armin

The DJ, biology teacher Mx. Zoe, changes the song again, playing the Monster Mash for the 3rd time that night.

Jean works his way through the crowd of sweaty teenagers and makes an attempt to smoothly integrate himself into Eren, Mikasa, and Armin's circle. He considers, briefly, simply walking up and striking up a conversation with them. However, deciding that he would rather not reveal to Eren that he was seeking their company, he chooses instead to take up a position near them and dance by himself, waiting for them to notice him. "Yeah. Yeah," he thinks to himself, "That way, I won't seem desperate. Yeah...



...I'm definitely going to have the upper hand in this social exchange."

"Hi, Jean." says Armin, almost instantly.
"Hi Jean." says Mikasa.
"What do you want, Jean." says Eren.



"Oh, Eren, ha ha! And Mikasa, and Armin! What are you guys doing here?" Jean stammers through a gritted-toothed smile.

"Dancing," Mikasa replies bluntly, "it's prom." Jean laughs louder than is appropriate or necessary.

"Aha, right, right, duh, yeah, that's cool. You look great by the way."

"Thanks."

"So uh, what are you guys up to? Are you having fun? How's the punch? You know, I heard someone might be planning on slipping something in it a little later on, so this party might get a little more interesting, if you know what I mean. You know, I heard at the Maria High prom, somebody-"

Jean's rambling trails off as he catches sight of something that makes his blood boil.



There, not 20 feet away from him, were the very people he was trying to avoid.
Dazz is looking at Marco with disgusting adoration, his hand inching dangerously close to Marco's hindquarters. Jean's fists clench and his teeth grit even harder and he has never, ever in his life felt more jealous than he does right now, at least not since 7th grade when he sat behind Eren and Mikasa in algebra class and had to watch him braiding her hair during class. He was about to try to just turn his head away and do his best to ignore them, but just then, he noticed…



Oh. God. Dazz had shifted his gaze. That wrinkly little bastard was looking right at Jean, smiling smugly over Marco's shoulder as he swayed around with HIS best friend.

That was it.



Jean was going to do something drastic.

This is Jean Kirschtein, and tonight is shaping up to be one of the worst nights of his miserable high school life.




Over here, we have Marco Bodt, Jean Kirschtein's best friend since grade school. By all accounts, tonight should have been their night. At least, that's the way Jean felt. Sure, he'd never actually ASKED Marco to come to prom with him, that would have been kind of weird, wouldn't it? Asking his best friend to be his date to prom? No, he figured it would just sort of...happen. He never figured Marco would actually get asked by someone else. Or that he would say yes.

Jean didn't even realize that Dazz was a student until Marco announced that he'd asked him to the dance. He'd assumed the guy was on the staff, or that he was someone's dad, but as it turned out, he was in their grade, and had in fact sat behind the two of them in several of their classes. Jean had ignored him, mostly. He didn't like the way he pronounced his name, "Jeen," or his distinct old man smell, and he especially didn't like the way he was fawning over Marco right now. It was obvious that Marco had given in and accepted his prom invitation out of some kind of pity. It had to be pity, right? Marco had scolded Jean for suggesting as much, but there was no way he actually held any semblance of real affection for this kid.

Marco had invited Jean to come dance with the two of them, but Jean turned him down, saying he "would rather stay out of the projectile vomit splash zone," because "that guy is a loaded puke canon and you know it," which earned him a slap on the wrist from his friend. He opts instead to plant himself in the corner and glare at the pair of them from across the cafeteria.



"Hey buddy, you're gonna be okay, alright?" Connie attempts to reassure him.

"My life is over."

Connie scoffs. "No it's not, buddy! Look, that old looking kid might be rubbing his butt all over Marco right now, but that probably won't go on all night, right? I'm sure you can cut in and ask him for a dance at SOME point. You'll get your chance to rub your butt on him!"

Jean's face flushes almost immediately. "What makes you think I want to rub my butt on Marco?!" he half-shouts in the other boy's face.

"Whoah, hey!" Connie stammers, "Sorry, I thought maybe-"

"I don't! That's not what this is about! It's about betrayal!" Jean quickly chugs the rest of his drink. The cup slips out of his sweaty palms, and a string of fruit punch and drool dribbles down his chin. Connie squeezes his shoulder sympathetically.

"Alright, well...there's plenty of other people around here besides Marco, right? I'm about to have to run, sorry, I've got some, uh...official prom business to get to with Sasha, but I'll catch up with you and see how you're doing later, alright? Good luck with your stuff and all that!"

Jean grumbles a string of consonants which sound vaguely like a "whatever" as Connie gives him one last shoulder pat and leaves his table. Maybe Connie was right, he thought. Maybe he should just find someone else to hang out with for a little bit. Looking around the cafeteria, Jean begins to weigh his options.