A muffled sigh of relief bubbled past his lips. "I'm home, ma." He called, voice echoing softly off the walls. A gentle groan from the living room told Jean of her reply, and he slipped his bag off his shoulder and carefully onto the floor.
"Hey, ma." He greeted the sleepy figure sprawled across the couch gently. He didn't understand why his mother worked herself so hard. Since the Kirchstein father figure left, she'd been working herself on two jobs to keep herself busy and Jean could see her deteriorating. He knelt beside the couch. "What time did you get home?"
"Hello, Little Jeanie. Around four, maybe?" She replied blearily, unfurling herself from around a pillow and sitting up on her elbows to smile at him with wide, dull eyes. They'd long since lost their bright spark of life, Jean decided.
"Two hours ago." He muttered. "You go back to sleep then. I'll make dinner tonight." He smiled weakly and kissed her forehead, rocking on his heels to stand up and then he paused, looking down at her blank, tired face. He suppressed another sigh and sat next to her, letting her lay her head in his lap. Instantly his hand was in her hair, running the caramel blonde strands between his fingers gently.
"Thanks, Jay. I'm sorry." She murmured, eyes already sliding shut again. He shook his head and didn't answer, running his hand over her scalp over and over again until she was fast asleep and snoring gently. He shifted slowly so he did not wake her and scooped her into his arms, face falling as he realized how little she was now. His expression was crestfallen as he carried her to bed and covered her over.
Jean blinked a few times and retreated, turning off the light and closing the door quietly, but the moment she was out of sight he turned and slid down the wall with his head in his hands. his breath shuddered and he swallowed thickly, painfully, a lump of tears stuck in his dry throat. He wasn't sure how long he was sat there, struggling with himself outside of his sleeping mother's bedroom, but he startled fiercely when his phone buzzed from his back pocket.
New Chat with Freckles {Marco~}!
I'm hoping I got the right number, is this Jean? Camera Jean? If not, I was never here~
Jean stared at the new conversation message with surprised eyes. He hadn't really expected the pastel boy to message him, if he was honest with himself, but it was certainly a welcome distraction.
6:09 PM
Jean : No, don't worry, this is Jean. Sorry about my being so rude earlier.
6:10 PM
Freckles: No worries! Just glad I got your number hehe I don't really have anyone else to talk to, being new and all.
6:11 PM
Jean : You're a dork. What school are you going to attend here, anyways?
Freckles : Why, planning on seeing more often?
Jean : More hoping, really.
6: 16 PM
Freckles : so honest. Maria High, but the Rose department for music.
Jean: That's where I go, but I'm in art and photography in Rose. If you want, I'll show you around on Monday. It's easy to get lost in the frikkin massive school, I used to so often.
Freckles : That'd be amaaaazing! Thanks, Jeanie-Boy! I've got to go, dinner's a-calling :3
Jean. Bye, Marco.
Sent, 6:20 PM
Jean grasped at the doorway frame and pulled himself to his feet, making his way to the kitchen to find whatever he could scrap up into a reasonable dinner; he really need to go shopping again. He stared at the kitchen counter with his hands on his hips, a small range of simple spices, pasta, bacon strips, block cheese and mint in front of him. A small smile quirked at one side of his mouth as he mentally added them together and he set to work, as quietly as he could be.
"Ma, are you awake yet?" Jean called as he pushed open the door, the clock having just hit seven o'clock. His breath caught in his throat and he strode forwards, wrapping his arms around his crying mother without comment.
"I-I'm sorry, Little Jeanie." She managed, throat thick with tears. He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "I'm a terrible mother."
"Don't say that, ma." Jean protested quietly, voice pained and brow furrowed she sniffled and wiped desperately at her face.
"I didn't mean to put so much on you, sweetheart. You're all grown up now and I've been too busy d-drowning myself in work to notice." She choked out and a fresh wave of tears hit her." I-I-I'm so sorry, baby boy." Jean hushed her and she slumped against him, face buried in his shoulder. "I'll try and be better. I'll quit one of the jobs tomorrow. I can hold off from one, right?" Jean didn't answer, unsure of who she was talking to -- her son or herself.
After a bit, Jean eased her upright. "Dinner's ready and waiting, ma. Let's go before it goes cold. It's your favourite." A small, crooked smile made its way onto his face as her eyes brightened considerably. He helped her off the bed and didn't let go of her hand until she was seated.
"D'you want anything to drink?" He poured himself a glass of water as he turned to her. She shook her head.
"No thank you, Jay." Jean's brow furrowed at the name and she flushed, looking down at the table. "Well I can't call you Little Jeanie anymore, can I? You're hardly little.. You're taller than I am." She smiled feebly.
"I'd prefer it if you stuck to Little Jeanie, ma. He used to call me Jay." Jean's face crumbled and she reached for his hand.
"I miss him too, Jeanie. Even if we shouldn't. Go on, eat your dinner before I force it down your neck." She giggled lightly and Jean found himself smiling genuinely in -- well, a very long while.
YOU ARE READING
Pastel Cliché {JeanxMarco}
FanfictionJean Kirchstein isn't quite at peace with the world. He just... exists. So when he's sitting on almost the edge of a cliff, with not a thought in his mind and a camera in one hand, his automatic reaction when freckled face popped into view was to sc...
