Archive of Our Own

Jeremy Alan Knox was having a really bad day. The last thing he wanted to do was to put on a brave face and go out with his Trojans, but it was Xavier’s birthday, and he had already gotten permission from his mother to stay the night at the Lofts. Besides, there was nothing but judgement and anger in store for him if he went back to that house tonight.

Maybe in the morning she’ll take back her words, Jeremy thought pathetically, maybe she’ll forgive me, maybe she’ll listen to me for once.

Jeremy wanted to claw his brains out. He went for the next best option and had his brains fucked out of him instead.

He winced in the bathroom after his hookup had left when he saw the state of his neck through the mirror. He’d been good since the fall banquet, he’d tried his best to keep his worst impulses in check so he wouldn't worry his friends any further, but he’d needed to be out of his head today. He’d needed something that would help him forget the desperate desire to be loved that pulsed through his blood day and night, and the only thing more potent than those feelings was pain.

But that temporary reprieve was already draining through his system, leaving him drowning once again. 

He knew he was procrastinating returning to his friends and cursed himself for not wearing something with a higher collar, so he didn’t have to feel their concerned judgement again.

Find someone who takes care of you Jeremy.

The man you sleep with are absolute trash Jeremy.

Would it kill you too fuck someone who respects you, Jeremy?

But what other kind of man would want a walking catastrophe in human form like Jeremy Knox? What other kind of man did Jeremy deserve?

His luck being as dismal as it was, he ran into Jean almost immediately after leaving the bathroom. Jean brightened when he caught sight of Jeremy’s face, but the look quickly vanished when his eyes fell down to his neck.

“There you are,” Jeremy said with a smile that was easy to muster at the mere sight of his partner, “Are you enjoying yourself? It's a bit loud, isn't it?”

Jean didn’t even pretend to humor him. His hands twitched, until he curled them into trembling fists at his sides. “Are you going to give me a name this time?”

Jeremy shouldn’t have been surprised by the anger in Jean’s eyes. Jean Moreau was a protector at his core, especially when it came to the wellbeing of the select few he considered his friends. Something about the protectiveness being for him made a more dangerous type of hunger grow in his stomach.

Jeremy shook his head to banish his delusions, “Are we going to have this conversation every time? I told you Jean, I don’t mind it.”

What he minded was the way Jean was now looking at him, his eyes so intent Jeremy had nowhere to hide, no way to escape.

“You don’t mind it,” Jean repeated in utter disbelief, “So you ask them to do this to you?”

Jeremy floundered, “Well, not exactly…”

“But you like it?” Jean continued relentlessly, “You like it when someone strangles you during sex.”

Jeremy just stared at Jean, unable to find words to explain the complexity of his emotions. How could he tell the man in front of him that his deepest desires included being held, cradled, kissed outside of sex, praised, loved. How could he tell this man that more often than not, he dreamed of Jean being the one to love him gently? How could he tell Jean that he would never deserve that softness, even if he repented for the rest of his life?

“I just don’t get it,” Jean said finally, looked away at Jeremy's continued silence, “I’ve tried and tried to understand, but I don’t. I think you are lying to me, but I don’t understand why you would do that. You promised. You promised you wouldn't, Jeremy.”

Jeremy watched Jean take a step, then another, away from him, and the space he created between them felt colder than the Tundra. He had to salvage this. How could he make Jean move past this? 

“I think I want to go home,” Jean mumbled, looking down at his feet, sounding so miserable it was like a bullet straight to Jeremy's chest.

“Jean,” Jeremy reached out towards his partner with gentle hands but stilled when Jean flinched away from his touch like a startled animal. His eyes were confused and upset, and he was cowering away from Jeremy like he was the threat. It was too much for Jeremy to bear.

“Let’s leave together,” Jeremy attempted again even as his fingers shook at his sides. His voice only wobbled a little when he tried to sound upbeat for Jean's sake. “I’m tired of this party anyway.”

Jean slowly shook his head, unable to meet Jeremy's eyes. “I don’t think I want to be around you right now. I’m sorry. I can find my own way home.”

Jeremy’s mother’s words to him earlier had felt like a dagger to the chest. Unknowingly, Jean had just twisted the knife in deeper, until it became a killing blow Jeremy would never recover from. He was so startled he could only stand frozen on the spot and watch Jean’s silhouette get smaller, until his partner slipped through the front door of the club and vanished into the night.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered into thin air, as his fingers dug painfully into a bruise on his neck until he felt the sting all over his body. “Please, Jean. Don’t leave me too.” 

How had he managed to drive even someone as stalwart and loyal as Jean Moreau away from his side? Jeremy really was poison.

I think you are lying, Jean had accused. Of course he was. But wasn’t the pain what he deserved? Didn’t he deserve uncaring hands that took and took, while Jeremy continued to give and give, until the day he finally became blessedly empty.

Jean doesn’t think so. He would never hurt you.

But Jean didn’t want him, that fact was crystal clear. He couldn’t possibly want someone like Jeremy. How could he find something to like about Jeremy when Jeremy couldn’t find a single thing to like about himself?

Go after him. He wants you to talk to him. Try. Just try.

Jeremy’s hands shook as he opened a text from one of his casual hookups inviting him to his frat’s party.

‘Text me the address’, he replied, as he ran away from what he truly wanted towards what he thought he deserved once again.

Jeremy woke up with an incessant pounding in his head. The first thing he saw as he squinted through the abrasive sunlight was Laila’s tearstained face looking down at him.

“You’re awake,” she sobbed, and Jeremy rushed up to go to her, to comfort her, only to be stopped by an IV in his right hand.

Hospital. Why was he in a hospital?

He looked down at the patient ID bracelet around his left wrist.

Jeremy Alan Knox. 22. Suspected Overdose.

For a few moments Jeremy could only stare, uncomprehending, at the words, wondering if they perhaps made more sense in another language.

Then the air turned to sand in his lungs. He choked, clutching at his heart, as it threatened to sear itself out of his chest.

Overdose? 

He’d…he couldn’t have…he…he…

He couldn’t have done this to Noah. He couldn’t have done this to himself. He’d promised his brother. He’d promised…

“Jeremy! Jeremy, look at me. Jeremy!”

He was faintly aware of his heart rate monitor beeping frantically in warning, but he couldn’t make himself breathe. 

“Please,” Laila cried, tucking his head into his chest, “Please, just breathe. Breathe with me, okay?”

He let her breaths guide his, until his lungs didn't feel like they were collapsing in on themselves anymore. He bent over, coughing, as oxygen re-entered his lungs with a ferocity that made his eyes water.

When his heart had calmed sufficiently, his eyes shot back up, finally taking in the other occupants of his small hospital room. Cat, a few feet away from Laila, ready to rush in as soon as Laila needed her. Coach Rhemann on his other side, with his shoulders hunched in on themselves in concern, and Jean, leaning against the door, standing as far away from Jeremy as he could while still being inside the room. His gaze was set stonily on the floor.

Panic overtook his senses once again.

“Jean?” Jeremy whispered, but his partner’s face was a sealed fortress. “Jean?” he begged.

But Jean wouldn’t even look at Jeremy.

Do not ever backslide, Jeremy. I will not forgive you.

But...no. No.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Jeremy asked, as he felt tears crowd his eyelids. “Jean, please, just look at me.”

Forgive me, give me one more chance. Please Jean, please, I won’t survive losing you.

When Jean finally looked up, his usually warm eyes were cold as steel. “Will you finally admit that you need help?” he demanded.

Jeremy’s usual rejoinder of ‘I don’t need help; I’m just having a bad day!’ stuck in his throat like a lead ball.

He looked away from Jean to Laila’s red, puffy eyes, and Cat’s worried frown, to Coach Rhemann standing against the wall, concern written all over his face.

He knew he was on a steep, downward spiral, and he didn’t know how to stop before he blew himself up and took everyone who loved him down with him in the process.

“Yes,” he admitted in a small voice, “I think I need help.”

His eyes flicked back to Jean, hoping for some recognition, some warmth, but his partner had already turned away from him, like he needed nothing else from Jeremy now that he had this promise.

“You stay, Coach, I will go call for the doctor,” he said when Coach Rhemann made to get off the wall. Then he walked out without another glance in Jeremy’s direction, the door clicking shut gently behind him.

Jeremy let out an anguished sound.

“Jere,” Laila squeezed his shoulder gently, even though Jeremy didn't deserve her comfort.

“What did I do?” Jeremy began to cry, and his entire body shook with the force of his tears, “What have I done?”

Laila hugged him tight. “You’ll get through it. We'll get you through it. The important thing is that you want to get better.”

Jeremy wished it was that simple. He stared at the door, aching for Jean to come back in, but knowing he wouldn’t.

“He’s the one who found you," Cat said, "When we hadn't heard from you for a while, we wanted to make sure you were okay. You sent Laila your address, and he was the closest to campus since he was home." She hesitated, biting her lip and then looking at Laila to see if she should continue.

"Tell me," Jeremy insisted.

"He found you at a frat house, passed out in a bed with three other people, bruises everywhere, high as a kite. Not cocaine,” she rushed to add when Jeremy blanched in horror, “but you kept coming in and out of consciousness, and you were making absolutely no sense, so we had to bring you here. We didn’t know what was wrong with you, or how much you’d taken. We had to be sure you'd be alright.”

No. No no no no.

His brain readily provided him with visceral images of Jean coming across that godawful scene, and for a moment Jeremy wished he had never woken up.

“How long has it been?” he asked dully, “My mother?”

“Doesn’t know yet,” Laila supplied, “It’s only the next day. You were sleeping over at our place last night, so your disappearance hasn’t raised any alarm bells yet. Luckily Coach is listed as your emergency contact and not her.”

Jeremy supposed he should ask what he took. He should care. He faintly remembered some colored pills, he remembered swallowing them raw, washing them down with stale beer.

Then he remembered nothing else.

“What happened?” Laila asked gently.

Jeremy clenched his trembling hands and forced the words out. “I failed the LSATs, and then got into an argument with my mom and Warren, and they said some things that I…and the deadline to sign with the LA Chargers is coming up…and then I made Jean upset at the club, and…I just wanted to blow off some steam, I didn’t want to…I never meant to…”

The door clicked back open, and Jeremy’s head whipped up to see if it was Jean—but it was just the doctor, and no Jean in sight behind her.

He tried to listen as she spoke but only retained that the pills would leave his system naturally, and while they had dangerous consequences, they weren’t deadly in the amounts that had been found in his body. He was never in any real danger, but it was a good thing his friends had taken precautions and brought him in anyway.

Jeremy nodded along obediently and then sunk right back into his misery the moment she was gone.

“I can go find him for you,” Cat offered slowly, “He wouldn’t have gone far.”

As if she summoned him with her words, the door clicked back open to let in Jean, with two paper bags in his hands.

“I went to the sandwich shop across the street,” he said, when everyone just looked at him in silent question.

Laila grabbed a bag from him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “My hero. I’m starved.”

Jeremy stared shamelessly. He was sure Jean could feel him boring a hole into the side of his face, but he never once turned in Jeremy’s direction.

Jeremy didn’t remember ever feeling this small in his life. He had been used and abused by countless men, but he had never expected anything better from them. He had become so used to finding Jean in every room he entered, and having those grey eyes always seek him back.

He wanted his grey eyes back. The notion that Jean might never look at him again was too heartbreaking to consider.

He kept on staring as Jean passed out the subs and then headed back to the corner furthest away from Jeremy to eat his own lunch.

“There’s an extra if you’re hungry, Jer,” Cat said after swallowing a mouthful.

Jeremy just shook his head. He couldn’t eat even if he'd wanted to, not with the roiling nausea in his gut.

He had to fix this. He had to find a way. But how could he, when Jean was so obviously done with him?

Jeremy finally mustered up enough courage a few hours later, right before he was scheduled to be discharged. “Can…you let me talk to Jean alone for a minute please?”

Cat sent a concerned look between them, but let Laila pull her out, and Coach shut the door behind them, leaving the two of them alone for the first time that day.

“Jean…” Jeremy began, “Can we talk about this? Talk to me. Tell me anything.”

Jean shook his head and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, looking like he was fighting an internal battle within himself. Jeremy waited for him to come to a decision, feeling like a convict awaiting his sentence.

“I don’t think we should be partners anymore,” Jean said finally, his voice flat and lifeless.

Jeremy knew it was coming. Of course it was. Jean was a man of his word, and Jeremy had broken multiple promises to him. He knew he wasn’t the partner Jean deserved.

But hearing the words said out loud was more than he could bear.

“Jean,” Jeremy breathed, beyond caring that he was begging, “Jean, please, I’m sorry, please just give me—”

Jean looked at Jeremy then, and Jeremy saw an anguish in Jean’s eyes that was so stark and raw it made the words fizzle out of his mouth. Suddenly, he wished they could go back to the apathy. Because this hurt, the betrayal in his eyes, had the potential to end Jeremy for good.

He thought of the broken man he'd met in June, the man with more horrors in his past than anyone that young should even know existed in the world. Jeremy had tried so hard to help him heal, to help him want to live again. He had wanted Jean to be his success story. Turned out Jeremy was yet another thing to hurt Jean Moreau, one more thing for Jean to get over in order to heal.

He should nod; he should accept his fate. Anything Jean needed, anything Jean wanted. But he couldn’t. He was too selfish, even now.

He looked up at Jean to plead once again, but then, Jean reached a trembling hand out and touched Jeremy’s cheek with his knuckle, and he was so gentle, like Jeremy was something too delicate for him to grasp without breaking. The touch sent butterflies whirling through his stomach until he was dizzy, and he couldn’t help himself from leaning in to savor the warmth before it disappeared for good.

“I failed you,” Jean whispered, his voice distraught, “as your partner. I should not have left you like that. I was only thinking of myself. I knew you were lying to me. But I didn’t think…I didn’t know… If you were struggling…, why wouldn’t you ask me for help? How can I protect you if I don't even know what I am protecting you from? Do you really find me that unreliable?”

The words were so far beyond what Jeremy had been expecting that it took a few moments for him to fully comprehend what Jean had just said. Suddenly, the devastation on Jean’s face took on a brand-new light.

He couldn’t…Jeremy couldn’t let Jean shoulder any of the blame for this a single moment longer.

“Jean, look at me,” Jeremy said, his voice stern enough to make Jean listen on instinct. After grey eyes hesitantly met his, he said firmly, “None of this is your fault. This is all on me. I lied to you; I went to the party alone and took drugs. None of it was on you, I need you to understand that. If you would have stayed, even if I’d talked to you, nothing would have changed.”

I am too much of a failure to change now. Even you can’t save me, as much as I wish you would.

He had hoped to lighten some of the burden off Jean's shoulders. Instead, he had to watch the light drain out of Jean's eyes. He knew, immediately, unmistakably, that Jean had taken his words the wrong way.

"That's not what I—"

Jean turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Jeremy a moment longer.

“Wait—” Jeremy tried to grab at him, but he was already out of his grasp, yet again. “Jean!” he cried, but he was begging a closed door.

Jeremy pushed his face into his hands and let out a frustrated sob, wondering if it was possible for things to get any worse for him.

Maybe Cat and Laila could take a guess at what had happened between the two of them from the way Jean left, because they did their best to lift Jeremy’s spirits for the rest of the hour until he was finally discharged. He left the hospital with a handful of pamphlets about drug safety and support groups, and he went back to his family with them none the wiser as to how he’d spent the previous night. They already had enough to be disappointed with him over, without having to add relapsed drug addict to the mix.

“You will take the LSATs again, and you will pass this time,” was all his mom said to him before going back to pretending he didn’t exist.

If avoiding Jeremy was an art, Jean quickly mastered it. He would always have an excuse ready to leave Jeremy’s side as soon as conventionally possible, and because his mother had significantly tightened her reins on him after his failure, there was only a limited amount of time he had out of his suffocating house, and all he wanted was to spend any free moment he had with Jean. 

Jeremy didn’t know it was possible to see someone every day and still miss them with such a ferocious intensity. He almost wished Jean would ignore him, but the hierarchy instilled in him from his time with the Ravens meant he was unfailingly polite on the court, treating Jeremy with the respect due a captain, and Jeremy hated every second of it. If he heard the words ‘yes captain’ come out of Jean’s mouth one more time, he might implode.

Having Jean and losing him was worse than any withdrawal he had ever gone through. He wanted his Jean back with an intensity he had never felt for anything or anyone else before.

He had already known he was physically attracted to Jean, who wouldn’t be when the backliner not only looked like every one of Jeremy's wet dreams in human form, but also had the heart of a Disney prince behind the gruff exterior?

But this…this wasn’t lust. It wasn’t just a passing fancy. The intensity of these feelings absolutely terrified him. And maybe that was for the best, and maybe Jeremy should stay away, because Jean deserved so much better than a washed-out coward who got high and fucked terrible men to escape his feelings, who couldn’t even tell his own mother he couldn’t stand the path she’d set out for him to follow.

Jeremy knew better, but still he ached. And maybe he would have left it at that, only, Jean looked so miserable too. 

Not good enough, he reminded himself, I’m not good enough for him.

Jeremy startled awake at the sound of voices that came to his ears muffled through the walls. Muted light behind the curtains lit the dim room, and it took him a moment to recall he had taken a nap in the Loft’s third room, which they had turned into an office space with a pull-out couch for Jeremy for the nights he was allowed to stay over.

He checked his phone and realized it was just about time for evening practice, so he made his way to the bathroom to wash the sleep off his face. He had barely cracked the door open when the sound of voices from the kitchen came through, louder than before.

“How long are you going to punish yourself?” Cat asked gently, making Jeremy freeze in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you mean,” came Jean’s deep rumble in reply. “Pass me that wretched white substance.”

“It’s called mayonnaise, hun. And you forget I have to live with the two of you,” Cat said dryly, “I’ve never seen two more depressed men in my life. When are you going to put Jeremy out of his misery?”

Jean muttered something caustic in French under his breath in reply.

“Jean,” Cat said in a patient yet scolding tone, “You’re his best friend, and now you won’t even look at him. Don’t you think you would be heartbroken if he did that to you?”

Jean was silent for so long Jeremy thought he would choke and die from holding his breath waiting to hear his reply.

When he answered, Jeremy wished he could go back to the moment before he heard Jean's words.

He had never heard Jean's voice sound so defeated, so hollow. “He will get over it. I am not what he wants, nor what he needs.”

Jeremy didn’t remember it happening, but he was suddenly on the floor with his face buried in his hands, barely tamping down a violent urge to throw up. He was sure the conversation went on behind the door, but he heard none of it. His heart burned.

I am not what he wants, nor what he needs.

Was that…how could he think that? How could he not know…how could he not know?

Maybe because he found you high in a frat house bed with three men. Maybe that’s why, Jeremy.

He lost his battle to his tears, wondering how much more his bruised heart could take before it gave out for good. Self-loathing like he’d never felt before infiltrated every cell in his body. 

Jeremy had self-destructed, and somewhere along the way, Jean had got caught in the crossfire.

He couldn’t let himself spiral further. He had to fix this. He couldn’t…he wouldn’t live this way. Not without Jean. 

He didn’t deserve Jean yet. But if he worked hard on himself, maybe one day he would.

The first thing he did was change psychologists. He had become too comfortable with Dr. Spader and therefore was far too comfortable lying to her during their sessions. She kept his secrets from his mother and provided him with a small source of income that his family couldn't track, but if he sighed the deal with the Chargers, he would start making his own money. He wouldn’t need to rely on his mother, on the Wilshires.

Maybe Dr. Spader could help him if he gave her a chance. But Jeremy wanted to start over, with someone who didn't know him, a blank slate.

He knew USC provided off campus mental health specialists for athletes, and Jeremy made himself pick the most severe looking man off the list, but Dr. Charles Halston ended up being just what Jeremy needed. He let Jeremy take as long as he needed to answer questions, but he never let Jeremy skirt by or brush anything off and refused to move on until he had a satisfactory answer, even if it took multiple sessions to get there.

“I want to be happy,” Jeremy finally admitted during his third session, “I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.”

“And what makes you happy?”

He took a deep breath and really thought about it. “Exy. My dog. My friends and teammates. My…” Partner. Except, he didn't have one anymore, did he? He choked on the sheer force of his longing and had to clamp his mouth shut to stop the tremble in his lips. When Dr. Halston just nodded at him to take his time, he croaked out, “Jean. He’s…he’s everything to me. I want to be happy with him. I know I’d be happy with him.”

“But?”

“But…” Jeremy whispered, “but I don’t deserve it.”

“Happiness?” Dr. Halston asked, “Or Jean?”

“Any of it,” Jeremy answered.

Dr. Halston nodded, like this was a perfectly normal response. “Okay, let’s unpack that.”

It wasn’t until his sixth session with Dr. Halston that Jeremy gathered enough courage to speak to Jean again. He cornered an unsuspecting Jean after evening practice had ended and the locker room was mostly empty, knowing he would still be waiting for Laila and Cat to be done in the showers.

“Jean, can I have a word?”

For a moment he was terrified Jean would just pretend he hadn’t heard, or worse, flat out refuse, but he just eyed Jeremy with cautious eyes and nodded at whatever he saw on his face, saying not one word as Jeremy led him to one of the unused examination rooms.

He turned after shutting the door and found Jean standing a lot closer to him than he'd expected. The sight of him, being the unconditional focus of his gaze after so long, quickly became too much for Jeremy to handle.

To his horror, he burst into tears before he could open his mouth to say a single word.

“Jeremy?” Jean sounded horrified.

“Jean…” Jeremy sobbed, feeling mortified but not knowing how to make the flood of tears stop.

“What is it?” Jean asked frantically, “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

The familiarity of the demand brought a watery smile to Jeremy’s face. He summoned up the last reserves of courage he had left and took Jean’s hand in his.

“I just miss you so much, Jean. I never wanted to make you think that I didn’t need you. I was just so ashamed that you saw me like that, I still am. I want to be that person you admired, the captain you had so much faith in…but Jean, I'm a mess. I’m trying so hard to be a better person but I…Jean, I need you, I do. I can’t do it without you.”

Jean was at his side in an instant. He grabbed Jeremy's arm with one hand and tipped his chin up with the other.

“Ask me,” Jean demanded.

“Jean,” Jeremy breathed, looking into his stormy grey eyes. “Help me. I want to get better. Will you help me? Only…only you can help me.” He forced the words through his brain screaming you’re the one who’s supposed to be helping HIM.

Something that had been coiled tight within Jean for the past month disappeared. “Anything,” he promised, and Jeremy’s heart soared. “Whatever you need.”

Jeremy looked at him through wet eyelashes. His lips pushed up into a small watery smile. “A blank cheque is a dangerous thing to offer.”

Jean cupped Jeremy’s cheeks, wiping away the last of his tears with his thumbs. “Try me, I can afford it.”

“I want to keep being your partner,” Jeremy whispered, “Please, I do…but I can’t…I don’t know if I can be of any help to you at the moment.” He let out a broken laugh, “I can barely hold myself up right now.”

“You are my partner,” Jean said staunchly, “but I am also yours Jeremy. If you cannot hold yourself up, I will do it for you until you can get back on your feet. You have held both of us up all by yourself this entire time, let me do the same for you now. I will not ever abandon you. We will make it through this, together.”

Jean would hold him up. He wouldn’t let him fall. He wouldn't abandon him.

Jeremy wasn't alone.

He pressed his face into Jean’s chest, clung onto his shirt, and cried till he had no tears left.

Nestled in the warmth of his partner’s embrace, Jeremy Alan Knox finally saw the light at the end of a very long tunnel.

“You’re making the right choice, Jeremy,” Coach Rhemann said as Jeremy signed the contract with shaking fingers, “They’re lucky to have you.”

“Thank you for everything, Coach,” Jeremy said, handing his newly minted agreement with the Los Angeles Chargers back to his Coach and mentor for the past five years. “I mean it, I wouldn't be here without you.”

Coach Rhemann smiled, “Never forget all the good you have done this team in the five years you've been here, my boy. You are an extraordinary captain, and an even better player, and I’m so proud of you for making it this far. You’ll do great things going forward, I'm certain of it.”

James Rhemann would never know how his unshakeable loyalty and enduring faith in Jeremy had saved his life. Jeremy would never forget it.

His partner was leaning against the wall outside Rhemann’s office, waiting for him to be done. Jean held his arms open, and Jeremy fell into them like an addict, tucking his head into Jean's neck and inhaling the familiar sweet fruity smell of whatever shampoo Cat kept buying him.

“This is what you were meant to do, Jeremy. I know it was difficult, and I’m so proud of you for doing it. We will handle the consequences together.” Jeremy melted further from the words, and the gentle fingers Jean was weaving through his hair.

“Let’s go home.” Jeremy whispered, “I don’t want to deal with my family yet.”

Jeremy knew a long and treacherous path lay in front of him, but for the first time in a long time, everything didn’t feel helpless. Not with Coach Rhemann’s hand on his back, Laila and Cat’s arms squeezing him tight, and Jean’s fingers intertwined with his.

He wasn’t alone. He hoped he would never be alone again. 

“Here,” Laila dropped a large folder of documents in front of them at breakfast the next morning,

“What are these?” Jeremy asked as he pulled the sheets of paper out.

“Everything you need to get your personal documents back from Mathilda,” Laila said, “My lawyer sent them over this morning.”

“Some lawyer in training,” Jeremy scoffed as he looked through the papers, “I don’t understand any of this.”

"It does not matter," Jean scoffed, "You will be Court." Jeremy tried not to react when Jean leaned next to him and squinted adorably as he tried to make sense of the tiny words, but he couldn’t help the little smile that took over his face as he watched his partner.

Laila cleared her throat and shot Jeremy a look that said, roughly 'oh my god stop being so pathetically in love first thing in the morning! or just kiss! anything but this!'

When he motioned at her to get on with it, she explained, “Basically, you need your documents before you can start playing for Chargers, and unless you’re under a conservatorship, your mom has no grounds to keep them from you because you’re an adult. We can have my lawyer go serve her the papers, but you probably want to have a conversation with her first, right?”

Jeremy nodded. Any hope of reconciliation, of having a family that loved him, had slowly leaked out of him, but there was still a tiny part of him that hoped his mother would understand, that she would find it in her heart to not completely abandon him for this.

That last ember of hope was quickly extinguished when Jeremy finally confronted her later that day. She raged and threatened and then grew very cold when she realized her influence over him had truly ended.

Jeremy would not be moved from his path. He knew his mother could guilt trip him into doing anything simply by using Noah’s name, which was why he had come to her only after his agreement with the Chargers had been signed and notarized. They had his next two years, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

“Just leave,” she said finally, pressing her fingers to her temple to indicate what a headache Jeremy continued to be to her. “Take your things and leave, if you’re so determined to defy me.”

“Okay,” Jeremy whispered. He began to turn, but then he stopped and said, “I do love you, Mom. I’m sorry I could never be enough for you.”

His mother pressed her lips together and looked away. With nothing left to say, Jeremy turned and walked away from Mathilda Wilshire for the last time.

He stopped next to the wall of photographs in the hallway and then plucked one off the hook it hung on. It was Noah and him as children, hugging each other tight on a park swing, sun tanned and freckled and happy. He turned over the backing of the frame and slipped the picture out, careful not to crease it in the process.

“I think you’d be proud of me,” he whispered, running a gentle thumb over Noah’s smile. “You always did love to watch me play.”

Every game I play till the day I can’t play anymore will be for you, so I hope you’re watching me.

He was about to hang the empty frame back up, when a throat cleared behind him.

He turned to find William standing at the entrance to the hallway with a hand outstretched. For a moment Jeremy was convinced he would take the picture from him, but then his butler said, “Give me the frame. I’ll replace the picture and none of them will ever notice.”

Jeremy smiled a tired smile as he handed the frame over. “Thank you.”

“I already spoke to Miss Laila,” he went on, “I will have all the things in your room boxed and mailed over to your new address.”

“Thank you, William,” Jeremy said again, “for everything.”

“For what my opinion is worth,” William said gently, “I am very proud of you, Jeremy.”

Jeremy could only nod at him through budding tears before he turned and left this house that had never been a home, knowing he would never come back.

He had fully expected to move into the small study, but he entered the Lofts and found Jean emptying out half his closet.

At Jeremy’s stunned look, Jean said, “I miss sharing a room with you,” like it was that simple.

Maybe it was. Maybe it was about time for something in Jeremy’s life to feel easy, comforting, without complication.

That evening he got the expected call from Trent Knox.

“Tell me why your mother is calling me in hysterics again?” his father demanded.

“That would probably be because I left her house for good,” Jeremy said, before attaching a petulant, “sir.”

His father didn't seem to like that answer. “Don’t make hasty mistakes because of your pride. Your mother knows what’s best for you.”

Jeremy let out a bitter disbelieving laugh. “And what would you know about my mother or even me? You only hate it when she calls because it reminds you that you have a family you abandoned when you walked out on us.”

The other end of the line went silent. And then he heard the unmistakable sound of a dial tone.  He stared at the cut call in disbelief.

Coward, Jeremy thought dully, my father was always a coward. I just never wanted to see it.

“Tacos are ready!” Cat screamed from the kitchen.

“Catalina!” Jean snapped, “Stop screeching in my ear. The house is not big enough to require your caterwauling.”

“Come get your tacos,” Cat sang even louder, while clanging two pans together. “Tacos tacos, tacoooooos.”

There was some cursing, and then the sound of a set of feet storming away.

“Wait, Jean! Where are you going? Hey, stop putting on your shoes, you big drama queen. That’s right Jab, grab him!”

“Jabberwocky!” Jean snapped, “Couché! Au pied! Oh, for heaven’s sake, do not lick my face, you insolent creature.”

“That’s right Jab,” Cat cooed, “Make sure he never leaves us. Good boy.”

“Stop rewarding bad behavior, Catalina,” Jean grumbled, even as his voice became softer with his next words, directed to their dog. “C'est bon, je ne pars pas, mon chiot.”

Jeremy’s smile was the widest it had been in months as he pocketed his phone and walked towards the people who had been his real family all along.

Something was wrong with Jean. He had known something was off from the moment Jean had walked into the locker room with an anxious Cat and Laila trailing behind him. He and Xavier had been forced to attend a mandatory weeklong bootcamp for all USC sports team captains, so he hadn’t been at the Lofts in days. He'd gotten used to living with his best friends again and going to sleep in the same bed facing Jean every night. He missed it like he would a missing limb, and it had only been four days.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow to the girls in question, and they both shrugged helplessly. 'He's not sick', Cat mouthed, 'we checked'.

Jeremy sidled up to Jean’s side in an attempt to figure out what was wrong, but Jean just waved him off and shuffled over to his locker, looking for all intents and purposes like he was sleepwalking. Cat and Laila were right, he wasn’t sick, but there was something in his eyes that just wasn’t right.

It became evident to everyone when they started playing. Jean Moreau could play better than an average college athlete in his sleep, but he was distracted. The intense focus he reserved for this sport over everything else was missing.

It all came to a head when Jean ran straight into Tanner, sending the smaller backliner toppling to the ground.

“Okay,” Coach Rhemann called from the side of the field, “Let’s end it here for today.”

“I’m sorry,” Jean crouched next to Tanner and peered at his face. “I’m sorry, I was distracted. Are you hurt?”

Tanner looked a little dazed, and Jeremy didn’t know if it was because of the fall or Jean’s sudden close proximity. Jeremy told himself that this really wasn’t the time to be jealous, but he had to swallow against the pain in his chest when Jean tipped Tanner’s head back to look at his eyes. He knew Jean was only checking for a concussion, but he still didn't want to see him touching someone else's face like that.

Don’t hold his chin. That’s our thing, don’t do it to someone else.

He looked away before he did something irrational like swat Jean’s hand away from Tanner’s face.

Tanner looked like he was one gentle breeze away from toppling back over. He cleared his throat. “No..no, I’m fine.”

Jean frowned, clearly disbelieving. “Are you sure?”

“Yup!” Tanner grinned, “But you can stay back and practice with me if you want to make it up to me.”

Something in Jean’s face shuttered. “Tomorrow,” he promised, and then he got up and stalked off the court before anyone else could say another word.

By the time Jeremy and the girls were done showering, Jean was nowhere to be found.

“He wouldn’t just leave, would he?” Laila frowned and rubbed Cat’s back as Cat frantically called Jean over and over.

Jeremy didn’t know what had gone wrong. He knew something had been wrong with Jean today, so why hadn't he done more to help? And how bad did it have to be for Jean to go off on his own? He pulled out his own phone, but Jean didn’t pick up for him either.

Finally, Cat got back a message from Jean that simply said ‘I want to be alone. I will be back for dinner’.

“Alone?” Cat shrieked so loud half the locker room turned to stare at her outburst, “Jean and alone should never be uttered in the same sentence.”

“Maybe he’s healing?” Laila asked tentatively, “Maybe we should trust him to know what’s best for him?”

Jeremy stared at his own phone and then pocketed it. He caught Xavier’s eye from across the room and cursed this stupid leadership summit once again. “I have to get back,” he said reluctantly, trying to tamp down the dread pooling in his gut at the idea of leaving Jean by himself. “Let me know if you hear from him.”

On his way to the parking lot, he messaged Jean a quick ‘please call me’ and hoped Jean would take pity on him this one time. When he got no immediate answer, he and Xavier reluctantly made their way back to the Student Centre in time for their evening session.

He sat through a two-hour seminar on vulnerability and the importance of mental health professionals on sports teams, and he spent the entire time staring at his phone, willing it to ring. They were walking back to their temporary campus lodgings when his prayers were finally answered. He waved at Xavier to go on ahead of him as he quickly accepted the call.

“Jean?” Jeremy tried to disguise how frantic he was, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“The ocean,” Jean’s voice sounded far away, “it reminds me of home.”

Jeremy swallowed, trying to stay calm. “Tell me where you are, okay? I’ll come get you.”

“There is no need,” Jean said gently, “I did want to be alone. It’s nice.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy made his voice sound encouraging, “Will you tell me what happened today?”

Jean didn’t say anything for so long Jeremy had to check if the call had cut. Then, he whispered, “Elodie was born today. Seventeen years ago. It’s funny, I could not remember my own birthday, but I never forgot hers.”

Oh. Oh no. Jeremy should have kept a closer eye on him. He should have stuck at his side. Jean shouldn't be mourning his sister alone at a beach right now.

“Jean,” Jeremy said gently, “are you sure I can’t come get you? I don’t want you to be alone. If you just tell me where you are—”

“No,” he replied, “Don’t worry captain, I will go home soon.”

“Will you stay on the phone with me then?” Jeremy asked, “Will you…tell me about her?”

He closed his eyes against memories of Noah, as Jean wove a story of a little girl with wild black curls and grey eyes who loved foraging in their gardens for berries, who devoured stories of brave knights and dragons that saved fair maidens from castles, the one person who Jean loved the most in this world.

He didn’t try to stop the flood of tears that rushed down his cheeks. From the hitch in his throat as he continued to speak, he knew Jean was crying too.

“I miss her, Jeremy,” Jean gasped out, “Sometimes I miss her so much I want to be where she is.”

Jeremy choked on a sob. “Jean, please. Please go home. Cat and Laila are waiting for you. They need you. I need you. Please don’t…”

“I won’t,” Jean promised thickly, “I can’t.” Jeremy very vehemently did not want to acknowledge the cadence in his voice that made him think Jean meant to add a ‘not yet’ to the end of his statement.

“How are you getting home?” Jeremy asked instead, “If you tell me where you are, I can ask Cat or Laila to come get you. Or I can? Do you want me to come home early?”

“I ran here,” Jean said simply, ignoring the rest of Jeremy’s question, “I can run back.”

“Run?” Jeremy knew there wasn’t a single beach within running distance from the Lofts. “Don’t tire yourself out before practice tomorrow,” he said, praying that holding practice over his head would finally get through to him.

“Maybe then I will finally stop thinking,” Jean muttered softly, speaking more to himself than to Jeremy, and then he hung up with an abrupt, “Goodnight Jeremy.”

Jeremy tried and tried to redial in vain, Jean didn’t pick up or reply to his texts for the rest of the evening. He only fell asleep, exhausted, after Laila let him know Jean had finally returned home.

The next morning at practice Jeremy rushed at Jean and threw his arms around him, uncaring of who saw or what they thought of two men embracing in the locker room.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Jean whispered, as he slowly returned Jeremy's embrace.

“I wish you would have let me help you,” Jeremy said, holding onto Jean like he was afraid he would disappear if he let go.

“You did,” Jean insisted, “Talking to you calmed me down enough to go home.”

That’s not enough, Jeremy wanted to scream, how can I really help you?

“Are you coming back home today?” Jean demanded abruptly.

Jeremy blinked, taken aback by the change in topic. “Yes, after evening practice.”

“Good,” Jean replied, and then he walked away, leaving a baffled Jeremy staring at his retreating back.

The days that followed were…good. Jeremy had his Jean back, but there was still a restlessness within him that told him he wasn’t off the hook yet, not until he confronted one last thing that lay between them.

They were sitting on a bench watching Jabberwocky tire himself out with the other dogs at a dog friendly park near the Lofts, and Jeremy decided that now was as good a time as any.

“That day at the club,” he began, and felt Jean’s attention immediately shift off their dog and onto him. He swallowed and made himself continue, “You asked me why I would lie to you when I promised you I wouldn’t.” When he stopped, Jean nodded, and his eyes urged Jeremy to go on.

“It wasn’t that I was lying to you, at least not intentionally,” Jeremy explained, hoping he was making some semblance of sense. “It was more that I was lying to myself. I had been lying to myself for so long I couldn’t tell truth from lies anymore. I think that's why I convinced myself I liked it.”

He made himself look at Jean for the next part of his confession. “The truth is, I don’t like being choked. I don’t like being hurt, being degraded. I want the opposite, to be held, cherished, praised. I just didn’t think I deserved it.”

Jean’s eyes burned into him with an intensity that made him twitch uncomfortably, but he made himself hold his gaze. “Why?” Jean asked finally.

“A couple of reasons,” Jeremy admitted, "After everything freshman year, I felt too guilty to think I deserved happiness. And," he had to choke the next part out through the shame, "I had a high school boyfriend. His name is Leo. I really loved him, at least, what I thought love was supposed to feel like. I thought he felt the same…but it was so easy for him to get rid of me. I suppose I meant nothing to him in the end. I just…I never wanted to feel like that again, like I was so easily disposable, like I was that difficult to love.”

Jean was silent at the end of his confession, and Jeremy let his eyes drop to the grass at their feet, until he felt a warm hand take his.

Jeremy turned and met Jean’s eyes, as Jean took his hand and pressed a kiss to the back of his palm. “You deserve kindness,” he said, his voice earnest, “You deserve to be cherished. You are not difficult to love, Jeremy. The fault was never with you. This Leo,” Jean spat out the name, "sounds like a witless simpleton. Do not let his idiocy dictate your life, Jeremy, do not give him that power over you for a minute longer. He is not worth taking up any more space or regard in your life.”

Jeremy’s eyes filled until Jean’s face became blurry through his tears. Jean squeezed his hand tight, and then turned back to the front and yelled, “Jabberwocky, viens.”

Their puppy came back to them happily, tail wagging, and let Jean reattach his harness. The park was only ten minutes away from the Lofts, and Jean didn't let go of his hand the entire time.

They’d barely taken off their shoes when Jeremy blurted out, “I heard you.” At Jean’s baffled look, he elaborated, “In the kitchen, with Cat. You said you weren’t what I wanted or what I needed. Why…why do you think that?” 

Jean's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything about Jeremy's obvious eavesdropping. He didn’t hesitate. “I will never hurt you Jeremy, whether you ask it of me or not. You are too precious to me for that to ever be a possibility. If that was the type of relationship you were interested in, then I believed my advances would not be welcome.”

Jeremy barely stopped his jaw from falling to the floor in shock. Jeremy was too precious to him...His advances would not be...

“Do you…like me?” It was such an absurd way to ask the question, but Jean just quirked his lip and humored him. “Yes, Jeremy, I like you.”

They stared at each other as the gears in Jeremy’s head continued to turn until the statement turned into something that made sense to him.

“But…” How is that possible?

“You are not difficult to love,” Jean insisted, understanding the question in Jeremy’s eyes without him having to verbalize it out loud.

“Jean…” Jeremy said in awe, barely curbing the urge to pinch himself, “I really want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

Jean’s cheeks flushed at the question, and his nod was a little shy, and everything about his response absolutely thrilled Jeremy.

He was across the room to Jean in a heartbeat, cupping his cheeks and tilting his face down until Jeremy was able to meet his lips.

The first brush of their lips was feather light, and then he pressed gentle kisses to the side of Jean’s mouth, his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his chin, his eyelids, all the places he’d longed to kiss for months. He kissed his way back down to Jean's mouth and finally pressed their lips together more firmly. Jean tucked a hand into Jeremy’s hair to hold him close, as their lips slanted and slotted against each other like two puzzle pieces whose jagged edges met just right.

He kept the kiss slow, a careful perusal of mouths that were meeting for the first time. He never wanted to rush Jean, to do anything that made him uncomfortable, but it didn't help that Jeremy wanted to inhale Jean like he was oxygen. He might as well be, Jeremy thought he would die without him.

Jean pressed their foreheads together, panting into Jeremy’s mouth as they finally broke apart. “Jeremy," he whispered reverently, as he traced the shape of Jeremy's cupid's bow with a fingertip, "Mon cœur.”

“Mon cœur?” Jeremy echoed, barely daring to hope.

Jean’s cheeks flushed, and Jeremy thought perhaps Jean hadn’t expected him to keep up with his French lessons with everything else that had been going on.

But he recovered quick as ever. “It is where I keep you, always, mon Jeremy.” Jean took Jeremy’s hand in his and pressed it to his heart after brushing a kiss to the inside of his palm.

Jeremy thought if this was what real happiness felt like, he was lucky to experience even a moment of it. “If I’m in your heart, you're in my soul, Jean-Yves Moreau.”

Jean’s lips curled into a small, precious smile, and Jeremy had to kiss it off his face. That’s my smile, he thought hungrily, that smile is only for me.

"Jean Moreau," Cat gasped, when the four of them got together for dinner later that day, "What is that on your shoulder?"

Jeremy peered at the bruising on Jean's collarbone that was half poking out under the collar of his t-shirt and felt a smug satisfaction at being the one to put it there.

"A hickey," Jean said, not looking up from salting his salad, "If you do not know what that is, I suggest you ask Laila to show you."

"Oh, shut up, who—" She must have finally seen the look on Jeremy's face, because she screamed loud enough to blow the roof off their house.

"One of these days I will buy you and Jabberwocky matching muzzles," Jean muttered, but he couldn't hide the twitch of a smile that curved his lips up.

"I'm happy for you two," is all Laila said, but when he met her eyes, he saw her happiness for him practically overflowing out of her. He is who I wanted for you all along, Jeremy.

Jeremy didn’t think he was truly getting territorial over Jean, but the Floozies soon began to complain that he was hoarding Jean away. Ever the peacemaker, Jeremy happily suggested the new Chinese place near campus, and they made plans to go there after practice the next day.

The day ended up being one of the rare gloomy ones in Los Angeles, and they barely avoided the rain as they stopped under the awning in front of the restaurant. As they waited outside for their table, Jeremy wasted no time tucking Jean into a nook in the wall hidden by shadows and potted plants, and kissed him, pressing their bodies flush. Jean opened up sweetly to Jeremy’s explorations, tucking a hand over the nape of Jeremy's neck to hold him close, as if Jeremy was ever going anywhere. He'd told his friends they’d come, but he'd promised nothing about keeping his hands off Jean.

“For the love of God,” Laila muttered behind them, but Jeremy paid no attention to her grumbling, not when Jean was opening his mouth to let his tongue in with a soft groan.

“Let’s just get takeout,” Xavier whispered, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Like you and Min are any better,” Cat said, immediately coming to their defense.

Jean was adorably flushed when they broke apart, and he kept his arms wrapped tight around Jeremy's waist even after Jeremy let go of him. He couldn’t resist the urge to slide his thumb across Jean’s bee-stung lower lip and delighted at the shiver it produced from him.

“Takeout sounds good to me,” Jeremy said, without looking away from Jean.

“First stop staring at Jean like he’s the takeout,” Laila muttered, unable to hide her smirk.

Jean let out a startled laugh at that, letting go of Jeremy to cover his mouth. It was such a beautiful, unexpected sound that they all stopped in their tracks and stared at him.

“What?” His smile dropped into a frown under their scrutiny.

“You should laugh more,” Cody said, beaming, “Hey y'all, we should make Jean laugh more.”

“It makes you so much more attractive,” Ananya said, a little in awe, “I didn’t think that was possible.”

Jeremy wrapped his arms around Jean from behind and playfully stuck his tongue out at Ananya. “Back off, he’s mine.” 

Ananya rolled her eyes. “Please, like I have time for another lover. Don’t act like you don’t know how hot he is.”

The rest of them were quickly distracted by the menu and arguing over what to order, and when Jeremy turned back, he found Jean watching him pensively.

“Jean?” Jeremy asked.

“I am.” Jean answered simply. At Jeremy’s blink, Jean pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered, “Yours.”

It was hours before Jeremy could get Jean back to himself again, and they were kissing even before they made it to his—their— bedroom.

“Beautiful,” Jean whispered, sounding a little dazed, as he pressed his lips against the freckles on Jeremy's shoulder, “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, Jeremy.”

His words lit a needy fire in Jeremy's stomach. Their lips met once again with a ravenous hunger that had been Jeremy’s constant companion since the day he set eyes on his dark-haired French boy across the field from him in black and red.

And Jeremy could tell Jean was just as hungry for him. He felt it, in the way his eyes followed Jeremy around a room, the way his hand would always drop possessively over Jeremy’s thigh when they were sitting side by side, the way he would cradle Jeremy’s face and kiss him like he was someone special, something important, like Jeremy was vital to his existence.

“Can…” Jeremy took a deep breath and made himself vocalize what he wanted, like Dr. Halston told him he needed to try and do. Because he would go crazy if he kept all his thoughts and worries buried inside him. “I want us to be exclusive.”

At Jean’s confused frown, he took in a deep breath and explained, “I want us to be boyfriends, just the two of us, no one else.”

The idea of sharing Jean, of watching him be with someone else the way he was with Jeremy, was so sickening Jeremy couldn’t let himself linger on the thought for longer than a second.

Jean tucked a strand of hair behind Jeremy’s ear and smiled when the curl just bounced back to his forehead. “I don’t want anyone else Jeremy; I just want you.”

Jeremy hated that his immediate thought was: You’re saying that, but it’s just for now. It’s always just for now.

But when had Jean ever given Jeremy a single reason to doubt him?

“I deserve to be happy,” he had finally said to Dr. Halston last week, and he thought he actually meant it most of the time. Didn’t he deserve to let himself try, at least? How many people were lucky enough to have a man as wonderful as Jean Moreau wanting them? Jeremy wouldn’t let this go. He couldn’t. He would try.

If it ended, it would be despite Jeremy doing everything he possibly could to hold on.

“Jeremy, mon cœur, what are you thinking?” Jean gently cupped his chin to tilt his face forward until he could see his eyes. “Whatever it is, stop this instant,” he ordered, as if it was really as simple as that.

Jeremy laughed and let Jean kiss the insecurities out of him. This man would be the death of him, but Jeremy would happily drown, if it meant Jean was his, even if it was just for now.

The Trojans loved celebrating wins at bars near campus, and Jeremy should have known that meant he would run into one of his past hookups in the wild sooner or later.

But this hookup was undoubtably the worst of the lot. Luke Jones was known to become a little hard of hearing when you told him ‘no’. Jeremy had only gone to him when he was at his lowest, and he still felt a little nauseous when he remembered their past encounters.

So, when he came at Jeremy as he was walking back from the bathroom, Jeremy was startled enough to let himself get cornered. He ducked out of the way when Luke bent down to kiss him.

“Come on Knox,” he smiled a sleazy smile, “don’t be like that.”

“I’m not interested,” Jeremy said firmly, aching to be back in Jean’s arms. “Let me go, Jones.”

Luke pressed his body against Jeremy’s, and Jeremy almost choked on the intensity of his cologne. He tried to free his hand from Luke’s iron-tight grip without making too much of a scene, as terror began to pool in his stomach. Jean…what if Jean saw? What if he misunderstood?

“Stop it,” Jeremy snapped, “this isn’t funny. Let go.”

Then Luke was suddenly off him. Jeremy only caught a glimpse of murderous grey eyes, before Luke was slammed into the wall by his throat.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Luke struggled, but Jean pinned him in place with one hand.

“I’m curious,” Jean growled, his voice cold and dangerous, “What do you think you were just doing to my boyfriend?”

Jeremy’s heart shouldn’t be fluttering at hearing the word 'boyfriend' out loud from Jean’s mouth for the first time. His mouth definitely shouldn't be watering at the veins throbbing on the arm he was using to keep Luke in place. He tried to remind himself that this was really not the time for his dick to start acting up.

“Hey, sorry man, I didn’t know he was taken,” Luke laughed nervously, still wriggling in an attempt to get free.

“Is that so?” Jean asked, his face the picture of fury, “Did he tell you he wanted it?”

“I didn’t want it,” Jeremy whispered, absolutely petrified at the idea of losing Jean so soon after finally getting to have him. He clutched onto Jean’s sleeve desperately. “I didn’t want it, Jean. I tried to stop him.”

Jean turned to Jeremy for the first time and saw something on his face that had him gritting his teeth.

“Jean?” Jeremy’s voice wobbled when Jean didn’t reply. But then Jean started to pull out of Jeremy’s grasp, and Jeremy couldn’t let him get away. What if he never looked back at Jeremy again? What if he saw the trash Jeremy had let touch him before, and finally realized he was too pure to be held by Jeremy's undeserving hands?

“Don’t leave,” he clutched onto Jean’s jacket like he would die if he let go. “Please Jean, I’m sorry, I…I…”

Jean’s head whipped back to him and his eyes widened in shock when he saw the tears beginning to pool in Jeremy’s eyes. Then he tossed Luke down onto the floor in one swift movement, like he was nothing more than a piece of trash, not even watching to see where he landed before he turned and cupped Jeremy’s cheek. “I know you didn’t want it. I’m not leaving you, Jeremy. I’m not going anywhere. I will commit homicide and come right back to you.”

He said it all so solemnly Jeremy couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh. He wrapped his arms around Jean’s neck and immediately felt more centered once he was surrounded by Jean’s familiar smell. “Can we just go home, baby?”

Jean held Jeremy tight to his chest with one hand and turned them around so he could send one final glower in a now trembling Luke’s direction.

“If you ever come near him again,” Jean spat viciously, “they won’t find any pieces of you to bury. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Luke squeaked, before he stumbled to his feet and fled towards the door.

Jean took Jeremy’s face in his hands again, and his eyes swept him for injuries. “Are you okay, mon cœur? Did he hurt you anywhere?”

Jeremy shook his head, leaning further into Jean’s touch and letting his eyelids flutter shut. “I’m not hurt, just grossed out to be honest.”

“Hmm,” was all Jean said in reply.

Jeremy opened his eyes and squinted at his boyfriend. “Are you pouting?” he asked skeptically.

Jean turned his glare on Jeremy. “I do not pout,” he said, but he followed it up with a sulky little, “You smell like him.”

“Let’s go home and I’ll burn this shirt,” Jeremy promised, holding out his hand.

Jean sighed and took his hand. He reached down to kiss Jeremy’s forehead but then wrinkled his nose and stepped away with a muttered, “Repulsive odor.”  

Yeah, he was definitely pouting.

Jeremy had to hide his smile as they left the bar together.

Jeremy was giving it his all to distract Jean as he worked on his accounting assignment on their bed by strutting around their room in tiny shorts like a peacock, until Jean got the message and finally tossed his textbook away, pulling Jeremy down and pinned him to their bed.

Jeremy’s mouth went dry at the ravenous look on Jean’s face.

“You are such a shameless man,” Jean muttered against his skin, and Jeremy let out a little gasp when Jean’s teeth grazed his bottom lip before his lips travelled down to his jaw, sending a red hot bold of desire straight to his groin.

“You like it,” he gasped out, and Jean just hummed into his neck in response.

They’d kissed and gotten each other off with their hands and their dicks, and Jeremy was content leaving the pace of their relationship entirely up to Jean. He was more than happy with anything Jean was willing to give him.

Still, when Jean bent down until their foreheads were touching, and asked, “Can I give you a blowjob?”, Jeremy could not have been more taken aback.

He blinked, because surely, he’d heard that wrong. “I can do it,” he offered.

Jean scowled at him like he’d said something unforgivably stupid. “I didn’t ask you to do it, I asked if I could do it to you.”

“O…oh?” Jeremy couldn’t remember the last time a hookup had offered to blow him. Jean’s not a hookup, he had to remind himself, stop holding him to their standards. He actually wants you. He actually cares about you.

“No?” Jean guessed at Jeremy’s continued silence.

“Yes,” he blurted out before he could help himself, and then narrowly stopped himself from adding ‘if you don’t mind’.

Jean kissed his forehead and shifted off Jeremy’s chest with a nod. “You can touch my hair but no pulling,” he said, as he planted his thighs on either side of Jeremy’s torso.

Jeremy bit his lip, “Jean, are you sure—”

“I would not ask if I did not want to, Jeremy,” Jean said impatiently, “Now, lie back, be quiet and don’t move.”

The concept was so foreign to Jeremy that he had to lift his head up to see what his boyfriend was doing. Jean tucked one large hand against his waistband and pulled his shorts and briefs down in one smooth movement.

Oh. Oh, my boyfriend is so hot. Jeremy felt dizzy as the cool air hit his naked skin.

But Jean didn’t go where Jeremy expected him to go. Instead, he said, “Up” and pulled Jeremy’s tank top off as well, leaving him entirely nude.

“Can I touch you everywhere?” Jean asked, his voice huskier than Jeremy had ever heard it.

It took Jeremy a moment to find his voice. “Yes,” he whispered, “you can touch me—oh.”

Jeremy’s head fell back as Jean gently licked his collarbone. He then continued his exploration, to Jeremy’s nape, his nipples, down his abs. Jeremy couldn’t help but cry out when Jean sucked on the sensitive underside of his thigh. He could feel his legs tremble on either side of Jean’s shoulders.

“Jean,” he begged, “Jean, please.”

“You have such beautiful legs, mon cher,” Jean said, completely ignoring his plea and sucking a twin hickey onto his other thigh. His dick gave a desperate twitch, but Jean swatted his hand away when he instinctually reached for it.

“I told you not to move.”

“But—” Jeremy gasped when Jean licked up his shaft and curled a firm hand around the base of his cock, squeezing gently.

“Baby,” he moaned, “baby, baby, I need you so bad, please, please…Jean…”

Mercifully, Jean finally put his mouth on Jeremy’s dick, but only to suck the precum off the tip. Jeremy cried out in frustration when he took his mouth away again, leaving him feeling cold and hollow.

Jean looked up at Jeremy’s no doubt flushed and frustrated face and reached up to press a toe-curling kiss against his lips. Jeremy would fully sink into the feeling of Jean’s body pressed to his if he wasn’t so unbearably horny. He couldn’t remember ever being this worked up, and he let out a whimper when Jean left his lips to press kisses down the side of his face, and then gently sucked on his neck. Jeremy couldn’t help but shiver at the wet glide of Jean’s tongue against his overheated skin.

“You’re,” he gasped, “the worst.”

He could feel Jean laugh against him, the devil.

Jean’s hands caressed his shoulders and went downwards, exploring the curve of his hips.

“Such pretty hips,” Jean hummed.

“I have a pretty cock too,” Jeremy tried desperately.

Jean chuckled, and he was rewarded with another quick, searing kiss, before Jean bent back down and kissed his hipbone.

“There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t beautiful, my love,” he said, looking up at Jeremy with adoration in his hungry grey eyes.

 Before Jeremy fully had the time to absorb that statement, Jean continued his perusal of Jeremy’s body, kissing his way down to Jeremy’s pelvis, licking and sucking as he went, until he was so close to where Jeremy needed him to be, Jeremy thought he might go insane with need.

“Jean,” Jeremy begged, and the word came out a sob.

His boyfriend finally took pity on him and moved, and finally, finally, took Jeremy’s dick in his mouth.

He took half of Jeremy down his throat and then sucked hard with his lips. Jeremy’s brain turned to mush, and his eyes fell shut, as pleasure shot through every nerve ending in his body. Jean had said it was okay to touch his hair, but Jeremy didn’t trust himself not to pull, not when he was already so far gone. So, he gripped the sheets with desperate hands and tried not to lose consciousness as his boyfriend took him further down his throat, until all Jeremy knew was warmth and pleasure and Jean.

“Jean,” his voice was barely there, barely holding on as Jean pulled off and kissed the underside of his cock, sucking on the sensitive skin underneath, “I’m so close…I’m almost there…please…please…baby…. love…please…”

Jean kissed his way back up Jeremy’s dick, ignoring the way the soft brushes of his lips had Jeremy twitching with overstimulation. He kissed Jeremy’s leaking tip, and then swallowed him back down, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking Jeremy so hard he finally detonated. His release rushed through his body like an avalanche, and he didn’t understand or later recall half the words coming out of his mouth as his head spun and he came and came and came.

Jean popped off his mouth and crawled back up to him to wrap his arms around Jeremy. He tucked Jeremy’s head into his neck and held him through his orgasm.

When Jeremy finally came back to himself, there were tears trickling down his cheeks. Jean kissed them off with a furrow on his brow.

“Did I go too far?” he asked, cupping Jeremy’s cheeks in concern. “I’m sorry, Jeremy.”

“Jean, darling,” Jeremy’s throat felt raw, so he must have been screaming at some point. “I think I just ascended to heaven.”

Jean’s face softened again, and pecked his lips, rolling them until Jeremy lay on top of him. “I would not be surprised if you did, mon ange.”

“Stop it,” Jeremy muttered as his cheeks flushed hot. “I can’t…God, Jean, what was that?” Calling it an orgasm would be a disservice, when Jeremy was more than sure this was an experience unique to his beautiful grey eyed backliner. He was just as sure it had efficiently ruined him for anybody else’s touch.

Jean quirked his lips, looking more than a little smug. “The French call it le petite mort.”

Jeremy pressed his sweaty forehead to Jean’s shoulder, feeling exhausted and sated beyond belief. “Sure feels like I died a little.”

The rumble of Jean’s laughter made him finally realize that Jean was still fully clothed under him.

Jeremy shifted up to look at him, “What about you? I can—”

Jean kissed the words out of his mouth. “Some other time.”

“But—”

“Later, yes?” Jean insisted gently, “Today was just about you.”

Jeremy’s throat went dry, but he managed to make himself nod.

When would this man stop surprising him? Jeremy had grown up dreaming of princes and dashing knights, but the reality of Jean left all those dreams in the dirt. He was a miracle. Jeremy’s miracle.

“I’m never letting go of you, Jean-Yves Moreau,” he whispered, and it was a promise, an oath, as he pulled a smiling Jean back up for another kiss.

He knew without a shadow of a doubt that there would never be anyone in the world who would treat him with the tenderness and affection Jean showed him, and Jeremy was just as certain that his heart would never beat for any other man ever again.

“I will be gone this weekend,” Jean suddenly announced over breakfast one morning.

Jeremy almost spilled his cup of coffee all over his lap.

“Where are you going?” Cat inquired, keeping her tone light even as her eyes bugged, "Somewhere fun?"

“Seattle,” Jean muttered, before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Um,” Laila said as the three of them followed him out of the room immediately, “We’re going to need more information than that, big guy.”

Jean hunched his shoulders into himself. “The date for my parents’ trial has been set. It is next weekend. Therefore, I must go to Seattle next weekend.”

“Oh,” Jeremy whispered, as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jean from behind, pressing his cheek to Jean's back. “Do you have to go?”

Jean was far too stiff under his arms for his liking. “Yes, that was the whole point,” Jean reminded him, “I am their main witness.”

Of course. Jeremy hadn’t forgotten but…as long as the trial was just some day in the distant future, he could put it out of his mind. But now Jean was being forced to face his parents in a matter of days, and Jeremy just knew he couldn’t let Jean go through that alone.

“Can I come with you?” He asked.

Jean turned in Jeremy's arms and cocked his head in confusion. “It is a closed trial. Only Neil and I will be let in.”

“But can I wait outside?” Jeremy insisted.

Jean looked even more confused, and clearly this was something he hadn't thought to ask about. “I do not know.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said lightly, “Otherwise I can wait in the hotel. I’d rather be in the building though.”

In that moment, Jean looked so young and scared, and Jeremy’s heart broke, because it was so easy to forget that Jean was barely 20. He thought of how he spent his sophomore year picking himself up after his disastrous freshman year, and that just made him even more determined to protect Jean in any way he could.

“Will you really come?” Jean asked, sounding disbelieving, like there was anything Jeremy wouldn't do for him.

“You can’t stop me.” Jeremy promised, pulling Jean closer.

Jean nodded, but his eyes were still glazed over, like two orbs of cloudy glass.

“Hey,” Jeremy whispered, “look at me.”

Jean blinked, and some of the life returned to his face. "I am looking."

Jeremy smiled and squeezed him tight. "There you are. I need you to listen to what I say, okay?"

There was still a small frown on his face as he nodded.

Jeremy would do anything to banish the uncertainty in Jean’s beautiful grey eyes. “Two months ago, you promised you would hold me up until I could get myself together again. And you did. So let me hold you up now.”

Jean's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. He didn’t say anything, but Jeremy saw his gratitude in his eyes. He nudged Jean down towards him and pressed his lips to his forehead, and finally felt Jean relax in his arms.

Jeremy knew this weekend would hurt, but hopefully he could shoulder even a fraction of Jean's pain and remind him he wasn't alone as he was made to revisit his trauma once again.

What Jeremy didn't expect was to spend the trial sitting on a bench outside the courtroom with Andrew Minyard.

“You came with Neil this time,” Jeremy said, after they sat in silence long enough to make him itchy with discomfort.

“I’m not letting that junkie out of my sight after the stunt he pulled the last time he was alone,” Andrew grumbled, crushing a lollipop violently between his teeth. Jeremy had been periodically eyeing the growing mountain of candy wrappers in the space between them but felt it wise not to comment on them.

Jeremy nodded. “You mean how he and Jean met with the FBI?”

Andrew turned and squinted at him like he was trying to figure out if Jeremy was messing with him. At Jeremy’s confused blink, he said, unconvincingly, “Sure…”

Jeremy would have to remember to ask Jean about it later.

Jeremy saw how twitchy Andrew was being and recognized the symptoms for what they were. “I think I saw a smoking room to the left when we entered.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Your boy isn’t the type to brag, then.”

Jeremy was going to ask what that meant, and why he kept talking in riddles, when they were interrupted by a loud bang.

The door swung open, and Jean sprinted out, Neil close at his heels. Jeremy didn't have to check his watch to know there was no chance the trial had ended this early, so by the time he’d recovered enough to get off the wooden bench, the bathroom door had already slammed shut behind their retreating forms. Andrew raised an eyebrow but followed Jeremy as he rushed to get to Jean.

He opened the door to sounds of retching.

Neil banged on a closed cubicle. “Jean! Come on.”

Jeremy almost shoved him away in his haste to get to Jean. He put a hand against the door and said, “Jean? It's me. Let me in.”

When he was only met with silence, he knocked against the door with his fist. “Please, baby, let me in. I’m not leaving, I’ll stay here all day if I have to.”

“I’m going to go get him a first aid kit and ice for his wrist,” Neil muttered under his breath, and he left before Jeremy had a chance to ask what the first aid kit was for.

“It’s just us, Jean,” he said, not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice, especially when he heard the uneven cadence of Jean's breathing, “Darling, please, just let me in. We don’t have to talk, we don’t have to do anything, just let me be there for you.”

The silence that followed sent a bolt of pain through his chest, but then there was a distinct sound of a lock clicking open. Jeremy wasted no time squeezing himself through the small gap in the stall door, and his face fell when he saw the state Jean was in. 

He crouched down, taking in the haunted look in his eyes, and the tears trailing down his cheeks, the way he'd bitten his lip raw. "Jean," he breathed, "Oh, Jean."

Jeremy took Jean’s hand in his and let out an anguished sound when he saw the red bruises circling his wrist.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Jean said thickly, with his head still hanging over the toilet bowl.

Jeremy shouldn't be surprised that Jean would still be trying to comfort Jeremy, even at a time like this. Jeremy inched over till Jean’s back was flush against his front, and wrapped an arm around Jean’s waist, using his other hand to stroke his hair back from his clammy forehead. He was content leaving them in silence, waiting for Jean to speak when he felt ready to, and just being there for him if he chose not to.

“How much more?” Jean whispered, as he slumped back against Jeremy. Jeremy took his weight and held him tight, waiting because he knew this was something Jean had to get off his chest.

“How much more must I endure?” Jean choked, and Jeremy could see the vicious bloody moons he’d carved into the tender flesh at his wrists. “How much more Jeremy? When will it end?”

“Hey,” Jeremy breathed, “Jean, sweetheart, look at me. I have you. I’m here, Jean. You’re not alone.”

Jean shifted, and then his hand fisted the front of Jeremy’s shirt. “Jeremy,” he croaked, before his voice cracked on a sob so painful Jeremy felt it shatter his own heart.

“What can I do?” he begged desperately against Jean’s forehead. “How can I help you?”

"Carve my heart out of my chest," Jean sobbed, "Or take me back in time, so I can save her. Why couldn't I save her? Why...why couldn't it have been me? I wish it was me."

"Hey," Jeremy tucked Jean's head into his chest. "Don't talk like that, don't ever say that. She didn't deserve any of it, but you taking her place wouldn't have made things better. Do you think she would have wanted that for you? You're so precious to us, Jean, I'm sure you were precious to her too."

Jean rested the side of his head against Jeremy’s chest, right over his heart. "No," he whispered, "No. But...will this heartache never end? How can you bear it, Jeremy? This guilt, how can you bear it?"

Jeremy took in a long, ragged breath. "I didn't bear it for a long time, you know I didn't. It took me a long time and a lot of therapy to admit it to myself but I... I tried. I did whatever I could to help him. He always said I was his favorite brother, and I tried so hard to be there for him. But...I was a child too...I was a child, and I made a mistake. I wasn't a medical professional, I didn't know what else I could do. I... I did my best. It wasn't enough, but I did my best."

He would never have been able to predict that one day he'd be sitting on the floor of a court bathroom, spilling his most intimate thoughts and crying into his boyfriend's hair, but here they were.

"You did your best too," he said through his tears, "You were only fourteen. You thought you were protecting her. You trusted your parents to protect her. You were a child, Jean. You were a child."

Jean shuddered in his arms. "They…they were supposed to love her. They…why couldn’t they just love her? She was made to be loved. If they couldn't love her, what hope was there for me?”

“You were made to be loved,” Jeremy insisted, knowing he had never meant anything more, “They should have loved you both. They should have cherished you, like parents are supposed to. Like you deserved.” Like we deserved. Why couldn't they just love us?

"I couldn't forgive myself for so long, so I tried and tried to get my family to forgive me instead," Jeremy went on, "But the truth is they will never forgive me, not when it's so much easier for them to live their lives pretending I was the sole one to blame. Noah...I loved Noah so much. And... I think he knew that. I think he died knowing how much I loved him, and I think that's all I can ask."

Jean looked at him, with soft sympathy in his eyes. "When I was young," he whispered, "there was this song. A lullaby, I would sing it to her every night. She could not sleep if I didn't. At the Nest, it haunted me, was she sleeping? Did she learn to sleep without it? Or was she still awake, waiting till she heard the song once again? It is how I told her I loved her. Every night, I loved her."

"Sing it to me?" Jeremy asked, stroking Jean's hair, "If you can?"

Jean nodded against Jeremy's neck. His voice wobbled, and the words came out choked with tears, but Jean began to sing, and the world fell away. Jeremy closed his eyes, and let himself get lost in the words, how they spilled out of Jean's mouth like honey.

Jean sang through the entire lullaby, and Jeremy was eventually able to translate enough to recognize every stanza ended with the same two lines.

Il ya a longtemps que je t'aime. Jamais je me t'oublierai.

I have loved you for a long time. I will never forget you.

He remembered a freckled, sun-tanned face, unruly brown hair, and a grin that was crooked in the most endearing way. He thought everything his brother had been, and everything he could have become.

I love you. I love you. I love you, he thought as Jean finally collapsed against him. He didn't know if he was speaking to Noah, or Jean, or even Elodie, he just knew it to be true.

“Let’s get out of here, hmm?” He waited for Jean's nod and pulled the two of them up off the linoleum floor.

Jeremy was surprised to find Neil and Andrew still waiting outside on the bench. Neither commented on their wrecked appearances, though it was impossible to miss that they had been crying. Neil just handed Jeremy a first aid kit and a slightly melted ice pack, before he turned to Jean and said, “We’ll talk. But not today.”

“Neil,” Jean said, making the redhead turn his way again, “Thank you.”

Neil’s lips quirked. “Don’t go getting soft on me Moreau.”

Jean managed a tired scowl. “Insolent pest.”

“That’s more like it,” Neil smirked, before he turned with a final wave, and walked out with his goalkeeper in tow.

Jeremy didn’t think he’d ever fully understand this friendship. But he thought that was okay, because anyone who saw the two of them could tell they cared about each other in their own strange way.

“Let’s go home,” Jeremy said, grateful beyond belief that they’d booked their tickets for the afternoon only a few hours from now, instead of waiting till the next morning.

Back in their hotel room, Jeremy gently cleaned the nail marks on Jean’s arms as Jean held the ice pack to his swelling wrist.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Jeremy asked hesitantly, “It's okay if you don't.”

“I know,” Jean said, staring down at his wrist. Jeremy took his hand and squeezed in support.

“Seeing my parents again was hard,” Jean began, “Maybe it was shortsighted of me, but I expected them to show some remorse, if not because they actually felt it, but because they wanted the court to give them more lenient sentences. But they didn’t, they doubled down. Everything they did was for their family’s survival, they said, like they didn’t send their only two children off to die.” He gestured at the ice pack, “My father couldn’t handle his own flesh and blood speaking up against him. I’m not sure what he was trying to accomplish by trying to twist my hand off in front of the entire court, but I suspect he just wanted me to know he still had the power to hurt me.”

Jeremy shifted a little closer, until their foreheads were almost touching, and took Jean’s other hand as well. Jean sent him a tired, fond smile. “He should have never gotten close enough to touch you,” Jeremy said angrily, “They should have kept him away from you.”

“I hadn’t seen them in five years,” Jean's voice was sad, “I suppose I forgot how frightened I was of them as a child. And how…how angry I am at them. But I will never see them again. They are not my family."

Jean dropped his head onto Jeremy’s shoulder, and continued, “My family is who I choose. You and Cat and Laila have taught me that. You are my family.”

“Family,” Jeremy agreed, and the word felt sweet on his tongue. Jean looked up at him, and his gentle eyes swept down Jeremy’s face.

“What?” Jeremy asked, feeling a flush rise up his cheeks at Jean’s careful perusal.

“Je ne peux pas imaginer ma vie sans toi,” Jean said, with a gentle hand cupping Jeremy’s cheek. Jeremy’s brain short circuited at the tender way the words had been delivered, and he had to get himself together enough to ask, “Uh, say that again? Slower?”

Jean smiled, and it was like the sun rising out of a cloudy sky. “I said, I cannot imagine my life without you, Jeremy. And I do not want to.”

Jeremy's heart was in constant danger with this man around. His man.

He held onto Jean’s face and kissed him slowly. “I want to be with you forever, darling.”

“Pour toujours,” Jean said, in awe, “Mon éternité.”

And with Jean in his arms and the word forever ringing in his head, even the devils on Jeremy’s shoulder couldn’t take this moment away from him.

By the time they reached the Lofts, it was past 9pm. The girls had taken Jab with them to grab dinner at a dog friendly café, so they were met with a quiet, empty apartment.

Jeremy tugged Jean until he almost fell onto his lap on the couch.

“I am heavy,” Jean warned, already trying to wiggle away. Jeremy didn’t let him. “You’re not too heavy for me.”

Jean stilled, and then he shifted till he was facing Jeremy, with his knees tucked over Jeremy’s lap.

“Hello.” He mumbled, before he tucked his head under Jeremy’s chin and went boneless in his arms.

“Hi baby,” Jeremy pressed a kiss to the side of Jean’s hair, “Tired?”

“Mhmm,” Jean hummed, nuzzling Jeremy’s neck.

Jeremy hadn’t expected Jean to be just as clingy and cuddly as Jeremy was, and nothing delighted him more than having Jean pressed against his chest and feeling the comforting warmth of his breath on his neck.

“Jeremy?” Jean mumbled, already half asleep.

“Yes baby?” Jeremy asked, his heart unbearably fond.

“I love you,” Jean said, “Il ya a longtemps que je t'aime."

It was so matter of fact, like he wasn’t saying the words Jeremy had longed to hear so desperately since longer than he could remember. Jeremy’s breath faltered.

“W-what?” he whispered, but Jean had already fallen asleep with an ear pressed to Jeremy’s chest, nodding off to the sound of his heartbeat. Jeremy looked at Jean’s face, even more angelic in sleep, and had to close his eyes to curb the flood of elated tears.

“I love you too,” Jeremy said, pressing his nose to Jean’s hair and breathing him in, “I love you so much I don’t know if there are words enough to express it. But I’ll show you, I’ll show you every day, so you know how much you’re loved.”

Jean shifted, and then his lips twitched, and he blinked open an eye.

“Hey!” Jeremy muttered indignantly at the deceit, but he was quickly shushed by his sleepy boyfriend.

“I’m trying to sleep,” Jean said primly, “Do stop talking, mon amour.”

“Nuisance,” Jeremy laughed, even as his cheeks heated at the new moniker.

“You still love me,” Jean said with a smirk.

“I still love you,” Jeremy agreed, wondering how it was possible to be this happy.

By the time Laila and Cat came home, Jean had fallen asleep on Jeremy, and Jeremy was close to dozing off himself.

Reluctantly, he nudged Jean awake and led him back to their bedroom, where they curled back into each other’s arms and fell asleep with the word love hanging between them like the warmest blanket.

Jeremy had to rise earlier than the sun to meet his lawyer on Monday morning, and he dragged his extremely grumpy boyfriend into the shower with him. He would never keep Jean under the water spray for longer than necessary, but that didn’t stop him from dragging him back to their bedroom and properly waking him up afterwards.

“You’ll be late,” Jean muttered against his lips, but he was also desperately holding onto the back of Jeremy’s head, so he didn’t think Jean actually wanted him to go anywhere.

By now, Jeremy had become as familiar with Jean’s body as he was his own. He didn’t have time to do all the things he really wanted to do to Jean, but Jeremy did take his time to finger Jean open until he came apart beneath him with Jeremy’s name on his lips.

“My beautiful menace,” Jean whispered into his mouth as he climbed on top of him and ground into him until the friction had Jeremy desperately clawing at Jean’s back. “Mine.”

Mine, mine, mine, Jeremy heard the claiming echo in his bones. He was Jean’s in every way he could possibly be, in any way Jean wanted him. And Jean was his.

“Mine,” Jeremy whimpered, as tears rushed to his eyes, and he was rewarded with another searing kiss. A few pumps from Jean’s hand had Jeremy coming all over their sheets.

Jean sighed, eyeing the sticky mess between their bodies. “You couldn’t have done this before we showered?”

Jeremy shrugged, unrepentant, and pulled him back down for another kiss.

Needless to say, he was late to his meeting.

His mother had been suspiciously quiet, and the only family member that had grudgingly reached out to him after he’d left home was Annalise. They discussed logistics, and his lawyer promised to nudge his mother about handing over his documents once again, and then Jeremy rushed to campus for morning practice.

“Hi love,” Jeremy brightened at the sight of Jean even when they’d only been separated for an hour. It was second nature by now to reach up and press a kiss to Jean’s cheek, and he only realized what he'd done when the locker room hushed around them.

They had agreed to keep their relationship a secret from the rest of the team for now. How could he forget? Why had he—

Jean brushed a kiss to the top of his head, immediately diffusing the tension in his body. “Good morning, my captain,” he said with a pleased twinkle in his eye.

Jeremy wordlessly tilted his head in question, and Jean pressed their lips together in a perfectly warm, chaste kiss.

Jeremy ignored the ruckus in the locker room behind him, unable to look away from the small smile on Jean’s face as he brushed their noses together.

Jean loved holding his hand in public. He would tell anyone who asked that he was Jeremy's boyfriend. Jeremy wasn't a shameful secret, and he never would be one again.

He was still in cloud nine when he arrived back at the Lofts after his one class of the day had ended, but he froze in his tracks when he saw his stepfather’s car parked outside their building. He sprinted up the stairs with his heart pounding out his throat, and only found a furious Laila pacing the kitchen, with Cat leaning on the wall behind her.

“They’re in the study,” Cat said, biting her lip, “It’s been ten minutes.”

Jeremy stared at the closed door.

He wouldn’t, Jeremy told himself even as anxiety clogged his throat, Jean would never. Not my Jean.

The door swung open, and a red-faced Warren stormed out. Jean followed him, his face carved of granite.

“You’ll regret this,” his stepfather blustered.

“Stay out of our lives,” Jean said, his voice so deadly it had Warren taking a step back, “Or you won’t recognize yourself when I’m through with you. This is my first and last warning to you, Warren Wilshire. You don’t scare me, and neither does your family.”

His stepfather came to a stop in front of him and shoved a folder into his hands. “Your precious documents,” he sneered, “Live your life as a faggot with this gangster for all I care. But you’re not welcome back in my house.”

Jean was across the room in a flash, and the next thing he knew, Warren was crumpled on the floor, clutching his nose and howling in pain. Jean walked up to his prone form and put one foot on his stomach to keep him down. Warren wheezed as the air constricted in his lungs as Jean dug his heel in.

“I thought I sufficiently warned you,” he said in a dangerously quiet voice, “But maybe you require more convincing.”

He pulled Warren roughly back up to his feet and then leaned in to whisper something under his breath that had his stepfather’s face turning pale. Jean flung him towards the door.

“Get out and never come back here again. You are not welcome in my house,” he said, and Warren left without another backward glance.

Jean’s eyes flicked back to Jeremy, and his entire body softened. “Come here, mon amour.”

Jeremy felt dazed as he stumbled into Jean’s arms. “Jeremy, what is that face for?” Jean tucked a hand into his hair and pressed a kiss into his forehead, and Jeremy melted into his arms, shaking with relief.

“What did you say to him?” Cat asked, looking delighted beyond belief.

Jean shrugged, running his hand up and down Jeremy’s back in comforting motions. “I might have insinuated I would send the mob after him if he spoke to any of us again. What an odious man.”

Laila choked on a hysterical laugh.

“The nerve of him,” Jean continued, grumbling like a bear against Jeremy’s chest, “insinuating there was anything in this world I would give up Jeremy for.”

Oh.

That was the moment Jeremy Alan Knox finally really believed.

Forever. This was his forever. He got to have this, this happiness, this love, this boy, forever.