Chapter Text
Southern California in the last days summer had always been the kind of beautiful backdrop that inspired songs, poetry - works of art that still did no justice to its sunny brilliance. The light that bathed the town of Fullerton in muggy warmth also brought into sharp focus the rich hues of gardens and fountains situated around the buildings of its college campus. The pavement almost glowed in the cheerful sun, beckoning returning students to walk twisted paths and chat with the people they passed. The near-white stone walkways lead to grassy stretches - perfect for games of frisbee or reading in the wash of natural light - and past smooth courtyards, ideal for skateboards and bikes. The CSUF campus was alive with a breezy, balmy energy.
And Jean Kirschtein was enjoying none of it.
Instead of roaming over the campus grounds, enjoying the last days of summer freedom before his junior year of classes resumed, he sat in the small, drab office of the college's housing counselor. Looking for a dorm so late in the year was something he never thought he'd find himself doing, but it was just another bullet on a growing list.
He stared out a tiny window at the beautiful day he was missing while the humorless man sitting behind the desk typed his information into the school's system. The guy looked like he couldn't be much older than Jean himself, but he wore an expression of someone who had years more stress on his shoulders than anyone in his twenties had a right to. He also had an absolutely ridiculous bowl cut hairstyle that nearly hung over his eyes when he looked down his nose at the screen, but Jean wagered spending eight hours a day trapped in that soul-sucking void of an office would hinder anyone's decision making abilities, even when it came to things like hair cuts.
"Unfortunately there's not a whole lot left to choose from at this point," he sighed, as though he would rather be anywhere other than in the cramped office with Jean. At least they had that much in common, Jean thought, as the advisor clicked his tongue and pecked his keyboard. He glanced back at Jean over the top of his narrow glasses. "Probably should've done this a few weeks ago."
"I still had a roommate a few weeks ago," Jean gritted out.
"Did your roommate withdraw? If so we can place you in the same dorm and find--"
"No, he replaced me." It was the truth, at least as far as Jean was concerned. Things had been fine for four semesters - no logical reason to change anything - but then Eren Jaeger just had to room with his long-lost best friend, and just had to register before Jean even so much as thought to call him about it. And then Jean was totally screwed over, left without a dorm, a roommate or a solid plan when he'd never had to worry about any of that before.
"Replaced you?" The counselor asked, quirking an eyebrow. Jean nodded quickly; there was no way he was gonna pour out the details to some guy he barely knew.
"He asked some friend of his to take my spot. Transfer from another school."
"That shouldn't be possible. If you were already registered--"
"I wasn't," Jean admitted, glaring down at his shoelaces as he kicked the floor under his chair. "I just figured we'd room together again." He felt heat rising behind his cheeks, and scowled harder as if that might scare it away. Thankfully, the man behind the desk wasn't even looking his way.
Instead, he pushed his glasses up his nose and continued tapping at his keyboard. "Mm. Well, it's never a good idea to wait until the last minute."
"Apparently." Jean said flatly. He couldn't tell if the advisor was trying to sound like an ass, or if he just naturally came across that way. Either way, Jean couldn't imagine a less pleasant way to spend the afternoon than listening to his passive aggressive lecturing.
"We don't like to put freshman with older students when we can avoid it, so let me see if I can find another upper classman..." He squinted and adjusted his glasses again as he examined the screen in front of him. "Ah, looks like I've got an opening in the Roseanne Wallace building. Room 104; roommate will be a senior." The look on his face was one of accomplished finality - he was clearly done searching, whether Jean was happy with the assignment or not. Jean sighed and tried to imagine himself moving in with a total stranger, only making him feel all the more uneasy.
"He play ball or anything?" Jean asked in the hopes that he would have something worth chatting about with the new guy; he played baseball himself, but he was ready to settle for any sport he could bullshit his way through talking about. Tennis. Golf. Water polo. Anything.
The counselor shook his head. "No, looks like an arts major. Roseanne isn't a departmental dorm."
That was an understatement. The Roseanne Wallace Memorial building - or 'Rose Wall', as the students usually called it - was well known on campus as the 'leftover' dorm - a place where you ended up if you didn't find a place anywhere else. Jean dropped his head against the back of his chair with a thump and groaned.
"Great."
The advisor didn't seem to notice his unsettled tone - that, or he just chose to ignore it. He clicked around a few times and a noisy printer on the desk beside him spat out a thin stack of papers. "Alright, just take this downstairs and check with the lady at the desk to get your key. Anything else I can do for you?"
Give me a different room assignment? Promise me I'll never have to sit in your office again? Get a job that you don't suck ass at doing?
"No thanks," Jean settled on, deciding to keep the rest to himself. He looked at the papers in his hands - while the counselor went back to doing God knows what at his computer - and then tucked them under his arm to head down to pick up the key to a room he'd rather not even see.
Outside it was a beautiful California summer day, but Jean found the sun as irritating as everything else. He made a note to himself to buy another pair of sunglasses; he'd definitely need them to get through the semester.
--
Another year, and still no recruitment. Another year playing the same game he'd been playing for most of his life, with a passel of teammates he could only barely tolerate when they weren't on the field together, and another year with few friends for that very reason. What little social interaction he'd had outside the diamond in previous years had mostly come from Eren, and that in itself had been a problem. Eren was certainly not what he would call a friend, but he was something - something familiar - and Jean was still pissed about losing him as a roommate. Especially since all he was getting in exchange was some random guy who he would most likely have nothing in common with.
Aware that he'd have to face the stranger before he could sleep that night, but far from ready to do so, Jean elected to waste time and money picking up a few creature comforts to get through the potentially awkward evening with. The Target he stopped at was bustling, even in the middle of the day. The back to school rush for supplies and clothes and everything in between had people cramming into tight aisles and rummaging through messy shelves and bins. Jean heaved a sigh and headed into the fray. He was almost relieved when his phone rang; his mom's voice was a welcome distraction from the chaos inside the store.
"Hello, sweetie." Lynnette Kirschtein had a soft, warm voice, and to Jean it had always been the sound of home. He couldn't think of a time when he wasn't glad to hear it.
Jean replied through gritted teeth, holding his wallet there as he wedged himself through a crowd. "Hey, mom. S'goin on?"
"Not much, just dusting the empty nest," she laughed. "How did things go with the housing counselor?"
"Fine, I guess. I mean, I've got a dorm assignment, so at least there's that. Still pretty pissed that I'm gonna be stuck with some random dude."
"That's for sure then? Your old roommate already has someone else?"
Jean sighed. "For sure, yeah. Eren's bunking with some kid named Armin - scrawny little blond, ponytail-wearin' asshole. Guy he's known since grade school or whatever. Real cute story." He didn't bother trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. His mother didn't know everything about his complicated relationship with his former roommate, but she knew Jean himself well enough to know that he hated change. "So now I'm stuck with Mr. Random. Guy's apparently a theatre major - probably gonna have a completely different schedule than me and annoy the piss outta me with it all the time." He found a stack of school year planners - nondescript, in plain, assorted colors - near the end of a cramped aisle. Reaching halfway into the pile for a book that wasn't dented and scratched, he pulled one out without a second glance and tossed it into the basket hanging on his arm.
On the other end of the line his mother sighed, her tone as close to reprimanding as it ever tended to get. "Now, Jean there's no reason to be so negative. I'm sure he'll be a nice boy and you'll get along just fine. It might be good for you to get a little outside of your comfort zone. But you're definitely not going to be happy with the situation if you go into it already complaining."
"Yeah, I gotcha mom. Sunny side, and all that. Listen, I'm at Target right now; do you need anything? I won't be home for a while, but--"
"No, I've got everything I need. Thank you though, sweetheart." Jean could hear her smile through the phone, and smiled a little too, despite himself. He made his way to the front of the store, grabbing a few bottled cappuccinos and a half-frozen tray of prefab sushi to eat once the big introduction was behind him.
"Alright, well I'm gonna pay for this junk and then go get my dorm set up. I'll call you later." They said their goodbyes and Jean slid his phone back into his pocket, dumping the basket onto the register belt absently.
Barely cognizant of how much the total came to, he passed his debit card across to the cashier, took the bag she handed him and headed for his car. He wasn't looking forward to starting over with a new roommate in a new building, but at least he had a few things to make it a little more comfortable. Pulling up to the pre-session empty lot of the unimpressive Rose Wall dormitory, he wondered if a grocery bag full of familiar items would be enough.
--
Passing open doors and still-vacant dorms on his way to what would be his shared room for the next few months, Jean shuffled by a handful of people, doing the same thing he was. Boxes and bags were tossed outside of doorways, and he stepped carefully around them and kept to himself. Down the hall, a tall, bulky blond in a leather jacket lifted a trunk onto one shoulder and then his head, calling to his friend behind him for something else to balance. An even taller, absolutely exasperated looking young man sighed from his place behind the amateur strong man, and responded in a soft voice that cut a sharp contrast to the booming sound of the other's. He - begrudgingly, if Jean was reading him right - tossed another small duffel bag atop the growing pile of luggage in the blond's arms and gave a heavy sigh when the added weight toppled him to the ground. Jean rolled his eyes and kept walking, making a mental note to avoid those two entirely, if possible.
"102, 103... 104." Jean whispered to himself, eyeing the number plaques beside each door. When he reached the one that matched the number on his key, he found no use for it, as the door was already standing open, light coming from inside. He turned the corner and laid his bags by the door facing, relieving his tired shoulders while he peeked into the room.
Inside - slumped over an overstuffed suitcase and singing quietly to himself in what sounded like Spanish - was a man with short, dark hair and cheerful expression. He dug through stacks of clothes and almost danced as he sorted things into haphazard piles on one of the dorm's small beds. After a moment he finally noticed Jean's presence in the doorway and turned to face him with a wide grin.
"Hi!" he beamed. "Jean, right? That's what they told me when I called the housing office this afternoon..." He held out a hand to shake.
"Yeah," Jean said quickly, taking his hand. "And my assignment sheet says you're... Marco?"
"That's me! Nice to meet you." Marco had a firm, confident handshake and a disarming smile. He stood a few inches taller than Jean, and was maybe a little bulkier as well, but it may have been the way his loose clothing hung from his shoulders and hips.
"Yeah, same."
Marco glanced over his shoulder quickly, and then back at Jean. "Hope it's okay with you if I set my stuff on this side. If not though, I can trade you."
"Nah, it's cool. This is fine." Jean laid his things on the untouched bed to prove his point. Marco grinned and then turned back to his work unpacking. Jean sat on the empty bed and looked over Marco's head at the posters, calendars and pictures already hanging on the wall on his side of the room. Jean didn't recognize most of it, but he knew what 'Phantom of the Opera' was, and the pictures of Marco with a pretty blonde girl grinning beside him that were pinned all around that poster seemed pretty straightforward, too. Marco must've seen him taking it all in; he chuckled and caught Jean's attention, rubbing at the back of his neck and smiling sheepishly.
"Yeah, I have too much stuff, I know," he said, tilting his head to indicate the posters. "I'm just really bad about holding onto things, especially from plays. I'm here for musical theatre. I was actually gonna try to get on with a production company this fall, but I changed my mind at the last minute and decided to finish my degree, so here I am in the catch-all dorm." He chatted like Jean was a longtime friend, and Jean nodded along, trying to fake as much polite interest as he could manage. Only when Marco turned the topic back on him did he even bother to look his new roommate in the eye.
"Do you need any help unpacking?"
Jean stared at him for a moment, unsure if he'd heard him correctly. "Any... help?"
Marco nodded. "Sure! Might make things go faster, you know? I have my phone - I could play some music and we could just jam straight through it. Helps me when I'm packing or whatever, for sure."
"That's okay," Jean said quickly. "I, uh... I'm kinda weird about my stuff." When Marco's cheerful smile dropped just slightly, he felt pushed to amend his answer. "It's not a you thing."
Seemingly content with that reply, Marco shrugged and turned back to his luggage. "Is it ok with you if I still play a little bit of music? I just kind of hate working in quiet."
Jean nodded, despite his own preference for silence, and hoped Marco would keep it down. After a few minutes of sorting through underwear and socks, Jean realized Marco had propped the phone up on his bed and was singing along to something under his breath so quietly, it was almost impossible to hear at all. Marco seemed to know the song by heart, and shifted his shoulders in time with it, dancing as it faded out. Another came on and he smiled broadly; Jean mumbled a question, trying to create small talk where he knew it was struggling to exist.
"That musical stuff you're listening to?"
Marco grinned over his shoulder and nodded.
"Mm-hm. It's from 'The Last Five Years'."
"Ah. I'm... not even gonna pretend I know what that is." Jean said plainly. Marco laughed - warmer and fuller than a stranger had ever done in Jean's presence - and shook his head.
"At least you're honest," he said. Jean shrugged.
"Just not my thing, man. If that's what you like though, cool."
"What about you, then?" Marco asked.
"Me?"
"Yeah; what are you going to school for? I thought I saw some athletic gear with your stuff - you play for one of the teams here?"
"Oh. Yeah. Uh... I mean, I'm here on a baseball scholarship. I'm kinda hoping to play in the minors or something at some point." It wasn't something he was used to talking about. Everyone else in his life already knew; he wasn't sure what to even offer when it came to talking about himself. But when he spoke, Marco seemed to actually listen. "Still haven't been picked up or anything yet, though. So declared myself a business major. Something to fall back on." He finished with a shrug and hoped that was enough.
"That's a good plan," Marco nodded. "Incidentally, I know how you feel, still waiting for your break. I haven't had a lead role the entire time I've been here. Big school, lots of talent, y'know? But I'm hoping I'll get something this year." He talked about the school year with such genuine enthusiasm, Jean almost envied it. He wasn't sure how to sound anything other than uninvested in the discussion though, so he settled on a backwards nod and a half smile.
"Well, best of luck on that, man."
"You too," Marco smiled, and then went back to casually shuffling through his things.
Jean was actually glad Marco had initiated - and ended - conversation. It wasn't his strong suit, and he was painfully aware of how standoffish that often made him seem. But Marco didn't seem as put off by it as some people he'd met - as Eren had been when they'd first moved in together - and for that at least, Jean was thankful.
The silence that settled between them might have been considered tense between friends, but for what they were - barely acquaintances - Jean was thankful for Marco's apparent respect of his need for space. They made beds, tucked belongings into drawers and hung clothes in narrow closets without more than a few glances in each other's direction, and it was fine. Every once in a while, Jean would find himself searching for something he'd already tucked away, and Marco would nod toward it wordlessly. Jean would tip his head backward in thanks and that was conversation enough, relaxing in its ease. By the time his new roommate mentioned heading down to the bathroom for a shower, Jean had reasoned that the semester might be tolerable, as long as Marco kept his distance and let Jean keep his.
Once the room was empty save for Jean and piles of yet unorganized possessions, he flopped onto his bed and pulled his phone from his pocket. His mom answered in a single ring, and they chatted about her day for a few minutes before she asked about his new dorm mate.
"Yeah, he's an okay guy, I guess. Little too friendly, but I guess that's better than him being a prick. Long as he isn't up in my face all the time, we'll probably be cool."
His mother hummed thoughtfully. "Well, try to get to know him a little better, sweetie. Find something you have in common - you two could be become great friends if you make an effort!"
Jean scoffed. "I doubt it, mom. The only thing I have in common with this guy is our dorm number. But it's not a big deal either way. Come the end of the semester. I'll just see about changing rooms. Hopefully get in with one of the rookies if nothing else." He let himself fall backward, flat on his back to toss his shoes from his feet and stretch muscles that he hadn't realized were tense.
"Just don't miss a chance to make a friend, Jean." She sounded every bit the concerned mother. Jean sighed directly into the receiver, and on the other end of the line, Lynnette laughed.
"Yeah, alright mom. Listen, I'm gonna turn in so I can check out the facilities and talk to Coach Z tomorrow before the freshman crowd comes stumblin' in. Talk to you then, okay?"
"That's fine. Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you; come home soon." That was her line, every night that Jean called her, and it never ceased to make him a little homesick, even if he'd never admit to it.
"Night, mom. Love you too."
Jean slid his thumb across the screen of his phone and laid it at his feet. He wondered how long he would have to organize his things - and his thoughts - before his roommate returned. With only a few days left to get his head in gear before classes officially began, he figured jotting a few things down while he had some solitude was a good plan. Rifling through the bag he'd tossed to the end of his bed, Jean pulled the planner from inside it and groaned as the dim light of his desk lamp revealed the cover he hadn't bothered to even glance at in the store.
Stripes. A rainbow of stripes. And on every third line of the pattern, an iridescent strip of glitter sparkled just enough to accentuate the three different hues of pink.
Fantastic.
He sighed and flipped it open to skim the pages, only slightly relieved that - despite a rather swirly looking font - the empty lines and boxes inside seemed fairly gender neutral. As much as he could've kicked himself for it, he knew he wouldn't be returning it; the thought alone of standing in line holding it and handing it over to some jaded returns clerk was enough to sour his stomach. He folded the book until the front cover touched the back, and paper clipped the two sides together, keeping the ridiculous colors his sparkly little secret.
When the door handle clicked and Marco came back into the room, grinning warmly, Jean assumed he was going to be prodded with unwanted conversation or scrutinized for the way he'd already rearranged the stack of books on his small desk three times. But Marco gave him nothing more than a quick glance, a friendly smile and comfortable silence the rest of the evening. He even dimmed the lights on his side of the room as soon as Jean flipped off his own lamp, settling in with headphones and only popping them out of his ears when Jean looked his way, ready to listen if Jean actually decided to say anything. He didn't, but Marco didn't seem bothered by that. He fell asleep before Jean, headphones still hanging from his neck.
Jean lay back, his head resting on his threaded fingers as he stared at the ceiling of his new room. Five months, he reminded himself - and just a little over six until baseball season would be back in full swing, and things would resemble what he was used to. At least he had that much to look forward to. Marco slept quietly across the room - a stark and welcome contrast to the window-rattling snores he'd grown accustomed to hearing from Eren - and in the still of the silence, Jean drifted into more pleasant thoughts.
A well-worn routine, familiar faces and memories of home; these were the things that relaxed his mind and followed him into his sleep.