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The first time Eren finds himself staring at Marco’s lips, he’s sixteen, it’s the Fourth of July, and Marco’s mouth is stained the prettiest red from eating a thousand of those cheap freezy pops in a row. They’ve given him a massive sugar rush, too, so he’s all grins and giggles as he runs up and down the darkening beach, glimmering sparklers held in each outstretched hand.
Even when Marco’s spinning around and around in a circle of burning sparks, even when Eren vaguely hears himself joking that Marco’s gonna make himself sick that way, even when Marco eventually succumbs to dizziness and falls right on his ass, Eren can’t stop staring at those lips, because he always knew Marco was pretty, but he’s never wanted to taste cheap red freezy pop on anyone’s breath so fucking badly.
He settles for eating a dozen of them himself. When Marco raises his eyebrows and says, “Isn’t there any blue left? You hate the red ones,” Eren just nods, because he really does hate them, but he really thought eating them would get his mind off Marco’s sweet mouth.
It doesn’t.
--
The first time Eren really has to say goodbye, he’s seventeen, but Marco isn’t anymore, and with the age comes the expectation.
Marco had wanted to go to college, though. He’s been looking forward to college since, like, the third grade. Having a significantly older brother does that to a kid. So when he erupted into Eren’s morning homeroom one day in late March with a huge red envelope from his first choice and a hasty apology to the groggy teacher, Eren had returned his noisy excitement with complete honesty.
Even now, standing in front of Marco’s overstuffed car, his hands jammed in his pockets and his lip caught in his teeth, Eren’s happy for Marco. He really is.
He’s also unfortunately aware of the fact that, once the humid afterimage of Marco’s taillights fades from the backs of his eyelids, there’ll be nothing to fill the space one of his childhood best friends once occupied.
“I’ll come back a lot,” Marco says quietly, kicking at a crack in the cement of his driveway. “I mean, I’m gonna be so homesick, you know.”
“Y-yeah,” Eren replies, rubbing the back of his neck with a crooked smile. “But hey, if you’re having a good time there, enjoy it. Don’t spend all your time worrying about us back here. We’ll make it.”
Chuckling softly, Marco tilts his head and lowers his gaze, and Eren knows all too well where Marco hides his pain to be able to overlook it. “True. I guess the world keeps spinning without me, huh.”
It doesn’t.
As he chokes down a thousand half-formed thoughts, Eren surges forward and wraps his arms around Marco’s waist, and he’s gotten so tall that Eren’s got nowhere to rest his head but right against Marco’s chest, and the quick flutter of his beating heart floods his ears and wires itself directly into Eren’s brain.
The rhythm persists. It pounds and echoes through Eren’s head long after they’ve awkwardly separated again, long after Marco’s said his goodbyes and driven away, long after Eren’s gone to bed much later that night.
--
The first time they’re alone again, Marco’s home for the winter holidays, and Eren expects him to have changed completely. That’s what’s supposed to happen, anyway. College changes people.
And Marco did change. Just not how Eren expected him to.
To start with, Marco spends a lot of his time just sleeping. He’s exhausted all the time, his younger siblings tell Eren in the hallway between classes. He looks drained, they tell him. He’s just tired, Marco assures him via text, usually followed by the world’s most unconvincing smiley face.
The first time they’re alone again, they’re sitting in Marco’s car in the dark, snowy train station parking lot at two o’clock in the morning, and Marco’s sobbing into Eren’s shoulder and telling him in gasping breaths that he can’t do it.
“I-I-I just—” Marco hiccups, his shaking hands gripping the front of Eren’s hoodie. “I can’t take this, Eren, I can’t, i-it’s too much—” Eren doesn’t know what to do, so he just holds him, twisted awkwardly in his seat to get closer. “A-and my f-friend, my f-friend Jean in all my classes, he m-makes it look e-e-easy, but he c-can’t help me on tests and I d-don’t like biology o-or chemistry so why the hell d-did I tell my p-parents I could d-do biochemistry, and I d-don’t think I even want to be a d-d-doctor but they’re both doctors—”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Marco squirms closer and wraps his arms around Eren’s chest. His seatbelt makes a weird grinding noise at the way he’s pulling and shifting, but neither of them are really paying attention.
“Marco,” Eren murmurs, digging one hand into Marco’s disheveled hair so he can pet him soothingly, just the way he’s always done. He can tell there’s more to his distress, even though Marco’s just gasping wetly and choking it down, so he rubs his cheek against the top of Marco’s head and waits for it.
By now, Eren knows how long to wait for Marco. He knows his breaking points, how long to hold his tongue before Marco either spills or changes the subject, so it’s no surprise to him when Marco finally squeezes him tightly and tells him the rest.
“A-and I just d-don’t know what to do, E-Eren, but I-I’m so sad all the time, and I’m lonely, a-a-and I know everyone gets like this at first, so w-why can e-everyone else handle i-it but I-I c-c-can’t? W-why can’t I j-just deal with it?” Marco buries his face deeper and trembles, fisting his hands in the back of Eren’s hoodie. “W-what’s wrong with me?”
“Marco,” Eren interrupts, trying to nudge Marco into looking at him again, although he knows he won’t just yet. “Marco, Christ, nothing’s wrong with you.” Marco just shakes his head, crying harder, and Eren can feel his heart breaking. “Maybe—I dunno, maybe you just need help. It’s okay to need help, man, everyone does sometimes.”
Marco doesn’t say anything more after that, but he’s not done crying yet, so Eren holds him and buries his face in his hair and lets him cry, because he kind of doubts anyone else is affording him that luxury right now.
It’s past five in the morning when Marco pulls up outside of Eren’s house, his face puffy and tearstained. Eren’s not dumb enough to let him drive all the way home in this state, so he bullies Marco into staying for what’s left of the night to get some rest.
This isn’t the first time they’ve had an impromptu sleepover, nor the first time they’ve slept in the same bed, but it is the first time Eren’s pressed his chest to Marco’s back and slid his arm around his waist beneath the warm blankets. It’s the first time Marco’s breath has hitched like that, still thick with tears.
It’s the first time Marco’s tentatively laced his fingers with Eren’s, too, and it’s the first time Eren’s fallen asleep with his nose buried between Marco’s shoulder blades, breathing in the soft scent of his skin through his thin t-shirt.
--
The information in Eren’s senior psychology class is outdated and the teacher is underpaid and unenthused, but when school’s back in session shortly after the holidays, some parts of the material sound eerily familiar, so Eren starts really paying attention. When the thought first forms in his mind, he almost texts Marco, but he decides not to at the last moment.
Marco’s back at college, though, and even through his texts he sounds miserable. He tries not to, obviously, but Eren can read him backwards and forwards, so once he’s done some research outside of class, he texts Marco and tells him what he’s learned.
About two weeks later, Marco calls him on a chilly January afternoon.
“You were right,” he sighs, the soft sound tinny through Eren’s cell phone. “I went to see the doctor at health services, and they think I have depression.”
“O-oh.” Eren doesn’t really know how to reply to that, or where to go from there, so he just gnaws on his lip.
“They’re gonna start me on antidepressants,” Marco continues, sounding so tiny, so sad that Eren’s tempted to steal his sister’s truck and drive four hours west so Marco can let himself cry again. “I should be happy, I think, but... I dunno, I just kinda feel lost.”
“I think that’s normal,” Eren says, suddenly grateful for every variant of the ‘You Have Depression—What Now?’ article he couldn’t keep himself from memorizing. “A lot of people feel that way at first. I mean, getting a diagnosis is just the first part of treatment, right?”
“I suppose.” There’s a long pause then, where Marco breathes quietly and Eren chokes to death on a hundred insufficient reassurances, before Marco hums, “Thank you, Eren.”
“F-for what?”
“For trying so hard to help me. You’re... you’re a really good friend to me.”
“J-just...” Eren swallows heavily, his phone crushed against his ear. “Just keep me posted, yeah?”
“’Kay.”
It’s not the first time Eren’s wanted to end a conversation with I love you, but it’s the first time he’s had to grit his teeth to the point of pain to keep it from coming out, and it’s certainly the first time the weight of the words locked tight in his chest has brought him to tears.
--
The first time Eren sees Marco after he’s started his medication, Marco’s a nervous wreck, but that’s only because he came home for spring break with the explicit intent of telling his parents that he doesn’t want to be a biochemistry major anymore. Their visit is brief, just an accidental meeting at Starbucks on a Saturday afternoon, but Eren doesn’t keep him for longer than it takes to hug him and tell him he’s proud of him.
The next time he sees Marco, it’s in his bedroom later that same afternoon, and Marco’s eyes are still stained red from crying, but he’s wearing a bigger smile than Eren’s seen in a long time.
“It went so much better than I thought it would,” Marco says, leaned up against Eren’s headboard as he watches the rain trickle down the window. “I mean, I guess I should’ve known they’d be sympathetic, but still. They’re doctors, my brother’s a doctor, I wanted to be a doctor...”
Eren laces his fingers under his head, his bent elbow resting casually on Marco’s thigh, and he finds himself immensely grateful that their usual physical contact hasn’t gotten weird with the time apart. “I mean,” he mumbles, “You’re your own person, Marco.”
“I know, I know.” Marco laughs softly as he stretches, his fingers laced together above his head. “It’s just weird, you know. I wanted to be a doctor for so long, and I was totally ready for the lifestyle until I actually started down that road.”
“What’re you thinking about instead?”
“I’m... not sure yet,” Marco admits, rubbing his nose sheepishly. “I’m gonna do my best to finish out this semester without bombing too badly, then go from there.” He sighs quietly and runs his hands through his hair, and his bangs stick up the way they do when he’s been running his hands through them all day, but Eren doesn’t say anything about it. “It’s... really hard, I won’t lie. I don’t like the material much at all, and I took too many science classes at once...”
“It’s almost over, right?” Eren says. Usually that’s the thought that gets him through his lackluster high school education day after day, but Marco just groans and lets his head fall back against the wall.
“Ugh, don’t remind me. It’s so crazy, but I really wish I had more time before then.”
“Wow. College, huh,” Eren laughs, and Marco laughs with him and nods, and the rainy daylight makes his freckles stand out on his smiling face so prettily that Eren almost wants to cry.
After a moment, Marco scoots down the bed and lies down beside him, rolling onto his side to face him with his lip caught in his teeth. Eren blinks widely, warmth flooding across his face.
“I, um,” Marco starts, his voice suddenly quiet and intimate in all the ways that make Eren’s chest draw tight. “I wanted to thank you again, Eren, for what you did earlier this year.”
“O-oh.”
Nodding slowly, Marco’s eyes search his face for a moment before he scoots closer, resting his cheek on Eren’s elbow. “It was kinda rough getting used to the meds, but once we figured out what works for me, things got... well, I don’t wanna say easier, because they definitely aren’t,” Marco mumbles, dropping his gaze to Eren’s chest, “But things got better. I feel better.”
“I-I’m glad,” Eren croaks, unable to tear his eyes away from where Marco’s long, thick eyelashes brush his cheeks.
“Me too.” The corners of Marco’s lips curve up in a tiny smile. “I think once I figure out what I want to do, it’ll get even better. But for now, I’m not as low as I was, so I’m really relieved.” Marco sighs quietly, turning to blink up at the ceiling again. “It got kinda scary for a while.”
Eren doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t, but Christ does he want to. Words don’t come, though, and maybe it’s for the better.
“Anyway,” Marco says, “I just wanted to thank you for helping me in the right direction. It, um. It made a huge difference.”
“I-I just paid attention in psych for once,” Eren wheezes, turning to stare at the ceiling too. “You did all the hard shit.”
Just when Eren realizes that shit, that probably sounded insensitive as hell, and just before he opens his mouth to blurt out an apology, Marco laughs again, and his eyes wrinkle at the corners, and it looks so genuine, so real that Eren’s left entirely breathless.
“You have no idea,” Marco giggles, his eyes sliding contently closed. “I had to find my insurance card, and talk to doctors, and then I had to talk to pharmacists, ugh. They kept making me pee in those little tiny cups, too, and the first time I did it, I totally wasn’t listening when the nurse told me to put it in a drawer in the bathroom so I had to wander around the whole place with a warm cup of pee—” By now, Eren’s howling with laughter, because it’s far too easy to imagine the lost-puppy eyes Marco must have given the nurses, but Marco’s laughing with him, and it feels too good to stop, so they don’t. At least, not until Mikasa pokes her head into Eren’s room to squint her steely eyes at them for being too damn loud.
Even that doesn’t quite stop them, though, and they spend the rest of the rainy afternoon curled up close on Eren’s bed, talking about anything and nothing until the gloomy daylight fades away into night.
When the streetlight outside Eren’s window finally flickers on, the surreal orange glow throws Marco’s pretty face into sudden, stark relief, the light almost painful to Eren’s dark-adjusted eyes, and for some reason, neither of them can find anything to say anymore.
It’s not the first time Marco’s hand has found Eren’s without either of them seeming to realize it, and it’s not the first time they’ve held eye contact for far, far too long, but it’s the first time Marco’s flipped out of Eren’s bed like he’d been shot when Eren’s mom barges in to invite them both down for dinner.
--
The first gift Eren receives on the morning of his eighteenth birthday is a bright red envelope in the mail, identical to the one Marco had clutched so tightly that morning almost exactly a year ago.
Eren decides not to text him just yet, mostly because he wants to see his face in person when he tells him.
--
The first time Eren shows Marco the envelope, it’s the day after his high school graduation, and Marco’s already been home from school for a few weeks.
Waiting was so, so, so worth it.
Marco’s eyes fill with tears when he puts two and two together. “Y-you’re... you’re going to school with me?” he says, his voice shaking slightly.
“Yup.” Eren tries not to sound outrageously proud of himself, but fuck it. He’d earned the shit out of those SAT scores.
“Eren, that’s great!” Unable to contain his excitement, Marco tackles Eren right off the couch they’d been sprawled across, but Eren doesn’t even care, because Marco’s warm against him and already talking his ear off about what classes he’s taking, and that Eren should take them with him because they’re mostly general education so Marco can figure his life out, and that he wants to introduce Eren to all of his friends because they’ve already heard so much anyway.
When Eren stops fighting it, Marco’s holding Eren’s acceptance letter to his chest like a giant nerd and grinning like the goddamn sun itself, and he’s midway through telling Eren how much he’ll like his friend Armin, who’s also a psychology major so they’ll probably get along when Eren interrupts him.
The first time they kiss, Marco tastes like a thousand cheap red freezy pops, which explains how he’d managed to talk so fast for so long without pausing for breath, and it tastes so much better than Eren had wondered all those years ago. Marco’s only stunned for a moment before he’s dropping the letter and leaning closer, burying his hands in Eren’s hair, and when he topples them to the floor again, Eren cares even less than the first time, because Marco’s kissing him, and it feels so goddamn right.