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Kevin could see Jean’s hand resting on Jeremy’s thigh under the artificially blue water of the hottub. A glint of gold flirting with the translucence of the jet stream, barely there and almost ignorable, if not for the heaviness of the promise it represented.
Kevin had never been able to ignore it. Ignore him.
All those years and all those miles could nothing on him. Everytime Jean reentered his orbit, his gravitational pull got rearranged and the sun got descaled to a minor deity, a nagging force barely effective. The problem was that Kevin tended to forget, to get used to the absence, and then had to face the struggle once again: don’t stare, don’t ask too many questions, don’t let your hugs linger, don’t let yourself be caught. A constant cycle of detox and retox. And Kevin had always struggled with addiction.
Gold reclaimed his attention once again, glimmering and sinuous. Jean had started wearing the necklace recently. It was a gift from Renee and her faith. There was no cross on it, but a little image of Joan of Arc. The chain was thin and square, long enough to let Jean breath, but short enough to not get in the way of his training. If he tried hard enough, Kevin could recall the tinkling sound of Jean moving the little scared image to the back of his neck the moment right before they started running.
Every morning without fault since they got there, Kevin would run the first mile staring at Jean’s back, following the little saint wherever Jean pleased. The medal would dangle at the nape of Jean’s neck, glinting with the early sunrays and the sweat, and, when Kevin got bored of staring at it, he would run up beside Jean and start stealing glances of his profile instead of his back. He saw silver there.
Silver and titanium and everything enduring. Kevin had lost count of how many piercings Jean had gotten in his ears, but he kept track of how many were his gift. He hadn’t liked the idea at first. It was too risky when they played, especially considering Jean’s position as a backliner and the rough plays he got himself into. There were too many things that could go wrong and afford a new injury to Jean. However, Jean had gone on and Kevin had started to appreciate the style.
The first piercing he bought Jean was a little barbell with purple on it, the color of his new professional team. Then he started noticing that Jean never took off his piercings - unlike necklaces or rings - not even for games. He started buying more, always for some special occasion: Jean’s birthday or Christmas or a new championship win. The silver of Jean’s permanent jewelry started matching the silver of his undeletable scars. The one right beside his eyebrow was the only one above his neckline, Kevin knew most of the other scars way too closely. One right at the clavicle, parallel to the bone. He had helped stitching that up and changing the bandages. The ones crisscrossing his ribs, his abdomen and, even lower, on his hips.
Even through the distortion of the water, Kevin could have placed them without hesitation. He could see new marks too, red and blue, not only from injury, but from medical treatments and love. Kevin knew all of the marks above the neckline now were from love and they were everchanging. Temporary in their nature, but permanent in their existence. Kevin never teased Jean about it, never dared getting close to the topic, maybe from fear of making Jean uncomfortable, maybe from fear he wouldn’t be able to stop asking. He felt a kind of irrational curiosity about Jean’s relationship, about this side of him he could never see.
The gold of his chain fell perfectly on the silver of his collarbones, water droplets framing his firm chest and strong bones. Kevin was proud of him, of how much effort he put into his training and in taking care of his body. He had never met someone as resilient as Jean. Someone so stubborn and loyal. To a fault he thought.
His eyes wandered to Jean’s sides, his strong arms, to the medical tape wrapping his shoulder and the red hairband holding back half of his hair. They stopped once again at his neck, staring at Jeremy’s marks and Renee’s chain. He wished there could be something of his there too. Something visible and on the nose, something shiny and full of love, not like those silver piercings only he and Jean knew about.
But they had always been like this: hidden and secret and always together till they were not. Always close, but a millimeter away, feeling each other’s warmth, but not daring to bask in it.
“Come here, Kev.” Words spoken in french. “What do you think about this tape work?”
Jean always found a way to let him bask in it.
Kevin let his eyes travel from the top of Jean’s shoulder, where the tape started, to the side of his neck, almost tangling in his hair, and back down again to his bicep and his pec. Hiding the moles Kevin knew were there and covering the scars he had witnessed in real time. I’m sorry he thought for the millionth time, I’m so sorry .
“Kev.” Soft but firm.
He moved through the water, resting on the other side of his best friend. A title that felt more like dragging the body of a lifeless past than a definition of their present. Best friends who didn’t speak for months, best friends who couldn’t talk about their shared days. Best friends who wished they maybe weren’t. Kevin never got the nerve to ask, so he let himself feast on the scraps.
He reached a hand out, pretending to wash away the little droplets resting on the tape. Following the already traced lines, not daring to touch bare skin. Not yet. He could see Jeremy’s blonde hair on the other side of Jean, calm and relaxed. He never dared ask, he never dared question. He was a master in frugality and a champion in playing with what he was dealt.
“Look here.” Jean took his hand, the left one, the one only he was used to holding. “Do you think I’d need a massage too? Or just a bit of stretching could suffice?” He guided Kevin’s hand up, up and at his neck, straying from the marked track of the tape. “Here.”
Here , Kevin thought. Right under his jaw.
“Let me.” he said, moving to unclasp Renee’s golden chain. Jean let him, holding his long hair up, pretending to help.
The little saint was staring at Kevin, unblinking and light. He fastidiously balled up the necklace in his hand and placed it out of the tub, face down, so that only the engraving of her name was visible.
He turned back to Jean and placed his hands right under his jaw, exactly where they had been put before. He started tracing the natural lines of Jean’s body, going down and down till it met red and blue marks. No gold anymore, just red and blue. He covered the first mark with his thumb, then the second and the third. Now just pale skin and old scars.
He traced the tape back up again, letting his fingers uncover the marks. One, two, three. Still there. He let his eyes strain to Jeremy, to his truthful eyes, to his face and his neck. He found a matching mark there, red and angry and recent. He wondered how recent. He didn’t let himself linger.
His fingers were back on autopilot, applying more pressure and traveling down Jean’s neck, straining his jaw to get more access, applying pressure there. Jean was watching him from the corner of his right eye, face strained up and to the left, but pliant in Kevin’s hands.
“Does it hurt?” Kevin asked. “When you extend your neck?”
Jean tried to shake his head in a no gesture, but the movement was stiff and hurried.
“No.” he cleared his voice.
Kevin nodded and went back to the marks, to the newest one. He pushed and Jean closed his eyes. He moved to the second, pushed again, working on the already there bruise.
“Does it hurt now?”
Jean just let out a shaky breath, eyes still closed.
Kevin moved to the last one, blue and yellow and a testimony of habit. He pushed, massaging the muscles around it, looking at the pale skin there.
“Jean, does it hurt here?”
Jean struggled in his grip once again, eyes open but turned towards Jeremy. He nodded yes.
Kevin let go of his neck, his time was up.
“Then maybe you need more treatment.”
He took the necklace and handed the little saint back to Jean.
Jeremy clasped the chain back on. Safe and protected once again.