Chapter Text
Welcome to Night Vale
Everything was normal in Night Vale. At least, Jean thought it was. Neither he nor his parent knew exactly how they got there, but by some force (whether natural or unnatural in nature is still in question) they were compelled to stay. They seemed to be literally thrown into the city when Jean was about eight. Needless to say, the first thing he said upon arrival was: “God damn it. It’s hot as balls.” This earned him a swift hit to the back of the head from his mother. Neither of them remembered where they came from, or why they were sitting in the middle of the desert on the outskirts of a small city, surrounded by several bags of luggage. But hey, they had to make do with what they had.
Luckily for them, they ran into an old woman, whom upon seeing the family wondering through town struggling with their suitcases (Jean especially considering was, you know, eight), began screeching something about prophecies and the angels telling her so. While the entire situation was a tad bit insane, it was lucky for them since the old woman, Josie as they would find out, offered up her home to them. On the way there she went on and on about angels and how the family could stay as long as they needed.
During the whole ordeal, Jean kept his facial expression fairly constant, stuck somewhere between disinterest, blasé, and annoyance. Which, honestly, was probably the expression he wore since birth (when he wasn’t completely overtaken with anger or violent crying fits, that is). He simply trudged along like a little solider, secretly scared out of his britches to say anything in fear that his mother would knock the wind out of him. It wasn’t until they were gathered in the old woman’s living room that he became responsive.
Jean was staring out the living room window, studying the car lot and the little trailer situated next to it when he heard an abrasive, “I said, boy, what is your name.” The old woman wheezed out, not quite yelling at him, but not sounding pleased that she had to repeat herself. “Jean…” He started, looking at his mother’s look of disapproval. He opened his mouth to continue when their hostess screeched on, “Well! Jean, you can just call me Old Woman Josie. Everyone here does.” Then, mistaking Jean’s confused expression for one of fright she continued, “Don’t you worry your two toned little head, boy. I’ll make sure the angels watch over you. Have you met them, yet? The black one changed my light bulb.” She yammered on for a few more minutes about angels, lead, and something about a draw bridge? Weren’t they in the middle of the desert?
At the moment, Jean’s father was not present. Not that Jean could remember very much of his father anyways, so he didn’t feel compelled to be disappointed or scared. Why was it he couldn’t remember much of anything? Only one word rang in his head, ‘Trost’, but like hell he knew what that meant.
The next few weeks spent at Old Woman Josie’s house were confusing and awkward. She kept saying things like, “Ah! You just missed the angels, they stepped out for a few rounds of bowling.” And then there were the news reports she would have played over the radio every single night. The man’s voice was low and cool, occasionally becoming consumed with emotion (usually about some scientist named Carlos; but also about The Desert Bluffs, a rivaling town). But that wasn’t what creeped Jean out, what creeped him out was what the man was talking about, and why there wasn’t mass hysteria among the town. The idea of these things, along with basically everything else despite their nagging familiarity, were all new and confusing to Jean. Yet, as more and more weeks passed on by, they became the norm. Jean would walk into the bathroom and find radioactive waste pouring through the faucet? Just wait till later and try again, he’ll wash his hands eventually.
After living with Old Woman Josie for a few months, his mother finally got a job that allowed her to rent a decent apartment near the radio broadcasting station. But not even a year later, after a (not very) freak accident involving black holes and demonic forces, their entire apartment building was demolished. The building’s debris was gone by the next day and not even the Sherriff’s Secret Police knew what had happened. Since Jean and his mother were the only survivors, they allowed them to move into the architect’s house, which was luckily fully furnished. After all, he was taken out in a bit of a hurry, someone did need to be blamed for the apartment building’s demise, and he was the only one they could shove a charge on to. The nail marks on the wall by the door were a bit unsightly, but they could always fix it.
One day, while doing his homework at the dining room table, Jean looked over to his mother, who was cooking up dinner. “Mom, what exactly is re-education?” He asked, he had just started middle school, and the word was always thrown around in regards to punishment for certain behaviors. His mother simply turned and stared and him, her face grim, “Do not do anything that would result in re-education, Jean. If it doesn’t kill you, I will.” And that was the end of that.
His mother’s words still rung through Jean’s head as he walked to school the next day. He fought the uphill battle in a white button down and a pair of jeans. His school did have a dress code, but it varied from student to student. In Jean’s case, he was required to wear some form of jeans every single day. He was sure it was a form of a cruel joke, but he didn’t mind. After all, some kid named Parker in his math class had to wear a parka every day. In the middle of the desert. Still, it didn’t keep him from inwardly complaining and outwardly grimacing about how balls hot it was. He was about to say something when he heard someone jog up next to him.
He turned only his head to look at the person who decided to stop right next to him. It was some kid, a smidgen taller than him, and who had a seemingly familiar face. “Hi!” The voice started, sounding a bit out of breath. Jean raised an eyebrow, partially out of concern, and then partially out of him wanting the kid to cut to the point. He rolled his eyes as the other student held up a hand, motioning that he needed a moment to catch his breath. The first thing Jean noticed was his orange polo and khaki shorts, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the kid’s mother still dressed him. But as his eyes traveled up, they rested a bit longer than they should have on the freckles splattered across his pale face. Jean didn’t know why but they seemed kind of… Cute? No that wasn’t the word… Cute was used when one sees a girl that could possibly be crush material. Not some boy. Yet none the less, Jean’s mind lingered on the word ‘cute’. He let his eyes break away from the freckles and moved on to the short black hair, perfectly parted down the middle. His bangs dancing along the thin (for a dude’s) eyebrows, below the eye brows, Jean’s eyes locked with the taller kid’s dark brown eyes. In any other circumstance they would be considered plain and ordinary, but something about them made Jean feel… Uncomfortable.
The few seconds seemed like an eternity when the perfect haired—stop. He was starting to sound like the creepy news broadcaster dude. When the black haired student finally started talking again. “My name’s Marco Bodt, you’re in my Earth Science class.” Ah, so that’s why he was familiar. “Forgive me if I’m a bit forward, but I heard you seemed to just show up outside of the city one day?” He posed it as a question, despite knowing very well it was true. But God, when he spoke Jean found it hard to actually focus on the words rather than the overall sound of his voice and after a few moments of silence he finally responded. “Yeah, and so?” he cursed inwardly, he could finally have a friend and Jean was sounding like a complete douche.
Marco looked a bit flustered, a blush dusting his cheeks. “I…” He suddenly seemed unsure of what he was so ready to say just moments ago. Did Jean’s words really affect him so much? Jean made a mental note to punch himself in the face later. “I uhm, the same thing happened with my family about a year ago… I thought we could uhm… Talk about it or… Something.” The day was still heating up, and Jean could feel himself sweating from more than just how nervous he was. Wiping a bit of sweat from his brow, he murmured a “Sure”, and continued walking next to the boy. He hated to cut the conversation short so abruptly, but he felt like one more word and he would make Marco hate him forever. Maybe he could use this time to think about something to say to him during Earth Science later?
In fact, Jean silently praised Josie’s angels (even though angels don’t exist) when he looked up and saw they were already practically in front of the doors to the school. Maybe Old Woman Josie’s angels were looking out for him. He held open the door for Marco, trying to redeem himself from a bit of his douche-iness, before running off to his first period class, desperate to be out of the awkward situation that was his walk to school.
Well, he attempted to. He ended up running in the same direction as Marco, which was weird. Jean could feel the awkward piling up again. Should he slow down and walk with Marco, or just keep running along like he didn’t notice? The question was answered for him when he heard Marco’s quiet whisper, “You know, Jean… You shouldn’t run in the hallways, I heard the monitor is a Blood Pact Scout…” That was all he had to say to stop where he was. He stood there as he waited for Marco to catch up, taking glances up and down the hallway. He felt a little safer when Marco finally began walking next to him, and as they neared the corner (of a hallway that was strangely empty, despite classes starting in five minutes, but regardless) Jean finally had the courage to say something. “My mom wanted me to join the scouts when I was younger, and I did for a few months. The whole lack of motivation thing kinda drove me out, though.” He felt a smirk start on his face when he heard the brunette’s soft-suppressed laughter. Hah. Take that universe, Jean Kirschtein got Marco to laugh, have at that.
Until lunch, the rest of the day was rather uneventful. Parker passed out (again), Jaeger was an asshole, the Trailer Park Trio were doing their threesome make out session or whatever the frick it was they did in the back of class all day (granted it wasn’t making out. Annie usually played her DS with Reiner and Bertholdt. Probably trading her shitty Pokémon for shinies and legendaries. Something just told Jean that she had a PC box full of Bidoofs and a heart cold enough to actually trade them to the two morons who mooned over her. Jean was not jealous that he couldn’t play Pokémon in class.) and their human-sciences teacher droned/screamed on about the biological make up of miniature people, and if there was miniature people there had to be giant people. The thought unsettled Jean and he opted to doodle in his notebook the entire period.
So the fact that something surprising and unexpected happened at lunch befuddled him. The polo-kid—Correction, Marco, came to sit next to him. Considering the fact that Jean sat at the end of the table, he was pleased to think that Sasha wouldn’t sit next to him and steal his food that day. But, another part of Jean, flipped out. Internally of course, Jean wasn’t some kind of dork that let all his emotions play out on his face. No way. Marco looked at him inquisitively, pursing his lips and furrowing his eyebrows just a bit, “If you don’t want me to sit he—“ Jean cut him off before he could even finish, “No! No, balls… It… It’s not that at all, I just wasn’t expecting it at all.” He cleared his throat, swearing his vocabulary would get better and he would stop using ‘balls’ every other sentence when he stopped being twelve. He still had a few good months left in him.
Marco’s expression softened and he pulled out one of those insolated lunch boxes (lucky bastard.) He was careful to not knock into Jean’s tray full of over processed meats and a side that vaguely resembled perhaps (maybe) green beans. They very well could have been carrots, though, at second thought… Either way, Jean wasn’t going to eat them. The two boys sat there, content in their silence until Jean finally broke the quiet like before, “So, if you’ve been here for a year how come I’ve never seen you before? You seem to know a lot about me. Kinda creepy.” Marco choked on his juice box a bit, and after clearing out his throat responded hesitantly, “Well, I was homeschooled by—“ He took a bite of his sandwich and swallowed before continuing, “—By my mom, but since Mayor Pamela Winchell banned any form of education within the home, I’ve had to come here to the middle school. But they said since I was educated at home for a year, it didn’t count anymore. So, I’m a year behind.” Jean nodded, both in the fact that he was recalling the ban (which had to be revised several times so teachers could assign homework. So close.), and in an extra effort not to be a complete asshole. “And, well, when people asked about my situation, they mentioned you saying you had the same thing happen, sooooo…” He held out his “so” like a twelve year old girl, not like the (now presumably) thirteen year old boy he is. Jean made it a mini-goal to have Marco stop doing that. The “sooooo” thing, not the thirteen year old boy thing, he can’t stop that, it just kinda happens.
The two of them sat there talking for the rest of the lunch period. They started off talking about how both of them got to Night Vale, and how neither of them had any idea as to what life was like before it. After Jean’s story about the apartment, they began drifting off into other subjects. The house that doesn’t exist but seems to, trying to list every intern the radio station had the past year, what video games they played, and of course where to buy a new blood stone, after all it was the beginning of the school year and they would be needing one for ‘You and Your Bloodstone 101’. The bell rung, and the two of them continued talking as they made their way through the halls to Earth Science. It was Jean’s second science of the day, he was pretty bright if he did say-so himself. Ms. Zoe was the teacher once again, and they got the same spheal that Jean heard earlier. He hadn’t realized it, but instead of sitting in his regular seat, he ended up sitting down next to Marco. Jean was getting a little pissed, though, how did miniature and large scale humans have anything to do with earth science? Okay, so maybe there were maybe a few ways, but still, not enough for Jean’s liking.
Jean pretty much felt that he and Marco were friends now (ah, to be young), so he turned to tell Marco what B.S. he thought the lesson to be. He was met with the face of… How to describe it? It looked like he was caught somewhere between mid-sneeze, falling asleep, and having a stroke. Jean snorted. Immediately the red warning lights in his head went off and they were screaming, ‘backpedal! Backpedal! Backpedal faster!’ But all Jean could do was snort again as the dark haired boy was shocked out of his stupor, “Huh?” was all he managed, and Jean stifled a snort once more, causing it to come out distorted and made it sounds more like he was being strangled. He earned a momentary pause from Ms. Zoe, but eventually she just droned on once more.
Jean lightly punched his now tomato-red friend’s arm, “Come on dude, you didn’t look that stupid falling asleep.” He whispered, smirking like the pretentious little shit that he is. Marco didn’t talk to him for the rest of the period, that is until the very end when they were packing up. Jean was starting to feel bad about laughing at the freckled-fellow, so with a grunt and several exaggerated motions later he asked, “If you want to come over later and play a game or something that’d be cool, my mom wouldn’t mind.” Jean felt like he never made a better decision. Felt? No, more like he knew this was the best decision, ever. He was so sure because Marco smiled and Jean could see his face light up as soon as the words left his mouth, “Uh, yeah! Sure, that sounds great!”
(Kirschtein: 2 Universe: 0) (More like the universe has an endless amount of points considering it makes up—well—everything in the universe. But still, in regards to the day, Jean felt like he was the one unleashing a can of whoop-ass, not the universe and life in general.)