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JEAN
Even after forming his so-called support system, getting sunshine as his boyfriend, and attending one year of weekly therapy sessions to improve his quality of life, Jean Moureau's life didn’t appear to become more manageable.
The Exy season of his Senior year was over, forcing him to change his routine from hours of mandatory practice to self-made training. Jean didn’t like Exy, and pushing himself to practice by himself was ten times harder than simply following a given schedule, especially now that he knew that even though Exy was his life, he didn’t have to live for Exy. He had been relying on morning runs and gym visits to keep his stamina in check, and with finals looming in the distance, Jean knew that he had to start studying soon (even though he knew that, as long as he passed, it would be safe to join Jeremy and his team to start his own professional Exy career).
To make matters worse, every Wednesday's therapy session required Jean to open old, infected wounds to allow them to breathe and heal properly. Bones had to break again to set them right, and the monsters he had buried were dug out from their graves, their rotting corpses open for post-mortem investigation. Every session was a battle that left him raw and tender and prone to panic attacks and nightmares.
The process of change gave him a new understanding of his past and a slow acceptance that he was a victim and did not deserve what he went through. That understanding, however, did not change the fact it had all happened. He understood his triggers better, but the flashbacks were still intense, and the involuntary self-harm was happening more often now that Jeremy had graduated and signed with a pro-Exy team. After asking Maureen—Jean’s therapist—and having a short session with her, Cat and Laila had learned how to bring him back from the worst of his attacks, but they were not around as much as Jeremy had been. The guilt and sadness he saw in Jeremy’s eyes every time he saw his neck left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Maureen had called it all PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder.
It was as if naming the shadows and ghosts that haunted him was anything more than a formality, but she and Jeremy claimed that it would be easier to make any progress knowing what exactly he was facing. And so, he had to piece himself back together after every session and spend the following days trying to find his footing, only to repeat the cycle over the next week. He was exhausted, frustrated, and close to a breaking point.
“This whole therapy bullshit is not working,” he told Maureen during one of his sessions. Sitting on a cushioned sofa felt more uncomfortable than usual. The cream-colored walls he knew were intended to give a peaceful feeling were inducing a headache instead.
“What makes you think so?” asked Maureen, her tone being firm but soft and curious.
Jean didn’t deem that question worthy of an answer and chose to stare with what he hoped was an unreadable expression.
After waiting a few seconds, ensuring he would not add anything else, Maureen looked him in the eyes and went straight to the point. “I have been thinking about it and concluded that you would benefit greatly from a service dog.”
Jean scoffed. “Have you been talking to Jeremy lately? Are you in on his plan to get me to agree to his dream canine?”
“Not a pet, Jean. A service dog.” Maureen placed her hands on the table over a white envelope. Her gleaming rings caught the edge of Jean’s vision, and then his attention was back on the therapist as she continued. “These animals are trained to provide aid and comfort to people with physical or psychological needs, like you.”
“Isn't that the point of therapy? The reason I’m doing this?” retorted Jean.
“Part of it, yes. However, as discussed in previous sessions, additional tools might help achieve better results. Look at it this way: The dog would be able to stay with you at all times—under the law, they are considered medical tools and can enter any space regardless of its ‘pets’ policies—, help during panic attacks, and even wake you up from nightmares. Even when Jeremy, Cat, or Laila are unavailable, you would have someone by your side.”
“Jeremy is my partner.”
“I know, and I am not saying this dog would replace him.” Maureen smiled. “As a matter of fact, it would also be good for you as a couple. Jeremy and yourself would get more peace of mind knowing that if you are in a difficult situation, you would have a first level of support.”
Jean was thoughtfully quiet.
“You don’t have to decide anything right now. In fact, you shouldn’t.” She let go of her intertwined fingers, then gently pushed the envelope towards Jean. “There is this NGO in LA, Paws for PTSD, that partners up people with PTSD with dogs. Usually, it’s a service for veterans, but I asked around, and they would gladly include you in their program if you so wish. You can read this first, and we can talk about it next time.”
Jean froze, the ugly beast's anger attempting to claw its way out. “You had no right to tell them anything about me. You promised—” He stood up in one movement and glanced at the door. “I’m done here.”
Maureen stood up after him, making no effort to stop him. The second time he met her, after she had tried to get him to talk about his sister, he had refused to stay. Maureen had wanted to keep him there, and it had triggered him. Since then, he has been free to leave at any time, with the only condition of communicating via text if he would continue the session at a different time.
“You can leave if you want; I will not force you to keep going, as you already know. However, allow me to correct you on the fact that all they know is that I have a patient who I personally diagnosed with PTSD from childhood trauma. They won’t know anything else unless you decide you want to go forward, and even then, I will ask for your consent before giving them the information so they can pair you up with the best dog for your case.”
Jean gave himself a few seconds to breathe and think. He still had some time, but he didn't think he’d be able to handle even a few more minutes in the room. With a silent nod of acknowledgment, he took the envelope from the desk and walked out.
JEAN
It took Jean a few weeks to make a decision. He read all the information Maureen had given him in the envelope and did his research. He had no idea what caring for a dog entailed, not to mention that he’d be getting one with special training. It would be a big commitment and require him to spend time away from the field. And what if he got denied permission to take the dog to his out-of-state games? Could he genuinely rely on an animal? Could he even keep it alive? It freaked him out, the fear of doing something that would hurt an animal.
Despite his reservations, Jean couldn’t shake the thought of how much a service dog could help him reclaim the life he never had. Maybe, just maybe, a dog could become a bridge to a more stable existence, easing the burden of his trauma and providing a source of unconditional support. The idea of having a loyal companion by his side, someone who could sense his anxiety and respond with comfort, began to outweigh his fears. He imagined the simple joy of walking a dog through the park or going through crowds that would usually spark panic, feeling a little less isolated in a world that often felt overwhelming. For the first time in a long while, he considered that taking this leap might just be the step he needed toward healing.
He called Jeremy, and they had a very long conversation. Jeremy had been 100% on board with the idea. He was clear that it had nothing to do with his dream of having a dog and everything with the fact that it would help Jean and make life easier for him. Jean’s happiness was Jeremy’s number one priority.
After choosing to take in the dog, he informed and confirmed with his new team’s administration office and head coach about having it on the field during practices and games—he had had to fight a panic attack before the meeting. He knew a rejection meant he would have to give up on the dog, as his priority was being able to play Exy, and he had already signed a contract with his new team.
Thankfully, after Jeremy graduated and joined his new Exy team, he decided to buy an apartment instead of renting. Jean would be moving in with him after graduation, so he would not have to deal with any tenants regarding living with a dog.
In the end, he’d be given the clear for home games, but out-games would have to be discussed on a case-to-case basis, and the opposite team would have to give the good-to-go as well.)
As his last step, even though the season was over, he passed by Coach Rhemann’s office to inform him of the possibility he’d be seeing a dog for a few weeks before officially graduating. His soon-to-be-ex coach had looked at Jean with something like pride and even a spark of affection, but Jean’s chest got uncomfortable at that, and he didn’t dwell on it for more than a few moments.
“I have signed the forms,” he greeted Maureen at the start of their next session, dropping the folder on her desk. “Don’t tell me what you talk to them about me. I do not want to know.”
Maureen nodded, picked up the folder without looking inside, and carefully placed it inside one of her cabinets. “I will let you know once I have word of a possible match.”
The rest of the session continued as usual.
JEREMY
Jeremy agreed to take Jean to the appointment with Paws for PTSD , as he was still between seasons and had too much time. He also knew that Jean would be calmer and more settled if he didn’t go alone. Even after months of therapy, meeting new people was not Jean’s forte.
He pulled in front of the organization offices, a simple house in the borders of LA, far enough from the chaos of the city center to have enough space for backyards and pools. Overall, it looked like any upper-middle-class neighborhood in America. If he had not been given instructions, he would not have found the place just by looking at the façade.
After parking, he took Jean’s hand into his own and gave him an evaluating look. His boyfriend was wearing his usual neutral, disinterested bitch face, but Jeremy knew better now. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Nervous? Scared?” The slight blush that tinted Jean’s cheeks when Jeremy used terms of endearment was a treat every single time.
“I am fine, Jeremy.” His eyes were set forward, another sign he wasn’t as calm as he appeared on the outside. He knew Jeremy would be able to see right through him with a single look into his eyes. “We are meeting a dog, not a beast for me to slay.”
“Not a beast, no. But it is still a big step. A therapy dog will be a big change.”
Jean nodded, and Jeremy felt the grip on his hand tighten. Jean took a deep breath and finally turned to look at Jeremy. “I really am fine. Let’s go in, they must be waiting for us.”
Jeremy agreed with a brush to Jean’s knuckles before letting his hand go.
The inside of the house looked more than an actual office. To the right was a waiting area with a few old blue sofas and a small coffee table, and to the left was a young woman in a black t-shirt sitting behind the reception desk. The walls were decorated with paw prints, and Jeremy spied a rack with what he assumed were dog clothes and vests, as well as a few shelves with dog food and other dog-related items tucked neatly in a corner.
The light was soft and inviting. Clearly, the space had been thought out to avoid overwhelming its visitors as much as possible. It smelled faintly of wet dog, and the scent brought a smile to Jeremy’s face.
“Welcome to Paws for PTSD!” The girl in the black shirt greeted them with a warm smile. She looked down at the tablet she was holding. “Do you happen to be our 2:30 appointment?”
“Yes.” Jean took a hold of Jeremy’s hand again as they walked close to the counter. “I'm Jean.”
“Nice to meet you, Jean. My name is Claire and I will be starting you today.” She took a clipboard and some information guides from the back of the counters and set them down on top. “We just need to go through some steps before we move to one of the meeting rooms. First, I will need your ID and for you to check if the information we have is correct.”
Jean spent the next 30 minutes filling out all the necessary forms, making sure he was there of his own volition and accepting the responsibility. They checked if he had prepared everything needed, made him sign his name here and there, and got a quick run-through on how things would work from that point on. Jeremy and Jean had already gotten most of the information from Maureen, so Jeremy was able to listen with half an ear and focus on Jean’s tone and body language. It seemed like he either calmed down or was pushing his nerves down to maintain his usual stoic façade. Thankfully, things seemed to be going fine.
Once Jean was done, they were guided into a separate room. It was empty, except for a woman who introduced herself as Mary and the chocolate labrador sitting by her side. She gently petted its head as she introduced it.
“His name is Chocolate Croissant!”
The horrified look on Jean’s face was indescribable. Jeremy tried his best to stifle a laugh. Honestly, of all the possible dog names in the world…
Jean looked at the trainer as if she had personally insulted him and his entire family and was on the verge of an aneurysm. Jeremy carefully placed a hand on Jean’s arm and gently touched it to get Jean’s attention. “It's only a name, sweetheart.”
“I would have to go around hearing Americans butcher his name. Have you listened to how you all pronounce croissant? And chocolate croissants do not even exist! It is all an American gimmick for tourists.” While Jean was ranting, he got close to Croissant and crouched to be at eye level with him and, very slowly, he offered him the back of his hand to sniff. Jeremy had been picturing Jean with a dog for a very long time, and he couldn’t believe he got to see it now. It was even better than he had imagined, and if his heart was melting a little, no one but him would know. Would it look too weird if he took a picture or two? Maybe a video?
Jeremy looked apologetically at Croissant’s trainer (Mary?). She shook her head with a small smile.
“While I understand the reluctance about Croissant’s name,” she started, “remember that the most important thing is your chemistry with him. He would be your companion daily, so please consider how suitable you think you two would be before anything else.”
Jean frowned but nodded. He looked back down at Croissant, now looking thoughtful. Croissant was calm, as all Service Dogs had to be, and had not moved an inch, even with Jean’s sudden passionate ranting.
“We could leave you alone if you wanted. Take a few minutes with him and see how you feel,” Mary offered, getting up and dusting something invisible from her pants.
“I want Jeremy to stay.”
“Of course, " she replied, then continued. “I will be back when time’s up, but you can always request more. After he goes with you, if the match is not good, we can talk about trying with a different dog”
Both men nodded, and Mary took her leave.
Jean frowned slightly as he saw her go.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jeremy offered.
“I do not know what to make of this,” whispered Jean, turning a little to face Jeremy. “I—His life will depend on me. What am I to do with that responsibility? What if I fail him?”
God, Jeremy loved this man and his huge heart.
“You will not.” Jeremy hoped his eyes showed as much security as he felt. “You will do great as his owner. And you are not alone, you have me and the girls and Josten—”
“That wretched vermin and his pocket-goalie are both cat people. I wouldn’t think they would want to get involved, and I would rather they did not, anyway.”
Jeremy chuckled and refrained to point out how Jean knew that in the first place. “Besides, this is not one-sided, remember? ChocoCro—”
“No,” interrupted Jean, covering Jeremy’s mouth with the hand he wasn’t using to pet the dog. “Say his name correctly, or don’t say it at all.”
Jeremy playfully rolled his eyes and swatted his hand away. “You know the girls will have the time of their lives about it, don’t you?”
Jean let out a pained groan. Jeremy laughed again.
“As I was saying,” continued Jeremy. “Chocolate Croissant here will care for you as you care for him. He’s meant to be a supportive presence by your side, sweetheart.”
Jean nodded. As was often normal in their relationship, a calm, peaceful silence embraced them. Jean already looked half-in love with the chocolate brown labrador, even if he would never accept it.
When their time was up, Mary came back to the room. She asked Jean a few more questions and seemed content with the answers. The rest of their visit went fast enough. A few more signatures, and some extra tips for dog care, and off they went with a new member happily laying down in their backseat.
JEAN
After they took him home that day, life with Chocolate Croissant was easier to get used to than Jean had expected. He still thrived on healthy habits and aimed to ensure his four-legged partner was as healthy as possible. He followed a vet-approved diet to the t, including special supplements, brushed his coat every day, scheduled grooming appointments when needed, and took him out for exercise.
However, he knew that there were some situations he hadn't had to face yet, such as games and long trips, but Maureen had taught him it was best to focus on the present.
The panic attacks were still rampant, but Croissant made sure to stop any self-harm, so the marks on his neck were slowly, but indeed, healing.
On their next free day, Jeremy and Jean decided to take Chocolate Croissant out. Jeremy was dying to buy him his very first pupcup (a cup of whipped cream, according to the internet), so they walked to their nearest Starbucks. Jeremy ordered a caramel latte with vanilla foam, and Jean, reluctantly, got an unsweetened iced tea. The smile on Jeremy’s face when he ordered the pupcup was so wide Jean couldn’t help but forgive him for feeding his dog a cup of sugar.
The place was packed and noisy, so they decided to go outside to look for a table instead. Once they spotted one and got comfortable, Jeremy took the pupcup and looked straight at Jean.
“I will give you my phone. You gotta record this historical moment.”
“You are giving my dog whipped cream, what is so historic about it?”
“I am about to change this dog’s life, Jean. ChocoCro will never be the same. ”
For the hundredth time, Jean wanted to remind Jeremy that his dog’s name was Chocolate Croissant, not that ghastly nickname. If he wanted to shorten the name, he could simply call him Croissant.
“You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that, right?.” Jean took Jeremy’s phone from the table, tapped his passcode, opened the camera app, and pointed it toward Jeremy.
Jeremy grinned at him. “Are you recording?”
Jean replied with a curt nod.
“Great! Now, ladies and gentlemen, you will be witnesses to this glorious moment. ChocoCro here—” He gestured towards Croissant, sitting politely with his tongue out. “He will be getting his first pupcup. Getting to this point was a challenge, as his dad—our cameraman today—was reluctant to give his dog a treat—”
Jean interrupted, “I give him treats!”
“Fine. Reluctant to give him something other than organic, carb-balanced dog treats,” Jeremy said. “But, well, all deserve a dessert for our good work from time to time. Now, without further ado—” Jeremy got the cup close to Croissant, who, after a few investigative sniffs, started getting into that cup as if his life depended on it. Jeremy, trying to keep the cup stable through the ordeal, let out a gleeful laugh. Jean couldn’t keep himself from smiling as well. What else was there to do when you saw a dog with his snout covered in whipped cream?
After a couple of minutes, Croissant was done with the very last drop of the pup cup. After licking his nose and muzzle a few times to ensure nothing was left, he went under the table and lay there. Jean stopped the recording and passed the phone back to Jeremy. “If my dog ends up addicted to this trash, it will be all your fault.”
Jeremy used a napkin to clean his fingers and answered, pacifying, “Yes, sweetie. And rest assured that I will pay for his addiction to be satisfied.” Jeremy looked at Jean with faux guilt, one hand dramatically on his chest.
"Hmph!"
Jeremy smiled at Jean and reached to grab his hand into his. “With the move coming soon and me at the upcoming season’s training camp, we haven’t been able to talk as much as I would like. How are you doing?”
“It’s been okay; Croissant has helped.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. The other day I—”
“The other day?” encouraged Jeremy.
“I went to the supermarket. It was more crowded than I thought.” Jean looked down at the table. “I felt it coming, the panic, but Croissant was there. He took me out and found a quiet corner. I managed to breathe and calm down.”
“I am happy to hear that.” Jean looked up at him, and Jeremy smiled. Jean returned it with a small one.
After finishing their drinks, they stood up and discarded their cups before returning home to watch a movie with the girls. Later that night, he would sleep next to Jeremy.
In a few weeks, they would move in together, and Jean would prepare to join his first training camp as a professional Exy player. He wasn’t looking forward to that part, not really. But the idea of going back to share his space with Jeremy for the next few years (as much as he would want for it to be permanent, they would eventually be sent to different teams in different states) filled him with the sort of calm, warm happiness he wouldn’t have believed existed when he first left the Nest.
This happiness followed him as they walked hand-in-hand, Croissant keeping the pace beside Jean, tail flipping side to side.
JEAN
In this dream, he's back to his childhood.
He’s in one of their parents' ostentatious parties, from back when money was good, and children needed to be sold as cattle to repay debts. The hors d'oeuvres had been carefully arranged on several tables on one side of the room while also being served by waiters walking around and offering them to the guests. Sweet little Elodie had been hungry and attempted to get some, but the waiters were simply told to ignore children, and the tables were too high for her chubby arms to reach. Still, she had tried, gently pulling on one side of the tablecloth to get one of the plates closer to her.
Standing far away, Jean noticed the imminent danger of one of those ornamental plates getting close to the edge. Elodie could be seriously hurt if that thing fell on her head. He had rushed to her side. There was no crash, but he'd been too late anyway. Their mother had been faster and was dragging her shell-shocked sister out of the room by the arm. The guests were barely paying attention, so thankfully, it didn't seem to have caused a scene.
The next moment, they were in a different room. Jean peeked in from the door.
Their mom scolded Elodie. “You little pest, is it impossible for you to behave? Why must you annoy me so?”
“But mommy, I'm hun-gy.” Even in the haze of the dream, Jean knew his sister was about to cry. His mom, of course, didn't give a single fuck.
“Go back to your room. I don't want to see your face again until tomorrow. Understood?”
The girl gave a tiny nod.
The woman disappeared in the way people do in dreams.
Jean immediately rushed to his sister's side, getting down to her level (even at that age, he'd towered over her) and taking her into his arms. She started sobbing immediately.
“I'm not bad gi—” A hiccup. “Girl!”
“Of course you're not, mon petit chou ,” he murmured, gently caressing her hair. “You're a perfect princess.”
Elodie nodded again and used her fists to rub on her eyes. She was not crying anymore, but they were still bright from the tears.
“How about this? You go back to your room, get ready for bed and your brother will bring you a nighttime snack.”
She bit her lower lip, unsure. “But mommy said—”
“I heard her. But don't worry, I won't tell her. Will you?”
Elodie shook her head strongly enough for her hair to hit her face as she did it.
“There, it's settled. It will be a little secret, right mon Cherie ?” Jean offered his pinkie to her, juggling it a little. Elodie grinned at him and linked it into her own before turning around and rushing out, headed to her bedroom.
Jean lovingly stared at her leaving shape and did exactly as promised, discreetly taking some food from the party in white napkins. He took those to Elodie, accompanied her as she brushed her teeth, and softly sang her to sleep.
The lullaby he had sung to his sister a few moments ago still rang in his head.
Fais dodo, Colas mon p’tit frère
Fais dodo, t’auras du lolo
Maman est en haut
Qui fait des gateaux
Papa est en bas
Qui fait du chocolat
Fais dodo, Colas mon ‘ptit frère
Fais dodo, t’auras du lolo
From one moment to the next, the dream morphed.
Blood, violence, pain. The crying voice of a little girl he couldn't get to anymore.
Riko’s hungry, hateful grin. Bodies around him, touching him, hurting him. Water in his lungs as he tried to breathe, but he couldn't, he couldn't, and he was going to die—
His eyes finally opened, breathing harshly. Croissant’s snout was gently bumping his arm, staring as if to make sure Jean had woken up. Ah, so that's what brought him out of the nightmare.
“Good boy," he murmured, scratching him behind the ear. He was still unsettled and on edge, and his skin was prickly and hot.
Cooled by the air conditioning, a drop of sweat dripped down his back. He took a deep breath. He needed a shower, but he did not want to get near water anytime soon. His neck felt constricted, and he had to gently dig his fingers in Croissant’s fur to keep them from going to his neck. Even years after leaving Evermore, he was still unable to shake that knee-jerk reaction.
He had been having more of those lately. These dream-shaped memories from a time of his life he had believed had been erased from his consciousness a long time ago.
"Now that you're feeling safe and stable," his therapist had told him, "your brain is giving you back what it had hidden for your own protection since it can't harm you anymore."
Jean considered that debatable.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a few moments.
Years of therapy had gotten him to the point where showers were rarely a trigger, and on a good day, he could even take a bath or go swimming for a short period of time. This particular morning, however, was far from one of his good days.
Not wanting to push it longer, Jean stood up and got out of bed. The cold floor sent a shiver down his spine as he made his way to the master room’s shower, keeping his steps quiet. Croissant, still something in the bed, looked like he was ready to get up and follow him. Jean shook his head and softly commanded him to stay. Smart as always, and seemingly noticing Jean’s calmer state, Croissant curled up on the mattress and closed his eyes.
Jean opened the bathroom door, turned on the lights, took off his pajamas, and threw them into the hamper—it was two steps to the shower. Jeremy helped him in the shower when it was possible, but it was more for pleasure than Jean's cleanliness. Jean’s cheeks darkened at the memories. But Jeremy was not here.
His heart rate went up, and his stomach turned. He couldn't do this by himself, after all. “Croissant!” he called. His dog was there in mere moments.
Without minding his lack of clothes, Jean fell to his knees and hugged the dog, willing his heartbeat to return to normal. The smell of Croissant had started to become comforting, so he focused on that as he braved himself. With one last breath and feeling slightly more settled, he stood up and stared at the shower.
He could do this. He would do this.
As if he could read his mind, Croissant let out a low, encouraging bark.
Jean turned on the water and got inside. Croissant stood there the entire time, ensuring Jean would not panic.
Getting this dog might not have been something he would have thought of for himself, but he was so grateful now that he had him in his life and would keep him for years to come.
JEREMY
(5 years later)
Alexa was playing some ballad in French as Jeremy made his way back from the kitchen to the living room with a glass of water in hand. Jean and he had organized a small party to celebrate their second wedding anniversary earlier that night, and a certain redhead had gifted Jean a beautiful picture frame—inside a box that had been a glitter bomb. It exploded on Jean’s face the moment he opened it, covering his body in sparkly, rainbow-colored glitter. After the initial shock wore off, Jean looked murderous. Neil had reached the door by then—Andrew by his side—and had loudly given his last congratulations before escaping while laughing his ass off.
Jeremy stopped for a moment to enjoy the view in front of him: Jean was sitting in the middle of their sofa, with Cat hugging one of his arms and Laila’s head resting on his opposite shoulder. They all looked sleepy and cozy. It seemed that Croissant hadn’t been able to wait up because he was peacefully sleeping on his doggy bed. Jeremy resumed his way to the living room, grimacing when he felt a string of long confetti getting stuck on the back of his feet.
He sat down on their armchair—an old thing Jeremy had found at a garage sale during his first official date with Jean. It didn’t quite fit with the modern set they had purchased at IKEA, but he hadn’t let go of it. He placed his glass of water on the center table and used his other foot to get rid of the trapped confetti before turning his attention to the ongoing conversation.
“That horrid wine you brought deserved what happened to it, “ Jean told Cat, his French accent more prominent now that the wine had slightly reduced his inhibitions. “Good riddance.”
Cat looked at him with eyes bright with mischief. “It was perfectly good wine; you didn’t have to pour it down the drain. And what about my money? I paid for that bottle.”
“C'est dommage,” Jean replied, the sarcasm dripping from every word. “I will pay you back the two dollars you spent. If they charged you a cent more, I’m afraid I must let you know you were robbed, and that is not my fault.” Jeremy suppressed a laugh.
Could Jean see how much he had progressed? How much he had changed from when he arrived, a pigeon with broken wings who thought himself a raven? Now, there he was, enjoying a drink with friends, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. As a general rule, Jean avoided alcohol, and he avoided getting shit-faced drunk, but he had developed an interest in wine during their honeymoon trip to France, and it continued when they came back home. Now, he enjoyed a glass once or twice a week and allowed himself a couple more when around people he trusted. Jeremy’s chest still swelled in pride with the knowledge he was one of the lucky few.
“When did you become such a wine snob, Jean Moreau? Arent you still obsessed with healthy eating?” Cat continued teasing. Laila, who had her eyes closed, smiled.
“Not only does good quality taste better, but bad quality wine also comes with a bonus of extra additives and preservatives. No French that respects themselves would happily drink disgusting tinted grape water.” Jean leaned back and quipped, raising his glass in a mock toast.
Cat rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “Well, next time, I’ll bring something that even your refined palate can’t resist.”
“We’ll see about that,” Jean said under his breath.
Jeremy, chuckling, finally joined the conversation. “Just make sure it’s not from the bargain bin, Cat. We don’t want another wine tragedy on our hands.”
Laila chimed in. “We’ll even avoid the supermarket and go to a wine shop, just for you, Jean.”
The conversation flowed easily after that, the group slipping into their usual rhythm of banter and shared stories. Jeremy leaned back in the old armchair, feeling the warmth of their friendship envelop him.
As the evening wound down, Cat glanced at her watch and sighed. “Well, it’s getting late. We should probably head out.”
Laila nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I got an early start tomorrow.”
Jean stood up, offering each of them a warm hug. “Thank you both for coming.”
“It was a great time, as always,” said Jeremy, standing up and giving a hug to both women.
Laila grinned. “Even with the glitter fiasco? That’s going to take forever to clean.”
“I am going to kill that infuriating pest next time I see him,” promised Jean in a low voice.
Laila laughed. “Take care. See you next week for movie night. And congrats again.”
Jeremy grinned. “We are looking forward to it. Have a good night, you two.”
As Cat and Laila made their way to the door, they turned back for one last wave. “Goodnight!” Cat called out. The door closed behind them with a soft click. The room felt a little quieter, but the warmth of the evening lingered.
Now alone, Jeremy stepped to Jean’s side and embraced him tenderly. “Happy anniversary, I love you.”
“You’ve said that to me ten times today. I got it.” Jean returned the hug. “ Je t'aime, Jeremy.”
“We should start getting ready for bed, too.” Jeremy raised his brow suggestively. “Croissant looks so comfy sleeping, maybe we should let him sleep a little longer here and have the bedroom for ourselves. We can bring him inside afterward.”
Jean sighed, smiling and kissing Jeremy’s crown. “I guess we should finish up the night appropriately.”
Jean took Jeremy’s hand, leading him towards the bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. They moved quietly, not wanting to disturb Croissant, who was curled up on his bed, dreaming peacefully.
As they entered the bedroom, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for Jean. “You know, every day with you feels like a celebration,” he said softly.
Jean chuckled, pulling Jeremy closer. “And every night feels like a dream that I never imagined could be real,” he replied, his voice filled with love.
They shared a kiss, the kind that spoke volumes without needing words. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of happiness.
“Let’s make this night unforgettable,” Jeremy whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Jean nodded, his heart full. “To us,” he said, and feeling like it was appropriate, raised an imaginary toast.
“To us,” Jeremy echoed, “Oh, by the way, you better take a quick shower, sweetheart, or our bed will sparkle tomorrow.” He closed the door, ready to create more beautiful memories together.