Work Text:
When he’s finally, finally old enough to read, Jeremy starts tracing the letters on his chest whenever he’s stressed, usually at night, when he can hear his parents yelling downstairs.
JLPM.
The day he had first learned the initials of his soulmate, he had bragged throughout lunch about it. He got four letters, not just three.
Soulmates are something all of his friends like talking about. Jeremy knows his parents are soulmates, their initials scrawled on similar spots on each other’s wrists. He knows both sets of grandparents are soulmates, has listened a thousand times to their stories of how they met, how they figured it out.
JLPM.
When he can’t fall asleep, when his parents keep screaming and screaming below him, he likes to wonder what her name will be. Jordan? Julia? Jacqueline? Why does she have two middle names?
Soulmates are something sweet, pure, uncomplicated to Jeremy when he’s just young enough to read. They mean love and forever and finding your other half.
When Jeremy is ten, his parents get divorced. Jeremy has never heard of soulmates getting divorced before, and it makes no sense, so he tells his mother as much.
“Mom, I didn’t know soulmates could get divorced.” He’s finally allowed to sit up front when she drives him home from Exy practice these days. He revels in his newfound power to lock and unlock all the doors on the car.
His mom sighs heavily. “Jeremy, soulmates are complicated. They’re not all like your grandparents. Sometimes it doesn’t mean that they’re supposed to date or get married. Sometimes it’s just about being friends.”
Jeremy frowns, distracted from his insistent clicking of the car locks. “What?”
“Soulmates are just about finding the person who you’re meant to be with, Jer. For a lot of people, that means that they get married and have kids and everything, but that’s not always the case.”
“Oh.” Jeremy watches out the window as they turn onto their street. He wonders what it means that his mom and dad are meant to be together but he hasn’t seen his dad in a month.
When Jeremy is eleven, he doesn’t know if he misses the yelling or not. He doesn’t know if he wishes his dad was still around for them to eat dinner together in tense silence, for his parents to watch his Exy games together in stands, for his dad to offer his gruff congratulations at the end of a game.
His mom makes all of his favorite foods, is early to pick him from practice, takes him to the zoo on the weekend. But at night, he can hear muffled crying. Oppressive silence replaces the yelling.
He stops tracing the letters on his chest.
When Jeremy turns twelve, his dad shows up to his birthday party with a friend. Jeremy’s whole Exy team has come, and some of his friends from school, so he’s pretty sure that his dad will be impressed by how many people came to celebrate his birthday.
They’re in the backyard, hanging around the pool deck, when his dad yells his name.
“Dad! You made it!” Jeremy yells, running towards him. His dad is tall, but Jeremy feels a small burst of pride when he realizes how high on his chest he comes to now.
“Of course I made it,” his dad responds with a smile, like he hadn’t cancelled on the past two months’ worth of visits. Jeremy moves in to hug him, but his father rests a large hand on his shoulder. “Easy there, champ. Don’t want to get me all wet, do ya?”
“Oh, sorry.” Jeremy looks down at his wet swim trunks, turning faintly red from embarrassment.
“I’ve got somebody I’d like you to meet,” his dad says. Jeremy snaps to attention, noticing for the first time the guy standing just behind his dad and squinting around the party uncomfortably. “This is Dennis.”
“Hi, I’m Jeremy!” Jeremy carefully wipes his hand off on his chest before offering it to Dennis, who smiles faintly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Dennis says, squatting down to Jeremy’s height. Jeremy resists frowning. He’s not a little kid anymore. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Jeremy beams up at his dad, brief unhappiness already forgotten. He’s been talking about him?
“I heard that you like Exy a lot,” Dennis continues, holding out a shirt to Jeremy. “Since it’s your birthday, I thought you might like this.”
Jeremy takes the shirt and looks at it. It’s a US Court jersey, the red, white, and blue bright in the afternoon sun. He pulls it on immediately, ignoring the water droplets that pull it against his skin. It fits pretty well, if a little big.
“Thanks, Dennis!” he grins. Dennis looks pleased as he stands back up. “I want to play for Court someday.”
“It’s from both your dad and me,” Dennis says, slinging an arm around his dad’s shoulders. Jeremy watches as his dad shakes the arm off with a look towards Dennis. “And I bet you’ll make it.”
“You don’t want to stay around talking to the boring adults the whole time, do you?” his dad asks, turning back to Jeremy. Jeremy covers his scrutiny with a bright smile. “Why don’t you go back to your friends? We can talk later.”
“You promise?” Jeremy asks, looking back to find his friends taking turns canonballing into the pool.
“I’ll be here,” his dad nods. Jeremy sends him one last smile before he runs back towards the pool. He hopes his mom likes Dennis.
When Jeremy is thirteen, he learns that Dennis has the same initials as his mom.
When Jeremy is thirteen, he learns that his mom smiles brighter when Jeremy grins, that his mom looks less worried when he chatters on, that his mom can’t think about her own problems if Jeremy distracts her enough.
His dad calls every week, is better about visiting, but Jeremy can see how his mom still looks at him. He tries to keep the calls in his room.
When Jeremy is fourteen, he gets his own laptop and learns about one-sided soulmates, how some people are meant to be with somebody who is meant to be with another.
Dennis gives him another Exy jersey on his birthday. He tries not to wear it around his mom.
When Jeremy is fifteen, his best friend meets his soulmate. It happens on their first day of sophomore year in Trig, when Jeremy and Peter are shooting the shit and making plans for the weekend.
“Can I sit here?” a girl asks, pointing to the chair in front of Peter. Peter looks incapable of responding, his jaw hanging open, so Jeremy nods with a grin. “Thanks, I still don’t really know anybody.”
“I’m Jeremy,” Jeremy says with a bright grin. “And this is Peter. Now you know two people, at least!”
She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and shooting Peter a shy glance. Peter still looks overwhelmed. “I’m Kelly. It’s nice to meet you.”
Jeremy shoots Peter an excited look, knowing the KLD on his back better than Peter probably does given its location and everything. Peter’s eyes have grown impossibly wider.
Jeremy doesn’t even mind that he misses out on bro time with Pete as he and Kelly start dating, as their initials match up and their smiles grow sappier. It’s nice to see the system working for somebody.
“Jeremy, I feel like I owe you some apologies,” his dad tells him at his sixteenth birthday. He’s chosen a lowkey dinner rather than a party this year, just a few of his closest friends. He planned it so that his parents could sit on opposite sides of the table. Dennis couldn’t make it, but he’d sent a jersey on ahead in his place.
“What for?” Jeremy glances down the table and sees his mom chatting with her sister who’s driven up for the weekend. He’s glad she’s distracted.
“I know that right after the divorce, I wasn’t really around at all,” his dad says heavily, swirling his wine glass around. “It was hard for me, but that’s no excuse for not being there for you. It must have been confusing.”
Jeremy shrugs.
“You know how conservative my parents are. I never really thought it could be okay for me to feel how I do about men, and when I met your mother, it just seemed perfect.” His dad’s voice is pitched low enough for nobody else to hear, and Jeremy is glad for that. “But it didn’t work, not for us to be married. Your mother is a lovely, wonderful woman, she really is, but I couldn’t deny it any longer. And after we had separated, I never expected to meet Dennis.”
“Dad, I don’t think I’m the one you owe apologies to,” Jeremy replies, looking back down the table at his mother. “But thank you. I know you try to be around now, and that’s what matters.”
“You’re a good kid, Jeremy,” his father says with another heavy sigh. “I’m glad Danielle has you.”
Jeremy watches his mom laugh at something his aunt said and wonders where she would be without him.
Jeremy is seventeen and in love. Carla is nice and cute and laughs at his dumb jokes and wants to go to Stanford because she’s a genius .
“I have to tell you,” Jeremy says on their third date, as they sit together in the diner, “that you don’t match my letters.”
Carla shrugs. “You don’t match mine. Doesn’t mean we won’t be good together. We’re seventeen , Jeremy. I like you. That’s enough for me.”
Jeremy settles back in the booth with a grin. His mom looks thrilled when he tells her about Carla after each date, like every part of her son’s happiness adds to her own.
Carla gets into Stanford, Jeremy gets a scholarship to USC, and they know that it’s time.
“We’ll stay in touch, right?” Jeremy asks. They’re in his room, packing his stuff up to drive down to LA. “I can’t imagine not talking to you.”
“Of course we’ll stay in touch,” Carla says, rolling her eyes. “You doofus. You’ll have to tell me all about your team. I’ll tell you about my nerd friends. It’ll be great. Maybe you’ll even meet the mysterious J.”
Jeremy shakes his head and looks down at his shirt, where the initials on his chest are covered. “Maybe.”
His mom cries when she leaves his dorm room and Jeremy cries as soon as she’s gone. He loves his mom, knows that she’s the most important person in the world to him, and can’t help but wonder what will happen when she gets home to an empty house.
Jeremy doesn’t love college, not at first. He likes Exy, he’s good at it, but it’s intense and the team is full of people he doesn’t know yet and the stadium is huge . Classes are fine, but he’s never loved schoolwork. His roommates are already better friends with each other, built on years of friendship and teamwork.
“It’s great here, Mom,” Jeremy enthuses over the phone. “My team is so cool. We eat breakfast with the team every morning, and we have a movie night every other weekend. I bet the roadies are going to be super fun.”
He lies awake at night and listens to his roommates snore. He hopes his mom is happy.
By his second year, Jeremy has friends, has found himself a space at college. He’s not lying when he calls his mom anymore. He hopes she can’t hear the change in his voice, but he thinks he’s always been pretty good at faking happiness.
Jeremy is twenty and he hooks up with a guy at a party. He gets home and reads the Wikipedia page for bisexuality.
He’s proud to have something in common with bottlenose dolphins.
He goes to bed wondering if maybe J stands for Jack or Jason or Jenny or Jordan–
Laila and Alvarez are a breath of fresh air in Jeremy’s third year, bright and happy and kind and instantly friends with him. He watches as they dance around each other until Alvarez finally, finally asks Laila out. He listens as they tell him separately that they think she may be the one and then celebrates when they figure out they match.
He only traces the initials on his chest later, when he’s alone in bed, and wonders where they are now.
Exy is something that Jeremy finds easy, something Jeremy can lose himself in. He started playing when he was younger because Peter did, but stayed because his parents both came to his games. Cheering was something not even they could argue over.
“We think you should be captain next year,” Smith tells him at the end of his third year. “Everybody on the team loves you, you’ve got great stats, and you’re a natural leader. Hell, are you ever not smiling?”
“Wow, are you sure?” Jeremy asks, smiling. He wonders if that’ll make his mom proud or if it would stress her out. “I thought you usually get fifth years to do it.”
“We do, but you’re the best choice,” Smith shrugs. “But if you’re worried about it, Coach and I can talk it over again.”
Jeremy imagines his mom’s face when he tells her the news.
“Nah, I’d be honored,” Jeremy says. “Thanks, man.”
Jeremy likes being captain, surprisingly. He likes hearing everybody’s problems, that people come to him. He likes that they listen when he tells them to take it easy, to take a day off.
“What team do you think we should be watching this season?” a reporter asks Kevin Day in a post-game interview a few games into the season. It’s still jarring to see him in orange rather than black.
“The Trojans,” Kevin says without hesitation. “They play the cleanest, sharpest game out there. Jeremy Knox has been looking great, and his team seems like they feed off of him. Believe me, I’m taking notes.”
Jeremy sends his mom the clip and smiles when she responds with a series of exclamation marks and emojis.
Jeremy agrees to have Jean Moreau join the team almost immediately. He knows the rumors around the Ravens, everybody does, but something about Kevin’s intensity makes him think it could be more than rumors.
He watches tape of Moreau when he gets home. His eyes follow Moreau’s footwork with disbelief, tries to figure out his impossible blocks and movement. He can’t wait to learn from him. More than that, though, he can see the set of Moreau’s shoulders between plays, the tenseness that follows him around the court.
He wonders if Moreau laughs often.
Jeremy and his dad talk on the phone every few weeks still, and it’s nice that Jeremy can tell that he’s happy in a way that he never was in Jeremy’s childhood.
Jeremy and his mom Skype every weekend, and he wonders what it must feel like for her soulmate to be somebody who can’t love her back. She smiles when he tells her about Laila and Alvarez, though, and that’s good enough for now.
“Hi, is this Jeremy Knox?” a quiet female voice asks when Jeremy picks up the phone one Saturday morning a few weeks after spring break.
“Yep!”
“Hi Jeremy, it’s Renee Walker from Palmetto,” she says.
“Hi Renee! What can I do for you today?” Jeremy chirps.
“I just wanted to tell you a few things about Jean and the Ravens that seem important as you guys sort out details for the transfer.”
“Okay, lay it on me.”
Jeremy listens in growing horror as Renee explains what the Nest is like, what happened to Jean, what he might need help with.
“Would it help him to come out to USC right at the end of the classes, get acclimated here beforehand?” he asks, pacing around his room and trying to digest the circumstances of his new backliner.
Renee hesitates. “Yes, probably, but only if somebody else is around to be there with him. He’s going to have a roommate next year, right?”
“Yeah, we’ll figure something out.” Jeremy mentally says goodbye to his single. “I’ll talk to Coach and get back to you guys.”
“Thank you, Jeremy.”
Jeremy stares out the window, watches Alvarez and Laila holding hands as they walk into the building. “No, Renee, thank you for explaining it. I hope we can help him. Is it ok if I save your number and use it if I have any more questions?”
“Of course.”
Jeremy talks to Coach for hours, planning and worrying and finalizing. Jeremy’s looking over the forms for housing when notices something weird.
“Moreau doesn’t have a middle name?” Jeremy asks. Coach shrugs.
“Edgar Allen didn’t have any listed on his official forms.”
Jeremy frowns down at the JM and wonders how much of his identity has been taken away by the Ravens.
“Hey Mom, I’ve got some bad news,” Jeremy says once the Skype logo has been replaced by his mom’s face. “You know that new backliner we signed? Jean Moreau? It turns out that he’s been abused pretty badly and has a bunch of injuries and– well, basically, we thought it would be good to get him out to LA as soon as possible, so he’s coming in May, and I said I could stay to help him get settled–”
“Jeremy, take a deep breath,” his mom says gently, a soft smile in place.
“I’m not going to make it home after the semester ends,” Jeremy sighs. “I’m sorry, I know we were looking forward to it–”
“It’s fine, honey,” his mom smiles. Jeremy breathes, lets some of the tension out of his shoulders. “It’s nice that you’re going to such lengths for your new teammate. Maybe you can make it up here for a weekend or something later in the summer?”
Jeremy nods, pasting a familiar smile back in place. “Definitely. I want to see Peter and Kelly, too. Anyway, what’s new with you?”
Jeremy watches his mom talk about Susan from work and her adorable kitten with a smile and wonders if she’s stronger than he thinks.
The night before Jean Moreau lands in LA, Jeremy can’t sleep. He stares at the ceiling, at the empty bed across the room from him. He traces the familiar letters on his chest. He wonders what Jean Moreau is like, what letters he has somewhere on his body.
He hopes that JLPM is happy, wherever they are.
Jean looks overwhelmed and annoyed and unhappy for the first week of his stay in LA. Jeremy tries his sunny smiles like he did after his dad left, his soft smiles like he did after Dennis entered the picture, his understanding look like he did after Carla cried on Skype after her new boyfriend dumped her.
None of them seem to work, not until he unthinkingly slings an arm around Jean’s shoulder and can feel his muscles tense and then relax as the other boy leans into it.
From there, he’s deliberately careful and casual. A hand against the back when walking behind him through a door. A high five after a good play on the court. A shoulder check when they pass by. The arm over the shoulder seems to unfailingly help Jean, though, and Jeremy smiles to himself each time he feels Jean loosen beneath his touch.
Jean still doesn’t do anything but exercise and scowl, so Jeremy decides to give Renee a call when Jean’s on a run one day.
“Do you think there’s anything else I can do?” Jeremy asks. “He just seems to hate anything that’s not exercising, and like I’m super down for Exy all the time, obviously, but it doesn’t seem healthy...”
“He likes movies, if you can convince him to take a break long enough to watch one. Otherwise just be there for him, I guess. It’s hard for him.”
Jeremy hums to himself. “Movies, really? Good to know. Thanks, Renee.”
“Anytime, Jeremy. I can get Kevin to see if he has other ideas and I’ll text you, okay?”
“Perfect. I’ll talk to you later. Bye!”
He leans back and stares out the window and wonders what it’s like to be Jean Moreau. How can one person handle all of that?
Jean swings the door open just then, and Jeremy straightens immediately. “Hey Jean! How was your run?”
Jean stares at him a moment, squinting, before shrugging and walking off towards the shower. Jeremy sighs and tries to imagine what Jean’s laugh sounds like.
“What’s Moreau like, then?” Laila asks him a few days before she and Alvarez are set to return to campus. Jeremy leans back on the bench and watches through the glass as Jean nails shot after shot.
“He’s been through so much,” Jeremy sighs. “I just want to give him like...an unending, infinite hug, but I’m trying not to spook him. I think we’ve made some progress. You and Alvarez are going to have to work really hard to make sure he comes to shit, ok? I don’t want him to think he has to because I’m captain, but God knows he needs some friends.”
“Sounds rough,” Laila comments. “Sorry you had to give up your summer for that.”
Jeremy remembers the night before, when Jean had willingly told him about some of his scars on his legs and the torture in the Nest like it was nothing. He had channeled his inner Renee as best he could, trying not to push Jean to share anything he didn’t want to give up, but he still has a million questions.
“Nah, it’s not a big deal,” Jeremy says. Jean misses a shot on the court and flinches as the ball rebounds. “It’s worth it. Besides, I’ll see my mom soon enough.”
“You’re home!” his mom cries when Jeremy pulls into the driveway. She’s holding a teatowel like she ran out as soon as she heard the car, even in the middle of cooking. “Jeremy Bryce Knox, in the flesh!”
“I thought I would surprise you,” Jeremy shrugs, climbing out of the car with a bag slung over his shoulder. “I got the weekend off.”
They hug for a long minute, Jeremy inhaling the familiar scent of his mom and tightening his grip.
“I’m actually expecting company in a minute,” she says when they separate. She’s biting her lip nervously. Jeremy raises an eyebrow.
“Really? Who?”
“His name is Paul,” his mom replies with a bashful smile. They walk into the house and Jeremy can smell something great coming from the kitchen. “It’s kind of new, so I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Mom, that’s great!” Jeremy pulls her back into a hug. “I can go over to Peter’s, catch up with him. Do you want me to crash there?”
“Jeremy!” She shoves him off her with a laugh. “No, it’s alright. I guess you...can meet Paul in the morning?”
Jeremy whistles lowly and his mom shoves him again, still laughing.
“I’ve actually been seeing him for almost six months,” she says when they get to the kitchen, sounding nervous. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Mom, that’s so great,” Jeremy says, still taking it all in. His mom isn’t alone. She has someone else who cares, someone to hang around with and watch shitty romcoms with. Jeremy hesitates, watching her stir one of the pots and then asks something he’s never had the courage to talk about before. “Does he know about Dad and...everything?”
His mom turns and Jeremy gestures vaguely to his wrist. She nods with a fond smile.
“Yeah, he does. His is his sister.” She shrugs. “It’s not the end of the world not to match, you know. And I know that everything with your father went differently than I expected, but I don’t regret it for a second, because it means I got you.”
Jeremy watches her turn back to the pot and tries to reorient his world. His whole childhood, hell, his whole adolescence and young adulthood, he has worried and worried and worried that she felt alone or adrift or unloved, but here she is, smiling and quietly content and apparently at peace. Something within him loosens.
“Ok, I’ll get out of your hair then,” Jeremy finally announces, straightening back up. “But tell this Paul fellow that I expect him to be on his best behavior in the morning.”
Jeremy leaves his mom in the kitchen to the sound of her laughter.
Jeremy loves watching Jean play Exy almost as much as he loves watching Jean grow comfortable with the team. Something inside of him swells every time Jean smiles at Laila, or starts a conversation with his fellow backliners, or shows up to a team event.
He loves learning about Jean, the things he can barely remember from before he was a Raven, the few good parts of what came after. He likes the inside jokes they develop, the way that Jean is ok changing in front of Jeremy some nights, the coffees that Jean brings Jeremy before practice.
“I think he really trusts you guys now,” Renee tells Jeremy over Skype one night. They still like to check in every few weeks. “He seems a lot more settled now than he ever did with us. Whatever you’re doing is working.”
Jeremy tries not to preen too obviously.
“Holy shit, my best friend just got engaged!” Jeremy cries in the middle of dinner, a few weeks before winter break.
“What, Peter and Kelly?” Alvarez asks, stealing some asparagus off his plate. Jeremy nods with a huge grin.
“Oh man, I have to get started on my best man speech like yesterday,” he sighs happily, turning back to the food in front of him.
“Aren’t they a bit young?” Laila ventures, stirring the food around on her plate. Jeremy shrugs.
“I mean, they’ve been together since they were sixteen,” he tells her. “And they’ve both graduated college now, so why the hell not?”
“You said they’re soulmates, yes?” Jean says, watching Jeremy with a look that Jeremy has identified as meaning ‘more curious than he wants to admit.’
“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter that much,” Jeremy shrugs. “They’re perfect for each other, no matter what some letters say.”
Jean frowns. Alvarez rolls her eyes. “God, do you have to turn everything into an anti-soulmate thing, Jer?”
“I’m not anti -soulmates,” he defends himself. “I’m just skeptical. It’s hard not to be, sometimes.”
“You’ll meet them soon enough,” Laila tells him, patting his hand gently. Jeremy rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “It’s no big deal. Shit, how am I ever going to pick which of the million anecdotes I have about them?”
A week before winter break, Jeremy realizes something obvious.
“Jean, are you just staying here over break?” he asks, turning around in his desk chair to look at his roommate on the couch. He nods. “That’s absurd. You should come home with me.”
Jean turns towards Jeremy and cocks his head curiously. “What? Why?”
“You shouldn’t be alone during the holidays!” Jeremy looks down to his phone, a new text to his mom already opened.
“We didn’t do anything for the holidays in the Nest.” Jean’s tone is the same as it always is when he divulges something about Edgar Allen: totally flat, like it happened to somebody else years ago. “I probably won't notice, unless they don’t let me into the court to practice.”
Jeremy resists sighing. What is he supposed to do with somebody who says things like that?
“Jean. Do you not want to come with me?”
Jean continues staring at Jeremy. Jeremy meets his gray gaze head-on. Finally, the backliner shrugs. “I wouldn’t really mind either way.”
“You’re coming with me,” Jeremy tells him decisively, fingers flying across his keyboard. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jean smiling slightly to himself.
“You must be Jean!” his mom cries as soon as Jeremy pulls up outside his house. His mom rushes to the car, opens the trunk before Jeremy’s all the way out of the car. “It’s great to meet you, honey.”
She hefts the bags into the house before either of them have time to react. Jean blinks after her and Jeremy suppresses a laugh.
“You make more sense now,” he finally says, looking over at Jeremy with a smirk. Jeremy shrugs.
“I consider that a compliment. My mom is the best .” He shuts his door and stares up at the house he’s grown up in and wonders what it looks like to Jean.
“I’m sure she is,” Jean agrees, also looking up at the house in front of him with an unidentifiable expression. Jeremy is suddenly struck by the desire for his mom and Jean to get along. He hopes Jean doesn’t regret coming along.
Break, surprisingly, flies by. They head to the community court almost every day, make it to the gym each morning, and get time to just chill in between. Jeremy’s never seen Jean look so relaxed, even when his mom tries to smother him with attention.
“How long will Dad and Dennis be here for?” Jeremy asks one morning while they’re making pancakes. “He didn’t mention on the phone.”
His mom sighs. “I thought Bryce told you– they’re going to be visiting Dennis’s grandparents in China this year.”
“Oh.” Jeremy sprinkles a few extra chocolate chips onto the batter in the pan before straightening his shoulders and sending his mom a sly smile. “Will Paul be coming over on Christmas?”
“He might be,” she returns, hipchecking him and grabbing the chocolate chips away from him.
“Please tell him to get me an Exy jersey for Christmas,” Jeremy says, dropping into a seat at the kitchen table across from Jean. Jean is watching the proceedings with unflinching concentration. “I think that should be the tradition for any potential partners. I saw there’s already something from Dennis under the tree for me, so I guess just make sure they don’t get the same one. That would be awkward.”
His mom laughs, shaking her head, and Jeremy smiles. Mission accomplished. Jean continues watching them, a small frown in place.
“Why do you do that?” Jean asks later, when his mom has left to do a half-day at work. They’re sitting in front of the TV as Jeremy tries to make a video game expert of Jean.
“Do what?”
Jean sets his controller down and turns to Jeremy. “This morning, with your mom. You deflected as soon as she told you that your dad isn’t coming for Christmas.”
Jeremy leans back in the couch and looks at Jean. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Jeremy, your dad didn’t tell you that he’s leaving the country and won’t see you for months,” Jean says slowly. Jeremy looks down at the controller in his hands and starts messing with the wire.
“Yeah, but it’s good for him to meet Dennis’s family. He’s been wanting to for ages.”
Jean reaches over and stops Jeremy’s movements.
“Jeremy.” Jeremy looks up into Jean’s gray eyes. “You spend so much time telling me how important it is to tell people how I’m feeling and that what I feel is valid and it’s okay not to be okay. Do you follow your own advice?”
Jeremy swallows. “I’m fine, man. It’s no big deal.”
Jean leans back with a frown before sighing and unpausing the game. “If you say so.”
Jeremy stares at his ceiling that night, replaying Jean’s words. He tries to remember the last time somebody bothered to call him out on his avoidance tactics and comes up blank. Carla, maybe? She had let a lot slide, though.
He thinks of Jean’s hand gripping his own, of Jean’s intense gray eyes, the firm set of his mouth.
He turns over in bed and wonders how inappropriate it is to get a crush on a guy you’re helping get over years and years of abuse.
Laila and Alvarez tackle Jeremy to the ground after break, laughing and yelling about the break. He lets the noise wash over him, chimes in occasionally, and watches Jean talking to one of the backliners across the room.
“It was pretty good,” he tells them. “I liked having Jean around.”
Practice is more intense than ever in anticipation of the playoffs, and team morale is doing surprisingly well. Team breakfasts remain loud and rambunctious, and movie nights usually end with everybody falling asleep before the movie ends, exhausted from practice.
“Jean middle name Moreau, get the fuck up!” Alvarez yells, poking Jean in the side at the end of Remember the Titans . Jean’s head is tipped back against the back of the couch, his breathing even and slow. Jeremy, who was the victim of Alvarez’s aggressive method of reclaiming her couch moments before, watches the interaction sleepily. “I will pour water on you!”
“Je suis réveillé, je suis réveillé,” Jean mutters, eyes fluttering open. Jeremy straightens up at the sound of French and tries to pretend it doesn’t affect him.
“Dude, what’s your middle name?” Alvarez asks, standing back up. The rest of the team has left, leaving Alvarez to deal with Jean and Jeremy. Her roommates have retreated to their room already. “I can’t sound nearly as angry or authoritative without it.”
“I have two,” Jean says, stretching out. Jeremy averts his eyes. Inappropriate , his brain reminds him.
“Really?” Alvarez says. “Are they, like, super French?”
Jean shrugs. “They’re my grandfathers’ names. My parents both wanted their dads represented, so they just went with both. Jean Laurent Patrice Moreau.”
Jeremy’s neck almost hurts after he whips his head over to Jean in surprise. JLPM. JLPM.
Alvarez looks at Jeremy with raised eyebrows. He shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s super French. Jean Laurent Patrice Moreau.” She uses an exaggerated French accent and Jean rolls his eyes.
“That wasn’t on your official registration,” Jeremy says, his voice slightly rough from sleep. “There wasn’t any middle name.”
Jean grimaces. “The Ravens didn’t really care about my family names. They weren’t required for anything so they just ignored it. I’m not sure if it’s even on my citizenship papers.”
Alvarez pats his shoulder sympathetically. “That blows, man. Anyway, can you please clear out so I can go to bed now?”
Rolling his eyes, Jeremy slings an arm around Jean and steers him out the door, a smile plastered on to cover his panic.
Jeremy stares at the ceiling that night and wonders what it means to have Jean’s initials on his side, what the butterflies that have taken up residence in his ribcage matter. He thinks of his mom’s wrist and his dad’s initials, of Paul’s kind eyes at Christmas and Dennis’s uncomfortable smile at Jeremy’s twelfth birthday party.
He wonders, not for the first time, what letters Jean has somewhere on his scarred body.
“I think I’m in love with Jean,” Jeremy tells Peter on the phone a month later. He’s lying on a bench on campus. It’s dusk, just after practice finished. He likes watching the sky change colors.
“Why do you think you’re in love with Jean?” Peter asks carefully. The sounds of cooking can be heard in the background.
“Because I want to make out with him forever, but I also want to hug him forever and make sure nobody ever hurts him again.”
There’s a beat of silence before Peter bursts out laughing.
“This isn’t funny! I’m having a crisis, Peter!” Peter tries to stop laughing. He doesn’t quite manage it. “At the very least, I know I can’t make a move.”
At that, Peter’s laughter cuts out. “Why is that?”
“Um, because he was abused for like his whole life and he’s only had eight months of normalcy, during which I’ve been part of his recovery?”
Peter sighs. “Jeremy, Jean’s his own person. He’s an adult who knows himself. Should you force yourself on him? Of course not. Should you deny him the option of having something with you because you think you know better? Also of course not.”
“When did you get so wise?” Jeremy whines. Peter chuckles.
“Probably when I got engaged. It changes you.” Jeremy rolls his eyes. “For real, though, Knox, you should at least tell him.”
“Peter, I have his initials.” Jeremy lets out a long breath.
“Shit, really?” Peter sounds excited. “That’s awesome, man! You gotta go for it.”
“What if it’s platonic, though?”
“You’ll never know until you try, dumbass.”
Jeremy frowns up at the darkening sky. “Fine. Now, let me run the final contenders for opening jokes for my speech by you...”
Jeremy switches between sitting at his desk, sitting on the couch, and pacing as he waits for Jean four times in fifteen minutes. He silently apologizes to whoever lives below him. Finally, the door opens and Jean ambles in, backpack slung over one shoulder.
Jeremy, halfway between sitting on the couch and standing, straightens up with a nervous smile.
“Jean! Just who I was hoping to see!”
Jean raises a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s almost like I live here or something.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Jean walks towards him, looking curious. Jeremy bounces on the balls of his feet.
“Okay, so I hope this doesn’t make it weird or anything, but I feel like I need to say something, and I hope you don’t think I’m pressuring you, and nothing has to change if you don’t want to–”
“Jeremy,” Jean interrupts. He looks faintly amused as he comes to a stop in front of Jeremy. “Breathe.”
“I like you!” Jeremy blurts out. “Like, want to date, not just as a human being, although I do that too–”
Jean takes another step towards Jeremy, bringing their faces inches apart.
“You’re my soulmate,” Jeremy breathes out. He can feel Jean’s breath against his cheek, can see the flecks of darker gray in his eyes.
“You’re mine, too,” Jean whispers. Jeremy watches as Jean’s lips curve into a smile before he leans forwards all the way into a soft, gentle press of lips.
They break apart, a grin already unfurling on Jeremy’s face, and rest foreheads against each other. Jeremy tries to surpress his smile in favor of kissing with limited success, but he figures there will be other chances.
Jeremy’s pretty glad that it looks like Jean’s also down to make out forever. That’s something he can appreciate in a soulmate.
Later, Jean traces the letters on Jeremy’s chest with a curious finger, and Jeremy stares at his own handwriting on Jean’s ribs. He thinks back to how proud he was when he first learned about having four letters, watches Jean move like he’s afraid to hurt Jeremy, even after everything, and wishes that he could tell his younger self that what those letters mean is so, so much better than he ever dreamed.