Jeanmarco. As usual. This time a band AU! This whole fic is actually based off a band experience of mine. I was invited
to an Honors Band a little while back and had a blast. Met some cool people, had a lot of fun! It was really tiring, though.
We didn't spend the night but we played for 9 hours each day for two days and had a half day + a concert the next. Trust
me when I say that everybody's mouths were sore by the end of it.

It was fun to think of all the instruments the 104th would play. I kind of
had a hard time choosing Marco's since he could really probably play anything (I see him as a musical person), but I decided
he would be a good French hornist, which is actually what I play in my school's band.

Let me know what you guys thought they would play! Hope you enjoy! ^o^

Jean knew it was going to be a long day the minute he walked into the concert hall. There were idiots running around everywhere with their instruments; trumpets banging against french horns, saxophones squeaking as loud and obnoxiously as they could, his fellow percussionists beating their sticks on each other's heads and other instruments.

Sighing, Jean idly twiddled his thumb around his stick bag's handle, weaving his way through the crowd to the open band room doors. Stepping through the entrance, he found it was even worse in there. Backpacks, messenger bags, and books were strewn about, along with the clutter of open instrument cases packed together in a corner being organized by a small, black haired man. Instruments were lying wherever something else wasn't. He began to look around for his short bald friend.

"Connie!" Jean called to the French horn player across the room, talking to a girl and a boy. Jean didn't recognize either of them; it looked like Connie was already mingling, something he himself had yet to do.

Connie looked over, grinned broadly, and waved. Jean took that as a sign to join their conversation. Carefully stepping over haphazardly placed instruments and various personal items, he finally got over to where the trio was.

His friend made room for him in their little circle. "Sasha and Marco, this is Jean. Jean, Sasha and Marco. Now we all have people to hang out with here!"

Marco, a tall, black haired boy with freckles and—were those dimples?—and rich hazel eyes extended a hand to Jean. "Hi, Jean. I'm Marco Bodt. Nice to meet you."

"Uh, h-hi," Jean stuttered, then bit his lip. Was he always this socially awkward? "Jean Kirschstein. Nice to meet you too."

"What do you play, Jean?" Sasha asked, opening a bag of potato chips Jean was sure wasn't there a second ago.

He held up his stick bag in reply. Seeing the questioning look on Sasha's face, he replied, "Percussion."

"Neato!" she exclaimed. "I'm a saxophone."

"Cool," he commented lamely. Turning to Marco, he added, "How about you?"

Marco smiled. "French horn, along with Connie."

"Have you two met before or something?"

"No, we literally just met a couple minutes ago getting out our instruments," he chuckled. "Said we might as well be friends since we're in the same section. Do you two go to the same school?"

"Yeah, Trost High. It's just south of here. And you and Sasha?"

"Mhmm. Jinae high school. She's actually an exchange student from Dauper, transferred not long ago. Hope she'll stay awhile, though; she's fun to have around." Jean glanced to the side of him, where Connie and Sasha were in a religious debate about what brand of potato chip was better. The brunet would never understand his friend.

Jean was about to open his mouth to say something when a loud, shrieking whistle blew through the air. "Listen up, brats!" the short man he had seen rearranging the cases earlier yelled. "I want all of you in your seats by the time I count to ten. Ten… nine…"

The whole room came alive, buzzing with the sound of high school students scrambling to get to their section. "Guess that's our cue, then," Marco said.

"Guess so. Want to hang out at break?" Jean swallowed nervously.

An even bigger smile lit up Marco's face. "Yeah, sure! Maybe we could pass notes or something when the director isn't looking," he laughed. Jean oddly found himself wanting that to actually be the case. "Well, see you!"

Jean watched as the black haired boy began to make his way to his own section before remembering he had to do the same. He managed to make it behind a random drum—a snare, to be exact—just before the director finished counting. By then, the whole room had gone silent and was ready to begin.

The two hours the band spent practicing was excruciating. Maybe not for the rest of the band, but by the time it was the first break Jean's legs were sore and aching from having to stand the whole time. He hated that percussion rarely ever got to sit, especially in long programs like this. Despite the fact all he really wanted to do was slump down in a chair and not get up until it was time, he met with his ever growing group in the bustling hallway outside the band room.

"Hey, Jean," Marco said as he walked up.

"Hey. I bet your lips are sore," Jean replied. Oh God; did that actually sound as weird as he thought it did?

Thankfully, Marco didn't take it that way, and instead, laughed his boyish laughter. "You don't even know. I brought two whole sticks of chap stick for this weekend!" Jean laughed too, thankful that Marco was so easy to talk to. "Oh!" he added. "You haven't even met Eren, Armin, and Mikasa!"

The tall boy stepped aside, revealing the three new members of their group. There was a brunet with caribbean green eyes, an Asian girl with beautiful short, black hair and dark gray eyes, a red scarf wrapped around her neck, and a smaller blond boy with light blue eyes holding a book.

The brunet stepped forward. "Eren Jaeger, from Shiganshina high school." Eren gave Jean a long stare, as if he were analyzing him.

"Jean Kirschstein," he replied. He held out a hand. Eren looked down at it, then gave it a smack with his hand before turning back around to his two friends. Jean narrowed his eyes and shook his head, turning to Connie, Sasha, and Marco.

The black haired boy took the initiative to inform him who the other two were, since they didn't seem like they were going to themselves. The girl, he learned, was a bass clarinet player named Mikasa. The blond was an oboe player named Armin. Eren was a trumpet player. All three of them were from Shiganshina, a small suburb to Marian City about three hours from Trost and four hours from this school; Rose Central. Luckily, the advanced band program had been held relatively close to Jean's area this year, allowing him to escape too of a long drive.

The three kept to themselves but still hung around Jean and Connie's group, trailing a little behind them whenever they moved loitering spots. The group never ran out of things to talk about thanks to Sasha's bubbly personality, Marco's well-placed comments and new topics, and Connie's endless rambling that Jean occasionally got to jump in on when he told a story he remembered. Thirty minutes into the break, all seven of them sat down in a corner near some windows, casting a bright midmorning glow on the ground.

The brunet plopped down next to Marco, thankful they had decided to sit down. "Your legs must be tired," Marco commented, noticing Jean's lazy posture.

"Yeah. Nothing like standing up two hours straight without a break. Really gets me energized," he responded sarcastically.

"Is that a hobby of yours?" his friend grinned.

Jean smirked. "Hell yeah. You should try it sometime; maybe I could teach you the ropes." At that, Marco laughed and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You sure are funny, Jean," he said, still laughing. Jean felt his grin widen, his eyes lighting up. Marco was very down to earth, he observed. Nobody analytical would laugh at his attempts at humor.

"Okay, we're going to play Would you Rather!" Sasha announced. The brunet was thankful; he couldn't think of a good response to Marco. He had never really been called funny before. Sarcastic, yes, but never funny. Thankfully, now he didn't have to. "Who wants to start?"

"I will!" Connie said, waving his hands around even though Sasha was sitting right next to him.

She giggled. "Okay! Hmm, let me think…" Sasha reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a stick of gum while she pondered. Unwrapping the pink strip and popping it into her mouth—discarding the foil onto the floor behind her—she snapped. "I've got it. Would you rather run around this place for five minutes with only your boxers on or fill your pants with toilet paper and have to walk around like that for the rest of the day?"

"The toilet paper one. That way if anybody sneezed or something I could just pull a tissue out of my pants and be like, 'Hope you feel better!' and walk away." The group laughed, Jean rolling his eyes and snickering because he knew that was something only Connie could come up with.

"Okay," Sasha laughed, "your turn."

"Eren, would you rather have an awkward boner on a fancy date eating lobster and all that crap or fall off of stage at the band concert on Sunday?" Connie smirked.

"What kind of question is that?" Eren laughed. "Fine. Boner at a date. I'd have to have a pretty hot girl for that to actually happen, am I right?"

Once again, the group laughed, but Jean didn't. For some reason, this Eren guy was really rubbing him the wrong way. Well, all he had to do was survive another two days with him. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

Connie made a motion for the brunet to go. "Jean," Eren said.

Yes, it could.

"Would you rather never get laid or be dickless the rest of your life?"

Jean felt blood rushing to his face, warming his cheeks through and through. Of course, out of all of the questions in the world, he picked that. He decided to take it straight. "What's the point of having a dick if you never get laid anyways?"

"What's the point of getting laid without a dick?"

"What's the point of this question?"

"What's the point of you?"

Jean felt anger surge through his body. "Well, what's the point"—

"Stop, you two," Marco interrupted, putting a hand on Jean's chest and pushing him back. The brunet hadn't even realized he had leaned forward. Mikasa pulled Eren back, Eren's eyes still narrowed dangerously at him as he mumbled something incomprehendable. Armin's eyes darted between the two, unsure of what to do.

"How about you just go, Jean," the blond suggested calmly. Jean was glad there was at least someone who was neutral on their side.

"Alright." Scanning the now uncomfortable teenagers, he decided on his victim. "Sasha," he began, "would you rather become a fitness fanatic vegan and have to give up meat and junk food or be the fattest person in the world?"

Sasha's brown, puppy dog-like eyes went wide. "Uhm…" she trailed off. "Can I be a vegan and still eat chips and stuff?" Jean shook his head. "Fine, I wouldn't want to be fat."

"At the rate you're going at now you will be fat," Connie snickered, holding out his hand for a piece of gum.

"Will not!" she retorted, reluctantly dropping the piece into his hand. Jean noticed how comfortable they already were with each other and couldn't believe they hadn't known each other, much less talked for only talked for an hour. Sometimes people just clicked; Sasha and Connie were an example.

The brunet wondered if he had 'clicked' with Marco. It seemed like they were off to a good start and—besides the whole Eren ordeal—Jean hadn't really done anything true to his brash nature. In fact, this was the most laid back and social he had been for a while, it seemed. He liked it. He wished this part of him would surface more often. Even though he had plenty of people that he talked to back at Trost, he only had a handful of people he actually considered 'friends.' The funny thing was it seemed like Marco had made his way into that hand, bypassing all of the standards Jean had set for friendship; one of them being knowing the person longer than three hours.

"Mikasa, you haven't gone yet," Sasha stated, recovering from being told she would get fat off of her strict junk food diet. Mikasa looked up from where she had been playing sticks with Armin, whom, always won. "Would you rather go into the Amazon with a knife alone or have to live in a world where giant cannibals tried to eat you?"

"The Amazon. Slicing up flesh is my specialty," she replied, training her eyes back on the game. When the rest of the teenagers—besides Eren and Armin, of course—gave her strange looks, she added, "I'm a cook."

Marco laughed and said, "Had me worried there for a second, Mikasa."

"The best one out of all three of us, too," Armin commented. "She makes a mean sandwich. Lettuce and everything. Eren can't even microwave popcorn without something exploding."

"That microwave was fucking defective and you know it."

Mikasa sighed quietly and smiled a small smile before going. "Marco, would you rather try to play a tuba or a flute?"

"I think I would make a great flutist, don't you think?"

"The best of the best," Sasha sing-songed.

Jean snickered as he tried to imagine Marco playing the flute. He only looked like a french horn player, really. People's personalities seemed to match their instruments, in his opinion.

"Hey, don't laugh! It could happen!" Marco pouted. Then he added subtly, "I actually used to want to play the flute."

"Seriously?" Eren questioned.

"Yes, seriously."

"Dude, no, I like you just the way you are now as a French horn player," Connie said.

"It's so nice to know that my friends truly believe in me. If you would excuse me, though, we should probably head back to the band room. I wouldn't want Mr. Levi after us for being late," Marco announced.

"Good idea," Jean replied, standing simultaneously as the black haired boy. Armin got up as well.

"I'll go with you guys. I need to tweak something on my oboe." The three fell in step together as they walked towards the concert hall, Armin chattering with Marco.

"So how long have you played French horn?" the blond asked.

"A little over four and a half years. I started in sixth grade. You?"

"I started out playing clarinet in sixth grade; then my band director asked me to switch to oboe. I've played ever since," Armin responded. "It's a really fun instrument to play, only a little hard at first. How about you, Jean?"

"Huh? Oh. I've played since sixth grade, too. I used to play a little piano before that. I haven't played in a while, though."

"I actually tried out for percussion at the beginning of sixth grade. I had terrible hand coordination back then, though, so I couldn't play it well enough. My teacher told me to go for something with little fingerings, so that's how I wound up at French horn. Plus, I thought it sounded cool," Marco admitted. "I was awful at first, but then again, everybody was."

"You should have seen the mallet players.

"You haven't heard terrible until a clarinet squeaks right in your ear."

The three's conversation carried on even when they reached the band room and Armin began to fix whatever needed to be fixed on his instrument. Jean found that he enjoyed the blond's company as well as Marco's; he was a good story teller and very funny. He had just finished telling them about how someone had gotten a pencil stuck in their French horn when Jean spotted Connie, Sasha, Mikasa, and Eren stepped through the doorway.

"Hey guys," Marco greeted as the four walked over to where they were standing.

"Looks like you're just in time," Armin said, pointing to where Mr. Levi was now standing on podium, wiping his music stand with some kind of cleaner and shuffling his papers.

As if on cue, the stony faced director then said, "Everybody sit back down. The next break will be for lunch, which is in two hours. Turn to your warm-ups."

"Well, see you next break," Marco said. "Time to use up another half of my chap stick."

"At least you guys get chairs," Jean grumbled, making his way over to the percussion section. All he could think about were how sore his legs were going to be after the day was over.

Jean was absolutely correct in assuming that he could barely stand after so long of standing with brief breaks of sitting. Lunch and another break had passed in the same way the first had—new group members, talking, playing a stupid game, and going back to practice. This time, it was somebody the brunet himself had met.

Ymir was a percussionist, like him. He talked to her some during the rehearsals when they weren't playing and found out that hanging out with her had a bonus. She had a cute friend named Christa who unfortunately, Jean found out, was taken by Ymir herself. He also found out she was very protective over her.

He guessed now he knew what people meant when they said 'opposites attract'. The statement couldn't be any truer applied to Ymir and Christa, who were such opposites in personalities that if you compared them to each other, Ymir would look like the devil and Christa the most glorious goddess in all of history.

Now, at dinner, Jean sat between Marco and Connie at their group's round table, debating on whether or not to steal Connie's cupcake or not. He decided against it; Sasha had already called dibs and he did not want to get in between the brunette and her food. If there was one thing he knew about her, it was that.

"At least it's the last practice of the day," Marco sighed. "I don't think mouth can take much more of this."

I can help you with that, Jean wanted to say.

Wait, what?

"U-uh, yeah." He blinked and did a double-take at Marco, who was eating his pizza eagerly. Thankfully, Christa decided it was the right time to start a conversation with him.

"So, Jean," she said, "is anybody here from your school?"

"Yeah, Connie is." He patted his friend on the shoulder, earning him a questioning look from said friend. "We go to Trost. Do you and Ymir go to the same school?"

Christa nodded and smiled. "We've been in each other's classes since middle school every year. How long have you and Connie known each other?"

"Since second grade," he replied. "He was even weirder back then than now, if you can believe that."

"Hey! Let's not forget the one who thought it would be a good idea to eat a glue stick!" Connie retorted.

Marco laughed as he swallowed his pizza. "Are you serious, Jean? How old were you? What did it taste like?"

"Oh my God, Connie," he groaned as the other boy began to reminiscence about the old days.

"There was also this one time when he tried to ask a girl out at lunch but ended up tripping and landing face-first in his spaghetti. I can still remember the face he made," Connie breathed, tearing up from laughter. He then proceeded to make the exact face the brunet remembered making.

"Connie, stop! I have dirt on you too you know!" Jean whined.

"You'll have to try a different one, Connie. That's what his horse-face normally looks like," Eren said, bursting into another fit of laughter at his own lame joke. Jean gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to leap across the table to where the other brunet was sitting and strangle him to death right then and there.

He felt a hand on his shoulder amidst the chaos of the laughter at the table and looked to see Marco, a sympathetic look on his non horse-face. "Don't take it to heart, Jean. They're just messing around, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it," Jean answered, smiling slightly.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Soon enough, it was time for the students to go to their respected sleeping quarters—also known as the gym, for the guys.

"Man, why do we have to sleep on hardwood while the girls get to sleep on soft carpet and beanbags and shit in the huge library?" Connie complained, unrolling his sleeping bag on the linoleum floor.

"Why the hell should I know? This is pretty messed up, if you asked me," Jean grumbled in response.

"Oh, come on, guys. Lighten up!" Marco replied, far too cheery for the likes of both boys. Eren and Armin chose that moment to appear, the former grumbling about the same thing.

"Mikasa wasn't happy about us having to sleep on the ground," Armin sighed. "She tried to talk to the director to switch her and us. Of course, her case was denied. I'll bet she's up there right now trying to figure out a way to sneak out."

"Is she going to ninja her way in here?" Connie asked playfully. The blond smiled before setting down his own sleeping bag and pillow.

"If I had known we were going to be sleeping on the ground I would have brought extra pillows," Eren griped.

"Suck it up and be a man, Jaeger."

"I didn't ask for your input, Kirschstein!"

The two had begun calling each other by their surnames, though Jean wasn't sure why or when that had happened. Not that it mattered; Eren's last name was as stupid as his first. The others—besides Mikasa and occasionally Marco—had stopped trying to intervene their bickering, letting the insults be thrown until both boys were satisfied. That was just fine with Jean. His blunt and sarcastic nature made it easy for him to have a hundred different comebacks at his disposal if Eren said anything.

Marco sighed. "Would it kill you two to be nice to each other for five minutes?"

"Yes," both said simultaneously, glaring at the other hatefully as they did.

"Give up, dude," Connie said. Facing Eren, he added, "Be thankful you'll never have to see him ever in your life again after a day and a half. This guy's my ride home," he snickered.

"I am for now," Jean reminded him, "but I could leave you here all alone and Mr. Levi would have to take you home."

"True that."

"Speaking of Mr. Levi," Armin interrupted, pointing at where the short man was entering the gym, holding a megaphone. A tall blond man with carefully parted and neatly combed hair was behind him. Erwin Smith, head of the program.

Jean proceeded to unroll his sleeping bag, looking around for the pillow he had tossed aimlessly on the floor as Mr. Levi went over some announcements. They were only allowed on the first floor until lights out at eleven, when everybody had to be in the gym.

"What about going to the bathroom?" one of the boys on the other side of them gym asked.

"Hold it," Mr. Levi replied sternly.

The list continued on for about another five minutes; bathroom rules, noise rules, sleeping rules (really?), etc. Finally, once the director was done, Mr. Smith took over.

"I would like to thank all of you for coming to this. It is certainly a wonderful opportunity for youth players like you to improve your already extraordinary playing. Keep in mind that while we do want you to have fun, please focus on the task at hand and adhere to the rules. Keep up the good work, boys." With that, both men walked out of the room, their synchronized footsteps echoing in the silence of the gym.

"Not really a man of many words, huh?" Marco commented quietly.

"Guess not," the brunet replied.

The next thirty minutes of Jean's life was devoted to standing in line for the bathroom, standing in line for the sink, being yelled at to hurry up while brushing his teeth (by Eren, of course), and making his way back to his space in the crowded gym, where Marco and Armin were already changed.

Jean, still clad in his faded jeans, t-shirt, and favorite hoodie since he had forgotten to bring his clothes with him in the bathroom and change in a stall, made his way over to the two, jumping over bodies already lying in their sleeping bags. Rummaging through his belongings, he saw that he had neglected to pack a shirt for sleeping in. "Shit," he mumbled.

"What's wrong?" Marco inquired as he looked through his own bag.

"Didn't pack a shirt to sleep in."

"Oh, I can lend you one of mine." He held up a white undershirt with sleeves. Only if you want, though," he added quickly.

"Oh, um…" the brunet trailed off, trying to decide whether or not to take him up on his offer. For some reason, he felt awkward thinking about sleeping in one of his new friend's shirts. "You sure?"

"Yeah, it's okay." The black haired boy smiled.

"Alright, then." Marco tossed him the shirt. "Thanks."

"No problem." Jean caught sight of Armin nudging Marco in the side as he turned to go back to the bathroom, causing the other to tense for a brief second. He didn't think much of it; not until he found himself pressing the shirt to his face in the bathroom stall, breathing in Marco's sweet scent and never wanting to stop.

"Jean! Jean, wake up!" someone whispered in his ear.

Jean, startled, opened his eyes and sat up like a rocket, looking around for who he needed to strangle for waking him up in the middle of the night. It had taken him long enough to fall asleep; an echoing gym full of boys didn't exactly equal peaceful silence.

"Whoa, dude, chill. It's just me," Connie said, coming into his line of vision.

"For God's sake, Connie," Jean whispered back angrily, "I was trying to sleep!"

"I didn't think you'd want to miss out on this." Narrowing his eyes in confusion, his friend elaborated. "We're sneaking out. You, me, Marco, Eren, and Armin."

Normally, something like breaking the rules would sound appealing to Jean, being the rebel he liked to be, but right now, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. "Why?"

"Why? What happened to the old Jean? Was he purified by the great saint Marco's shirt?"

Jean blushed, thankful that the darkness hid it. "Fine, let's go."

"I gotta wake the others first."

Groaning, the brunet let his head fall back down on his pillow, wanting to give in to the quiet that had finally settled over the gym. He closed his eyes, but he must have nodded off, because Connie was shaking him a few minutes later. "Eren agreed, but Marco and Armin still have to be persuaded. Think you can get Marco in? Eren and I will talk to Armin."

"What's the big deal about this anyways?"

"Just go with it, man!"

Jean sighed and gave in to Connie's demands. Not wanting to leave the warmth of his sleeping bag yet, he grabbed and slipped on his hoodie—the school would probably be cold at night— before scooting over closer to Marco, who was a few feet away from him.

"Hey, Marco," he said as quietly as he could.

"Hmm?"

"Are you coming with us?"

"Sneaking out? I don't know, Jean. What's the point of it?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Connie just wants us to have a guy bonding time, I guess. He's did something like this before at band camp in eighth grade. We snuck to the girl's cabin and camped there for an hour before we all got tired and went back."

"Sounds pretty pointless if you ask me."

Jean smiled. "It was pointless, but it was fun." He paused for a moment as he listened to Connie whisper-yelling to Armin. "Come on, join in. It won't be as much fun without you."

Marco sat up. "And why's that?" Jean, once again, blushed for the second time in five minutes. He could practically hear the smirk that played across the black haired boy's lips. Then, thinking about his lips brought him back to said boy's comment earlier about how much they hurt, and his own thoughts, and—

"The more the merrier," he replied quickly, breaking off his train of thought.

He heard Marco sigh. "Okay," he said, finally giving in. "When are we going?"

"Okay, let's go, guys!" Connie whispered as he crawled over to where the two were sitting in their sleeping bags. "Everybody in?"

"Unfortunately," Marco replied.

"Great!"

After everyone had prepared for depature, both physically and mentally, the five stealthily made their way to the door, using extra caution not to step on anyone or anyone's things. Armin whimpered quietly, muttering to himself about how he couldn't believe he had let himself be dragged into this. Jean felt sorry for the kid; he had probably never done anything that could get him in big trouble in his life, much less sneaking out. Armin seemed like the kind of person that was responsible at all times.

Finally, the group made it to the door without any incidents. The creaking of the metal hinges as it opened was far too loud for any of them, and the brunet prayed that no one was awake. They stepped into the hallway one by one, Jean going last. He slowly closed the door behind him, flinching at the thud it made even after he had been so careful.

"Let's go before anyone gets up or something," Eren suggested. For once, Jean was in agreement.

They crept down the various hallways, none of them really knowing where they were going, at a haltingly slow pace. Jean's eyes had finally adjusted to the inky black and he surveyed what they passed, trying to memorize the way back in case they needed to sprint. So far, there was nothing.

"I guess they didn't expect a bunch of band nerds to try to sneak out at night," Marco said. Jean laughed because it was so grudgingly true.

"Where did they say the teachers were sleeping?" Eren asked.

"I don't think they did."

"I heard they were supposed to sleep with the students."

"That sounded so wrong."

"Shut up! I didn't mean it like that!"

The group settled into normalcy as they walked the many hallways, barely even talking at a whisper now. "Where exactly are we going?" Armin inquired.

"How about we hit up the cafeteria?" Connie suggested. "Maybe there's some stuff left out from dinner."

"You want to eat cold pizza?" Jean questioned.

"Hell no. I'm not Sasha." The group snickered at that. "I meant snacks and shit."

"Well, it's better than just walking around," Marco replied.

Eren led the way, claiming he knew where the cafeteria was from where they were which was, ironically, the large area leading to the concert hall. Thankfully, he seemed to know where he was going. Their pace was a bit faster now, everyone eager now that there was a destination. Jean slipped his hands into his pockets of his hoodie as he noticed Marco zip up the jacket he had slept in, as if reminded of the cold.

Suddenly, Eren halted to a stop at a turn. Everyone instantly stopped, freezing in place. "What's wrong?" Connie whispered.

The brunet turned and put a finger to his lips. Everybody be quiet, he mouthed, then turned back around. The group waited for a moment in disquieting silence for Eren's signal to move forward. Marco tapped Jean on the shoulder, who shrugged. After what seemed like an eternity, Eren finally made a motion for everybody to follow him.

Jean sighed a breath of relief he hadn't realized he had been holding. It had been a while since he had done something like this; he had almost forgotten the endless suspense brought on by someone thinking they had spotted something.

Eren moved out from behind the corner when suddenly a voice echoed through the hallway.

"Hey, freeze!"

Jean turned as he realized the voice had come from behind him, not near Eren. He could make out the figure of a stocky man bounding towards them from the way they came.

"Oh shit!" Connie said. "Go!"

Jean didn't need to be told twice, and apparently, neither did the rest. Eren bounded off in the direction they had been planning to go, Armin dashing after him. Jean, Marco, and Connie fled in the other direction, turning right instead of left at the corner. Through the rush of adrenaline and the pounding of his heart in his ears, he could hear the security guard attempting to chase them. Thankfully, he wasn't a very fast runner and soon gave up, but the brunet didn't miss him calling for backup on his walky-talky. They would soon have more company.

"Keep going!" Marco said in between breaths.

"There!" a new voice yelled. Jean looked to his right as another hallway flashed by, revealing two men with flashlights in hand. He reached back and pulled up his hood, telling Marco to do the same. He could hear their new pursuers a little ways behind them.

They ran harder, the many rooms and hallways becoming a blur in Jean's mind. Finally, after they were out of breath and couldn't go any further, they stopped.

The brunet realized they had lost Connie somewhere along the way, probably on one of the long locker hallways. The school's campus was huge, he absently noted in an effort to gain his breath. No wonder people called Sina High 'Colossal High'.

But now wasn't the time to think about that. He had to keep him and Marco from getting discovered. After all, it was him who dragged him into this mess.

"We gotta…" Jean began, gasping for air so hard he could barely form words. "Gotta hide…"

"Where…" Marco panted. Both boys were so winded they were bent over with their hands on their knees.

The brunet swallowed a gulp of air and pointed a shaking hand down the concert hall, still looking down. Marco gulped and slowly nodded before putting a weak hand on Jean's shoulder and beginning to walk towards the band room.

"How…can…you…walk…" Jean wheezed.

"Desperation…" the black haired boy breathed. Jean tried to laugh but all that came out was a rasping cough, which he quickly cut off in fear of being heard by any other lurking security guards. In fact, how were they sure that the band room was security-free?

Well, there was one way to find out.

He peeked around the corner of the entrance, which was wide open, to the room before going in. "Come on…" he said, gratefully getting his breath back. The two made their way to the back corner of the room, not daring to turn on the light. It didn't really make a difference, though, with all the noise both of them made getting to their desired location. He swore every object in the room moved to block their path.

To their luck, a closet stood right next to the corner. Jean tried to handle and found it was unlocked. Opening the door as quietly as he possible could, he and Marco slipped in and quickly shut it behind them.

It was sort of like a storage closet—except a lot smaller. Binders and instruments sat upon the rows of shelving on the walls, filling much needed space for the two teenage boys. Sighing, Jean slunk to the dirty hardwood floor and crawled under one of the shelves, not thrilled about spending the next hour or so in the cramped space. He allowed himself to try and drift off, wondering if he actually could.

"Roomy, huh?"

The brunet's head snapped back at the sound of a voice, causing him to hit his head on the wall loudly. "Ouch! Shit!" he cursed quietly.

"Sorry! Didn't know it'd startle you that much," Marco apologized.

Jean, cradling his pounding head, looked up at the freckled boy in front of him. Right, he wouldn't be alone. He had Marco. He smiled to himself despite the pain. "S'okay," he said. After another few seconds of silence and the other standing with no purpose, he asked, "Are you going to sit?"

"Oh. Yeah." Marco carefully nudged an instrument case out of the way and sat down next to Jean. Said boy gulped as his heart rate picked up from being so close to the other, trying not to focus on the fact that their shoulders and legs were touching.

They sat like that for a few minutes; Jean's heart racing as he blankly stared forward, Marco unmoving. Suddenly, the black haired boy spoke.

"Are you comfortable, Jean?"

He gulped. "I-I guess, yeah. I mean, as comfortable as anyone could be in a tightly packed storage closet."

Marco chuckled, something Jean found to be extremely adorable. What was happening to him? "Me too," he said.

"Me too, what?"

"Me too; I'm comfortable."

"Um, how?"

"I just am."

They sat wordlessly again, the hushed silence calming Jean's frantic nerves and placing a lull on him. The sleep he was missing out on began to catch up to him, numbing his senses and making his head loll. He caught himself drifting off several times.

"You can go to sleep, if you want to," Marco spoke quietly, his voice soothingly pacific.

"Even if I wanted to, there's nowhere to sleep," Jean replied, keeping his voice low. There was only one place he could think of falling asleep on.

"You can lie on me, if you want." The brunet heard an intake of breath. Maybe it was his, maybe it was Marco's. Or maybe it was both of them at the same time.

Jean smiled to himself, thinking about how it was always what someone else wanted, never what Marco wanted. He now knew this was what Marco wanted. Hell, maybe this was even what he wanted too.

Instead of answering, Jean let his head fall on the other's awaiting shoulder. Almost instantly, arms encased him, pulling him closer to the black haired boy's warm body. They sunk lower against the wall as Marco snuggled Jean even closer, if that was possible, so that his head was resting on his chest. Their legs tangled together, and Jean felt a burst of warmth in his chest as butterflies filled his stomach. The brunet hugged him back.

It didn't matter that the two were on the floor of a cramped storage closet anymore, or that they were currently being hunted down by security guards all over the building. All that mattered was that Marco's rhythmic heartbeat continued.

And it did.

"Look! They're in here!"

"Where?" Crash. "Shit."

"Over here!"

"I don't know where you the fuck you are, man."

"Follow me, Eren."

"Okay."

Jean's eyes fluttered opened at the sound of voices, his heart fluttering nervously until he realized who they belonged to. Lifting his head off of Marco's chest—he realized they were still in the same position as before—he said, "Guys, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's us," Connie replied. Jean identified him as the one at the now open closet door. "Let's get out of here. Hurry up!" He then wondered off, probably to help Eren and Armin find their way back to the exit.

They were saved. Jean briefly wondered if his friend had seen him and Marco like this and found that he actually didn't care. "Marco," he whispered. The black haired boy's head was propped up against the wall in a way that looked completely uncomfortable to Jean. "Marco," he repeated.

The brunet felt the other boy shuffle under him. "…Jean?" he mumbled.

"We have to go," he murmured back.

Marco made a tired noise and squeezed Jean. Jean hugged him back and buried his face in the boy's chest, inhaling his scent that he now loved. He felt Marco press his lips to the top of his head, making him blush profoundly. "I'm not a girl, you know," he muttered with less venom than he intended to.

The other chuckled before sighing contentedly. "We should probably get up now," he said sadly. Jean nodded against his chest and shifted so he could sit up, beginning to stand. Man, his legs were immensely sore; every stretch hurt. He extended a hand to the boy on the floor, who gladly took it and stood as well, nearly bumping his head on the shelves.

Jean didn't let go. They stood for a few seconds, holding hands and looking at each other through the darkness before Marco removed his hand from his and moved for the door. He felt a pang of sadness run through him at the loss of contact, but knew there were other things he had to worry about at the moment. They had to get back to the gym unnoticed.

"Eren? Armin? Connie? Where are you guys?" Marco said quietly upon reentering the band room. Jean followed him out and shut the closet's door.

"Over by the door, waiting for you guys," Armin answered. The two made their way over to the exit, the brunet tripping over what he was positive was a saxophone case he had tripped over coming in before.

"Alright," Eren said once the group was fully reformed. "We need to get back fast. Security guards are everywhere."

"How do we know none are posted outside the gym, waiting for us to come back?" Armin questioned. "That would pose a problem."

"A big problem," Connie added helpfully. A hushed argument broke out between them, each stating a different strategy about how to sneak past all the guards. Nobody could agree on anything.

"Alright, everybody shut up!" Jean harshly whispered to the others, glad when the argument ceased. "It's obvious that there's going to be guards at the gym; there's no point in arguing about that. We need to come up with a plan, and fast. How long has it been since we got split up?"

"About an hour and a half," Armin stated.

It was probably around three in the morning. "Okay. Let's just state the facts for now. What do we know so far?"

"That every security guard in the building is looking for us and we have no chance of getting back unfound," Eren helpfully replied.

"Obviously, dumbass. How many security guards are there?"

"Well, there was the one that found us, then the two Connie mentioned that saw you. Eren and I ran into one as well," the blond counted. "So we know of four." He paused for a moment, thinking. "I'd guess there's about five or six on duty, considering it's a big school."

"Five or six," Jean repeated. "We can work with that."

His brain kicked into overdrive, throwing probabilities and guesses everywhere. If they were fast enough, they would probably only encounter one or two guards. They had been caught because of their casual attitude last time. This time, they wouldn't make the same mistake. Of course, moving fast also meant creating noise. The school's large layout could also prove to be a problem.

"Any ideas?" Connie asked.

"Yeah, I've got a couple," he answered. "So here's the plan."

Jean explained what he had in mind. How they needed to go fast, but also be stealthy. "We could take off our shoes and run in our socks," Armin suggested. It seemed like a good enough idea. They complied and took off their shoes.

"Anybody know how to get back to the gym from here?" Connie questioned.

"I think I do," Marco said. Nobody else volunteered, and it was settled. Marco would lead the group back to the gym, where they would then figure out a plan for getting in the gym. That was a problem for them.

"Everybody ready for this?" Jean asked. Nods from all around. "Then we go."

The run to the gym was long and tiring. Marco made a few wrong turns, but quickly corrected them, and they eventually made it back to the gym without being seen by the single security guard they had passed along the way. They stopped at the end of the hallway that lead to the large gym hall. Sure enough, there was a security guard pacing between the two doors leading in, looking back and forth as if he were waiting for a ghost to appear.

The group retreated further into the hallway to avoid being spotted and proceeded to put their shoes back on. "Okay," Marco breathed, trying to keep his voice down, "what now?"

"I have a plan, but only if you guys want to go through with it," Armin whispered, his voice hoarse. Everybody turned to face the smallest of the group, eager to hear. "Just hear me out before you say anything."

"Alright," Eren nodded.

"Okay. So it's kind of obvious that we can't just sneak in while he's turned away. We need him to leave his post. We need a distraction." He paused for dramatic effect. "We need somebody to be bait."

"Not it," Connie instantly said. When everybody turned to glare at him, he added, "What? I can't run shit."

"You were running pretty fast back there," Eren pointed out.

"That was different!"

"No, it wasn't!"

While the two bickered quietly, the remaining three decided on who would take the lead. After much disagreement, Marco said, "I could do it. I have longs and can run pretty fast."

"I don't know, Marco. Armin is a lot smaller than the rest of us and could hide somewhere if needed," Jean argued.

"I wouldn't want to be stuck hiding, though," the blond returned. After more disagreement and Eren and Connie finally rejoining the conversation, Jean finally came up with a solution.

"I'll do it," he stated firmly.

"Jean, you don't have to…" Marco trailed off. Everybody knew someone had to do it.

"Look, it makes the most sense for me to do it. I used to run track, so I can sprint fast enough to get away. I also make a hell of a lot less noise than someone," he added, glaring at Eren.

"Shut up, horse-face."

Jean was about to say one of his snarky comebacks when Armin interrupted. "Guys, as much as I know you like fighting, we have a bigger problem right now," he said.

The two knew he was right and gave up. "So Jean's doing the run?" Connie inquired, turning to said boy. "You sure, man? I mean, I've known you for all these years and you've never once stepped up to the plate to these kinds of things."

"Yeah, I'm sure," he nodded. "I'll be fine."

"And if they catch you, they'll ask where the rest of us are. What will you say then?" Armin reminded him. Shit, he needed to have a cover story ready. Thinking about that now stressed him out too much, so he decided he would wing it if the time came.

"I'll think of something." Apparently satisfied with the answer, Armin summed up their new plan of action. Jean was to backtrack a couple turns to find the other hallway connecting to the gym. There, he would make enough noise for the guard to search for him, allowing the four waiting to sneak into the gym. He would run back the way he came, run through the hallway they were in now, and sneak in as well—the guard hopefully still occupied.

"Wish me luck," he said, bidding the others farewell. He knew this could end badly for him and only him; he wasn't planning on telling who the others were. Marco had a nervous look in his eyes, like he wanted to say something before it all went down. Maybe be safe, or don't get caught, or don't rat us out, or something like that.

He did exactly as Armin told him to and found the other hallway connecting to the gym's area. He thought about what he should do to sound like a herd of teenage boys and decided on running—actually, more like stomping—and banging on the lockers. That would surely be enough to direct the security guard's attention on him and buy the others time.

It took him a moment to actually work up the nerve to do it. He began lightly treading on the ground before jogging in place, landing heavily on the floor, the soles of his sneakers slapping the ground. He then proceeded to bang on the lockers, praying to God that no other guard was around. Stopping for a moment, he thought he heard footsteps coming his way. He started again.

A flashlight clicked on just around the corner and Jean took off as fast as he could, not caring that he was still being loud and noticeable. The man shouted something incoherent. He kept running. At long last he reached the hallway again, noticing that his friends were gone and the plan had worked, and was about to sprint for the door when he stopped and peered around the corner.

The security guard was there, tapping his foot impatiently as if Jean were an awaited guest and he was wasting the man's time. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, a troublesome thought plagued his mind. He had no idea what to do now.

"Great. Just great," he muttered to himself. He would be stuck waiting here until the guard had to use the bathroom or something. He squatted down and leaned against the wall, wishing he was in the storage closet with Marco. He rested his head against the cold wall and closed his eyes.

The sound of a door opening caused him to jerk. He immediately opened his sleepy eyes, going rigid at the sound of a boy's voice. "Excuse me, sir? I was wondering if you could show me where the bathroom was. I don't feel very well."

Marco. Jean soundlessly scooted to the corner of the hall, peeking around the edge. He could make out Marco's tall figure next to the security guard's shorter figure. He couldn't hear what the man was saying, but the other spoke loud enough for him to hear—probably on purpose.

"I was going to call my parents; they normally helps me with this." The guard said something in reply and Marco nodded. "Thank you, sir."

The two started walking in the direction where Jean had run from. The brunet didn't waste a second. As soon as they rounded a corner, he tiptoed to the door and pushed on it as fast as he dared, once again cursing how loud it was. After spending about thirty seconds closing it very slowly, he began to make his way to where he thought his group was. He noticed a blond head on a pillow and shook the person, thinking it was Armin.

It turned out to be some random guy who was efficiently pissed off by Jean. "What the hell? Go away!"

"Sorry," he murmured, thoroughly embarrassed.

After stepping on another person's leg and mumbling another quick apology, he heard someone—Connie, he realized—whisper, "There's Jean!"

"Where are you guys?" he whispered back.

"Right here." Jean looked to see Armin just a couple feet away from him, smiling. "You were awesome, Jean."

"Yeah, save it for later. Why did Marco go out? Something about stomach troubles and going to call his parents?" he asked, sitting down in front of the blond. "Can someone pass me my sleeping bag?"

"Here," Eren said, sliding the bag to him from his position across from Armin.

"Thanks. So, what about Marco?"

"He was worried that you'd been caught or the guard had come back, so he said he was going to see if he could help you out," Armin answered, yawning.

"What an idiot…" Jean murmured to himself, nevertheless, smiling.

"An idiot that saved your sorry ass," Eren added.

The brunet let it go for once; the drowsy feeling from before was coming back now that everything was said and done. He didn't want to go to sleep, though. He wanted to wait for Marco to get back and make sure he was okay. "You guys can go ahead and go to sleep, if you want. I'll wait for Marco."

"No way, man. We're all in this together till the end," Connie replied, scooting closer to them in his cocoon.

"Speak for yourself," Armin said sleepily, dropping his head onto his pillow and turning over. "Goodnight, and please don't wake me up again." He heard Eren shifting, probably going to sleep as well.

He and Connie sat in silence until the familiar sound of the creaking door echoed softly through the gym, making them both sit up. "Marco!" Jean called softly as the black haired boy approached them. He grinned widely as the boy caught sight of them in the darkness and began to step over various boys' bodies to get to them.

"Jean, are you okay? Were you caught?" he asked immediately upon sitting.

"Yeah, I'm here, thanks to you." Even in the darkness, Jean could still see Marco's cute freckles standing out on his face.

"I'm glad. I was really worried when you didn't come in after us."

"Yeah, well you scared us all by daring to show your face to a security guard," Connie interrupted. Marco chuckled.

"You know what I want to do?" Jean asked. "Sleep."

"Sleep is good," Marco agreed. He brought his bag over to Jean, where they laid side by side. The group was in a perfect circle of sleeping bags. After a while, Marco's breathing evened and he knew his friend was somewhere else now—somewhere Jean himself longed to be. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open anymore (not that he was watching Marco sleep or anything, that would just be creepy) and struggled to even create a complete thought. No, all he thought about now was how much he wanted to go to sleep and how hungry he was after running from security guards.

The next day went by in a hazy blur thanks to his lack of sleep. Jean was the kind of person that needed a certain number of hours of sleep—and the night before had certainly not met his standard. Everything was mixed together. A lecture from all of the chaperones, helpers, director, and manager ate up their first hour of break. Practice, practice, and more practice. More soreness. Still tired.

By the time dinner rolled around, Jean was so exhausted he debated on asking Marco if he could use him as a human pillow again. The guy got about as much sleep as he had but was still cheery! He wondered if he were like that all the time.

"What's wrong?" Marco leaned closer and asked.

Jean sighed. "Just tired, is all."

"I can see why. Some night, huh?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "I'm surprised they haven't bothered continuing the search."

"It'd be pretty pointless, if you asked me. I mean, we're only going to be here for another half day; then they'll never have to see us again. What could they do, anyways? Tell us we couldn't play in the concert?"

"That would be alright with me if it meant getting to go home early."

"I don't want to go home." Jean looked up at the other, giving him a questioning look. Marco smiled and shrugged, then looked away. "We're never going to see each other again after this. I don't want to let all these new friendships go to waste," he said wistfully.

Jean hadn't thought about how once the program was over he'd never see Marco—or any of the others, besides Connie, for that matter—again. The thought was hard to swallow, like an overly large pill that kept getting stuck in his throat no matter how much water he tried to wash it down with. He didn't want to forget about these people.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had no real reason for wanting to go home. He wouldn't do anything; maybe play Xbox or something but that was about it. He didn't want to go back to school where Marco and the others wouldn't be. No, he couldn't…

"Jean, are you okay?" Marco asked, concern written on his face.

He gulped. "Y-yeah. Just kind of, I don't know, sad."

"Yeah, me too."

The two listened to Connie telling the story of when the first security guard saw them, exaggerating it to great extents. Jean knew for a fact that Connie hadn't charged at the guard and tackled him. Sasha, though, seemed to believe him one hundred percent, her mouth gaping.

"That's bullshit, Connie," Eren called him out. "All you did was run like a girl."

"Hey man, you did too," Connie reminded him. "In fact, Eren here took off the second he heard him."

"If we're going to be telling anyone's story from last night, it should be Jean's," Armin stated.

All eyes turned to him, Sasha smiling expectantly and Mikasa wearing her neutral expression. "Well, I don't mean to brag," he smirked, "but it was pretty badass,"

"Let's hear how you saved the four princesses like a knight in shining armor, then," Ymir said. Christa gave a small laugh through her mouthful of salad.

Jean told them his recount on what happened, only embellishing a few minor details. "And then Marco came out of nowhere and told the guard he didn't feel good and had to go to the bathroom," he explained. "I made a break for it as soon as they were gone."

"So does that technically make Marco your knight in shining armor for saving you?" Sasha asked, smiling.

Marco's face flushed red. "I saved his ass in the first place, which meant he was just repaying the favor, something that you guys"— he pointed a finger at the other three boys—"have yet to do."

"And probably won't," Eren added.

"Eren, did you get enough to eat?" Mikasa questioned. Said boy grumbled and nodded at the question as if he'd heard it a million times which, seeing Mikasa's protective nature, was probably so.

Mr. Levi entered the cafeteria and announced that it was time to go back. Groaning, Jean got up and dumped his tray, watching Marco do the same. "I'll miss you a lot, Jean," the black haired boy said, emptying his drink.

"Me too, Marco," the brunet replied. More than you'll ever know.

"Warm-ups," Mr. Levi said, lifting his director's baton and leading the band into the whole prolonged whole notes. Jean hit the snare drum every beat, keeping time for the other instruments. Once they were done, they ran through their concert music one last time before the actual concert. The brunet was thoroughly satisfied with himself after he performed his solo well in the final song.

"Hey," Marco said, approaching him. "I think we're free to go now. Nice solo, by the way." He smiled warmly.

"Thanks," Jean replied, putting his sticks in his bag. He followed his friend out the band room and met up with the rest of the group, who were talking about where to go out to eat.

"Finally, the food here sucked," Connie commented. "Time to go eat fried chicken."

"Where are we heading?" Jean asked as he joined the circle.

"We're thinking KFC," Christa answered. "It's nearby and Connie has his heart set on it. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah, I'll go wherever."

With everybody in mutual agreement, the nine piled into two cars, one of them somehow ending up being Jean's. "Guys in one car, girls in the other!" Connie had said. So, with Jean in the driver's seat and Marco in the front and Eren, Armin, and Connie piled into the back, they took off.

The five argued over what radio station to play; Jean putting on classic to annoy Eren and not letting anyone turn it.

"Dick," the brunet in the back muttered. Jean turned it up.

The meal was certainly interesting. Connie, who had agreed beforehand to pay for Sasha's food, ended up paying twenty dollars for something that he only ate four dollars of. "Worth it," he said to Jean, grinning when he saw how happy the brunette was when he brought all of her requested food to the large table the group was seated at.

Once everybody settled down, eating their food and talking, Connie stood up. Jean gave his friend a quizzical glance as he nearly kicked over his chair getting out of it so quickly. He picked up his cup of soda and raised it in the air. "A toast to the best band people ever!" he announced.

"Woo!" Sasha said, standing up and raising her soda as well. Eren and Armin followed, then Ymir, Christa, Marco, and Jean. The nine knocked their cups together, various drinks spilling over the plastic and onto the table. Jean knew they were making a scene, but he didn't care. He smiled to himself, happy to have found such awesome new friends but sad that it would be over soon. He couldn't let the negative thoughts get him down now.

"To us!" Connie roared, followed by hoots and cheers.

Yeah, he would definitely miss these guys.

And then it was time for the concert.

The group made it back fifteen minutes before the time the director had instructed everybody to be back, giving everyone more than enough time to change into their school's formal band wear. Jean was adorned in his white collared dress shirt, black slacks, black dress shoes, black bowtie, and black vest. Marco's attire was very similar to his, except for a red tie instead of a bowtie. Christa complained about her dress being too tight, earning her a comment about how it showed off her perfect figure from Ymir— who then told everyone not to look at said blonde.

"You look good in black," Marco told Jean.

"Uh, thanks," he stammered. "So do you."

Marco chuckled. "Thank you, but I prefer a little more color."

"Listen up, everybody!" Mr. Levi called to the rambunctious band. Once everything was silent, he said, "The concert will begin in twenty minutes. Make sure everything is in order. I don't want to have to look over my shoulder like you're six year olds, which, some of you act like you are." The noise erupted again as soon as the director stepped off the podium and walked around to the back of the stage, where the percussion was standing.

Jean gulped as the man approached him. "Jean Kirschstein," he said, "a word?"

"Yes sir," Jean replied hastily and followed him into the backstage area. Once they were there, he reclined against a wall and tried to look nonchalant, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Do you know anything about a group of boys sneaking out of the gym prior to last night?"

Shit. "Not really," he said apprehensively. He mentally cursed himself for saying such a stupid answer.

"I know you do, Jean. Because you were one of them," Mr. Levi replied, expression unchanging. The brunet's mouth formed a tight line. "I'm correct, I presume?"

After a pregnant pause, Jean slowly nodded and kept his head down. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"Would you like to tell me who your accomplices were or take the full blame for this?"

He looked up, confused. Was he giving him a choice on getting out of trouble? Normally he would take that at all costs, but…

"No, it was my idea," he said resolutely. Mr. Levi nodded and began to walk away. "Wait!" Jean called before he knew what he was doing.

Turning around, Mr. Levi answered, "Yes?"

"Am I… am I not in trouble?"

Giving a small sigh, the small man shook his head. "To be frank, there's nothing we can do now. There's nothing we could have done in the first place. That's why we didn't expound upon it."

"Then why corner me now?"

There was a glint of humor in the man's eyes. "Because I wanted to know." Then he left. Jean blinked, utterly dumbfounded about being let off the hook by one of the strictest adults on earth. Walking back to his section, he saw Armin eyeing him suspiciously. He waved innocently at the blond.

Marco gave him a friendly smile from his seat next to Connie as he stood behind the base drum, watching as the first audience members entered the auditorium through the ornate double doors. Jean gave a small wave back, not missing when Connie nudged the other boy. Marco turned to him and said something the brunet couldn't make out, causing Connie to laugh and punch his shoulder.

He watched as Mr. Levi entered behind a particularly large crowd of people, making his way down the long aisle and climbing the steps to the stage. Standing in front of the band, he raised his baton, signaling their usual warm-up. Jean moved behind the snare drum to keep time.

No less than ten minutes later, the concert began. Jean breezed through the first songs easily, not even missing one note or beat. Between songs, Marco would turn around and give him a thumbs up, furthering encouraging him. They sounded amazing. That was to be expected, at the least, by a band made up of first and second chair high school players. Their sound was melodic and alluring, leaving you reaching out for more. Even if they were the best players from the area, he was still surprised at how well they played after only two days of practicing a total of five songs.

Finally, the band reached its final song. Jean's stomach was doing twists and turns all over the place from anxiety about his solo. The piece began slow, escalating with each measure. An accent here, a decrescendo there, and drum rolls everywhere. Finally, there were a couple measures of rest for the snare. Jean ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back and preparing himself for his solo. He was going to play the best he had ever played.

One, two, three, four!

Jean's hands were flying. They hit the drum with power, the sound echoing off the walls of the large, amplified room. He was concentrating so hard he didn't even notice Marco grinning from ear to ear at him the entire time until he was finished. He smiled sheepishly back, scratching his head and waiting for his next part in the music.

Finally, the band finished all five of their songs. The audience gave them a standing ovation, clapping wildly until Mr. Smith came on stage with the closing announcements and thank-yous. "And finally, we'd like to thank the wonderful band that made this event possible. They were a privilege to work with and all have so much potential to go even further with their musical abilities. We would welcome any one of them back next year. I know it has been a great experience for all of us. Thank you all."

With that, Mr. Smith turned to face the band and made a hand gesture, signaling for the first row to file off of the stage. The second and third soon followed suit, and before he knew it, Jean was walking off the stage, clenching his sticks tightly as he looked around for his friends.

Walking outside the auditorium, Marco greeted him instantly. "Jean, that was amazing!" he exclaimed. "You're one of the best drummers I've ever heard!"

"Thanks," the brunet smiled. "I was pretty nervous about it."

"You shouldn't have been! It was awesome."

"It was really good, Jean," Armin said, walking up to them with his oboe case in hand. "I just can't believe it's over already."

"I know, me either!" Sasha said. "It was so much fun getting to meet you guys."

"Yeah," Connie sighed from behind her.

Eren, Mikasa, Ymir, Christa, all found their way to the group no less than a minute later. Soon, they were all outside and walking to the parking lot. Jean trudged along, not eager to part ways with any of the other eight.

"This sucks," he mumbled to Marco.

"I'll really miss you," the black haired boy murmured back.

Jean looked up to see a deeply saddened freckled face. For some reason, thinking about never seeing his cute freckles again only made it worse. "I'll miss you too," he said.

Without thinking, they embraced each other tightly. Jean inhaled the familiar scent of Marco, pressing himself closer and wrapping his arms around the other tighter. Marco responded the same way.

"Aww," Jean heard Sasha giggle. Looking up, he saw that the group had stopped. Ymir had even pulled out her phone and was probably taking pictures. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was keeping Marco as close to him as he could while they were still together.

Christa suddenly gasped. "We need to trade phone numbers!" she said to everyone.

"Yeah!" Connie proclaimed. Almost instantaneously, as if reminded that the deadline for their friendships were near, everyone whipped out their phones. Marco pulled the brunet over to where everyone was gathered and broke the hug, instead putting an arm around the smaller male. Numbers were spilling out of people's mouths like faucets.

"No, no, the two goes there!"

"Wait, say it again!"

"Did you get mine?"

Jean ended up with Armin's, Sasha's, — somehow Eren's—, Mikasa's, and Ymir's numbers. Marco gave him Christa's and his own. He already had Connie's. Once everybody was finished, Sasha insisted that they take a group photo. She cornered a bystander walking by into taking it, who seemed more than happy to do it.

"Get closer together," he said. The group scrunched closer together, nine smiling faces pressed against one another's. "One, two, three!"

Sasha ran over to look at the photo, declaring that it was perfect and thanking the guy, who smiled and walked off. "I'll send it to everyone," she said, her fingers flying rapidly over the phone's onscreen keyboard. "There!"

Jean and everyone else's phone lit up almost at the exact same time. He smiled at the photo, knowing he would keep it forever. Hell, he would probably set it as his background. He had never met such cool people before.

Christa wiped at her eyes. "It was really nice knowing all of you guys, I'll miss you!" she sniffed.

"Group hug?" Marco suggested.

Everyone complied, even Ymir. Jean was pressed into the middle of the pack. He felt long arms encircle him again, bringing back flooding memories of the hour spent in the storage closet. He was glad he had taken so many pictures of his friends during the breaks; he didn't want to forget any of them.

The group broke apart and said their final goodbyes. Eren, Armin, and Mikasa began walking to their car, which was parked in the middle of the parking lot. Ymir and Christa climbed into their car, which was literally right next to where they had been standing. Sasha—after hugging Connie and then kissing him on the cheek—went to hers. Connie waved goodbye and trudged to his. Only Jean and Marco were left hiking to theirs, which were parked on the far end of the lot.

"I can't believe it's over," Marco sighed. "This was what I wasn't looking forward to."

"Yeah, me too." Jean could see his car from a distance.

"I hope we can all stay in touch."

"Mhmm."

"Jean." Said boy stopped and looked at the other, sadness lingering his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Shit, Marco. I'm not. You guys are some of the coolest people I've ever met and now we'll never be able to see each other again. Reminds me of how fucking unfair the world is," Jean suspired.

"We can call and text each other," Marco supplied. "Or we could Skype or play Xbox together, if you have one. Whatever you want to do," he added. There he was again, willing to go with whatever the other wanted. Just another thing Jean added to the list of things he loved about Marco.

"Yeah," he agreed. "But still; you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do."

They walked in silence until they reached Jean's car. Jean smiled as Christa and Ymir's car passed; the blonde waving at them from the driver's seat with Ymir. The Shiganshina trio's car passed next. Eren, also at the wheel, honked at them with the car horn and give Jean the finger. Jean gave him it back and a small wave to Armin and Mikasa, who sat in the back together. He saw them both wave back before they were gone.

"So what are you going to do when you get home?" the black haired boy asked, watching as Connie's car passed.

"I don't know. Xbox or something like that."

"Maybe we can play together, then." Both boys smiled, waving at Sasha when she passed. Everyone was gone except for them. They enveloped each other once again, neither wanting to let go. After a while, the brunet gave the other one last squeeze and broke away.

"I guess we should get going," he sighed.

"Yeah. It's been fun," Marco said. "Be safe on the road."

"Yeah, you too." He paused for a moment before adding, "Bye, Marco."

"Goodbye, Jean." The statement was said with such finality that it made Jean's chest tighten. Marco smiled one last time before walking the rest of the length to his car. Jean would really miss seeing that; he loved the way it was always sincere, unlike many of his own forced smiles that he plastered on his face. But the smiles here had all been real.

He climbed into his car before he could think about running up and hugging Marco again, fumbling to get his keys out of his pocket and starting the car. He pulled out of the parking space and drove to the exit of the parking lot, watching as the front door closed on a red Toyota—probably Marco's car.

Then he was out and on the road, driving away from all of the memories he had made. His phone lit up and he fought the urge not to look at it, but he wanted to know if it was Marco.

It turned out to be Ymir. She had sent him a photo with a text attached reading:

thought you might want this, you dipshit

Jean opened the photo, grinning to himself like an idiot. He looked at the picture of him and Marco hugging the entire ride home, knowing he wouldn't trade it for anything in the entire world.

Two weeks had passed since Honors Band. Jean had fallen back into his routine schedule, with the exception of Skyping and playing Xbox with Marco almost every day after school. Connie was still grumbling over losing his one shot with a girl and often sought out Jean for emotional support, crashing at his house on weekdays when he didn't feel like doing his homework.

Today, however, Jean was alone in his room, bored out of his mind. It was six o'clock at night and he had nothing to do. Normally, he would have been playing with Marco but the black haired boy was busy today for whatever reason. After resorting to actually cleaning his room and finishing his math homework (yeah; he was that bored), he received a text.

He unlocked his phone, pausing to look at his background of the band group, before opening his message.

From: Marco

Hey

Jean, thankful to finally have someone to talk to, responded at the speed of light.

To: Marco

hey

From: Marco

Do you know if there are any houses for sale in your neighborhood?

To: Marco

why do you ask?

There was a full minute in which Marco didn't respond. Jean's heart was doing summersaults in his chest, anxiety building up in his stomach. Finally, he got a reply.

From: Marco

Because I'm moving to Trost. :)

I had to have a happy ending because that's how all Jeanmarco fics should be. Thank you guys for reading, and remember,
reviews are love! c: