#littlest persimmon

@littlestpersimmon

Eren is a boy of many opinions, but Marco is a boy with a huge crush. At 15, one almost always outweighs the other—feelings over reason.

Marco doesn’t answer truthfully; just gives a shrug and a half-smile as if to convey he was being fanciful.

But he’s oh-so-serious.

It all started when Sasha Braus asked Connie Springer via handwritten note to meet her on Makeout Hill.

Officially named Lookout Hill, everyone knows what that really means.

Connie had chickened out; then, he’d found Sasha sulking on the steps of the girls’ bunk, and those steps had become Makeout Hill Lite.

Registered trademark: Jean Kirschstein.

“You were just messing with him, right?” someone else asks Marco the next day, after the note passing incident during canoeing lessons.

Marco does the half-smile, shrugs, lets whoever’s asking assume the worst.

“No, seriously,” Armin Arlert says again, strapping on his life vest firmly, “are you messing with Jean?”

“No,” Marco admits, strapping on his life vest at the same time, his eyes immediately wandering over to Jean who’s on his own, waiting for a canoe partner with his life vest clearly already on. “I like him.”

Armin’s clearly not expecting the blatant admission, and he blinks.

There are a few beats of silence—the laughter of other campers around them, waves of the lake lapping at the shore, the call of gulls above them—and then Armin rolls his eyes.

“He’s there alone.”

“Is it okay if—”

“You know a canoe can fit three, Marco,” Armin corrects, raising an eyebrow as he inspects the canoe they’ve been given. “But he has to sit in the middle, because I already said I’d be the rudder.”

Jean doesn’t argue with anything when Marco walks over, awkwardly staring at the ground as Jean answers an enthusiastic yes, followed by hands shoved in his pockets and a comment about how stupid life vests look.

= = =

“The name of this hill is so fucking stupid.”

“You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t—”

In the twilight of crickets of Makeout Hill, Jean Kirschstein’s lips are far more skilled than Marco first expected.

He exhales hard, and Jean smiles a little; but it’s not smug, so much as pleased, and almost shy.

Marco smiles a little in return before pressing a kiss to Jean’s lips, and replies, “I’m okay being here with you.”

“Does that mean you want me in your canoe all the time?”

“Shut up, Jean.”

A sigh, press of lips, and fumbling hands against shoulders.