightly. "Because you are loved..."

Marco smiled happily, a small amount of color coming to his cheeks.

Jean still had things he wanted to talk to Marco about. Things he didn't get to say in the hospital because others were around, or there were other things that needed talking about first. But before he could bring them up, Marco's parents got into the car, and they were soon starting their journey to Washington. Jean stopped by his dorm to pack a quick bag.

Marco's parents were surprisingly talkative. (His mom more than his dad. His mom reminded Jean of Marco in the way that they both always had something to talk about. His dad was more quiet, yet was just as kind as his son.) Marco said before that they used to be like that all of the time. Before they took on bigger jobs. Before he got into high school. And they treated Jean just as well as they treated Marco. They asked him questions. When they all stopped at a store to get some drinks and snacks for the road, they bought both Jean and Marco a soda and a burrito each. And Jean was really grateful for them. He almost felt as though he didn't deserve all of their kindness, but they always insisted.

The two adults going into the store left the two boys in the car alone. Marco reached for Jean's hand and held it. It seemed that they were always touching now, even if only slightly, and Jean loved it. Just the slight brush of Marco's fingers over his wrist said a thousand words. He looked down at Marco's tan hand, with his long, slender fingers, and saw some cuts still healing from shattered glass.