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The first time Jeremy realized that something was wrong was during practice. Coach gave them their instructions, Jeremy made sure everyone was where they needed to be. He specifically paid attention to their newest recruit, Jean Moreau. They had been rooming together since June, but Jean barely spoke. It was hard to get to know a guy when he gave you nothing about himself. Jeremy knew the basics, of course, and some stuff he’d heard from Kevin, but for the rest, he started watching Jean’s actions to gain more knowledge on who he was as a person.
As Jeremy expected, Jean was flawless during practice, even with his newly healed injuries. He passed the ball when he needed to, he knew where to stand, he had his footwork down to a T. Which is why when Jean first slipped up, Jeremy analyzed everything, watching for what could have possibly happened. Jean made to swing at the goal, but halfway through his throw, his racquet dropped to the floor, the ball bouncing off the wall instead. Jeremy watched as Jean examined his wrist. It looked like he’d dislocated it.
Before Jeremy could even blink, Jean simply popped it back into place. He twisted it around a bit before picking his racquet back up as if nothing happened. Jeremy’s steps stuttered in the middle of the court. Jean didn’t even flinch. Jeremy started up again, but Coach beat him to it. When Jean saw him coming up, he did flinch.
“I’m fine,” Jean said quietly. Coach didn’t look too sure. When Jeremy finally reached them, Jean turned to him and whispered in panicked French. “Tell him I’m alright.”
After holding Jean’s gaze for a second too long, he faced their coach, telling him everything was fine and that they could keep playing. And Jeremy really did believe Jean when he said he was fine, he just didn’t understand how he was fine.
Jeremy pushed the thought from his mind for the time being, and continued on with practice.
~
The second time something like that happened, wasn’t at practice, but in the dorm the two of them shared. In the past few months, Jean had begun to open up a bit more, at least to Jeremy. He talked more, smiled more. Jeremy even managed to get a laugh out of him once. He swore it was the best thing he’d ever heard.
So, there they were, on a Saturday evening. Neither of them felt like going out with the rest of the team, so they stayed in. To Jeremy’s surprise, Jean offered to cook them some crepes for dinner.
“I bought the ingredients when we went shopping yesterday. I haven’t made them in a long time,” he said.
And so they made crepes.
Or, more accurately, Jean made crepes. Jeremy sat on the countertop while Jean mixed everything up. He grabbed a ladle and passed it over when asked, but that was the extent of his contribution. Jean poured out the batter for the first crepe. It sizzled as it hit the hot pan. Jeremy was about to offer up a spatula, but before the words could even come out of his mouth, Jean placed his fingers on the hot pan and carefully picked the crepe up to flip it.
He looked over at Jeremy once the crepe was safely back in the pan. “I know you’re supposed to throw it up to flip it,” he started. “But I’m not that skilled just yet.”
Jeremy shook his head. “No, that’s— I mean, you just put your hand on a burning pan. Didn’t that hurt?”
Jean looked at his red finger, as if just realizing that he’d burnt them. “Oh,” he said. “I don’t know, not really.”
Then, he went back to making their dinner.
~
The third time it happened was during a game. Their first game against the Raven’s since Jean transferred. Both Coach and Jeremy made it very clear that Jean did not have to play if he wasn’t comfortable with it. There were plenty of other players to take his spot, so it wasn’t an issue.
“I will play,” was all Jean said.
It went okay for a while. Jean seemed to be pushing himself harder than ever, but as hard as Jeremy searched for any sort of panic on his face, he couldn’t find any. He didn’t say anything to the Ravens and the Ravens didn’t say anything to him. That was a win in Jeremy’s book. Though, it was too much to hope that the mutual understanding between the two teams would last for the whole game.
They were all tied up and it was down to the final few minutes. Jean had the ball and a clear shot at the goal. He was about to swing when a Raven slammed him into the plexiglass wall. Jeremy, who was the closest Trojan to Jean at the time, heard the crack as Jean’s shoulder was wrenched out of its socket. He winced and ran to Jean’s side. He was ready to wave the team nurse over, but Jean simply popped his shoulder back into place. He looked over at Jeremy and shook his head.
“Aww, how cute,” the Raven that made the hit said. “You need your little captain to take care of you now, Moreau? Pathetic.”
Anger flared through Jeremy’s whole body. “Pathetic? What’s pathetic is you using way more force than necessary to try and take out a player that your team mistreated.”
“Mistreated,” the Raven scoffed. “There’s a reason you’re only second best in the league. Whatever Moreau got, he deserved.”
“You little—” Jeremy started to lunge, his fist coming up. He’d never punched someone before, but he was sure it wasn’t hard to learn. Before he could make contact, Jean caught him by the wrist, pulling him away just as another Raven did the same thing.
“It’s okay,” Jean said softly.
“It’s not okay. He—”
“Will get what he deserves,” Jean finished for him, glaring at where the Raven was just standing. “Let’s win this thing, shall we?”
Though they did end up winning, the best thing that happened that day was Jeremy getting to feel Jean’s lips against his own.
~
It had been almost a year since Jeremy first picked Jean up at the airport. He couldn’t believe how fast the time went by. It was another one of those days where neither person felt like going out. Jeremy remembered the time Jean made them crepes for dinner. He thought he’d return the favor by showing Jean how to make American pancakes.
Jean helped significantly more than Jeremy did. He measured out the ingredients Jeremy needed and poured them slowly into the bowl while Jeremy mixed. He also stole a kiss or two which was now officially Jeremy’s favorite part of making pancakes. Without thinking, Jeremy left the job of flipping to Jean, completely forgetting about last time. Luckily, Jeremy turned just in time to see Jean reaching for the pancake with his bare hand.
He grabbed onto Jean’s wrist, gently pulling it away from the hot pan. “Just because you can stand the pain, doesn’t mean you have to,” he said softly, then held out the spatula. Slowly, Jean grabbed it. He flipped the pancake, successfully avoiding burning his fingers.
“Better?” Jeremy asked.
Jean smiled, then leaned in for a kiss. “Better.”