Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     The first time Jean Moreau saw Jeremy Knox, it was over a television screen. The new fall season had just started, and Riko had everyone in the club room watching the Trojan's first match of the year against Binghamton. Jean was completely enraptured the moment the short, stocky blond stepped onto the court in his crisp number 3 jersey. 

     The focus was supposed to be on the new freshmen, a year above where Jean's team was. Everyone knew if you went to H.G. Wells high school, you were destined to play for the Ravens as soon as you graduated. Pure feeder school at its finest. 

All the teams they kept an eye on would be hard contenders against the Ravens once they started playing next year, and Riko would accept no excuses for failure, even something that objectively didn't matter, like "not knowing the teams they weren't facing for another year." Riko probably expected the entire high school team to know the Trojan's favourite foods by the time they started next fall. 

      The game was fierce, for the first of the season— both teams played like they had everything to lose, even though finals wouldn't be for another 6 months. 

     Jean tried to watch the whole match, Riko demanding the team keep an eye on new captain Alvarez. Binghamton was of no consequence to him, knowing the Wells Phantoms would be able to mop the floor with them every single time, even as a high school team, never mind a college team. But the Trojans posed a threat to the King, so he wanted all his king's men to know exactly who they were up against. 

     Jean couldn't tear his eyes off Knox. The blond moved at the speed of sound, racing off after the ball that shot down the court like a bullet. Jean's mouth dried up watching him jump for the ball and twist in the air to fling it to one of his teammates further down the court, and in that moment, Jean wished for nothing more than to be on the court with him. It didn't matter if he was with him or against him, to see those beautiful calves pound on the court would be enough. 

     Jean found Riko's stare icy, but without anger. "Pay attention, Moreau." 

     “I am," Jean answered truthfully. "I'm watching Knox, number 3? He's going to be a beast to take down." 

     Riko's expression didn't change, but he nodded curtly and focused back on the game. Kevin, on Riko's other side, shot him a concerned look, but Jean shook him off and turned his attention back to the game.

When the Trojans had finally kicked Binghamton's ass 9-4, Jean shot up from his seat, jittery and shaking. This was their last scheduled activity for the day, which meant they were free to do as they pleased until lights down at 11. 

     The one advantage of going to a private school was it operated similar to a college campus, with dorms and campus facilities. Jean hated that his parents had sold him to the Moriyamas before he was even old enough to consent, but he couldn't deny that it certainly came with perks. Jean stopped by his room to exchange book bag for exy bag, thankful that his roommate, Lucas, hadn't gotten back yet. 

     He double-checked that his water bottle was full, shoved it in his bag, and ran back out the door. 

     The Wells Phantoms were a phenomenal team and their exy court showed it. They dominated their region, and clearly had the funds to back it up. It sported black walls and black seats, with gold trim around the aisles and court, and accents of white to balance the whole stadium. Two scoreboards rested on the walls behind the plexiglass arena ends. 

Jean finally felt like he could take a deep breath. The court didn't smell like anything but stale air and cleaner, but Jean could almost smell the sweat and hear the squeak of shoes and clack of racquets. There wasn't anyone here to push him past his limit, or to yell at him, berate him, punish him, or beat him. It was just Jean Moreau and the cold, unflinching exy court. 

     He ran drills until he almost fell asleep standing up. When he cleared his gear, shut the court back down and made it to his room, Luke was fast asleep and unaware, or uncaring, that Jean came in. He followed Luke into slumber not soon after. 

-----------

     Jean consistently follows Jeremy Knox's progress as the year goes on. Jean's good at exy, damn good, but he's never had an interest in actually watching the sport. It makes his fingers itch to hold a racquet and his heart speed up in anticipation of play. He literally can't sit still long enough to stay through an entire game. When Riko makes the team watch games for study, Jean usually just tunes them out. But he's followed the Trojan's progress 3 months in now, and Knox has blown everyone out of the water. Not only is he really fucking good at exy, he gets along with his teammates like a house on fire. Even the prickly-souled Alvarez seemed to take a liking to him. 

     Jean has seen every game, every highlight clip, and every interview Knox has ever been in, and it makes his blood feel like it's on fire. He longs to be able to play with Dermott, and Alvarez, and Knox, and the other Trojans, and instead of focusing on practice or whatever Riko demands of him in that current moment, he drifts off to la-la land and fantasizes about playing for the Trojans instead of the Ravens next year. 

     He's been to Castle Evermore. It's dark, and foreboding, and nothing like the trojans' court; white walls, and red seats with crisp gold lining. The Raven's Nest is dark, black like the Phantoms' own court, but instead of being highlighted by gold trim, it's made all the more menacing by the accents of red so deep it feels like blood dripping from the walls.

     All it did was make Jean feel more like a caged bird.

     The team is already warming up when Jean gets there, but he won't be the last to arrive either. They're running warm-up drills for the early-arrivals, and Jean sees Riko and Kevin amongst them. Kevin is busy with a drill, but Riko obviously spots Jean too, and the look Jean receives is menacing, like Jean personally hired the monster under Riko’s bed. Jean swallows, and ducks into the changing room, a sinking feeling low in his gut.

     There's a number of reasons Riko could be upset with Jean. He could be mad at Jean's pitiful performance last game where an opposing player had gotten a yellow card for twisting Jean's ankle and making him run on it for the rest of the game. He could be mad because Jean's been more invested in the Trojan's year than the Raven's, or the Phantoms. It could simply be that someone pissed in Riko's cereal this morning, and he's blaming Jean for it. 

     Brutal, is the only word Jean has for practice that day. His ankle was still tender, but Riko clearly thought he should have gotten over that by now, and ran him twice as hard as everyone else, it seemed like. He gets body-slammed into walls, tripped, blocked, and sticked every second through practice and by the end, Jean is sweating, and bleeding a little, and just wants to go lie down. 

     Kevin intercepts him in the locker room after practice. Riko and most of the other players have left the locker room, minus one or two stragglers. 

     "Come on," he beckons, but doesn't wait for an answer. Jean follows him to the single stall bathroom at the back of the changeroom, and Kevin pulls out a first aid kit out from the shelf above the mirror. 

     Hydrogen peroxide never hurts any less, but thankfully the cuts aren't deep this time and they can have some bandaids slapped over them. It seemed like Riko had his own teammates slamming him with the sharp part of their racquet where the mesh wove into the metal on purpose, and it certainly didn't make Jean trust them any more.

     Really good, really well played exy is what Jean likens to having a lover. The rush and the excitement is all one could ever dream of, and you look back fondly with rose-coloured glasses. It's not like he has any experience in the matter, being 17 and basically in a cult, but he overhears the movies that Lucas watches in the other bed 5 feet from his. (Stupid romance movies. Jean has probably overheard Crazy Stupid Love enough that he has parts of the script memorized by now.) 

     It's been 2 weeks since that hellish practice and while it's only gotten marginally better, at least Jean isn't nursing a swollen ankle while he runs drills. 

     Jean's never experienced lover-like exy.. Sure, he still gets rushes when the ball smacks against the back wall and the buzzer goes off indicating he helped his teammates score, but the Phantoms regularly pummel the other high school teams. There's no challenge, and there's certainly no drive from teams that know they are going to have their ass handed to them anyway. He gets more challenge from facing off against Aidan, their own goalie. At least Aidan is used to Jean's trick shots and has learned to block most of them. The other teams' strikers still get tripped up when Jean dekes around them. He can't wait for exy to become selective, to be the best of the best under the professional leagues, not part of "whoever wants to play can join the exy club" level of skill.

     High school exy slogs through time. Between studies, preparing for college the following year, and training harder and harder every day, Jean's strength saps away slowly but surely. Riko either doesn't notice, or more likely doesn't care that Jean is slowing down. He doesn't seem to push Jean any less. 

     Exams come and go. Studying takes more time out of exy than he'd like, than Riko  would like, but he doesn't have a choice. He's already doing less well in school than is up to the Moriyama standard, though he does expect that Tetsuji goes easier on him for the school half of his life contract, since he's seen what Riko puts Jean through on the court. 

     It's not that Jean hates Tetsuji Moriyama. It's just that, in a way, he feels more distant than Jean's actual birth father. He hasn't seen that man since he was two years old, and he really doesn’t have any memories of his parents at all. But the way Tetsuji committed himself to the Yakuza, running school administration, as well as managing and coaching a whole exy team meant that he didn't really have time for the stray kitten he'd taken in from the rain one day. He had lackeys and a son to care about that for him. He thinks that if he were someone different, he might hate Tetsuji. But he's long since learned it's better to feel nothing at all towards the man, both for his physical safety and his peace of mind. He can't hurt Jean like his demon son does if he doesn't acknowledge Jean's existence in the first place. 

     The transition from middle school to high school was a smooth one, but as the years got harder Jean started to crumble under the pressure of perfection in an elite private school. He found himself increasingly unable to focus in class, fiddling with pencils or his fingers instead of taking down notes like he was supposed to. How the hell was he expected to pass college if he couldn't even pass 12th grade? Aiden and Luke were some help, he supposed, and probably the reason he squeaked by until his teachers passed around report cards. He ripped open the envelope as soon as he made it back to his room, ignoring every conversation starter Aidan tried on him on the walk back. 

     Passing grades. Thank whatever gods decided to listen to him that day. He's pretty sure this proves the existence of miracles.

He doesn't know what Riko, or the rest of the Moriyama family could even dream up for him if he failed his last year of high school and was held back from joining the Ravens next year. Nothing good, for sure. 

He slides the papers carefully back into the folder they came in like they were flammable. Tucking it into the bucket he keeps under his dorm bed for important things, he rolls over and lets the last two weeks of adrenaline and exhausting cycles wash over him and send his mind to a peaceful, black existence. 

------------------------------

     No one saw Kevin's wrist break, but everyone has an idea about what Riko does to Kevin in the privacy of their dorm room. No one hears from him for a week, then on an inconsequential Tuesday practice he shows up looking like the world has taken everything left from him. In a way, Jean supposes, it had, when his eyes land on the black plaster cast wrapped around their star striker's arm. 

Jean watches him stare through the plexiglass into the arena forlornly the whole time, and resolves to corner him in the locker room later. 

     He's still required to be there even if he's not participating, because according to coach Moriyama, "you can still support your team even if you're injured." 

     Of course, there was precedent for Kevin's injury when the teams run by the Moriyama family had the highest rate of both injuries caused to other players, and players on their own team who were put on the injured list.

     Kevin wasn't the first, and he certainly wouldn't be the last, but it was probably the most grievous injury the Moriyama's had let fly. 

     It made Jean's blood boil. It would always make him furious, the treatment of both himself and his teammates, but ultimately they would get away with anything simply because they had enough money and power. Jean stood no chance. 

     He refocused on the scrimmage. 

     Kevin left before Jean got a chance to accost him after practice and demand answers as to why Riko would ever let the Number 2 of the Supreme Court get as hurt as Kevin did. Usually when accidents were staged, they would be able to pass it off as a fight, or as training gone wrong. But a dominant broken wrist was too big to cover and the second the Moriyamas let Kevin out of their site it would be all over the news. They wanted to be in total control of the narrative, but that included keeping their whole team in the dark. 

     Kevin never returned to practice. 

     The stands on the home side of the court sat empty and seemed to sag with the weight of Kevin's loss. 

     The team lost energy, too. Aidan was less of a wisecrack, seeming to drift away from not only Jean but the rest of the team too. Lucas hardly looked at his own roommate anymore, and any interactions between the two boys became withdrawn and frosty. 

     Jean would never be able to guess what the administration's plan was for Kevin being taken off the team, at least temporarily, but all it was doing at a base level was sowing discord between teammates that previously trusted each other with their lives and their future careers. 

     There's not many times Jean has felt a true sense of camaraderie, but now he knows he's never felt as alone as this. 

     Two weeks after Kevin showed up once to practice, Jean gets moved to Riko's room. 

     It's early January and the wind sweeps under the crack in his current dorm's window, so Jean can truly say the only thing he appreciates about Riko's room is that it's well insulated. 

     Again he daydreams of sunny California where it never gets as cold in the winter as [New York], and the first night as Riko watches over him, he really dreams of a sunny, bright smile he's seen play in interviews, and he dreams of exy, and sweaty bodies and clashing rackets, and he dreams that he runs until he's free. 

--------------

     "Wake up!" 

     A sharp crack rings out through the two black haired boy's residence. Jean jolts up in bed, alert, confused, terrified and sore. Riko stands over him, scowling something fierce and Jean knows immediately he will have to tread carefully today. 

     The other boy moves his knee off the bed where he balances to slap Jean awake and goes about his morning routine business. Jean's alarm clock rings, just then, and he tries to muffle a groan at how this day is already going in the first 30 seconds. 

     He keeps his mouth shut, smartly, through breakfast and again through homeroom and college math preparation. He can feel Riko's eyes on him constantly, now that they are a pair stuck together like tar and feathers. Aidan took Lucas' position both in Jean's old bed and also as Lucas' class companion. 

     And Jean was promoted to Riko's. 

     It's at lunch in the massive cafeteria that Jean only tolerates because Riko has insisted on going, even though he knows neither of them like the food the school provides. Jean would much rather hide out in the library and dig himself into big books, and get chapters deep into whatever caught his fancy that day. 

     Instead, he's staring at the notification on his phone and so is the rest of the cafeteria, in a deadly display of absolute silence in unity. 

     Kevin Day had signed with the Palmetto State Foxes. 

     The people around Jean's table glanced nervously at the brunette who was now staring at his phone and seething. Jean was worried Riko might crush his phone from brute strength and fury alone. 

     "RAHH!" Riko let out an animalistic yell and chucked his phone at the farthest wall, some other students having to duck out of it's trajectory. Jean white-knuckle grips the table and tries to breathe. The eyes on Riko are flickering back and forth between the two of them and Jean wants to cry, to crawl out of his own skin, to curl into a ball and hide forever. 

     The room of over 200 students watched the scene before them like they were witnessing a hawk kill a mouse live in front of them. 

     Riko's voice was frosty, ice-cold like Jean had never heard it before. There were bad games, and bad calls that had Riko in a stormy mood, but nothing had made the hairs on his arms raise like this. "Get up." 

Two words and Jean was 5 inches tall and totally insignificant in the wake of the King of Exy's rage. He didn't wait for Jean to scrabble his thoughts, his backpack, and his limbs together to follow, but Jean did anyway. The consequence of breaking a rule while Riko was in this state would be particularly disastrous. He trails behind the shorter boy, bobbing and weaving between students headed other places, trying to keep track of a black head of hair amongst a sea of other heads. 

     He's lost him, just for a second, and bile shoots into the back of Jean's throat. He swallows bitterly, harshly, then catches a glimpse of his missing captain pushing open the door at the end of the hallway. He doesn't care who he bowls over in the process of sprinting towards Riko's back. 

     Riko is seething, hands clenched tightly, face bright red with fury. He's shaking where he stands, eyes screwed shut, but they snap open when Jean pushes the door open a good whole two seconds after Riko did. 

     "You're late." He bites out. 

     Jean can't help the flinch, and scowls to the ground when he replies "you're fast." He knows Riko doesn't care what he has to say right now. Not when all of the Phantom's– no, the Raven's world had just turned upside down.

     Jean doesn't open his mouth. He knows he feels Kevin's loss as deeply as the rest of them, and he doesn't know how the team is going to hold together now that the last stitch has been ripped away. 

     "How DARE he!" Riko shouted, SMACK as he wheeled around to kick the brick wall behind him. Jean's blood felt like sludge in his veins. He shook visibly, but Riko either didn't notice, or didn't care. 

     Riko breathed deep through his nose, eyes and fists clenched tight. He squared his shoulders, and opened his eyes to the deadest stare Jean had ever seen him give. All emotion had been sucked out of him as the ice of acceptance froze him over. "I have to go to a meeting. You're dismissed from the rest of classes, I don't care where you go, just be back in the dorm by curfew." 

He promptly spun on his heels and stormed back towards the front of the school. This time, Jean didn't follow. 

---------------

     Typically, Jean would take this sudden gift of free time to run himself ragged on the court. As it was, he was rattled enough that he hefted his bag tighter around his shoulders and hoofed it back to his dorm room. He had lost his safe, solitary space away from Riko's watchful gaze, and even the thought of going back to his room made his chest heave and his brain turn to ooze. But now, now he was blessed with a torture-less room for the rest of the afternoon. 

     So he stripped down to his boxers, climbed in bed and pulled the covers over his head. His back pressed reassuringly against the wall and in the quiet, he willed his limbs to stop shaking. He snaked a hand out from under his blanket to grope for his phone, lying forgotten in his pants' back pocket. 

     Turning his phone on under the safety of warm darkness, he flipped to his playlist of his favourite USC Trojans clips and highlights. 

     He starts from the beginning of the playlist, as he usually does, and it opens to an interview of Jeremy Knox from the beginning of the season. He doesn't care much for what the interviewer is saying, or any of the words at all, actually. He just lets Jeremy's excited voice wash over him, full of adrenaline, promise, and a true love for the game he was about to play. He lets Jeremy's sun-warmed smile cover him in a calmness that Jean's duvet could only wish to compete with. 

     The next one cycles. It's clips of Jeremy Knox's most impressive goals this season, and Jean loves the atmosphere in the stadium. He loves watching Jeremy twist and turn in the air, known in the exy world for his unnatural jump shots. He lands hard on his feet after a successful jump shot and the camera zooms up on his smiling face as he's being surrounded by teammates. 

     Jean aches for it, for him so badly it hurts. He wishes, wishes wishes wishes with all his heart that he were anywhere but here. He wishes he were with Kevin, on the run from the Moriyama's but free. He wishes he was Nathaniel, who he hasn't thought about in a long time, who was probably dead by now but was ultimately, also free of his chains tying him to the Yakuza. He lets his eyes drift close to the sound of the Trojans fans celebrating a tie breaking goal for the win.

    He wakes up an unknown amount of time later, but the curtain is closed now. Sunlight doesn't filter in through the cracks. 

    Appropriate, Jean thinks.

    He's rubbing the nap from his eyes when the door opens, cracking light into the hallway and he knows Riko is back. He opens his eyes and checks the time on his phone, 7:30, just so he can avoid making eye contact with his roommate for as long as possible. 

    "Jean," Riko starts. 

    Shit. 

    He glances over when Riko stays silent, and the bashful pose Riko is holding surprises him. He's hunched in on himself, holding one arm across his stomach but not like he was in pain. 

    "What?" Jean asks carefully. 

    Riko stops, then starts again. "Can I sit with you for a minute?" 

    The hesitancy and trepidation hidden in Riko's question made Jean reel. Riko didn't ask for things, Riko just did what he wanted whenever he pleased. Riko set his school bag down by the end of his bed and sat with his knees up to his chest next to Jean. 

    Jean waits for him to start talking first. He doesn't want to be here at all, and if Riko would just prefer to sit in silence next to him, Jean would actually prefer tha—

    "They took him from me." 

    God. Damn it. 

    "He was supposed to get better and then come back and play but they took him from me." Jean can hear the layers of emotion behind Riko's sharp words. Rage, fear, sadness. Regret. 

    "You wouldn't leave me, would you Jean?" The way he asks it is so small, so vulnerable that Jean couldn't help his pang of sympathy. 

    "No, I won't." He says. He wants it to be a lie, but he knows he's not strong like Kevin, or clever like Riko. He, realistically, has no chance of getting out of here. 

    Riko moves before Jean's still sleepy brain has a chance to catch up to what his eyes see. Soft, smooth lips meet his and the brunette short-circuits. Riko pulls back as Jean is playing catch-up with his senses. 

    "Um-" is all he gets out, when Riko interrupts him with another kiss. 

    Every bit of common sense in Jean screams to push the other boy off him, to run out of the room and just keep running. But he clenches his fists, buttresses his anxiety, and kisses Riko back. If he really, truly runs, he has no chance of survival on his own. He doesn't know enough about how to be in the real world, all because of how sheltered the Moriyama's kept him. He knew it was an attempt to win his loyalty by keeping him close, but it only worked when he was young. He knows better now. 

    He wants to protest, to scream and cry, but Riko pushes him down by the shoulders and climbs on top of his waist, and now Jean knows he cannot resist further, or else there will be severe consequences. 

    Riko grinds his ass down onto Jean's groin, still only covered by a thin pair of boxers. He breathes carefully through his nose, as to not give away any reaction. Riko nips at his lips and Jean squeezes his eyes shut as Riko's tongue explores his mouth. The grunt he involuntarily makes, feeling disgust as his stomach churns, Riko clearly mistakes for a grunt of pleasure. Or maybe he chooses to believe it was from his stimulation and not Jean fighting every instinct to shove him off. He keeps a firm grip on his bedsheets and eyes locked on their darkened ceiling, tracing the groove lines for any kind of distraction as Riko moves his mouth down to explore Jean's chest and use his hands to undo his school pants. 

    His member is starting to tent in his boxers and he internally cringes, the stomach in his muscles flexing as he tries to will it back down. Riko shakes his pants off onto the floor and likes up their cocks through their underwear. Jean lets out a huff of breath, bile rising in his throat as pleasure races up his spine. After however long Riko decides is long enough, he sits back on his ankles, both of them panting and starting to sheen with sweat. The people on the internet were right, having someone else touch you was better than masturbating. But this, this was infinitely worse. He's broken out in gooseflesh more than once and he has no doubt it will happen again. His calves are tense and starting to cramp, but he doesn't dare move. Riko shuffles forward and Jean freezes to keep his whole body from tensing when the tip of his senior's member poked against his hole. 

    Jean has fingered himself open before, he's an 18 year old boy. But watching Riko loom over him and press inside slowly, painfully, wasn't like anything he'd seen online or experienced. 

    He clenches his teeth together and seethes through the pain. Consciously, fighting back against his natural reactions, he relaxes his legs and abdomen as much as he can. It relieves the burn only a marginal amount, but Jean will take marginal. Riko wasn't particularly large for a teenage boy, but he wasn't small. And it was certainly more than Jean's middle and ring fingers. 

    Riko rocks back and forth gently, throwing his head back in pleasure to reveal his slim neck down to his boney shoulders down to the taught skin that pulls around his ribs. If he was anyone else, he might have been beautiful. 

    The rocking comes faster, and with it the throb of his cock gets more insistant. He wants for relief but he can't bring himself to release the sheet long enough to jerk off. Riko doesn't seem to be interested in anything but chasing his own pleasure. 

    Jean feels tightness pull in his scrotum as Riko's pace stutters, and he comes, it splatters across his stomach and chest as Riko unloads into his ass. 

    They both lay there, panting for just a few seconds, and Jean winces when Riko slides out of him. 

    The shorter boy gets up, and grabs a wash towel from his wardrobe drawer. He comes back and drops it on Jean's stomach, when he moves his hand to slide down Jean's cheek and rest under his chin, in mock affection. Or, what Jean hopes is mock affection.

    He lets it drop down onto his abdomen, before he pulls the sheet over himself and curls in as tight as he can. He feels the tears slip from his eyes as they close, but he doesn't let his mouth open. 

-------------------

    Even though outwardly, Jean tries to convince everyone his school year continues normally, he hides the bruises on his torso and legs as best he can. It's like floodgates opened in Riko after that one night, and now whenever anything even remotely stresses him out, he takes it out using Jean as his personal punching bag. 

    On one terrible, terrible night, moaning and screaming about Kevin (not the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last), he opens a black box that holds a tattoo pen and Jean feels his throat close. The tattoo of I on Riko's cheek and II on Kevin's cheek have given him nightmares about being marked for court himself. It looked like his nightmare would finally come true. 

    Riko sighs as he settles over Jean's lap, the brunette lying flat on his back on his bed. The hum of the plugged in pen rattled through his bones. 

  Is this what Kevin went through?  

    It made him sick to question. 

    The tattoo needle dug into the skin of his cheek and he let out a closed mouth grunt. If he screamed or moved, it would be all the worse for him. 

    By the time Riko clicked off the gun, the dark III rested high on his cheekbone. Riko dabbed the dark glob of blood that rolled down Jean's cheek with his thumb. 

    It wasn't the first time Jean went to sleep crying. 

------

    "Hey man, are you ok?" Aidan asked. They were in the bathroom at the same time, Aidan just coming in to ditch class and vape, and him to escape Riko constantly staring at him from the desk beside him. He went right to the sink to splash water on his face and take some big, deep breaths. 

    "Yeah, thanks." Jean mutters. "Just a big day." 

    "Yo, I feel you." Aidan says with a nod and takes another hit of his vape. Jean doesn't stick around. 

    Class makes him restless, and feel like there's ants crawling all over his skin. 

    Practice after classes is hellish. Double suicide lines, footwork, all the drills that Riko knew Jean hated. At the end, he was panting and sweating like he'd just been swimming. 

    Coach Moriyama, who is more often than not silent through their games and practice, content to leave the real coaching to Riko, ushers them into the team meeting room off of the locker room. 

    "Finals are coming up. Now we've been doing well this season, and I expect that will not change. We take the banner now, like every other year.

    Monday, we face the Mount Royal Majors. Study up on their teams and their games, I expect you all at your best. Don't disappoint me." He claps his hands once, firmly. Jean flinches hard. "Dismissed." 

    Jean felt bile rise. The finals that bled into June ment graduation, then summer, then... 

    Then college. Then the ravens, and then where Jean knew his worst nightmare would begin. The finals plus class finals had Jean jumping and flinching near constantly, exhausted and worn to the bone from studying, doubly tough practice. He'd taken to keeping bottles of foundation and concealer in a hidden part of his backpack. His neck around his collarbones was constantly caked in makeup, but it didn't quite cover the purple hue. 

    If his classmates or teachers ever noticed the fact that he continued to cover up more and more as the summer got hotter, they didn't say anything.

    Finals of both types come and go and Jean nearly cries with relief when he skims by all his classes. He can't believe he's done, officially done with the hell that is high school. College, of course, presents another challenge but at least for the summer, he's free of having to memorize facts that frankly, he's never going to need.

    The game against the Majors went just as expected, with a 12-2 win. Then another game, and another and Jean can't remember when he last felt present. The days, the weeks, and then even the months start to blur together so much that Jean feels like time has just picked him up in its river and he's floating along, content to let father time wrap him up. 

    It's not that Riko's punishments lighten with the victories, per se, but the fact that his mood seems to have lightened even with Kevin gone. The punishments are still just as frequent but Riko smiles with the team more, laughs, and high fives. The dark, stormy moods still put the entire team into near panic attacks, but Riko clearly isn't exempt from  finals atmosphere and high school graduation excitement. 

    They face their final game against the Tierland Tigers who were still not enough to stand up to the Phantoms, though they gave it their best shot. 

    Jean gets swept up in the post-game celebration when Aidan and Lucas sweep him up in the team's mass towards the locker room. 

    Jean knows his heart feels lighter, for once, and he can feel the grin plastered on his face, but his brain is exhausted and has sent him back to the sweet embrace of dissociation. 

    "Hey," Aidan says, "We're throwing a party at my house since my parents are out of town, and I asked them a while ago if we could celebrate there and they said yes." Jean raises an eyebrow, waiting for the other shoe to drop. There always was one, with Aidan. "But what they don't know is we are absolutely breaking into their alcohol cabinet." He smirks, almost viciously but there's too much playfulness in it to be truly wicked. "You're coming, right?" 

    "Uh..." Jean says. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't. There's too much that could go wrong. 

    "Great!" Aidan says, slapping his hand down on Jean's shoulder. "It's at 7, Riko will send you the address." He spins, taking off his jersey to start getting changed. 

    ...Riko? 

    Jean feels the yawning pit in his stomach open wider. He gets changed robotically, the joy of his final victory at Wells suddenly replaced with cold, biting dread.

    Later, Riko opens the dorm door as Jean is closing the buttons on his shirt. "I have the address, it's not that far on foot."
Jean tries to quell his thumping heart. "Yeah, ok" he croaks.
When they arrive the lights and the music are almost immediately overwhelming. Jean wishes he could go home but Riko would never let him leave his side. He's not leaving until Riko feels like it.
Someone shoves a red solo cup into Jean's hand and he automatically takes a sip. It's punch, fruity and definitely spiked. He wants to throw it out, but his grip practically crushes the cup and he would probably look weird standing around a party without a drink.
    "Hey! You made it!" Aidan swings by, punch sloshing out of the cup, onto his hand and the floor below with a splatter. Jean gives him a tight nod, and Riko doesn't say anything.
Through the night Jean follows Riko around like a lost puppy, not sure where to exist in a space that would be comfortable for him. He keeps drinking things he gets passed, and now his vision wobbles when he takes a step. He checks the time on his phone. It could say 6:35 or 8:35 or another time entirely and he stumbles into the back of Riko, who tips forward. He rights himself quickly and wheels on Jean. "Watch where you're fucking going." He seethes out and the alcohol in Jean's system would have made that hilarious, but the thumping of his heart outruled the sway of vodka punch.
He just arrived and he already wants to leave. Preferably, he wants to crawl in a hole and never see any of these people again. But he can’t do that. 

    He loses Riko at some point later on, so he drinks the rest of his punch out of nerves. He’s heard it can make people more confident, so he sends prayers to whoever is listening and downs what’s left like a shot. His face screws and he coughs vodka flavour into the air. His vision has never been like this, wavy and feeling like his mind is playing catch-up with his body. He’s not sure he likes it. He supposes he can see the appeal for some people, but Jean is far too paranoid and wound up to let go of his inhibitions. 

    He’s lost Riko somewhere in the crowd and the dancing around him is dizzying. The alcohol that’s settled in his stomach is starting to unsettle. He decides to step out for some air, and finds his feet carrying him further and further from the house. When his breathing starts to settle (he hadn’t even realized he’d been hyperventilating), he finally assesses his surroundings. He’s miraculously back at the Raven’s dorm, and not somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. If he can’t trust his mind, at least he can trust his feet. 

    His phone is dead when he tries to check the time, and fishes his fob key out to click into the building. He hardly registers the walk towards the stairs and up towards his room, wanting the time and space to walk and drift in his own consciousness instead of taking the elevator.
He stumbles into his dorm room and shifts towards the light switch. He feels his way to the bathroom and grips the sink as he looks in the mirror. He’s sweating from the walk home and the bags bleed dark below his eyes.
    He can’t believe he’s going to be stuck spending the rest of his life with these incessant, insolent people. He wants to punch something, or curl up, but instead he makes for the toilet and hurls into it. The force of it causes his eyes to spring with tears, but he doesn’t think that was the only cause when they flow after he’s done. He cups a hand to his tattoo, healed over well and proudly, masochistically, displaying his attachment to these horrible people. He hauls himself up from the toilet and plants himself back in front of the mirror and wipes his hair back from his forehead. He’s paler now than he was 5 minutes ago and it brings out the sunkenness of his eyes. His hands shake as they reach for his shaving blades without his permission.

Chapter Text

A series of things that happen in between Jean’s last moments before summer truly begins:
- Jean spends the majority of the summer recovering, under the careful and watchful gaze of both Riko and Tetsuji
- The Raven’s season begins. The events of TFC, TKM, and TRK happen

Chapter Text

     He knew getting off the plane there were going to be people waiting for him. Wymack said he'd be meeting the coach of the Trojans so he could go right from Wymack's custody, to the trust of the stewardesses, right into the caring hands of coach Rheman. What he wasn't expecting, hefting his bag on the shoulder and rounding the corner towards the airport doors, was 3 people. Jean's step stutters as his eyes roll over the faces of 2 girls beside coach Rheman, not expecting the other faces. 

     His eyes continue scanning and drift down to the other side of coach Rheman and he stops, stock still for as long as a breath takes, gulps, then continues his stride. He slides the mask he used all the way back with the Ravens to school his expression, and make sure no one outside of him could hear his heart pounding. 

     Jeremy Knox stood to the coach's left side, huge grin plastered all over his sun-kissed face, surfer's blonde short curly hair messy from the wind outside. 

     He forcefully drags his eyes to coach Rheman's. They shook hands, "I'm James Rheman, you can call me Jim, or coach is fine too like these little rascals like to." He winks and tilts his head towards his players. Jean immediately wants to like him, but his mental walls climb up and his throat clenches. 

     Before Jean can get a word in, the blonde sticks out his hand too. Jean's hand doesn't even make it over, being too starstruck to focus on moving. "I'm Jerem-"

    "I know who you are." 

     Foot. Mouth. Goddamn it Jean. 

    "Sorry," he backtracks, "I just mean I watch you guys play a lot." 

     Coach let out a full belly laugh. He clapped Alvarez on the shoulder and said "alright guys, let's get going then." 

----------------------

     The USC dorms at their core are like the raven's dorms, but the colourfulness and the bustle of students moving in, dragging furniture around and catching up with friends enshrouded Jean in a warm hug.

     "By the way," Jeremy says as they get out of the coach's SUV, "you're dorming with me, I hope you don't mind. It's really the only space we had left." He says with a sheepish smile, tugging his hand through the back of his hair. 

     Jean gulps. He's pretty sure he's read books like this. "Yeah," he croaks out, "that's fine." He hefts his bag higher on his shoulder as they set off. 

     Jeremy gives him a tour of the dorms, where they drop off Sara and Layla, both of them wishing Jean a good day and happy arrival. He tries not to let his heart swell so much he would just burst into tears in the hallway. Instead, he nods and gives a quiet "thanks." He knows he's going to get lost in the school buildings, but he's shown the financial aid office, and the help desk, and the student union and Jeremy assures him that's all he'll really need. Jean fidgets, but follows him. 

     Then they get to what Jean has dreamed about since he learned the Trojans existed. The exy court was a large oval-like stadium that's roof sloped up towards one end in an interesting display of architecture. The inside, just like the outside, was a white base with red and gold accents and trim. The court is exactly how he saw on TV, and he bites down on the meat of his thumb to keep all his emotions inside. Jeremy watches him, not saying a word for a few seconds, then interrupts Jean's moment. "Do you wanna practice?" 

     It startles Jean so badly he takes a step back. He knows, logically, that he is going to be playing on this court but in the moment it seems almost surreal. He nods, and they both take off for the changing room where Jeremy pulls out spare gear for him, and the two of them get changed. 

     Playing alongside Jeremy Knox is a rush unlike Jean has ever experienced. The fluidity, speed and gracefulness are understated on television, and the camera has never picked up the quiet grin he wears on the court even when he's just standing still. He clearly loves just being on the court, and Jean thinks he falls in love a little more.

     He can't wait until he gets to play his first game with this team, with Jeremy Knox of all people, like this wasn't something he'd dreamed of every day for a year. 

     When Coach Wymack agreed to get in touch with Rheman to see about him transferring to USC, Jean pushed down the butterflies in his stomach trying not to get his hopes up. When Rheman called back and said they would take him after the huge public scandal with Edgar Allan, Rheman was more than happy to have him play for them, and the dean of their school said it would make their school look good for taking in a stray raven.They spend their time comparing footwork and types of drills. The Trojans go for a more quick dodge-and-weave up the sides of the court technique than the Ravens, who were all aggression up the middle all the time. Jean knew he was going to have to get used to staying in the middle out of the way of the strikers rather than towards the sides.

     By the time they call their practice over, it's dark outside and both of them are sweating buckets.
    His mind is still buzzing with the warm glow of a good workout, but the hands that head towards his borrowed jersey stutter for the briefest of moments when he realizes they are going to have to hit the showers together. Unlike the Raven's showers which were boxy and had practically no light, these showers had open stalls on one side and a communal shower on the other. Raised windows with obscured glass helped the spotty fluorescent lights. He carefully, steadily strips down, eyes averted from Jeremy.
    He starts the shower in the stall cold, just in case.
    Jean remembers Betsy saying, "you're safe. The proof is in the negative spaces in your life. There's no one hovering over you, there is light here, and friendship and I'm so sorry you were so severely deprived of those." He risks a glance over his shoulder, but Jeremy’s back is also to him.

-------------------------- 

     "We're really glad to have you, you know?" Laila Dermott claps him on his back (he suspects, because she's not able to reach his shoulders). "Feels like it's gonna be a good season without last year's fiasco."
    The meeting room was full of the other 29 members of the USC Trojans, milling about and greeting those they hadn't met yet. The first team meeting of the year, coach Rheman told him, was mostly icebreakers, a light practice, then pizza on him back in the meeting room. It would be dark by the time the whole thing was done, but this time, Jean wasn't dreading heading home after dark. 

------------------------- 

     Jean doesn't have nightmares for a few months after he arrives in California. He remembers Betsy saying it's because his brain isn't ready to process what happened to him, but Jean thinks his brain is stupid. If he's reacting to things in his waking hours, what's to stop him from processing it at night too? 

     Alas, he shouldn't have jinxed it. 

     The first night he wakes up screaming, his eyes are still shut because he's convinced he's still in his old dorm with Riko over him. Jeremy apparently shoots up, grabbing Jean's shoulders to try and calm him down but Jean flails, pushing Jeremy away from him. When he makes a thud on the floor is when Jean's eyes finally shoot open. 

     His shout dies on his tongue when he sees Jeremy, eyes wide with fear and he curls his tall frame into himself as tight as he can. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeats like a mantra. 

Jeremy settles beside him but doesn't touch him again. "Hey, it's ok," he reassures, "it was just a nightmare, you're safe, I promise." Jean lets his words wash over him as his words peter out into hard, laboured breaths. 

    "Can I touch you now?" Jeremy asks softly. Jean wants to say no, for the love of god, if you touch me right now I might just die for real. But he's trying to change. He takes a deep breath and thinks of Betsy again. He nods, and Jeremy scoots closer to rub his hand up and down Jean's arm. His breaths even out as he listens to Jeremy's reassurances and feels his eyes start to droop again. Jeremy clearly notices when he asks "ready to sleep again?" 

     The thought makes Jean nearly choke on the lump in his throat. He gulps, breaths. Thinks of Betsy. 

    "Would you... stay?" He croaks. Jeremy's expression melts into a soft smile, and Jean's heart jumps into his throat for a different reason. 

     "Sure," Jeremy responds softly, "roll over."

     He motions, so Jean lies down facing the wall and Jeremy tucks himself in behind Jean, knees tucking in under his butt and he can feel Jeremy's nose pressed against his back. One arm is tucked up against his bare chest, and the other is thrown over Jean's waist. 

     Jean gulps. 

     He doesn't fall asleep for a while, but when he does, his mind is finally peaceful. 

     When he wakes up, Jeremy is gone, and Jean is sporting a completely new type of problem. 

He's processing what's happening to him when their shared bathroom door opens and Jeremy comes out, one towel wrapped around his waist and one towel draped over his dripping hair down onto his shoulders. 

    Jean scrabbles to sit up and pulls the sheet over his waist and is so startled by the two events happening simultaneously that out loud he says "oh my god!" His brain finally plays catch up and his mouth shuts with an audible click. He mentally kicks himself. In the nest, he never would have lost control of his inhibitions like this. 

     Instead of getting mad at him, though, Jeremy just throws his head back and laughs. "Like what you see, tough guy?" He goes over to his own side of the room and Jean has to quickly look away, rose-red blush racing across his face as Jeremy drops his towel in favour of searching for a pair of boxers. 

    They don't mention it again, but Jean knows he's tense throughout the rest of the day. 

He can hardly concentrate in classes, his mind wandering back to Jeremy shirtless that morning. It wasn't like Jean hadn't seen Jeremy shirtless in the locker room before, but there was something different about this, more intimate. Usually, Jeremy showers before Jean is awake, or after he's already left. It was probably coincidence that he'd woken up at the same time this morning, but it certainly didn't help the raging crush he had on the blond. 

     He's clearing out his backpack of his day's things when Jeremy opens the dorm room door. 

     "Hey," he says, and Jean nods back. Jeremy is uncharacteristically quiet, so Jean pauses, sliding his textbooks back into his desk drawer. He stares at Jeremy until the blond notices and stares back. 

     "I-" 

     "Um-" they start at the same time, but Jean shuts his mouth and Jeremy looks away sheepishly. 

     "You go first." Jean volunteers. 

     "Ok," Jeremy clears his throat into his fist. He breathes, wrings his hands together. He finally manages to meet Jean's eyes. "Do you like me?" 

     Jean's eyebrows sink in confusion. "Yes? You're my friend." 

    Jeremy breaks, laughing. He sits down, the tense energy dissipating off of him. "Well, I'm glad you think that, but it's not what I meant." He takes another deep breath and Jean tenses. 

"What I meant was... do you like me romantically? Like. Like-like?" 

     Jean stares. Stares some more, until Jeremy starts to fidget. "Sorry, if that's not the case," Jeremy starts, "maybe I just assumed–" 

     
    "No!" Jean interrupts. "Um," he waves his hands, then lets them fall. "Yeah. I do." Jeremy's expression starts to lift but Jean looks at the floor. "How did you know?" 

     Jeremy scoffs. "Well, it wasn't exactly subtle, I'll be honest." 

     Jean carefully doesn't react. He's lost his touch since the nest, clearly. 

     "But this morning kind of tipped the scales for me." 

     Jean sighs internally. Right, the shower incident, as he's come to dub it.

    "A-anyway," Jeremy continues, his own gaze sliding to the window. "I was wondering if maybe you'd possibly like to go out with me? Like... Dating?" 

    Jean nearly chokes on his own tongue. "Yes," he rushes out, "god yes." 

     He stops, clams up again. Thinks of Riko. Thinks of Betsy, on purpose. Breathe, Jean. Jeremy is different, Jeremy is safe. Even though he doesn't know, Jean may know Jeremy just as well as he knew Riko. He's been watching him for over two years now, and he knows Jeremy would never tease him or lie to him about something like this. 

     He takes a long, deep inhale. "Yes." He says more confidently. "Yeah, I would really like that." 

    Jeremy's grin could put the sun to shame and Jean doesn't think his heart could swell any more. Somehow, he was lucky enough to end up in the position he's dreamed about for years. 

     "Can I..." Jean starts. Jeremy nods encouragement, so Jean takes it and continues. "Can I kiss you?" 

     Jeremy takes Jean's face in his hands. They're warm, and soft unlike many of the hands of people that Jean has known. "I thought you'd never ask." 

     Their lips meet, softly at first but then fiercer. Jean is intoxicated with Jeremy's taste of orange, and the peanut butter and jam sandwich he picked up at the cafeteria on the way home. 

     He pulls back, staring into Jeremy's eyes. "God. I think I've waited for this forever." 

     Jeremy giggles, "really?" And Jean thinks this is it, I'm a goner.

------------------------- 

     They end up winning the championship at the end of their second year and they drag each other to bed

     Jean is delirious, head spinning so hard with adrenaline the only guide he has is Jeremy's hand clenched on the front of his shirt, dragging him back to the dorm room. Jeremy walks double his pace but Jean's strides hardly increase. Jean barely registers the door opening and closing before his back hits the inside of it and his shirt is yanked down so his face is at Jeremy's level. His lips meet Jeremy's soft, pink lips and his hands start roaming unintentionally. He reaches under Jeremy's shirt and sweater, trailing his hands up his torso.

    The blond shivers and moans lightly when Jean's fingers brush over his hard nipples. He lifts his arms up so Jean can pull the sweater and shirt over his head. Jean's shucked shirt quickly follows suit and Jean walks Jeremy back towards his bed, following him down with his lips when the shorter man's knees hit the edge of the mattress and he goes down. His knees fold over the bed and Jean spreads them open to lean down between them. His lips trail Jeremy's neck down to his collarbone, nipping and sucking along the path making Jeremy weave his hands through Jean's black hair and let out little gasps.

    Jean pauses, lips ghosting over his boyfriend's. He lets his hands wander up and down Jeremy's chest, dipping down into his waistband.
"You're gorgeous," Jean says and Jeremy closes his eyes as his face goes red, a smile plastering his face. "I'm so lucky to have found you." He kisses Jeremy once, twice, "I don't know what would have happened to me if I hadn't. Thank you."
Jeremy's eyes are just the slightest bit watery, and he gulps before he speaks. "God. I love you so much."

    Jean buries his face in Jeremy's golden curls near his ear and whispers "I love you too."
Jean's nimble hands slide Jeremy's sweat pants and boxers off in one smooth motion, letting his erection spring free. Jeremy moans into the back of his hand, the other one gripping his hair.
Jean's own pants come off when his mind clicks and his pace stutters. He sees himself in third person suddenly, Riko hovering over him, cocks lined up together. He blinks, breathes, knowing it couldn't have been more than a second.

    This is different. He is choosing this, this will feel good for both him and Jeremy.

    His hand resumes its motion and grips both of their members and Jeremy lets out a strangled gasp that has Jean twitching in his hand.
    He wants this. Jeremy wants this. Deep breath.
    He moves his hand and fireworks explode deep in his hips. Jeremy's own hips buck up as he groans, and he wraps his legs around Jean's lower back, drawing him closer. Their hips rock together in time with Jean's strokes before Jean recognizes the fire starting to churn in his gut and pauses his hand.

    Jeremy whines, hips bucking up and fingers scratching down Jean's back. "Christ, Jean." It's cute that Jean has such an effect on him that he can't form more than simple sentences.
"Hang on, sunshine," Jean reassures, untangling Jeremy's legs from him. He grabs the single condom he's kept in his drawer for the last few weeks. It wasn't a guarantee , or a promise, just a maybe. But the maybe turned into a yes .
    He had a pre-lubed condom because he didn't want to justify buying a bottle of lube when he didn't even jerk off enough to get through it. He rolled it on, making sure it was snug before turning back to his boyfriend. Jeremy was flushed all over, legs hanging in the air on his back with his ass up. He was a gorgeous sight to see and Jean's heart pumped affection through his veins. He came back over and repositioned himself between Jeremy's legs. One finger lined up with his hole and pressed gently in.

    He learned about this. Read about it, watched it. He couldn't hurt Jeremy, not like he had been. The moans Jeremy let out when Jean moved his finger and crooked it where heavenly. When he added a second finger Jeremy couldn't resist throwing his legs around Jean again, trying to bring him closer. Jean used his other hand to rub the precum around the head of Jeremy's cock, sliding around the tip causing Jeremy to cry out and buck his hips.

    "Fuck, Jean!" Jeremy bites his lip to keep from being too loud again. Jean wishes he didn't have to be kept quiet, but unfortunately they did live in a communal dorm. A third finger enters him and Jeremy's moan is positively wanton. Jean's dick twitches again and he can't help but buck his hips forward.
    "Ready?" He rasps out and Jeremy nods quickly. He positions himself, and slides in with little resistance. He swears his eyes roll back into his head, the tight heat engulfing his already sensitive cock. Jeremy squeezes rhythmically around him as he tries to relax, and it takes all of Jean's willpower not to thrust forward until the blond was ready.

    He wiggles his hips, signaling his readiness and Jean chokes on air. His hands grip onto Jeremy's hips and the blond's hands are claws on his forearms. His eyes are closed, head thrown back and Jean thinks he's never looked more beautiful. He starts pumping in and out, rocking the two of them together, crying out in sync. Breaths mingling together, Jean's low grunts melodically complimenting Jeremy's higher groans. Before long Jean could feel the fire sweeping through his guts again and his pace increased to brutal.
    " Ah, ah ah!" Jeremy cried out when Jean brought a hand to stroke Jeremy's cock in time with his thrusts.
    "Close, Jean I'm close!" Jeremy warns and fuck, he is too.
    He pants, gathering his breath, waiting for the spring to be released.
"Come for me, Jeremy," and his back arches up off the bed, ropes of hot, milky cum splatter across Jean's hand and Jeremy’s own chest. Jean spills his own load into the condom, reveling in the contraction and pressure of Jeremy's ass through his orgasm.

    Eventually they both relax, panting, and Jean slides out carefully. He rolls the condom off, ties it, and on shaky legs throws it in the trash by the door. He's soft when he slides his boxers back on and grabs a towel rag to pass to Jeremy, along with the shorter man's own underwear. He collapses into bed next to Jeremy and when he's done cleaning up, Jeremy rolls over and curls into him. Jean throws an arm over his back and pulls him in close.

     He’d thought about lover-like exy in the past, the one thing to truly complement who he was at his core. But Jeremy managed to be the light that shined through the keyhole of his locked door and when Jean finally found the key, for the first time in his life, he felt like he could finally breathe.