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It was well past midnight, although Jean could only tell by the faintly glowing numbers on his alarm clock. The inside of the Nest looked the same all day, every day. A gentle knock on the door. A quick glance confirmed that Zane was dead to the world, snoring away on the opposite bunk. Jean slipped out from under the covers, already dressed in his Raven-issued sweatpants and hoodie (everything he owned was Raven-issued), and crept the short distance to the door, guided by the silent red glow from the alarm clock. He opened the door.
Kevin Day, in all his glory, stood on the other side. He wore the same matching sweatsuit, but the way the fabric draped along his broad shoulders and long legs had Jean's head spinning. Kevin had his left hand propped against the doorframe, casually leaning his weight on it. His fingers tapped a soft rhythm.
"Ready?"
Jean nodded. Kevin nodded again in reply, and set off down the hallway. Jean slipped out of the room and closed the door with a careful patience before breaking into a light jog to catch up with his teammate. He caught up quickly, but kept his distance, always lagging a step behind Kevin.
Past curfew, the harsh overhead LEDs were replaced with emergency lights that only dimly lit the way forward. Jean fixed his gaze slightly upward, focused on the back of Kevin's head. Strands of dark hair shone like silver every four steps.
"How are your legs?" The back of Kevin's head asked.
"Fine," Jean said. In reality, the welts on the back of his thighs still stretched painfully with each step.
"Are you using the cream I gave you?"
"Yes."
"Good."
They passed the empty cafeteria and then the study room and arrived at the door at the end of the hallway, illuminated by a scarlet red EXIT sign. Before Kevin pushed the door open, he turned his face a quarter to his right, so that Jean could admire the angle of his cheekbones, a glimpse of the shell of his ear. Once Kevin had checked that Jean was still following, he pushed open the door. They climbed the stairs up to Castle Evermore in silence.
This was a familiar sight to Jean; beneath him the face of the rubber steps he climbed twice a day, maybe more, and ahead of him, the back of another Raven. Except it was rarely ever Kevin, and so Jean kept his eyes glued to the DAY embroidered on the older boy's back.
They stepped out into the arena. At night, the expanse of seats that surrounded the court seemed to stretch into infinity. What wasn't covered in shadow was only half-lit in a weak orange wash by the emergency striplights that lined the floor.
Kevin led the way, beelining towards the fold-up seats closest to them. Jean sat down next to Kevin, and for a moment the two of them stared out at the empty court—an oasis with a glossy wooden floor.
"I bought this from the campus bookstore. There's a section specifically for French."
From his pocket, Kevin produced a tiny book, barely bigger than the palm of his hand. He passed it to Jean before he pulled out his flip phone and started fiddling with the buttons. Suddenly, a bright light. Jean winced away from it.
"Sorry." Kevin covered the flashlight with a cupped hand. "Will you teach me how to read, too?"
It'd been a couple of years now, since Jean had read anything in French. He wondered if he even could anymore. The few years he'd spent living in America had already taken a toll on his mother tongue, to the point Jean had to scrape his brain for the obscure vocabulary questions Kevin always had for him.
Before Jean could respond, Kevin said, "Ah, désolé. Tu peux m'apprendre à lire?"
The backs of his thighs were sore against the cold metal seat. Despite himself, Jean started to smile. Kevin was a startlingly fast learner. It'd been only a couple of months since they started these secret lessons, Kevin finding him in the quiet hours of the night once, maybe twice a week, and already he was stringing together sentences of his own creation. Kevin's voice took on a different tone in French; it reminded him of caramel, slow and sticky. He spoke with confidence, not dissimilar to the way he held himself on the court. He still struggled with some of the more complex sounds of the language, but the distinctly American-Marseillais accent rolled off his tongue smooth like silk. Jean was the only one who had ever heard it, and he held onto that truth tightly.
"D'accord," Jean said.
Kevin directed the flashlight towards the book. It was a copy of The Little Prince. Jean froze, staring down at the cover.
It was one of Elodie's favourites, and Jean had read it to her so many times that he had multiple passages memorized. Her favourite chapter was the one with the fox, and she made him reenact the scenes in their bedroom. Jean, the golden-haired prince, who returned day after day to Elodie, the little fox hidden in her burrow of blankets. A phantom tug on his pant leg made him jerk away in his seat.
"Jean?"
"I—No, I cannot—this book, I'm sorry—"
Immediately, Kevin snatched the book from Jean's hands and tucked it away.
"Okay, okay, that's fine," Kevin tried to soothe him with no avail. Jean was drifting, lost to a crowded bedroom across the ocean and a baby sister still waiting for him to find her. He grabbed the quilted blanket and threw it aside but his sister was gone. Outside the window, he saw blackberry bushes burning.
"Jean, look at me. Jean." Kevin was ducking over into his space, snapping his fingers to get his attention. "Jean!"
Pulled from his reverie, Jean blinked at Kevin sluggishly. He could smell the smoke from here. The flashlight cast odd shadows across Kevin's face, but he was still frustratingly handsome. Jean blinked again, and he was back in Castle Evermore, dangerously alone with another boy.
"Jean. Are you there?"
Jean nodded, flexing his hands as he felt himself settle back into his physical body. He swallowed, his throat dry.
Kevin nodded, eyes scanning Jean's tired figure and leaned back in his own seat. It wasn't the first time Jean had gone away in his presence. The two of them were left in the ambient silence.
Jean cleared his throat to speak, but his voice came out raspy and quiet. "I am sorry. I do not think I can teach that book to you."
"That's okay, Jean. It's fine," Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Still eager to please, Jean continued. "I am sorry. It is my fault and I can find something else for us—"
"Jean, drop it." Kevin's tone was curt. "We don't need to do this."
A wave of panic started to rise. Was their time together cut short so soon? "What?"
"I don't need to learn how to read," Kevin said, turning to face him. "It's only the two of us, anyways. As long as I understand you, and you understand me, it will be enough. Okay?"
Jean let out a slow breath of relief. "Okay."
Kevin nodded. He turned away again, eyes fixed on the court. "Let's take a break for tonight. Are you ready for tomorrow's game? Your debut."
"Of course I am ready," Jean said. "I have practiced harder than anyone else for this."
Kevin quirked an eyebrow. "Except for me."
"Non. You slacked off last week."
"I was travelling for an interview," Kevin said indignantly. "And I did not slack off, I practiced at like, three different courts abroad."
"A waste of time," Jean said, and he tilted his head to get a glimpse of Kevin's expression.
"It was the exact opposite of a waste of time, Jean," Kevin huffed. He was riled up now; Jean could practically see his fur standing on end. "You'll be doing interviews too, eventually. It's good for your public image! You never listen to me…"
It was entertaining, provoking Kevin. Hearing him rattle on calmed the quaking animal in his chest, and Jean let himself relax into his seat. Kevin talked at him (because if there was anything he loved second to exy, it was talking) and Jean listened. The bedroom in Marseilles was washed further and further away by the sound of Kevin's voice, until he could barely even see it, dipping under the horizon of his mind's eye. They bickered about Jean's technique and gossiped about their teammates until Kevin's phone started buzzing in his pocket.
Time was up. Even as they stood up to leave, threads of their conversation refused to let go, the two of them laughing at Jean's crude impression of Coach Moriyama's face when he'd gotten his water bottle switched with Riko's. They snickered until they reached the stairs back down into the Nest, where they fell back into a comfortable silence. Jean hadn't laughed since the last time Kevin came to visit him almost two weeks ago.
The walk back to Jean's dorm was too short.
"Sleep well, Jean."
"Goodnight, Kevin."
They nodded their goodbyes and Jean lingered by the doorway, listening to the sound of Kevin's fading footsteps.