Marco knew the name Jean Kirstein quite well. He heard it on a nearly constant basis, from friends, or passing gossipers. He heard it over the intercom, on rosters, shouted from the mouths of angry teachers and supervisors. But he hardly knew the face. The boy never came to class, if he could help it, and was nearly always either suspended, in detention, or serving some in-school suspension time.

But, when he did catch a glimpse, he couldn't help but try to see more. The boy was always a fleeting presence, passing by in peripheral, and then disappearing down a different hall or into a room. All Marco could manage to take in before he was gone would be the different colored hair, tawny on the top, chestnut on the bottom.

Or perhaps it would be the leather jacket. Or the too many buckles or splashes of red all over his black clothing. Or the chain connecting the legs of his pants together loosely. Or the countless holes in his jeans. But never did he see the entire Jean Kirstein. Not in the flesh, anyway. He saw his handiwork. The graffiti he left all over the school, the curses he etched into desks, the kids that were terrified of him for one reason or another.

He'd seen pictures of him in the yearbook, scowling at the camera, facial piercings glaring against the flash. He'd seen the girls gossiping about him excitedly by the water fountain or in the lunch line. Apparently he was something of a catch, if the squealing girls were any indicator. They didn't even notice Marco, or that he was listening with burning curiosity. Such were the perks and grievances of being a nerd.

Marco was painfully curious about this boy. He didn't know when it'd started, this fascination, but he knew that it was burning more every day that the one in question eluded him. But what could he do? He was too scared of the boy to openly follow him or seek him out. He needed an excuse, or a happy coincidence.

He got lucky.

Apparently, in the middle of trying to sneak out and cut class, Jean had been caught. After receiving a weekend detention, he was escorted into class, and sat down. Right next to Marco. Never before had he had a chance to take in so much of Jean's appearance. He had four facial piercings in addition to the ones in his ears; One in his eyebrow, one through the bridge of his nose, and then two below his bottom lip. What were those called? Snake bites? Or were they angel bites? Marco didn't know the difference.

His clothes for the day included a pair of skinny jeans that could hardly be considered jeans at all anymore, a ripping t-shirt that said "Star Fucking Hipsters," a pair of combat boots long past their glory days, too many studded bracelets to be counted, and a glare that could kill. Marco quickly dropped his eyes before he could be caught staring, as if he was the only one doing it. Jean wasn't someone you got to see very often.

Jean huffed next to him, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, far enough that the front legs came off the ground. Marco's stomach lurched a bit as he imagined the boy falling backwards, hitting his head, bleeding on the floor. But he didn't, maintaining his balance and sighing with exasperation as the teacher began their lesson.

It wasn't until the teacher started passing out a quiz that anything other than annoyance crossed the teen's face. But it quickly turned to dread as he stared down at the fifty point quiz, clearly not prepared for it. He ran a pale hand through the lighter hair at the top of his head, looking around with mild panic.

It was a bit mind blowing for Marco. He'd never imagined that someone like Jean Kirstein would have test anxiety. He assumed that Jean didn't care about his grades, considering how much class he cut. This was the first time Marco had ever seen him in one, actually. Yet there he was, biting at the nail of his thumb, brows furrowed as he started reading the questions.

Eventually, he leaned over, and Marco felt his limbs tense.

"Hey, let me borrow a pencil." He said, voice low so the teacher wouldn't hear. It took Marco a few seconds to realize what had been asked of him, and he quickly dove for his pencil bag, retrieving his nicest, newest pencil and offering it.

"Thanks." Came the reply. Marco only nodded, returning to his own quiz. But then, only a few seconds later, the boy was leaning over again.

"Hey, let me borrow the answer to number three." Was the inquiry this time. Marco looked over in surprise, biting his lip nervously, glancing toward the teacher. His heart was racing; He'd never cheated on anything before, let alone in the presence of a teacher! But, the way Jean was looking at him, he got the feeling he didn't really have much of a choice in the matter.

With one last look at the teacher, he scooted his paper closer to Jean's line of sight, palms sweating as the boy quickly copied, taking more answers than just the one he'd asked for. Marco assumed he was free to continue working when Jean had caught up to him, and pulled his paper back to his portion of the desk, scribbling away, hoping beyond hope that the teacher was paying as little attention as it seemed.

They continued in silence, but, just before he was about to get up and turn his paper in, Jean tapped him on the arm, looking at him pointedly. Again, his heart was racing with anxiety, but he did as he had before, scooting the paper over and letting Jean get the answers. He pretended to scribble a bit more before finally taking it up, leaving it with the teacher. There was no indication that he'd been caught.

He returned to his seat, and doodled idly in his notebook, trying to feel bad about what he'd done. But it was hard, seeing as it had kind of felt like self-defense. A few minutes later, Jean took his own quiz up, and sat back down as well, reaching over and plucking the notebook out from under Marco's hands without a warning, making the bigger teen jump in his chair. Marco watched, uncertain of the boy's intentions. When he received it back, Jean had written him a message.

'Thanks. Didn't know there was a quiz. I changed a few answers so the teacher won't know. Nice doodles.'

The scrawl was sharp and slanted, but legible. Marco didn't know whether he should respond or not, but he figured it would be rude not to.

'Um, thanks, and no problem. Maybe if you came to class on occasion, you'd know when tests were.'

He didn't mean it to sound rude, but he realized, as soon as he'd scooted the notebook over to Jean's side of the table, that it probably came off that way. He wished to yank the paper out, crumple it up, and eat it. But Jean had already seen. Marco hid his face in his arms, praying to god that he wasn't going to get beaten up after class.

He emerged when he felt something poking at his arm. It was the corner of the notebook, and he looked at the message, scared it might say something like 'afterschool in the parking lot.'

But it didn't say anything like that.

'Maybe. Class is so boring though. :P'

He quirked a brow at the little emoticon. It wasn't something he'd ever have expected Jean to write, but it definitely soothed his pounding heart. At least he wasn't getting beaten up, for now.

'It can be, yeah. But you'll never graduate if you fail your classes!'

He waited for the response, wondering what Jean had to say on the matter. Maybe, somehow, the boy managed to pass his classes in the end. Maybe he aced the finals, and therefore scraped by?

'I don't care. Dropping out as soon as I'm old enough.'

Marco frowned, looking over to the teen. He didn't like the sound of that.

'That's such a waste! You've made it this far! It's just one more year!'

It took Jean a longer time to reply this time, but the message wasn't any longer. Maybe he just needed a while to think.

'It's too much for me. Not good at studying and shit. Too stressful. And I'm stupid.'

Marco sighed, thinking over his answer before he started writing.

'No one is stupid, but if you're having a hard time, then get a tutor? I have a friend that's tutoring one of his classmates, and they're both doing great this year!'

He wondered how his suggestion would go over. It was more than just the difficulty of school, surely. It was obvious that Jean didn't like even the idea of it, considering how often he skipped. But why bother coming at all, if he really cared so little?

'No one wants to tutor me, trust me.'

Marco didn't know what to say. He could understand what Jean meant. While he was talked about, even admired throughout the school, it was a fearful admiration. No one had ever claimed to be close to Jean, and no one actively tried to be. While he could be seen talking to a few people on occasion, he didn't really have any friends to speak of. Everyone was too mystified by his reputation, by his enigma of an existence, to really talk to him.

But that wouldn't do, Marco decided. Everyone deserved a fair chance. But, before he could start writing his response, the bell to dismiss classes rung, and the scooting of chairs and chatter of classmates made him unable to fulfill his intentions. Everyone began leaving, and he nearly lost the teen in the shuffling of the crowd.

Thankfully, Jean didn't move with any sense of urgency, and was the last one, besides Marco, to make it to the door.

"Jean!" He called, walking quickly to catch up. The boy seemed surprised to hear his own name, but he paused as Marco rushed to meet him. As soon as he had, though, he felt his heart beating against his chest, face flushing. Calling out had seemed a good idea, in theory. But now he found himself a bit scared to say anything. Writing had been so much easier.

"What?" The other teen asked, voice tinged with a bit of impatience. Marco twisted his fingers into the hem of his shirt.

"U-Um, I…" He began, swallowing. He had to say it. "I would tutor you, if you wanted!" He said, much too quickly, the words likely jumbled. But that was the most he could manage. He wanted to run, but knew he should wait for a response, one way or the other. He wasn't expecting the one he got.

"Really?" Jean asked, genuine surprise lacing his tone. Marco looked up, surprised as well. Jean didn't look angry, or offended, or disgusted. Just surprised.

"Uh, yeah! I get A's, so I'm qualified, I think." He offered, giving a small smile. Jean seemed to be thinking on it, fingers tapping against his thigh.

"You wouldn't mind?" He finally asked, looking vaguely hopeful. Marco's smiled widened.

"No, of course not! I don't do much afterschool besides studying anyway." He admitted, running his fingers through his hair. Jean politely chose not to comment.

"That… That'd be awesome, uh…" He trailed.

"Marco." The freckled teen supplied, offering his hand. Jean took it, shaking. It felt strange, dangerous to have touched the famous Jean Kirstein. But he shook like anyone else did.

"Marco. When would we meet?" He asked, and they started walking. Marco set up times, working around his few club activities. Before they had to split up to go to separate classes, they'd designated a place to meet and a few days a week that worked for the both of them. Jean promised to go to class to find out what he needed to be working on, and Marco promised to talk to his friend about proper tutoring techniques.

As it would turn out, Armin was more than happy to share his teaching methods. And, Marco thought to himself, if they worked on Eren, they'd work on Jean. He took notes instead of picking at his food, thanking Armin as they went to different classes. He already had a few ideas forming in his mind just from talking about it, and he found himself looking forward to meeting Jean afterschool.

Jean was already waiting at the designated tree out back when Marco got out of class. He watched the other boy from afar for a few seconds, admiring his lanky form, dark and shadowed underneath the leaves, smoke billowing from his lips and his lit cigarette. He was beautiful, he thought. But no, thoughts like that wouldn't do.

He approached cautiously, offering a smile when the teen's head lifted to see who was approaching. He quickly snuffed the cigarette against the ground, stepping on it to make sure it was out. The smell of smoke lingered though. Marco was starting to think he kind of liked the smell of tobacco.

"Hey." Jean offered.

"Hey." Marco replied, following Jean to his car. It was beat up, on its last limb. But at least he had one. Marco still took the bus.

They drove to Marco's house, and Jean parked on the side of the road, waiting as Marco collected his bag out of the backseat. Jean didn't have one. Marco led him inside, instructing him to take his shoes off as he headed to the kitchen and sat his bag down on the table. Jean followed him, pulling out a chair and waiting while Marco got a snack, making enough pizza rolls for two.

They both munched while Marco started pulling things out, getting organized before even starting. Then he asked about what Jean needed to work on, and they got down to business, studying late enough that Mrs. Bodt had the pleasure of meeting the two-toned teen. She insisted, after hugging him in a common display of Bodt hospitality (much to Marco's horror,) that he was far too skinny and needed to stay for dinner. After some convincing, Jean agreed, and somehow squeezed in between Marco and his younger brother, Nardo.

All of the Bodts stole glances at the guest, curious and perhaps worried about Marco's suddenly strange taste in friends. Jean was, after all, a bit outside of Marco's friendship norm. The black and leather and chains and studs contrasted pretty strongly with Armin's pastels and cutesy sweaters. But they were nothing but polite to him, offering him second helpings and pointing out his bony wrists when he tried to refuse. He ended up taking the second helping, and dessert.

When he finally announced that he was leaving, Marco saw him to the door, smiling as he opened the door and took his first step out. His heart was sinking a bit as the boy left. He'd probably scared him off with his family. Maybe it had been weird of him to offer in the first place. Surely Jean was uncomfortable after getting a total of ten hugs before he left. He'd forgotten to warn Jean that his family was Italian. He'd probably figured that out though.

Jean turned right before he left the porch.

"Oh, thanks for helping me out, man." He called, rubbing the back of his head. "I actually understood statistics for once. Uh, Friday, right?" He asked, and Marco could hear the hope in his voice. He grinned, nodding. "Alright. See you."

And he was gone, hopping into his car and driving home.

But he was at school the next day. He was in classes. Marco had four whole classes with him, and he'd never even realized. But there he was, and he'd always steal the seat next to Marco, regardless of who may or may not have sat there before. No one ever said anything to him. He was still Jean Kirstein, after all.

He'd lean over and ask Marco questions when he didn't understand, or scribble notes to him when he was bored. Marco started bringing a notebook just for passing notes with Jean after the one he usually carried started to get thin. It was only two days till Friday, but already they'd found a new routine.

When Friday did come, they drove to Marco's house, like the Wednesday before. Marco made a snack. They sat at the kitchen table, and studied. Before Mrs. Bodt came home, Jean snuck out for a smoke break. When he came back, they returned to their studying, Marco trying to be discreet as he inhaled the smoky scent. But at some point, when they'd reached the awkward state where there wasn't much else to work on, Marco let his curiosity get the better of him.

"Jean?" He prompted, getting a hum in reply. "I get that you skip school because you didn't plan on graduating. But why the graffiti?" He wondered, looking over at the paler boy. Jean was quiet for a while, likely thinking about his answer.

"I don't really know. It's just… It's something I can do. They try so hard to control me, and my future. But they can't control my paint." He offered, shrugging. "I'm not good at art or anything, and I always get into it with art teachers when I try. But no one grades graffiti. Everyone has a chance of seeing it though. It's an outlet, I guess. Better I paint a wall than fight someone. Trust me, I've done that too." He continued. Marco swallowed, eyeing the spiked wristbands, imagining how much they'd hurt if Jean punched someone with them on. Maybe that's why he wore them.

"I'm… I'm not a terrible guy, or anything." Jean said, letting his pencil idle. "I won't say I'm misunderstood or anything. I just… I don't fit in well. I don't like to live the same way other people do, and that results in a lot of disagreements. But I'm still human, you know?"

Marco frowned, reevaluating his previous beliefs about Jean. Truth be told, even though they'd started spending a bit of time together, he was still seeing Jean as something… Well, not real. Jean didn't feel like he was really part of the world, or, at least, not a part of Marco's. He was so different, so unlike Marco. It seemed unbelievable that someone like that could exist in the same space.

But the words hit home. Jean was a human. He had feelings, and he struggled with things just like anyone else. He ate food, and used the bathroom, and hopefully showered. He caught colds, and had to blow his nose, and had itches he had to scratch. And it all kind of overwhelmed Marco; so much so that he forced himself to return to his homework and check the answers over to make it look like he wasn't avoiding talking. He'd only babble nonsense if they did.

They worked in silence till Marco's mother bustled into the kitchen, crushing Jean in another hug. Marco only sighed, patting Jean's back as he all but hacked up a lung. And the awkwardness was gone then. And Jean was human. Marco's family had seen that, but it had only just dawned on Marco. He'd have to start treating Jean appropriately.

He stayed for dinner again, eating just as much before he bid his goodbye. But not before Mrs. Bodt informed him that he was always welcome to join them for dinner.

Marco took him to the door again, leaning in the frame after Jean passed through.

"Thanks." Jean said, giving Marco a smirk.

"It's no problem. My mom likes you, so you can come over any time you like." He returned, giving a smile of his own. "Oh, I like you too. You don't have to wait till you're hungry to visit." He added. Jean stood awkwardly for a moment, fidgeting with one of the spiked bracelets around his wrist.

"Uh, actually… I was wondering if you might want to go to a party with me this weekend?" He inquired. Marco's brows rose in surprise. He'd never been invited to a party before, nor had he ever attended one.

"I… I might not be the best person to ask. I don't really know how to party." He admitted. Jean snorted.

"Well, for starters, you show up." Was his curt reply. "I'll be over for you tomorrow at seven." He informed the other teen, heading for his car before Marco could decline. He closed the door after the car sped off down the street, looking at the wood with fear and excitement. He was going to a party. His very first party. And Jean had asked him to go. Jean wanted to hang out with him, outside of tutoring. Jean Kirstein.

He had to smile to himself, because, a few days ago, Jean was an enigma, someone to be wary of, someone to admire from afar. Now they were going to a party together.

Marco would have to find his favorite sweater vest.

A/N: Well, I told myself to wait, but I couldn't anymore! I've had this one saved up for a long time now, and wanted to post it, and my excitement won over my restraint.

I'll admit, this story is going to be a bit fast paced, as I don't want it to go on endlessly like most of my others do. It's already five chapters long, and counting, so it's a decent sized fic, but I don't want to realize thirty chapters down the road that I hecked up. So just be prepared for a pace a bit quicker than my other stories. It does slow down a bit as it goes though, promise!

Anyway, I think it's important to mention, there will be a little bit of recreational drug use in a later chapter, as well as underage drinking. You know, normal teenage stuff. But I like to mention these things. Hopefully nothing that'll trigger anything though. I'm trying to keep this story pretty mild. I just wanted anyone who would want to know that ahead of time that it's going to happen, eventually.

Alright, I'll leave it at that! Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated. I don't usually work with third person, so let me know if you have any comments on that or anything. Thanks again!

KuroRiya
九六りや