Chapter Text
Renee Walker is quite literally the brightest thing Jean has ever seen in his entire life. He can see her hair, snowy white with streaks of pastels, flashing under the court's harsh fluorescent lights as she winds through the crowd. Her dye is different, more faded than it was at the banquet, but it is still a relief after The Nest's suffocating black.
Riko is a heavy presence that Jean cannot forget, so he tears his eyes away and looks down at his lap, scarred knuckles clenched tight (this is not fair--).
She stops in front of them, helmet tucked under her arm.
“Hello again,” she says pleasantly, voice lilting. Riko ignores her outstretched hand so, after a second, Jean carefully takes it. It is warm and has almost as many scars and callouses as Jean's has. It's so at odds with her soft appearance that he's looking back up and there is something dark in her eyes that Jean had not noticed last time (she hides it well but he sees haunted eyes every time he looks in the mirror). He wonders how she ended up with the broken Foxes.
Renee is an enigma that he wants to understand.
And isn't that a thought, property wanting something, and Jean shudders almost imperceptibly and drops her hand.
Riko is deliberately gazing past her at the crowd, eyes half-lidded, fingers tapping lazily against his leg.
“Why are you here?” she cuts right to the chase.
“It seems the Foxes have not improved at all,” Riko says, sighing in disappointment. “I had thought that you could at least provide some challenge for us but we will be taking the championship easily this year. As usual.”
“I am sure we will surprise you.” Renee doesn't seem ruffled at all. If anything she seems to be smiling more. Jean has never before noticed the light dusting of freckles across her cheeks or the tiny cross necklace tucked underneath her jersey.
Riko laughs, all hard edges and arrogance, and propels himself to his feet, crowding against Renee's space. “I highly doubt that.”
He beckons and Jean obediently follows him out into the night, resolutely not looking back. It's so dark that Jean has to take a moment to blink the spots out of his eyes and his lips twist into something that could be a smile but is far too bitter.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Riko snaps, and Jean snaps out of it.
He tries to forget Renee Walker.
Except--
Except she texts him two nights later and he's left staring at the tiny screen because last he knew only Kevin and Riko had his number (last he knew he wasn't allowed to text people). He doesn't reply until he's in bed, under the covers, phone clutched protectively in both hands.
how did you get my number
The reply comes almost instantly:
kevin :)
He stares at the smiley face until he finally falls into exhausted sleep.
Renee texts him every 24-hour day, little observations about the stray cat hanging around the library or this new book she's just started reading. Jean tries not to reply, he really does, but sometimes she will say, oh my god jean this plot twist! And he'll be so tired of Riko and practice and being not-good-enough that he can't resist replying, what plot twist? And then she'll give him a detailed summary of everything she has read so far, texting him long after he's fallen asleep.
Even when he doesn't reply for weeks (he reads every single text she sends him though, lets the words burn his eyes when he's curled up in bed and too sore to move) she doesn't stop trying to reach out with him.
She texts him about the weather (it was so cloudy earlier today but just now it suddenly turned sunny) and Jean makes a weirdly strangled noise when he realizes he can't remember the last time he felt sunlight on his face, on his skin.
When he texts back in a moment of weakness three days later he asks her if the sun is still shining.
(do you not go outside, jean?
no
well i guess i'll just have to update you everyday, then
what is it like right now
it's raining!! i think i'll take a drive.
the clouds look so soft jean)
He realizes it a week later: Renee talks to him about everything except Exy.
He's so grateful and it's weird and Jean doesn't know what to do with this kindness (it's been too long).
(And if Jean starts to look forward to the texts then, well, it's just because she's the only person who actually talks to him like he's a person.)
He texts Renee, je ne vais pas bien, after Riko shreds his back with knives and his hands are shaking uncontrollably and he's still high on painkillers.
He regrets it as soon as he presses send but it's too late, his phone is buzzing even though it's 3am.
jean what happened
are you alright
Her concern is foreign and it chafes at the stitches he had to get.
nevermind. i am sorry for bothering you
jean please
i care about you and im worried
He laughs out loud at that because he knows that Renee Walker does not deserve someone as filthy and broken as he is and he hates himself for liking her.
please help me.
Jean's eyes are so swollen he can barely see the tiny screen but he finds the send button and presses down, hard, before he changes his mind. He collapses back in bed, letting his phone drop on the floor. He's so cold and it's dark and he can't reach the light switch and no one has come in the room since they first dragged him here, and he realizes distantly that he's having a panic attack.
It hurts. So much.
His phone starts buzzing insistently and Jean can only stare at it from afar, chest growing tight with his heaving breaths and then something pulls in his side and he lets himself drift.
He wakes up in the back of a moving car. Every bump jostles him against the seat back and Jean grits his teeth as white hot pain lances through his entire body.
When he finally manages to peel his eyes open he first sees the sky. From his position lying across the backseat he can see straight through the window and the few stars out seem to sear into his eyes.
(The pain is finally too much, Jean thinks. He's hallucinating, or maybe dreaming.)
“It's a pity the moon isn't out tonight.”
Jean jerks back against the seat at the soft voice, groaning when the sudden movement pulls against the cuts on his back.
“Sorry,” Renee says, glancing back again. “I didn't mean to startle you.”
Jean grunts faintly. The car bumps over another pothole and his gaze slides back to the night sky. If this is a dream, he wants to remember the stars for when he wakes up.
“I'm taking you to South Carolina. We have a nurse, her name is Abby. She's the sweetest thing, really, and she can patch you up. Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?” Her voice is calming and Jean relaxes into the seat (he's not sure but he thinks this might be real because he can feel the fabric of the car seat rubbing against his arm and he can count the small dials on the dashboard and it smells like cigarette smoke—he wants it to be real, aches with it).
“I can't,” he whispers hoarsely.
“Well, that's alright. It's your choice.” Renee smiles at him through the rearview mirror (and now he knows it is real because he couldn't dream something like that smile in a million years).
“We'll set you up in Wymack's apartment. And anyway, I can't wait to show you around campus. There's this small bookshop I like to go to and they have these used books, but they rebind the covers...”
The streetlights paint her orange-gold and as Jean slips back into unconsciousness he thinks, she is brighter than the stars.