Freckled Love (a JeanMarco AU)

Chapter Eight

Marco was the one to finally pull away, his cheeks hot and his lips red.

Jean stared at him for a few moments, catching his breath. He removed his hand from Marco's cheek, and moved back on his stool. Marco stared at him, surprised and even a little hurt. "What's wrong?" He asked. He pulled away as well, crossing his arms self-consciously. "Oh. You didn't mean to do that, did you?" He stood up quickly, turning his back to Jean. "Shit. I'm- I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry."

Jean stayed silent, still horrified with himself. Did he even have any control over himself just then? He put a hand over his mouth, licking his lips. The taste of Marco remained on his lips. Jean could tell what type of coffee he'd had that day, and that he'd eaten a mint candy. He felt bad for not bringing Marco anything to eat when he picked him up. He was probably hungry after working all day.

But, the worst part about all of this was that deep down, Jean liked the kiss.

"Jean... Please don't hate me," Marco begged. "Jean."

Jean finally looked at Marco, noticing his eyes were damp with tears threatening to spill. It was the most distraught he'd ever seen his friend.

"You're the best roommate I've ever had. I don't want to lose you."

Jean stood up, keeping his eyes lowered. "Let's go," he mumbled.

Marco followed after Jean like a lost puppy with its tail between its legs, locking the door to the café before getting into Jean's truck.

Jean drove them back to the dorm rooms, but didn't get out of the truck.

"I'm... I'm gonna go to Ashton's," Jean said, refusing to make eye contact with Marco. "I'll see you later."

Marco opened the door, his movements slow and forced. "I'm really sorry, Jean."

Jean finally glanced at Marco, and was surprised at what he saw. A few tears had actually fallen, making his cheeks red and blotchy. Jean was unaware that their friendship really meant that much to Marco.

"It's not your fault," Jean said quietly. "Bye, Marco." He started his engine, and Marco eventually shut the truck door.

Jean waited until Marco was in the dorm building to leave, but only because there was still a part of him that couldn't be mad at Marco. After all, Jean had been the one who initiated the kiss first. And Marco was Marco. He was the boy who was always laughing, always happy, and could make Jean give in to anything with just his dumb, innocent smile.

Jean pulled out his phone, texting Ashton's number.

Hey. I know it's late, but I need somewhere to stay tonight.

Thankfully, Ashton was still up.

I'm at Rose Hotel, on Johnson Street. Room 204.

Thanks, Jean texted back. He knew exactly where Rose Hotel was.

He was tired, frustrated, and even upset, but he did his best to focus on driving in the busy city. Luckily, Ashton's hotel wasn't very far away. Jean soon found it; it was a tall, tan, skinny building that stuck out like a thumb among the darker buildings. It looked old on the outside, but as Jean walked in he assumed the entire interior must have recently been redone.

The excitement finally began to creep is as he neared room 204, knocking on the door. The knocks were loud compared to the extreme quietness of the hallway.

Finally the door opened, and a tall young man stood before him, with a lanky, awkward body and blond fringe hanging in his grey eyes. He had a beanie over his hair, and a silver lip ring pierced into his lower lip.