Jean!" It was the familiar voice of a young boy. Marco. "Hey, Marco!" Jean said excitedly. His voice seemed to be a higher pitch than usual, oddly enough. He was outside of his old house, the one that he lived in along with his parents when he was about six years old. "I really like your shirt!" Marco exclaimed, with his finger on Jean's chest. Jean smiled, showing all of his small teeth (some of witch were missing) "Thanks! Its new!" Jean spoke proudly. All of a sudden he was hit with a wave of nostalgia, and happiness. He would always stand near his house waiting for Marco to run out from around the corner so they could meet up. At that moment Jean's eyes snapped open, and he was staring at the ceiling. His ceiling. He slowly turned his head towards the clock that was in his room and realized that he woke up half an hour later than he usually did. "Shit!" He exclaimed. "I cant be late again..." He whispered to himself, referring to his job as a chef in a small restaurant. He shot out of bed, not caring about the mess of blankets on his bed. He had decided to skip breakfast, since he worked in a restaurant and will be surrounded by food all day, surely he would be able to sneak himself some food for breakfast? Maybe? 'Maybe I shouldn't do that...' He thought to himself. 'I can just pick up some food and eat it on the way.' He franticly got ready for the day, making sure he followed the dress code that came with working at a restaurant. When he left his apartment he noticed Marco's door handle making noise as if someone was locking it from the inside, the door opened and Marco then emerged from his apartment, not noticing Jean at first. 'I need to be friendly, in order to get closer to him.' Jean thought to himself "Hey Marco!" he chirped. Marco's face seemed to light up slightly when he heard Jean's voice. "O-oh hey!" Marco said with a wide smile 'Stop stuttering oh my gosh...' Marco thought. "So where are you going?" Marco asked, successfully getting a sentence out without stuttering. "Im actually on my way to work-"
"On a Sunday?" Marco said, with a hint of sympathy in his voice. 'WHY DID I INTERRUPT HIM?!' Marco yelled at himself in his head. "Oh yeah I.... Its Sunday?" Jean said, sounding genuinely confused. 'Great. Now he thinks I'm an idiot.' Jean thought. "Yeah you didn't know?" Marco said while letting out a small chuckle. 'He is so cute!' Marco thought, with a smile on his face. "Oh um...." Jean searched every inch of his mind for something smart to say. "No, i did not, but that means that today is the seventeenth of May, which is the day that lollipops were created." Jean regurgitated some made up information. 'Why did I say that?' Jean thought nervously. "Oh really? How do you know that...?" Marco asked while grinning. "Oh i read some article..." Jean lied. 'Look at that smile, its incredible...' Jean thought, struggling to control his happiness. "I-interesting!" Marco said, still smiling. 'There i go again...' Marco thought, referring to his small stutter. "So if you're not busy today you could stop by my place, I'm free all day today." Jean spoke confidently. A wide smile stretched across Marco's face as his eyes widened. Realizing he looked like an idiot, he covered up his excitement and replied with "O-oh um... Im busy during the day today..."
"Oh..." Jean replied failing to hide his disappointment. "But i can come around fifteen minuets after seven!" Marco said frantically. "Okay, see you then!" Jean said cheerfully. They said their goodbyes and carried ob with their day. Jean was sporting one hell of a goofy smile at this point, and he continued smiling as he unlocked the door to his apartment. He pulled the door open, but before stepping in his apartment he took one last glance at Marco. His back was to Jean, as he was walking away. 'Damn...' Jean thought. 'All I can see is his back, yet he still looks perfect...' Jean was so distracted, that he didn't realize that he was staring at Marco while smiling like an idiot. He quickly looked away and took a step into his apartment, closing the door behind him.
