Marco loved reading. It was his favorite hobby, something he thoroughly enjoyed every chance he got. His favorite genre was fiction. He guessed it was because reading a fiction story was like looking into that author's soul. That author created a new person for people to meet and fall in love with, a new universe where their readers could escape to and discover. It was their baby and they want everyone to enjoy it as much as they had enjoyed writing it.

Of course, he also enjoyed reading other books. Biographies had to be his second favorite if he was honest.

This love for reading helped him in school tremendously, academically. He excelled in classes, but there was a drawback. Marco was incredibly shy and a little anti-social.

Oh sure, he had a few friends. Armin was his best (an avid reader like himself), but he never experienced more than friendship. Not to mention, while he was growing up, his parents always fought. He could never really talk to them without one pinning something against the other. They say they love each other, but Marco had read about romances.

Wasn't the other supposed to make you go weak at the knees? Make you stutter? Make you blush so much that you don't realize you're even doing it?

He never could understand why his parents kept telling him that, and, being an only child, it took it's toll on him.

Maybe that's why reading became such an important thing for him. He had the chance to escape to another world, while he read fiction, or become a different person, while reading a biography. He could leave his angry family or escape the solitary nights by delving into his readings.

So when Marco attended college, it made sense for him to pursue a degree in the sciences. He kept up with the work, enjoyed lectures, and soaked every ounce of knowledge he could through his textbooks.

But he was still lonely.

His roommates, which was a different person every year, were always loud and often left to party, never asking if Marco wished to go (not that he would want to). They never talked, which was fine with Marco. And he always brushed off the loneliness by reading.

After graduating, he decided to attend graduate school at the same university and acquire his doctorate.

While he studied, Marco decided to get a job, just for something to do and to have a little extra money. He hated asking his parents for money because they would start arguing about that and he also hated being cooped up in his apartment while all his roommates left to party. It was like he was in a dream when he was hired at a small bookstore.

The bookstore was a few miles away from the university, well into the city. It didn't look large, more of a moderate size, but the inside was something else.

All the walls were covered with books; literally from the ceiling to the floor. There were even ladders that rolled along the edge so the books at the top could be pulled down by the employees. Shelves were randomly placed throughout the bookstore, making it seem like a maze. There was also a lingering smell of mustiness, the only smell one could find in a library because of the ancient and worn books.

The owner was a nice old man. He enjoyed every person that walked into his store, customer or not. He even had a small section set up in the back where people could sit down to read if they so wished. That's where Marco spent his time studying outside of his apartment or the university's library.

The man and his wife, another sweet, kind-hearted person, ran the store. Marco, and one other college student who worked part time in the morning, did all the strenuous work for the old couple while they worked behind the register. Marco loved his job and happily carried out any chore for weeks.

Being in his own little slice of heaven, Marco didn't see it at first. He didn't notice when one particular person would come in to read, sitting in one of the comfortable, overstuffed chairs in the back, leaving only after purchasing the book he had started.

In fact, Marco didn't notice until Mrs. Hansen pointed him out.

"That young man comes in everyday now," she murmured to Marco. Marco looked up from his dusting over to where she was pointing.

Sitting in one of the fluffiest chairs was a man. Marco cleaned his glasses on the green polo that adorned the name of the bookstore. He gazed at the man again. He had a strange hair style: an undercut that were two different colors, black and blonde. As he was leaning back in the chair and gripped the book, Marco could see how fit he was. Toned arms flexed every time he turned the page, broad shoulders moving when he took deep breaths. Marco also noticed his foot was tapping idly and his tongue poked between his lips as he concentrated.

How could he have missed him?

Marco heard Mrs. Hansen chuckle and he turned to look at her. "You're blushing dear, are you already smitten with the young lad?" she whispered.

Marco's cheeks turned a darker shade of red, "Wh- I, well…"

Mrs. Hansen chuckled, patting his cheek lightly.

"Excuse me, I'd like to purchase this."

Marco jumped slightly at the sound of the rough, yet somehow soft, voice. The voice was slightly alluring.

"Of course."

Marco turned around slowly and saw the man with the two-tone hair standing beside him. The man handed the book to Mrs. Hansen, who, slowly, rang him up.

The man turned to look at Marco, who was desperately trying to refrain from blushing, which only caused him to blush harder. He wondered if the man could even see his freckles, that's how red his face was turning.

The man smiled warmly at Marco, making his heart stutter in his chest, and raised his hand. "Hi, I'm Jean," his voice was low and full of confidence.

Marco tentatively grasped Jean's hand, stuttering slightly, "M-Marco."

Jean's hand was warm and a little rough, as if he was constantly working with them. Marco also noticed that he was slightly taller than Jean, maybe two inches? But what really caught his attention were Jean's eyes. They were a brilliant hazel, gold and amber and oranges strewn together. Eyes that Marco only saw in his mind when reading his books.

Jean's smile widened, still holding Marco's hand. He repeated softly, "Marco."

Marco instantly liked the way Jean said his name. It was liked the two syllables were wrapped in velvet. Marco saw them uttered by smiling lips, heard them spoken by an enthralling voice. He could listen to it all day.

Jean suddenly released Marco's hand, taking the book from Mrs. Hansen and handed her the exact change. He smiled at her, bowing his head slightly in her direction. Turning, he threw another grin at Marco before walking out of the bookstore.

"My, he is a handsome fellow," Mrs. Hansen commented.

"Yeah," Marco replied breathily.

Mrs. Hansen gave another soft chuckle and reached over to pat Marco's shoulder.

Over the next few days, Marco noticed that Jean did come in everyday, always right after five. About a week after the introductions, Jean spoke to Marco again.

Marco, at the time, was shuffling around some books around on one of wall shelves. He was half-way up the ladder contemplating how best to rearrange the new arrivals.

"Excuse me, Marco?"

Marco looked down and saw the hazel eyes he thought could only exist in the books he read. His knees went weak and he climbed down the ladder quickly so he wouldn't fall off of it.

Marco stood in front of Jean. "Uh, yes?" Marco spoke timidly.

"I need your help finding a book."

Immediately, Marco forgot who he was talking to. He smiled widely. This was his element. "Well, I'm your guy." Lame! "Uh, what book are you interested in reading?"

Jean smiled, "I'm looking for a classic. You know, something that I won't be able to put down."

So, he's into the classics?

Marco readjusted his glasses, thinking for a second. Then his face broke into a small smile and he snapped his fingers. "I think I got just the book."

Marco began weaving in and out of the shelves, Jean following him close behind. The small distance made Marco anxious, although he had no idea why.

Marco finally stopped and pulled a small book off the shelf. He held it up so Jean could see, "The Old Man and the Sea. It's a short read but beautifully written. A story about a man and his life. I hope you haven't read it yet."

Jean shook his head, "I've heard of it before, but never read it."

Marco handed Jean the book, their fingers brushing. A shock went through his body and he began blushing.

Why do I always have to blush?

Jean gave Marco a grin. Marco's heart stuttered again. I thought those things only happened in books.

"Thanks Marco." And he turned, going to pay for the book.

Marco, after a few seconds of standing and looking very flushed, went back to work.

Everyday after that, Jean would ask Marco for a book. Sometimes he would say a genre: horror, action, romance. Sometimes he would be more specific: "a world hidden in ours" or "a person conquering their fears." Sometimes he asked for a history book or a biography. Other times, and this was Marco's favorite, he'd simply smile and say, "What would you read today Marco?"

And everyday, Marco offered a book for Jean to read. Every now and then, Jean would say that he had read that one; they would then launch into a discussion. Whenever this happened, Jean followed Marco around while Marco continued to work. Marco loved each of those discussions. Not only did Jean stay with Marco for a while, but you really get to know a person by what he thinks of certain books.

Weeks later during one of those particular talks, Jean actually got Marco to laugh. Marco laughed rarely and, even then, only when he was with his family, the Hansens, or, of course, a funny book. Even Armin had never got Marco to laugh.

They had been discussing the play Oedipus Rex, or Oedipus the King whichever you prefer, by Sophocles. It was an Athenian tragedy about Oedipus, the protagonist, who was rescued shortly after birth by a farming family, managed to kill his real father, and marry (or fall in love with) his real mother. It was a twisted play, trying to emphasis humanity's flaws and a harsh twisted destiny of a man. At least, that's what Marco said.

Jean, who had opened up a lot to Marco and showed his brash side as well as gentle, basically called it a "fucked up story about how a guy got tricked into incest."

To be perfectly honest, it wasn't that funny. Marco laughed because Jean had the perfect poker face on for something he thought was so "fucked up".

Jean chuckled a little also, his face flushing.

"So, uh," Jean scratched the back of his nick, looking at the ground awkwardly. "Would you, like, well…" Jean looked up at Marco. "You wanna grab some coffee?"

Marco blinked, staring at Jean.

Did he just ask me out?

Jean began stuttering, which Marco found extremely cute, "Uh…well, shit, you don't have to. I mean-"

Marco interrupted him, "No, I'd love to. My shift ends soon. I just have to help close up."

Jean nodded, an easy grin blessing his features. "I'll let you finish that then."

While Jean began reading another book he purchased, Marco helped the Hansens close up their cozy little store. "So, Marco, going for coffee later?" Mr. Hansen asked, Mrs. Hansen was giggling behind him.

Marco blushed a little and nodded, "Yes, sir."

Mr. Hansen stepped forward and took Marco's hand, placing a twenty there. "I hope you enjoy yourself son, you deserve it," the seventy-year-old man smiled.

Marco looked at them in disbelief, "I can't accept this."

"Yes you can dear," Mrs. Hansen said. She gave him one of her motherly smiles. "Go ahead, we can finish closing. Enjoy your date, and tell us how it goes."

Marco hugged both of them, giving them each a small smile.

He walked over to Jean with his coat over his arm. Jean looked up at him giving him a wide smile, "Ready?"

Marco nodded and they shrugged on their jackets. Marco wore a simple zip up jacket that was rather warm. Jean's was a black leather jacket that made him look really…well hot.

Jean tucked the book inside his jacket and pulled on some gloves, smirking, "I'll drive. I know a really great coffee shop that's open late."

Marco already knew where this was going. "But it's only nine!" he argued. To be honest, he only responded because he was scared. He had never ridden one before.

Jean shrugged, walking to the exit, "I meant it stayed open late."

Did he expect us to stay there long?

Marco followed behind Jean, watching him fix his gloves.

Who was I kidding? I want to stay with him as long as I can.

Marco followed Jean to his motorcycle. Jean was already putting on his black helmet- which made him look so damn hot- and handed Marco the other one he had.

Marco smiled. "You planned this?" he asked, shaking the helmet.

Jean nodded, bending over his bike, "I was hopeful."

Although he was enamored by Jean's actions, Marco was still unsure about getting on the bike with Jean, "Are you sure? I have my car…"

Jen looked behind him, already sitting on his bike. He picked up the black visor and twisted at his waist, holding out his hand. "I won't let anything happen to you." His hazel eyes were shinning with excitement.

That was all it took, just like something out of a book. Marco shoved the helmet on his head and took Jean's gloved hand.

Jean gave a small tug and Marco walked toward the bike cautiously. He sat on the bike gently behind Jean. "Where do I put my arms?" Marco asked.

Jean turned his head to the side, "My waist." He flicked his finger and his visor slid shut.

The thought of touching Jean like that made his heart beat wildly and made him blush furiously. "Is there anywhere else?" he asked timidly.

Jean's shoulders shook as he chuckled. "Yeah, my shoulder, but believe me: you'll want to wrap your arms around my waist."

Marco placed his hands on Jean's shoulders, anxious. Jean kicked the bike to life and, man, it was loud. Marco, being the quiet bookworm, was never around anything this loud (not counting his parents). He enjoyed the quiet places like the library or the bookstore. Marco wasn't sure he was going to like this ride one bit, in fact, he was sure of it.

Jean eased onto the street, allowing Marco to get used to the feel on the empty street. Marco couldn't believe it, but he was actually enjoying himself. It's not that bad.

Then Jean revved up the engine, both of them lurched forward from the sudden acceleration. Marco's hands flew from Jean's shoulders to his waist where he wrapped them around his slender form, Marco's hands resting on Jean's stomach. He clung to Jean tightly for fear of falling off the darned bike.

Marco tried not to think about how close he was pressed against Jean. Marco tried not to think of the tight muscles he could feel beneath his arms and hands. Marco tried not to think about his chest pressed against Jean's back.

Marco just tried not to think.

He turned his head, seeing the blurs of lights and fluorescents through his visor. He could hear the wind whistling past his helmet, beating against the bike and Jean and himself. He could feel the vibration of the motorcycle against his legs. It was…well-

It was exhilarating.

Marco smiled at the feeling. This was something that made his face split into a wide smile, made his face flush, made his heart race.

It's the way he felt when reading a particular scene in a book he couldn't put down. That was the only time he felt this way.

Marco loved it. The feeling of freedom. Excitement. Anticipation.

Marco finally relaxed, leaning on Jean's back, readjusting his grip around Jean's waist. This was definitely something he enjoyed.

After a few more minutes of driving, they arrived at the little coffee shop. It wasn't a Starbucks, but it looked cozy.

Marco and Jean got off the bike. Jean turned it off, taking his helmet off and shaking his head, running his gloved fingers through his hair.

Marco tried not to stare as he too took off his helmet, busying himself by fixing his hair and glasses. Don't stare, it's weird. It doesn't matter how hot he is. He handed Jean the borrowed helmet, where he hung it off the handle, and they walked inside.

The shop was warm and smelled like hazelnut. The lighting was dim, creating a soft glow around the large room. There were tables and chairs scattered around the main room. Large, overstuffed arm chairs and loveseats were also scattered about.

Marco loved it.

They walked up to the register and ordered some coffee, Jean insisted on paying for both of them. Marco was flushed, but allowed him to. Maybe he could give the money back.

The two men sat down on a couple of fluffy chairs. Marco sunk into the chair, finally relaxing, and sighed. This semester was going pretty hard for him. And, with only his job, he hadn't really done much to relax.

He heard Jean chuckle beside him, "Rough day?"

Marco shrugged off his jacket, "Definitely not the easiest."

He turned to look at Jean, who was taking off his jacket also. Marco hit by the sudden thought that he didn't really know much about Jean. "So, what do you do?"

Jean frowned slightly, "I'm a senior at the university, an engineer major. It's gotten really stressful as of late, but I only have a semester and a half left."

Marco giggled, "I know what you mean. I graduated in the spring with a biochemistry major. The last two semesters are always hard."

Jean raised his eyebrows, "You've already graduated?"

Marco hummed, "Mhm. I'm in my first year of grad school."

"I've seen you around campus, but I thought you were also an undergrad." Jean gave him a smirk, "What with all the books you seemed to be carrying."

Marco blushed a little, "Oh, no. I just really like reading. Not all of them are for class exactly."

Jean nodded, "I can appreciate that. So, you must not go out much, huh?"

Marco looked at the cup in his hand, blushing slightly. "Ah, actually, its not that bad. I'm just not very sociable."

Marco felt weird saying it out loud, but not bad. After talking to Jean these past few weeks, even if it was just about books, he really got to know what kind of person he was. He liked Jean. He enjoyed talking with him. He enjoyed the warmth spreading through their intertwined hands.

Wait, what?

Jean squeezed his hand and Marco looked at him. Jean gave him a wide smile. "I don't believe that. You're a really nice guy, Marco."

Marco returned the smile. They both continued talking for a few more hours, getting to know more about each other. Marco told him about his family, about his studies, about his, very small, social life. Jean also told Marco about himself and Marco found himself staring at Jean, reading his body language. Marco was thoroughly enjoyed with the looks Jean gave him and the smiles and the laughs he was able to get Jean to make.

Their hands were still intertwined.

They decided to finally leave a little after midnight. Walking hand in hand to Jean's bike, Jean spoke again. "So, I uh-" Jean's other hand went to the back of his neck. "I know it may not be your scene- well but-"

Marco chuckled, squeezing Jean's hand, "Spit it out Jean."

Jean scowled, which only made Marco smile wider. "Well, I have a couple of friends who are throwing a party this weekend and… Well, uh, I was wondering, do you want to go with me?"

Marco gave Jean a small smile, "You mean, like a date?"

"Well, yeah." Jean blushed again, "I mean if you don't want to call it that, it doesn't have to be. I mean- gah."

Marco thought Jean was extremely cute. He stepped closer to Jean, "Will I be with you the entire time?"

Jean grinned, also stepping closer, "Yeah." He was still red in the face, but he had stopped stuttering. Marco thought the pink in his cheeks was endearing.

Marco took another step forward, "And you'd have to pick me up, right?"

Jean nodded, also stepping forward, "Well yeah. So you don't get lost with the directions."

The two were extremely close. Marco was absolutely sure that Jean could count all of his freckles on his cheeks. A random thought.

Marco gathered all his courage and put his arms around Jean's shoulders. "So, then it is a date."

Jean put his hands on Marco's hips, his fingers slipping under Marco's jacket. Marco shivered.

Jean's face was only a few inches away from Marco's. Marco's heart was racing in his chest and he didn't dare move, in fear of doing something wrong.

"I guess it is then," Jean whispered. His breath fanning over Marco's cheeks.

Jean brushed his nose against Marco's, "So, what do you say Marco?"

Marco closed his eyes. "I say yes," he murmured.

He felt Jean's lips press against his own. His lips were soft and the kiss was gentle.

Jean pulled back and placed his forehead against Marco's. Their breaths mingled, both of them smiling.

Marco's thoughts were racing. He had never felt this way. But he felt so comfortable around Jean. Especially after finally getting to know him more.

"What do you think?" Jean asked nervously.

Marco gave him a timid smile, "I think I found my new favorite thing."

Jean smiled in return, his nerves gone. "What's that?"

Marco blushed, "You."

Jean grinned, "I like the sound of that." And Jean pulled Marco in for another, more passionate, kiss.

And it was like something out of a book.