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“James, give it a break,” Adi urges quietly, putting a wrinkled hand on his husband’s shoulder. “No one is going to be inspecting the baseboards for scuff marks. We’ll be in the garden, anyways.”
“Only if you stop cooking. We’ve got enough to feed at least five collegiate exy teams,” James says, but he can’t help the crack in his voice. “I think I have to go to the garden store. I don’t think Jeremy is going to make it there.”
“I can go,” Adi offers, wrapping his arms around his husband, now. They’re not so much older than they were when Jeremy crashed into their lives, but it feels like a thousand years have passed. “They’re your kids. You’ve got them.”
“Our kids,” James corrects. “And certainly… you were important to him.”
“I made all of the things he liked,” Adi confesses. “It took so long… I think we both cried when he finally tried my baklava for the first time.”
“I’m going to go see if I can get Cat to help me in the garden,” James says, finally pulling away to put the cleaning supplies back in the closet before people start showing up. “I don’t think Laila and Jeremy are coming down until they have to.”
“I hope he got some sleep after the service,” Adi muses. “Call me if you need anything at all, James, and I’ll come back. I think David and some of the Foxes are showing up soon, so you can certainly put them to work and take some time, too.”
“I know that we’ve got to be strong tonight, but I don’t know if I can,” James confesses. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
Adi just presses a kiss to his partner’s forehead. “You’re not in it alone. We can do it.”
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It is a beautiful evening the day they lay Jean Moreau to rest. It’s the exact kind of sunset that he loves—loved—more than any other, all pinks and oranges streaking across the southern California sky, painting the sea a wine dark purple and all of their faces a warm, glowing gold.
Catalina Alvarez would give up everything she has in this world for him to be standing beside her to enjoy it. She thought she had long moved past the burning, cruel unfairness of his past, but it is back even stronger than it was that awful first summer. How cruel can the universe be, to put him through what he survived, and then to let him grow and heal and love, just for it all to be yanked away far too soon?
She so often forgets how young he was, but everything about today has been a painful reminder. Twenty-two years old and thousands of lives lived, but just such a short time with them all on this earth, regardless.
It’s unfair.
It’s so unfair that it curdles her stomach acid with the intensity of it.
He was too young. That’s the beginning and the end of it. He was too young and he already survived too much for it all to be taken away by a random mugging on a late night run. Neil Josten refused to tell how much money he burned making sure that this wasn’t the yakuza, but he finally admitted after weeks of effort that it’s exactly what it appeared to be on the surface: a random, terrible tragedy.
Cat refuses to let that be what defines Jean.
Statistically, it’s what should define him. It’s a goddamn miracle that he made it out of the Nest alive; fuck, that he made it out of that hellhole in France at all. It is horrible and unfair and cruel and ten thousand other words, but that’s not what Jean is.
Was.
Cat lets the sun warm her face, and if she closes her eyes she can almost imagine that they’re back in college and she’s taking him on rides just hoping and praying that he’d find some kind of peace, that he’d find something worth staying with them all. She can imagine that they’re in the kitchen, and some stupid Sabrina Carpenter or Chappell Roan is playing on the radio, and Jean is pretending to hate it but openly ogling Jeremy as he dances around the apartment. She can imagine that they’re on the court, the perfect defense playing a perfect game to win the title.
Jean is a fresh peach on a summer day, the juice dribbling down her chin because it is so sweet and refreshing and the perfect complement to the heat and the sun. He is the perfect tornado on the court, the perfect game with perfect passes and laughter echoing off the walls of the court. He is quiet evenings with a book and Laila’s game shows and the bay window. He’s reluctant spa days and pretending that he doesn’t love every step of the ten step skin care routine Cat has forced on him.
He is her best friend. That is a fact that she is never going to move to the past tense.
“How are you holding up?” Derek asks, sidling up on one side as Derrick flanks the other, a cold beer forced into her hand. “You did a great job earlier, with the eulogy.”
“Laila helped,” Cat says immediately. “And Jeremy. He was supposed to, but…”
“Yeah,” Derrick finishes, not an ounce of judgement in his voice. “You know, I’m glad that we’re doing it this way. One of the last practices before finals his fifth year, he looked at me and Tanner and informed us that we were going to have to be pallbearers at his funeral, so that we could let him down one final time.”
Derek snorts. “I’m shocked he was that polite about it. He was already so pissy about being drafted to the same team as Kevin…”
“He didn’t hate New York,” Cat admits. “I don’t think he was capable of it, not when Jeremy and Renee were there, too.”
“Jean’s a So-Cal boy at heart, though,” Derrick states. “Only he could glare at the sun and will sunburn away.”
“I think Cody is looking for you,” Derek adds. “They just got here with Pat and Ananya. Coach and Wymack are currently hiding the remotes and the vodka from Kevin so he doesn’t end up with a handle in front of an exy game.”
“I’ll find them,” Cat whispers. “Can you… I don’t know if I have it in me to entertain the Trojans. I’m so glad that they’re here, but…”
“We’ve got you,” Derek says, before Cat is in the middle of a Derek sandwich. “We’ve got the team. You do whatever you need to do, Cat. And we’ve got you if you need it. Even if you don’t think you do.”
Cat tries her best to meander around the garden, talking to all of the people that actually cared about her best friend. The service had a lot more people from the exy world, and a lot more reporters, and it didn’t really feel like him at all. It was a necessary show, but she knows deep down Jean would have hated it.
That’s why they’re doing this. She really needs to find Coach and Adi and thank them for the thousandth time for hosting, for letting her and Laila and Jeremy crash there, for everything that they have done for Jean and what they are still doing. This garden was his favorite place on this earth, and she can still see his impact on the soil beds and tomato plants, even though it’s been over a year since they both graduated. But she doesn’t know if she can. Even though it’s just the floozies, Jean’s adopted underclassmen (now upperclassmen), the Foxes, and Coach and Adi, it still feels like more than she can handle.
It’s not supposed to be a wake. It’s supposed to be a celebration of his life, because fuck it he would hate to see them all like this. Jean has always had the biggest heart, even though he had done his best to hide it and lock it away for so long. He would hate to see Cat like this over him of all people, and if he saw the tears streaming down her face he’d call her something insulting in French while leaning her head against his shoulder.
The sunset really is beautiful. The whole garden really is beautiful, and it is flourishing. Will it still bloom and grow, even without Jean’s biweekly calls to Coach and Adi to check in on it?
Renee pulls her gently into the circle with Allison, Neil, Andrew, and Coach Wymack before Cat can spiral too far. “Hi, Cat. How are you doing?”
“Thank you for coming,” she says, instead of answering the question. “I still can’t believe they cancelled the games this week.”
“It’s the least they could do,” Allison says, rolling her eyes. “The Trojans certainly have a lot of energy.”
“Jean got on well with the underclassmen,” Cat explains. “They took it on themselves to try to inject a little more youth into him, and I guess they haven’t stopped.”
“This is beautiful,” Renee says quietly. “I think this is what he really would have wanted, Cat. Thank you for organizing everything.”
“Don’t thank me for that,” Cat dismisses. “I wish this was just a happy reunion at the end of the season.”
“You know what I’m actually saying,” Renee adds, with a look. None of them need to relive the fistfight in New York between Jeremy and Kevin over what the fuck to do. Privately, Cat wishes Jeremy had blackened Kevin’s eyes just a little bit more. “He told me a lot about this garden. It's as beautiful as he described it.”
“Thank you,” Cat says, her voice thick. “I didn’t think I had any tears left in me.” She can’t help the laugh that escapes even as she wipes the salt water off of her face. “Thank you for getting him out of there, for getting him to us.”
“Cody is looking for you,” is all Renee says, before she pulls Cat into a tight hug. “I think it’s almost time.”
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Jeremy is pretending to help Adi in the kitchen when Kevin Day has the audacity to stumble in, clearly most of the way to plastered already. “You know he hated you when you were drunk, right?” It’s a jab that’s meant to hurt, and he can see that the blow landed right where he wanted to based on how the other man flinches.
“He hated me when I was sober, too,” Kevin slurs, already moving to pour himself more. “I know you don’t want to talk to me. Let me get my drink and I’ll be on my way.”
“You’re not going to be there if you’re going to be drunk,” Jeremy argues, ripping the glass out of Kevin’s clumsy fingers. “It’s the least you owe him.”
“I didn’t realize… Dad made me talk to Coach Rhemann… he really did like it here. I was wrong, Jeremy. This is the right spot” Kevin admits.
“It’s not just about that.” Jeremy wants to yell, but his hands find the chain around his neck instead, and he is instantly calmed. It’s Jean’s chain, just like it’s Jean’s silver cross and Jean’s ring.
It’s ironic how similar planning a wedding and funeral ends up being, in the end. There are guest lists and catering and flower arrangements, with their careers, media to be dealt with and held at bay, but the biggest difference is that Jean was there to help him plan the wedding, but Jeremy has been left to try and deal with the funeral all on his own.
He doesn’t want to do it alone. Not after he knows what it’s like to have a partner—not the fucked up codependency of the Raven system, but the safety of knowing that someone he loves and trusts has his back, that he had someone to go through the trials and the joys and the hardships and the sunny days of life with together.
Even now, Jeremy finds himself naturally turning to his right, looking for Jean to whisper a snide comment to while Jean pretends to evade the Trojans and Foxes alike (he secretly loves every single person in this house, even if he’d never admit it).
The spot next to him is empty. It’s just him and a kitchen full of Jean’s favorite food and Kevin fucking Day.
“If I don’t see him, thank your father for coming,” Jeremy says, instead of the vitriol that he wants to spew. “I know Jean didn’t ever say it, but Coach Wymack meant a lot to him.”
Kevin just nods. “Dad told me about Jean calling him to help fix the electrical problem in your basement the other month. He was happy every time Jean would call him and he could help.”
“I think the Foxes are in the garden with Cat,” Jeremy forces out, because he really doesn’t want to talk to Kevin right now. “You should go be with them.”
“I’m grieving, too,” is what Kevin says instead, knocking back his solo cup before slamming it on the counter. “You don’t have a monopoly on grief right now, Knox. I won’t apologize for trying to do what I thought was right for my—”
“Your what?” Jeremy challenges. “What was he to you? Was he just a teammate? A friend, when it was convenient for you?” Jeremy takes a shaky breath, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to try and hide the tears already pouring out of his eyes. “He was everything to me. So don’t fucking try to tell me that you’re hurting. And don’t fucking act like you’re the one that should be making decisions, like you knew him the best.”
“I knew him the longest.” Kevin’s voice doesn’t shake, even though his fingers do as he refills his solo cup once more. “I know that he hated me in the end. But you don’t get to erase everything that came before. You can’t just pretend that it didn’t exist.”
“This isn’t about you or me,” Jeremy reminds him. “All I am trying to do is what Jean would have wanted. So don’t you dare try to tell me that it’s wrong or it’s not enough. It’s what he wanted.”
“Separate. Now,” Coach’s voice orders from the door. “Kevin, outside. Jeremy, with me.” Jeremy is so used to listening to directions when it comes from that mouth with that tone that his body automatically obeys before he even realizes what he’s doing. It’s only when Jeremy’s butt is on the familiar, comfortable couch that Rhemann speaks again. “Talk to me, kid.”
“I should have just walked away,” Jeremy admits, his head hanging low. “I was going to punch him again if he said another word.”
“Everyone is grieving differently,” Coach says. “For the record, I don’t think Jean would have minded if you smacked Kevin Day again.”
Despite everything, the weak excuse of a joke does manage to pry a chuckle out of Jeremy, as dark and short as it is. “I know you heard about New York. I didn’t want to bury him there. It wasn’t… we didn’t really talk about this, but you and Adi and the Trojans felt right. And I know that Kevin and Jean have history that I’m never going to understand, I know that, but every time Kevin butts in it’s like he’s telling me that I didn’t know him. That I didn’t know him well enough or love him well enough to know what he would have wanted.”
That’s the problem at the end of the day. It doesn’t matter which pit of hell Kevin and Jean’s doomed situationship in the Nest originated from; it doesn’t matter how many times Jean has come home from therapy drained and all but nonverbal trying to parse out how exactly he should navigate being back on the court with Kevin; it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Jeremy is missing Jean like he would miss his right hand and Kevin is insisting that Jeremy is acting against what Jean would have wanted.
That’s almost as sharp of a pain as the grief in his chest.
Jeremy can’t sleep because of the missing body and warmth on the right side of the bed. Jeremy can’t eat, because he enters a kitchen and he is just reminded of how in their little townhouse the kitchen was Jean’s domain and Jean’s domain alone. He can’t speak because he is so used to speaking in French at home and there’s no one else here that Jeremy wants to talk to that knows the language.
Jeremy can’t pinpoint when he and Jean became so hopelessly intertwined that their souls merged into one. He guesses it was sometime during that crazy senior year, but all he knows now is that he is missing giant pieces of his soul, bleeding and weeping gouges, where death had cut Jean out and yanked him free.
“You knew him better than anyone,” Coach reassures him, before the hand on Jeremy’s shoulder is on the back of his neck, and he’s holding Jeremy the same as he had when Jeremy was a freshman trembling through the aftermath of relapse and fear of his family. “Nobody can say anything to take the love away. It was there, and no one can change that. It’s why it hurts so much right now.”
“I don’t think it’s ever going to stop hurting,” Jeremy confesses, before his tears are soaking the shoulder of his old coach’s nice button down. “I miss him. I miss him so much and it’s only been days.”
“I know, kid, I know,” Rhemann comforts him. “It’s always going to hurt, but it’s going to get easier. And you’re still going to see him. I see him in my garden every day.” Rhemann’s voice cracks. “I picked up a spade that he used to use and cried my eyes out this morning. But I’m going to pick it up tomorrow, because I am going to make sure that garden thrives for the rest of my life.”
“We should… we need to plant the tree,” Jeremy says, after a long moment of both of them catching their breath and drying their tears. “Thank you, Coach.”
“Never thank me for this,” he says, his hand a heavy weight on Jeremy’s shoulder. “You and I are going to garden tomorrow morning.”
“I’d like that,” Jeremy confesses, even as he has to force the words out of his mouth.
When it comes down to it, all Jeremy wants is a few more seconds with Jean. He wants a few more seconds to kiss the new freckles on his nose, to tangle his fingers in that black hair and feel the steady beat of Jean’s heart through his strong chest. He wants more date nights where they make their own pizzas in their little house, and he wants to be able to force Jean to watch the next twenty seasons of Love Island with him.
It was all just a little bit brighter, a little bit warmer, with Jean next to him. The world was a better place because he was alive. Jeremy was a better person because Jean was a part of his life.
So as much as he wants to punch Kevin and then yell at him to get off of the property, he won’t.
Jean would want him to be there, and that’s enough for Jeremy.
It’s Jeremy’s first time outside all day, when he steps out into the little backyard. It really is a beautiful sunset, and if he focuses enough he can imagine what it would look like reflected in Jean’s grey eyes if he was standing next to him.
Jeremy’s fingers find the wedding band that he never got to give Jean, and he squeezes it tightly. Someday, he’s going to describe everything about this sky to Jean. Someday, he’s going to hold his hand again.
It has to be enough. It just has to be.
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An eclectic collection of professional exy players gather around a small dirt hole in James Rhemann’s garden at sunset on May 5th, 2023. Cody has already followed all of the instructions, and they have handed off the sapling to Cat, who holds it delicately in both hands while they wait for Jeremy.
He enters the garden, red-eyed and with Coach Rhemann at his back.
Together, Cat and Jeremy plant the tree that Jean’s ashes will help nourish. Laila and Renee help them fill in the dirt, and when it’s all secure and leveled, peaches are handed out to all of them.
“To Jean,” Cody says, raising the hand with the fruit toward the darkening sky.
“To Jean,” they all echo, and then the only sounds to fill the secluded space are the sounds of chewing and the insects buzzing.
Cat leans her head on Jeremy’s shoulder. “It’s going to grow the best damn peaches in Los Angeles,” she promises, turning just enough to press a gentle kiss to his sternum. “Jean is stubborn enough to demand perfection out of even his plants.”
“I hope it’s what he would have wanted,” Jeremy says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “I really hope he’s happy, wherever he is.”
“He’s taking care of Elodie and Noah,” Cat promises him. “They’ll all be waiting for you. And I don’t think he’d want you to rush.”
“I hope they’re somewhere together.” Jeremy can barely swallow around the thickness in his throat, but he forces the words out. “I hope they’re somewhere happy. I hope that I get to see him again.”
“You will,” Cat promises. “And for now, we’ve got our pieces of him here. And we’ve got double the life to live on his behalf.”
It’s a beautiful day. It is Jean Moreau’s favorite kind of day, sunny and warm with a gentle breeze that cools it all off just enough to be bearable outside.
It’s a beautiful day when Jean Moreau is laid to rest in James Rhemann’s garden, surrounded by more people than he could ever have imagined he’d call family.
Jean built this family like he has built everything else in his life—with his own bare hands, cracked and bloody from the strain of the work. He built this garden with Rhemann, as a way to deal with all of the horrors of that year. He built so much more with his work with the foster kids in New York. He would have built so much if he had just been granted a little bit more time.
But it’s a beautiful day. And if there’s one thing Jeremy has learned from Jean, it’s how the little miracles are what carry them all through.
A cool evening breeze. Rainbows. Open roads. Friendship. A juicy peach. Fathers.
Quietly, Jeremy adds one more item to the list.
Sunsets with pink skies.