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Jean is fourteen, but he is in an elevator in a hotel in Boston.
Jean is nineteen, and he is coughing up his own blood on the floor of a dorm that’s been turned into a museum.
Jean is twenty-two, but he is in a box in Evermore’s basement, desperate for the Nest’s cool air on his skin for the first time in his life.
Jean is stuck somewhere between the three of them, a moment of panic sending him back in time so fast that he can’t convince himself it isn’t real. The last three years flood his memories, but Jean is far too familiar with how cruel the mind can be, how often it will show you things you can’t have. On his worst days in Evermore he dreamed of Elodie, he dreamed of the sea, he dreamed of being places with Kevin that he’d only ever seen on the postcards. All of this has been nothing more than that.
How foolish to think he ever could have escaped. Jean squeezes his eyes shut and feels old aches, his knee burning, blood dripping down his skin. He’s sure that the moment he opens his eyes he’ll be bleeding out on the floor of Riko and Kevin’s dorm—Renee Walker is not an angel despite what it seems. She can’t work miracles. He is Jean Moreau. Evermore is where he belongs.
When Jean opens his eyes, it’s pitch black. His mind is quick to play more tricks on him—are they tricks?—with the smell of chemical cleaner, a chill up his spine, the weight of furniture stacked high on a box Jean is trapped in as he struggles to breathe through the air holes Riko left him. He knows he survived that, but…
Struggling to get his head above water, Jean finds the cross around his neck as he slides down to the floor. His mouth tastes like blood, rich and metallic, his saliva sticky, but the cross is there. He’s in Boston. He’s in Boston. He’s in Boston.
And if he isn’t?
One long, too-perfect dream as he bleeds out in the Nest would be very much the kind of thing his butter-churned brain would concoct for him before Riko comes back and demands he get up and clean his mess. Renee, California, Jeremy, the Trojans, graduating, Kevin—all things he should know better than to hope for.
Jean can’t breathe, and if Jean can’t breathe, he’s underwater again. If he’s underwater, he’s in Evermore, a wet cloth over his face, or Neil’s, or both; he’s getting his head held in shallow water, cheek bruising where it pushes into the bottom of it, forcing him to gasp for air eventually and feel his lungs fill with water. He needs something real.
He should slam his head against the floor and finish what Riko started once and for all. How fitting an end for him, killing himself before Riko can get ahold of him again. The last time he tried he ended up in that godforsaken box for three days, starving and terrified as it collapsed in on him, but more terrified of what Riko would do if he begged for help. Surely this time his attempts will succeed, but he promised Kevin.
He promised Kevin.
Jean pats his pockets down until he finds his phone, dialing the last number he called and holding a shaky hand to his ear. The other still clutches the cross in his fist so tightly his crooked fingers ache, counting each ring of the phone.
“Please pick up,” Jean whispers in a shaky breath. “Kevin…”
He’s in Boston for Kevin. To see Kevin, and to see his friends. Jean just needs to hear Kevin’s voice, to be sure he hasn’t conjured up the best years of his life. Jean will not survive anything else. His promise to Kevin will be damned if he wakes up in the Nest, he will really do it this time, but he does not want to. He wants to live, he wants this all to have been real. He just needs someone else to remind him. He needs someone to break him out of this.
“Jean-Yves,” Kevin greets, dull chatter in the background of the call, “I was just thinking about you.”
“Where are you?” Jean demands. He tilts his head back against the wall, hearing the low hum as Kevin thinks, picturing him rubbing his lips together and looking around. “Where, Kevin?”
“I’m at the airport, I told you my flight lands a few hours after yours.” Jean braves opening his eyes again and finds they’ve adjusted somewhat to the dark. Dim sunlight shines through the cracks in the door. “If you’re curious, I was thinking of you because at the airport, there is a little pin with a very cute dog illustration on it. A borzoi, I think. He looks like you.”
Jean lets out a short, delirious laugh. Even his mind could not have come up with something so simple and joyful to daydream about in his last moments. The existence of Kevin, bright and warm, is always a reassurance. It’s everything.
“Jean?” Kevin says. “Jean-Yves, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do you just want a distraction?”
“The latter. For now.”
“Okay,” he says, simple, because Kevin will push with everyone except Jean, never needing an explanation. He knows Jean will tell him when he’s ready. “Is it wrong to get you a postcard from a city that I’m only in for a layover? Does it not count if I haven’t seen the sights as well?”
“I—Well, that sounds like cheating…” Jean murmurs. He lets his hand move up and down with his chest as he tries to breathe, trying to prove to himself that he’s just fine. “I wouldn’t say no if you placed it in my hand, though.”
Kevin gives a small, amused huff. “I’ve been to the city before, that has to count for something.” All around him, the elevator rattles. Jean bites hard on his tongue. “What was that sound?”
“The elevator.” Another creak. “I-I am trapped inside of this godforsaken thing. What a horrible invention. It’s dark, and it isn’t moving. I think the hotel lost power. Just—keep talking.”
“I’m in an airport in New Jersey, and I’m going to see you in a few hours,” Kevin says, switching to French to really get it through to him. “Tell me again, where are you?”
Because Kevin knows him. He knows what Jean is thinking, what Jean needs to hear without him asking. He is in Boston. He’s out—they’re both out and have been for years. Kevin doesn’t need Jean to tell him anything more than what’s going on to know where Jean’s mind is. He spent three days waiting for Jean to be freed from that box in Evermore so he could make Jean stay alive. Of course he knows. He knows Jean better than Jean knows himself.
Jean did not even think he was claustrophobic, but he should have. It slipped his mind, not often in cramped spaces for long, but being trapped in a box again it’s hard to believe he ever thought it wouldn’t kill him. Just an hour ago if someone had asked if he was claustrophobic he would’ve said no. His heart rate begs to differ now.
“I’m… in Boston.”
“You don’t sound entirely sure about that.”
“I’m in Boston,” Jean repeats, a little more firm. “I don’t think I’m ever taking an elevator again, but I am here. For that stupid auction you convinced me I had to participate in. What time does your flight land again?”
“Around three. Just a few more hours.”
Taking in another breath, Jean nods to himself. His exhale is a little more steady this time. They’re no longer scared children hiding in dark rooms checking each other for bruises. They haven’t been those kids in a long time; Jean is not fourteen in a makeshift coffin in the Nest, Jean is not nineteen bleeding out in the museum of Kevin Day, he is twenty-two and alive, breathing, listening to the soft hum of Kevin’s voice in his ear as the perfect reminder. In Jean’s life, there has always been this: Kevin, like a light guiding him home.
Jean lets his eyes open, finding they’ve adjusted to the dark enough to see his own hands. He pulls his phone from his ear to see the space better and puts Kevin on speaker, hearing, “And the auction is for a good cause! It’s for charity. Be nice. It’ll be good seeing everyone.”
“I would skip it to stay in with you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Jean. We have two weeks.” For that, Jean is grateful. The mid-season break is more than welcomed, even if they’re spending it in freezing, windy Boston in the middle of February. For the first time in months, everyone will be in the same city for at least a few days. Jean is looking forward to seeing his friends, but to seeing Kevin especially. He hasn’t had the chance since their teams played each other two months ago. “Have you called for help yet?”
Jean clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Ah, no. I was preoccupied.”
“No one can get you out of there if you don’t ask for help,” Kevin tsks. Which is true, but Jean wasn’t fully convinced he was real, so that wasn’t his biggest problem. “I’m not there to save you yet.”
“If one of us is saving the other, it is definitely the other way around,” he replies, shaking his head to himself. “I’m capable of helping myself, thank you. You on the other hand…”
“Isn’t that why you called?” Kevin’s vicious grin is audible through the phone—Jean can picture it, brittle and pulling at his lips, so pleased knowing he has a point. “You’ve been coming to me for help since you were fourteen. Do you remember the time—“
“Alright, alright,” Jean interrupts. He doesn’t know which embarrassing story Kevin was about to bring up. There are dozens of them, the consequence and reward of growing up together, of being boys together through it all. “I concede.”
Kevin is right in that, that he’s been a beacon through the years. He was the only tether Jean had for a long time, though now that they’re older he’d like to think—and he knows, really, based on how often Kevin comes to him for help—that he’s something similar. Years of wanting to be more to Kevin and all he had to do was give it time, the rest came naturally.
He lets Kevin win this time just because it makes him happy. His voice filled with warmth, he says, “Well, then you have to listen to me, Jean-Yves.”
Jean forces himself to sit up and presses the emergency call button. He listens to the sound of Kevin ordering a pastry before a woman’s voice answers, apologizing profusely and saying they’re working to get the power back on. She tells him it shouldn’t take long, but does not make any promises to call the fire department. Jean sits back against the wall.
“Jeremy’s flight landed this morning, didn’t it?” Kevin asks, speech muffled from the donut he’s eating. Jean can hear him lick icing off of his finger before he clears his throat. “He should be at the hotel. You two were going to get lunch and then pick me up from the airport, right? Make him go talk to the front desk for you.”
“What can Jeremy do that will make the power come back on faster?” Jean asks. “I should message him, though…”
“I’m sure he could do that unsettling thing where he smiles really politely and the entire world revolves around him. He’s good at that. It doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“Unsettling?” Jean snorts. “You think it’s funny.”
“It is,” Kevin agrees, “but it’s unsettling when he uses it on me. Anyway, you should let him know. He’d charm them for you, I’m sure. And tell him I said hello. It’s been a while since I saw him in person.”
“You’re seeing him today,” Jean says. “You can tell him yourself in a few hours. Unless I kick him out of the rental car and come get you myself?”
Kevin groans, and Jean can practically see his eyes rolling. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips at the image. “Be nice, he’s your best friend.”
“Which means I’m qualified to say I still don’t understand your obsession with him.”
“Jean-Yves, he’s my friend too. You’re being difficult.” Jean tilts his head back against the wall, letting his shoulders relax. “Is being annoying helping you feel better?”
“It is, actually,” Jean says. Kevin huffs, but the relief in it is still audible. He always worries for Jean. “I’ll call Jeremy for help in a few more minutes. I know I’m going to see you soon, but… indulge me longer.”
Kevin hums, “Always.”
It always surprises Jean just how much Kevin is able to calm him down, but it shouldn’t. Kevin’s presence is a balm to all wounds. At his worst in the Nest, concussed and bleeding, all he ever wanted was to card his fingers through Kevin’s hair. He hasn’t changed much, but these little things can be theirs now. Every day, that reminder keeps him going strong.
Jean will call Jeremy soon. He is looking forward to catching up with Jeremy, to sightseeing with him and Kevin before the auction despite his playful complaints. The three of them in one place is increasingly less common during the season, but Jean misses it like a lung some days. The real reason he wants to be alone with Kevin is entirely selfish, but he is looking forward to all of it, truthfully. The whole trip, seeing everyone, even dressing up and going to the auction. He is just always searching for one more stolen moment with Kevin—he’s been doing it since he was 14. He never stopped.
Breathing normally again, and feeling brave, Jean says, “I want to kiss you again. Tonight.”
“Oh? Do you?”
“I do,” he says. It’s been two months since he got to see Kevin in person, but he can still feel Kevin’s lips on his, can still taste the residue of his mint chapstick. “Will you let me?”
“You didn’t ask last time,” Kevin points out. Jean had apologized for that, but Kevin simply kissed him again to shut him up. Jean couldn’t believe he waited so many years to go for it. Kevin teases lightly, “I think that could be arranged. Neil would like us to go out with him after the auction, but… Well, there will be plenty of time after.”
“Do you want to come to the auction with me?”
Kevin makes a soft sound of surprise from the back of his throat. “Are you asking me as your date, Jean-Yves?”
“Yes.” There’s never been any reason to be afraid of asking. Kevin would never condemn Jean for anything at all. “Will you indulge me in this too, Kevin?”
“I would really like that,” Kevin replies softly. It’s so soft Jean can barely hear it over the background noise over the call, but he’s certain. The answer doesn’t surprise him, but it does warm him from the inside out. “I thought you’d never ask. When did you get so brave?”
Jean smiles. “When you weren’t looking.”