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It took Jeremy a few minutes to find a parking space. It was already dark outside, and the lights were distorted through the soaked glass of his windshield due to the heavy rain.
Nerves pricked his arms as he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket for the tenth time in half an hour.
He carefully pulled it out, breathing heavily and his hands still numb from adrenaline, and quickly scanned the messages piling up in his inbox.
Most of them were from his brother, threatening to return immediately and saying they wouldn't tolerate another of his tantrums. Jeremy tightened his grip on the plastic of his phone. He knew he'd crossed a line of no return that night, when he'd told his mother he wouldn't be taking the exams for LSAT, when he'd yelled at her that he wouldn't be dropping out of the Exy at the end of the season. His mother had looked at him silently for a few seconds, as if she'd heard him wrong. Then she'd waved her hands in the air, as if it were no big deal, telling him to stop with the nonsense.
But Jeremy hadn't been able to give in, not this time.
Everything had been so chaotic in his life lately that it was as if a dam had finally burst, and then, when his mother finally saw the steely determination in his eyes, she lost her composure. Suddenly, they were both shouting at the top of their lungs. Jeremy didn't quite remember what had happened in those moments; he only knew that he'd run up the stairs two at a time with his mother on his heels, demanding that he stop. He'd reached his bedroom and haphazardly stuffed as many shirts and pants as he could into his gym bag. Then he'd stormed out of the house, looking back only seconds to see his mother standing in the doorway, her expression so disapproving that Jeremy felt as if someone had kicked him in the chest.
Part of Jeremy hoped his mother would accept his decision. Another part of him had hoped in vain for her support. After all, he was her son. But seeing her expression, looking at him as if she didn't recognize him at all, his hopes were dashed forever.
He floored the gas and drove aimlessly until a terrible storm hit, and he had to get to those parking lots before driving became too dangerous.
With his heart in his throat, he reviewed the latest messages he'd received.
I remind you, we still have your passport and documents.
I don't know where you think you can go without them.
Come home, Jeremy.
Now.
He felt his jaw tremble with helplessness. Two silent tears trickled down his cheeks. He violently wiped them away before preparing to slam his phone shut and throw it out the window. That was when Laila's incoming call suddenly pierced through. Jeremy hesitated. He'd been so focused on reading his brother's threatening stream of messages that he hadn't noticed the missed calls Laila had been leaving him for the past hour. He hesitated for a few seconds before accepting the call. Laila knew him too well; he didn't want to worry them, but he was so desperate to hear the voice of someone he knew that he couldn't help but answer.
"Jeremy!" she exclaimed loudly in his ear. "Thank God I've been calling you all night. Listen, I have something important to tell you..."
"Laila," his voice cracked with betrayal, and suddenly there was silence on the line.
"Jeremy?" She could almost see his expression soften on the other end. "Is everything okay?"
Jeremy's throat tightened, but he held it back. Tears started to roll down his cheeks, but his eyes widened, trying to hold them back, although it was no use.
"I'm fine," he said, a lie well-crafted over the years. Yet Laila had learned to detect it very well.
"Jeremy Knox, what happened?"
Jeremy was silent for a few moments before spilling it all out in a flurry of words.
"I've left home. For good." Those words burned his tongue.
"For good? Jeremy, what do you mean?"
"I told her I wouldn't be taking the exams," he began. "I told her I wouldn't leave the damn Exy at the end of this season, and she gave me an ultimatum." His breathing was very labored, and he knew Laila must have noticed on the other end of the line. "I left in the car, but Laila. She has everything: my passport, my ID, everything... I can't go back, I can't, but I don't know what to do..."
A sob threatened to tear him apart, and he had to force a hand over his mouth. Tears streamed down as he stared out into the rain.
For a few seconds, Laila was silent. He knew she was trying to calm herself. Jeremy could almost feel the heat of her anger through the phone. When she spoke again, her voice was louder than ever.
"Listen to me carefully, Jeremy," she said determinedly. "We'll get your paperwork sorted out. I'll talk to the coach. We'll also talk to my uncle if we have to. We'll get this clear. I'm not allowing you to go back to that house."
"Laila, but..." he began to stutter.
"No buts, you're not coming back. And that's a final statement."
Jeremy took a deep breath; once, twice. As many times as it took until he calmed down enough for his hands to stop shaking. Laila remained on the other end of the line the whole time, silent, accompanying him so he wouldn't be alone.
Jeremy cleared his throat and finally spoke.
"I..." He struggled to find the right words. "Why do I have so many missed calls from you?"
Laila sighed on the other end, suddenly sounding very tired. That set off a scintilla of alarm in his head.
"Jeremy, I don't know if this is the best time for this. Cat and I will figure it out when we get there." That didn't sound good to Jeremy at all.
"Laila, I'm fine. What's going on?" He heard Layla take a deep breath, clearly hesitating about whether to involve Jeremy or not. She finally did.
"It's about Jean."
That made all his daze freeze suddenly. He brought the phone to his ear.
"What's going on with Jean?"
"It's the trial with his parents. Kevin called a few hours ago to tell us it happened this afternoon. He didn't give us many details, but said it didn't go well. Jean hasn't answered any of my calls, or Cat's either."Jeremy's blood ran cold. How could he have forgotten for even a moment that Jean was having a trial with his parents today? Face-to-face, for the first time since he'd been left to his own devices at Evermore. The trial had been held behind closed doors, as it was a highly classified official FBI investigation. Therefore, no one had been able to accompany him. Jean had spent the entire week distracted on the court and scared like a dazzled hare on the highway. Much of Jeremy's own dismay stemmed from the helplessness of watching Jean suffer and being unable to do anything to stop it. He'd been so caught up in his own pain after the argument about his mother that he hadn't noticed.
"Fuck, Laila, I'm an idiot," he whispered into the phone.
"He should have been home a couple of hours ago. We were supposed to pick him up, but we got stuck in traffic because of the storm and we won't be able to get there for a few more hours. We texted him saying he'd have to take a taxi. He read the messages" Laila's voice grew higher. "But I'm worried about him, Jeremy. Cat's panicking in the car. We trusted him enough to let him go home on his own, but you know, despite all the progress he's made, he still has those moments of uncertainty, Jeremy, and tonight was really hard for him..."
Something like fear clawed at Jeremy's chest, but he forced himself to be firm and suppress it.
"Is the spare key still under the floor mat? I'll be right there," he said as he put on his seatbelt and put the keys in the ignition.
"Yes," Laila confirmed. "Jeremy?"
"Yes?" he answered, preparing to back out of the parking space.
"Be careful, okay? It's not a good night for driving."
"I'll be okay, Laila," he tried to reassure her. "I'll text you as soon as I find him," he whispered.
"We'll talk when I get home." And Laila hung up.
Jeremy closed the phone and threw it into the passenger's seat. He drove for fifteen minutes, constantly wiping the windshield. The parking spaces weren't far from the apartment his best friends shared. He parked close to the building and braced himself for the imminent torrent of water that would hit him as he got out of the car and headed for the stairs. He went as fast as he could, but that didn't stop him from ending up with wet hair and bunched clothes. The first thing he noticed was that the door was already ajar. Cautiously, Jeremy let himself in and closed it behind him. The entire house was dark, except for the dim light filtering through the windows from the streetlights. He walked down the hallway, his steps soft as he left drops of water on the floor.
"Jean?" he called tentatively, but no one answered.
He entered the main room. It seemed like no one had been there for hours. The kitchen was still impeccably tidy, and the cushions were still in their places in the living room.
Jeremy's arm hairs stood up, beginning to imagine unpleasant things, but at that moment Jab appeared in the hallway, his tail slightly wagging.
"Jab, lad," he bent down a little to pet his head, and the dog looked up at him with a somewhat pitiful expression before biting his shirtsleeve and trying to drag him through the house. He led him to the bathroom door and then let him go, staring at him with his ears drooping. The faint murmur of labored breathing filtered through the door, and Jeremy steeled himself, his chest growing tight.
He put his hand on the doorknob. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized the door wasn't locked.
"Jean?" he tried again, but no one answered. Jab rubbed against his leg with a pitiful whine, and Jeremy's heart sank.
"Don't worry, I've got him," he said before carefully opening the door and entering the bathroom. He took light steps. The light was on—unlike the rest of the house—and he didn't have to strain to see where he was walking. He followed the sound of Jean's breathing to the shower. Jeremy found him on the floor, his back against the shower tiles, his arms wrapped around his legs where his head was hidden. No water was falling, but from the drops splashing the walls and Jean's wet hair and clothes, he knew the shower had been running at some point.
Jean was still wearing a suit he'd probably been forced to wear to the trial, but he could see his tie had been discarded in a pile at the side of the bathroom. Jeremy crouched in front of him, leaving a slight space between them, afraid Jean would be scared.
"Jean, look at me," he begged. But there was only a tired sound coming from his chest as he hugged himself tighter. "Jean, please," he said, gently brushing his fingers against Jean's knee, too scared to touch him. After what could have been minutes, Jean finally lifted his head and leaned it against the wall behind him, staring at Jeremy. He was still withdrawn, staring at him like a frightened animal.
Jeremy's heart sank when he saw what stared back at him. Jean's eyes were bloodshot and slightly swollen, as if he'd been crying. Jeremy had seen Jean break down in different ways on several occasions, but he'd never seen him like this, never seen him cry, and it was like a kick in the gut. Jeremy examined him closely and saw that his neck had crescent-shaped marks with slightly dried blood. Instinctively, Jeremy's hand went to his throat, but Jean slapped it away. Jeremy shuddered.
"I'm sorry, I..."
"Where have you been?" Jean asked, his voice hoarse and defeated.
Jeremy followed his gaze, which had fallen on the loosely closed gym bag slung over his shoulder, from which his wrinkled, now-wet pile of clothes protruded. Jeremy was suddenly very aware of the dampness seeping from the clothes stuck to his skin.
"Jean, no..."
"Are you going to tell me?" He ignored his attempt to move closer, lifting his chin slightly to indicate the bag.
Jeremy watched him for a moment, considering the situation, and then sighed.
"I've been home picking up some things."
"Why?" was Jean's simple question.
"Because I'm tired," Jeremy admitted. "Because I want to do something for myself for the first time without feeling like I'm disappointing anyone's expectations."
Jean stared at him. He was still hugging his knees, but he seemed to relax a little.
"You could never disappoint someone's expectations," he whispered. Jeremy's heart was pounding against his chest.
"Jean..." he began, but Jean looked away to stare at the wall next to them.
"Then it's final. Good." His words sounded a little firmer. "You should have left a long time ago."
"Jean," Jeremy repeated. This time with a firmness that surprised even him. "We need to talk about what happened tonight."
Jean looked Jeremy in the eyes again. There was ferocity in them.
"I have nothing to say about tonight. Ever."
"We can't sweep this under the rug. This clearly isn't right," he said, gesturing around at the state Jeremy had found him in.
"Jeremy, no," Jean was blunt.
Jeremy sighed deeply, thinking about the best way to handle the situation.
"You didn't answer Laila's or Cat's calls. You worried them so much. I came here and found you like this in the shower…"
Suddenly, Jean leaned forward, making Jeremy flinch slightly. Then he placed his hands on his shoulders as he stood up, leaving him behind as he stepped out of the shower and then out of the bathroom. Jeremy froze for a few moments, then cursed under his breath and followed the wet footprints Jean's socks had left on the floor.
"Jean," he called, following him through the house to his bedroom.
"I've had so much worse. They didn't have to send you to supervise me," he said, trying to close the door in Jeremy's face.
Jeremy managed to get his foot in just in time to prevent it from closing, and they stood face to face through the gap in the door.
"That's not what it's about," he explained. "It's about them caring about you. About us caring about you." He corrected himself. "You mean something to us, and you disappeared without responding to any of our messages after the trial with your parents."
Those words made Jean's face twist in pain, and he tried to close the distance between them even further, but Jeremy wouldn't budge. He feared that if that door closed now, it would also be closed forever in many other ways.
"You said we were partners, remember?" he threw it at him. " Your failure is my failure . We shared the weight of the fall together."
"I'm Jean Moreau, I'm made to endure on my own," he said aloud, and more than words directed at Jeremy, they seemed to be words to himself. "What happened today won't change that."
"Just because you can endure on your own doesn't mean you have to do it alone." Jeremy felt a strange sensation in his chest; something comforting yet sharp, like breaking glass.
"Jeremy..." Jean's voice sounded defeated as he leaned against the doorframe.
"Don't leave me out, Jean," he pleaded, and indecision took hold of Jean's face for a few moments before he shifted his weight from the door in a silent invitation for Jeremy to finally enter.
Jeremy opened it slowly and found Jean sitting on his bed with his head buried in his hands. He sat down beside him, knee to knee, not quite touching. He risked taking Jean's wrists in his hands, and when he didn't move, he slowly moved his hands away from his face. He leaned slightly to the side to get a better look at Jean's face, and Jean held his gaze.
"Jean, talk to me," he whispered, and Jean's jaw trembled slightly before a string of words escaped his mouth.
"They were sitting there, in the same room. I hadn't seen them since I was fourteen and they sent me to Evermore." Jean seemed to bite his tongue at those last words, but Jeremy let it go for now. "They... They filed every charge against them, everything the FBI had gathered against them." Jean's breath caught, and Jeremy cupped his hands over his face. Almost instantly, Jean closed his eyes and leaned into him, trying in vain to stem the tears Jeremy already saw welling up in his eyes. "Then they brought up my sister Elodie's case. The way they talked about her, how they didn't feel an ounce of remorse. My father didn't even hide it, no... The way he..." Jean choked on the words, a whimper escaping his throat. Tears began to roll down Jean's cheeks, fresh and hot. Jeremy's heart broke a little with every sob Jean gave. Without hesitation, he pulled him to him; Jean's head on Jeremy's shoulder, his hands digging into the front of his shirt. Jeremy held him as if he could protect Jean Moreau from anyone who had ever hurt him. "I can't, Jeremy, I can't..." he sobbed against his neck.
"Shhh, it's okay, I've got you, Jean, I've got you." His voice sounded a little broken, and Jeremy felt his own eyes start to sting. Jean's fists clenched against the fabric.
"I wanted to burn them, I wanted to leave, I wanted to... but I couldn't, I couldn't..."
"You're here now, it's over. Forever, I promise," Jeremy assured him. He felt Jean's face move closer to his neck. A shiver ran across Jeremy's skin.
"You can't promise me that."
"Bet on it." He took Jean's face in his hands and guided him until their foreheads were connected.
Jean's eyes were red, and his face was flushed. Jeremy's eyes were wet too. Jean's fingers tangled around Jeremy's wrists, where he held his face.
"Whatever it takes," Jeremy assured him, his emotions running high. "Forever, I promise."
He felt Jean tremble slightly under his hands, and then saw his eyes flicker vaguely to his lips. And Jeremy's skin charged with warning electricity.
"Jeremy?" he whispered in that southern-french accent that drove him crazy as he looked back into his eyes. Jeremy struggled to contain his emotional turmoil and meet his gaze.
"Yes?" was all he could manage.
Jean's gaze fell on his lips again. They were so close. Jeremy felt his breath on his face and knew that with a slight movement he could...
No , he told himself.
He couldn't. He couldn't take that step. It had to be Jean.
Jean leaned a little closer, almost hesitantly. Jeremy slightly tightened his grip on the back of Jean's neck, and Jean sighed deeply. There was a kind of implicit question in his eyes. But the answer was crystal clear from Jeremy: he wouldn't be the one to make the first move.
It was like a thousand matches lit simultaneously inside him when Jean lightly brushed his lips against his, not quite sealing them. He spoke against his mouth:
"You don't deserve this, you don't deserve to carry all the mess I bring with me, Jeremy."
"Fuck what I deserve, what about what I want?" He threw those words at him that he himself had said months ago. The grip of Jean's fingers on Jeremy's wrists tightened as he tilted his head at an angle that brushed their lips together again—lightly, like the brush of a feather. Jeremy had to take a deep breath in a futile attempt to relax.
"You're making a mistake," Jean said.
"Then let me make it so you'll see I don't care."
"This isn't what you want," Jean insisted, gritting his teeth slightly. Jeremy's gaze fell on his lips.
"Jean," Jeremy said his name with as much emphasis as possible. "You are what I want."
"Jeremy." A strangled sound lodged in Jean's throat. Then he reached for Jeremy, pulling him closer, finally pressing his lips against his. In that instant, Jeremy's head went dark, and he had to fight back a moan at the sensation. Jean pulled away a few inches to look at him. He was trembling slightly, but seeing the confirmation on Jeremy's face, he pulled him back. Jean kissed him with a certain desperation, as if holding on to Jeremy was the only thing keeping him afloat at that moment, and Jeremy squirmed under his touch. His hands moved delicately over his scalp, afraid to move freely. A sound of assent escaped Jean as he pulled him closer. His tongue tentatively explored Jeremy's mouth, like someone afraid of making a false move. Jeremy pulled him closer. He had fantasized about it more than he could allow himself to express in words. With each kiss, he felt a part of his troubles slipping away; the problems with his family, the past that continued to drag him down. With Jean's fingers on his wrists, drawing small caresses over his skin, he felt that for once there was no weight pressing down on his chest. They kissed in a trance; for minutes, losing themselves in each other's lips and light caresses. Jeremy removed his hands from Jean's head, and Jean opened his eyes for a second, his pupils dilated, his own hands dropping to his sides. Jeremy raised his hands to his neck.
"Can I?" he asked, his voice strained. Jeremy knew how important consent was for someone who had always been denied it, and he wanted to make sure he didn't overstep any boundaries. Jean considered this for a few seconds, then nodded.
Jeremy's thumbs gently rested over the marks Jean had left with his nails.
Jeremy leaned closer and placed a soft kiss over the wounds. Jean shuddered, and Jeremy felt him clumsily tangle his hands in his hair. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity down his spine. Jeremy continued placing kisses around the marks, carefully, as if by doing so he could erase all the damage in Jean, as if he could take some of his suffering with him, and Jean stroked his scalp until Jeremy felt him pulling his head up.
They stared at each other for a few moments, as if nothing else mattered. And then Jean kissed him again, determinedly, and they stayed kissing in that room until a loud crash echoed outside the house.
They both broke away, slightly startled. The light in Jean's room suddenly went out, and then they heard the thunder of rain outside the bedroom window, which they hadn't noticed before because they were so distracted. They both stared at each other. Jeremy was still struggling to catch his breath, and Jean didn't look much better than him, his lips reddened from the kisses.
"Jeremy..." Jean broke the silence before being interrupted.
A dog's happy paws tapped on the floor. A few seconds later, Jab opened the door, barking at him, and jumped onto the bed to climb onto Jean's chest while trying to lick his face and forcing him back against the mattress.
"Jab, you mangy beast, let me go." Jean pretended to try to shake him off, but Jeremy saw he wasn't really making any effort. A small smile spread across his face.
"Oh, look at him, he loves you so much," he said from above, and Jean stared at him, for the first time that night with an expression that seemed almost peaceful.
Jab lay down on Jean's chest, and Jean absentmindedly ran a hand through his fur.
Jeremy lay down next to Jean, shoulder to shoulder. He reached out and scratched his dog's chin.
"Jeremy?" Jean whispered after a few minutes of silence. Jeremy turned his head to look at him. Their noses touched. "Stay." He smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Always."
They spent a few seconds playing with Jab, until Jeremy felt his eyes begin to close. Jean's breathing slowed as well. Jeremy thought they were both still wearing half-wet clothes, but he figured it would be a problem he'd solve in the morning. For now, it was okay.
Jeremy was happy.
It was already dawn when Laila and Cat arrived at the apartment. They'd had to spend the night in a motel because of the heavy rain. Cat searched for her friends around the apartment until she reached Jean's room and found them both sleeping. Jean was curled up in the middle of the bed, with Jeremy's arms around him from behind. Jean's arms were intertwined where Jeremy held him. Jab rested on the floor, curled up at their feet. Cat had never seen them so peaceful.
"Oh," she blurted out, feeling emotion fill her chest. Laila appeared behind her a few seconds later. She watched them for a moment, trying to unravel the image. Cat saw her trying to hide her expression, clearly moved. Laila wrapped her arms around Cat's waist from behind. She rested her chin on her shoulder as she placed a chaste kiss on her neck.
"Let them sleep," she whispered as she pulled away and grabbed Cat's hand, dragging her into the kitchen. "We're going to make a good breakfast today."