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Jean had called Jeremy twice since he left that morning. It was like he could sense the wrongness that had flooded Jeremy. Jeremy hated it, the worry he seemed to inspire in his partner.
Jeremy had typed out what felt like a million texts, deleting them and trying again. But written words could not encapsulate it all, couldn’t justly explain it.
A month ago, he had been released from his contract with the Los Angeles Waves. Well, not completely, but he had been moved to the practice squad.
To make matters worse, it seemed to be all any sports station could report on “the fall of Jeremy Knox.” In reality, he knew it was just a year off. The coaches and managers had talked about it and had decided Jeremy needed a year to just practice and take care of himself, and then he would be back on the roster the following year. It was more grace and compassion than he deserved. But of course, nobody cared about that part. They craved the blood of the former sunshine captain and his fall from exy’s grace.
Jeremy’s depression had spiraled this past year, his first year out of college, seeping into every aspect of his life. His playing had suffered, his relationships felt shaky, and some days he could hardly seem to just take care of himself.
He had started seeing a therapist again, actually going to appointments and talking about things. He was put on medication. He journaled and meditated and was more open about his emotional pain with Cat, Laila, and Jean.
And for a while, it was better. But then it wasn’t.
He started keeping things from his therapist, things that felt too dark to really say out loud, that would ruin any goodwill he had. Sure, this was her job, but she was only human. Certainly, there had to be limits to what he could say to her without destroying any hope of him being seen as a good person.
He stopped telling his friends when he was upset or hurting, because god, hadn’t it been long enough? Why wasn’t he just better? He couldn't keep putting this on them. One day, they would get sick of him. They would look at him and say, Why aren’t you better? Why are you still stuck? Why can you only seem to complain?
His medication wasn’t working. It wasn’t helping. But this was the third one he had tried, and at some point, he just had to accept that maybe this was the best it was going to get, right? Maybe his brain was so mangled and misformed that not even pharmaceuticals could right it. This was just how life was.
But he couldn’t do it anymore.
He sat there on the bathroom floor, the thoughts in his head growing blurrier by the second.
He didn’t have practice that day, and Jean had classes and practice as he finished up his last semester at USC. So Jeremy had had a lot of time to sit around his empty apartment with his own thoughts.
And for some reason that day, he had decided it was too much. He was too much, life was too much. He needed it all to stop.
He wasn’t totally sure what he had grabbed, the pill bottle. He had just reached for it with a fifth of whiskey in the other hand, emptying the pills into his hand before sinking to the bathroom floor.
It was all a blur, but eventually the fifth was lighter, and his hand was empty.
And now he was trying to type out a text to Jean to tell him how much he loved him, how grateful he was for their time together, that there was nothing he could have done differently. But nothing sounded right, nothing could encapsulate it all.
And god, he wanted to hear his voice so bad. Couldn’t he have that? Just one more time of hearing his partner’s voice?
He was hitting call before he registered the action, the phone to his ear. The phone rang before the line connected.
“Jeremy? I was just about to text you. I will be over in half an hour, I just got done with practice.”
“I love you,” Jeremy said, but he couldn’t feel the words on his tongue, he only heard them.
“I love you too, mon amour,” Jean laughed. “I’ll be over soon, okay?”
“You made my life so good, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Are you okay?” Jean’s tone changed immediately, all playful softness gone.
“I will be,” Jeremy assured him.
“You are scaring me, Jeremy.”
There was a scuffle and shuffling, Jean’s voice further away saying something to someone, telling them to do something, breaths more ragged now. “Jeremy, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said again. “I’m sorry, I tried, Jean. I really did. But I’m so tired of trying. I just need it to stop.”
“Oh, oh mon–” Jean swore in French. “You did not. Jeremy, you did not.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy whispered. He leaned over so he was lying on the ground now, curling up on his side so the phone was wedged between his ear and the ground. His head felt light, his body numb.
“No,” Jean sobbed. There was a horn somewhere. “No, you did not, Jeremy. Why?”
“I’m so tired,” Jeremy mumbled, his eyes slipping shut. It was all going fuzzy around the edges now. His chest did not feel so tight anymore. “I just wanted to hear your voice one more time.”
“Non, non, keep talking to me, okay? Keep talking, stay awake.”
“Too tired,” Jeremy slurred, his eyes remaining closed.
“You are okay, you are going to be okay.” Distant shouting, another horn.
Jean was still talking to Jeremy, but he couldn’t really make out the words anymore. That was fine. He really only wanted to hear his voice anyway. Jean could say whatever he wanted to, as long as he kept talking.
“Merde,” Jean spat. There was a distant shuffling, a clinking, a metal scraping, Jean’s harsh breath.
A door opened. He could hear it through the phone, but also…
Footsteps. Pounding.
“Jeremy, open the door.”
Jean’s voice wasn’t coming through the phone anymore.
Rattling, the shifting of a doorknob. He had locked the bathroom door, hadn’t he?
Jean swore.
Jeremy should get up and answer it. That would be polite. But he had lost control of his body long ago. Or perhaps not so long ago. His grasp on time was gone.
Splintering, cracking, smashing.
Hands on his face, arms wrapping around him, pulled up against something solid and warm. That felt nice. When had he gotten so cold?
“Open your eyes. Please, open your eyes.”
Pressure on his chest, warmth dripping onto his face. Hands on his chin, shaking him.
“Wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up.”
More voices now, shouting, shuffling. But Jeremy was slipping away from the world.
“Give him back, please give him back.” Someone was crying.
He wanted to tell them to stop, that it was okay, he was okay now.
Then it all fell away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Patient pronounced dead at 7:52 pm. Cause of death: overdose.
The paramedic’s words kept replaying in Jean’s head over and over again.
His ears had been roaring so loud after that, his vision spotty, his legs no longer able to hold his weight. Maybe he had been crying, or screaming, or yelling. He could not remember.
All he remembered was looking at Jeremy’s body, his skin so grey, his eyes closed, and his lips so gently parted, just like they were when he was asleep. But his chest wasn’t moving. And his heart wasn’t beating.
He remembered trying to crawl to him. He needed to hold him. If he could just hold him, he could fix this.
But someone had been holding him back, and then there were whirring sounds and things placed on his chest, and his body jolted. There were tubes and shots, and it was all a blur of tears and shouting and…
“We have a heartbeat,” someone shouted.
Jeremy’s body jolted again, but this time it was to gasp for breath.
Jean collapsed then, curling in on himself and crying so hard he was practically choking.
Alive. Jeremy was alive.
Jean ran a hand over his face before lifting his head. The hospital waiting room was loud and chaotic. Cat had gone to use the bathroom after trying to call Laila to give an update. She hadn’t picked up, most likely on her plane to Los Angeles now. Adi had gone to get them waters while Rhemann fielded another phone call from one of the Floozies, maybe Cody or Pat.
News had somehow broken immediately about the ambulance outside of the apartment complex, and photos had been snapped revealing a bleach blond on a stretcher. Speculation spread like wildfire.
Jean’s hands were still trembling, though they had been at the hospital for nearly–
He glanced down at his watch, the one Jeremy had given him for Christmas this past year. Had he really meant for it to be his last Christmas? His last Christmas with Jean and –
Two hours. They had been at the hospital for two hours now.
Jeremy had been revived on the scene. He was alive. No news was good news. They would tell them if something bad happened.
Jean tried to run through the words that had been said to him, repeated to him over and over by those around him, no matter how shaky their voices had sounded.
But they did not calm him. Nothing would calm him, nothing short of laying eyes on Jeremy and watching his chest rise and fall. Nothing short of laying his head against his chest and hearing a steady rhythm against his cheek.
Jean bit his cheek so hard he tasted iron.
Soft arms wrapped around him, and Jean let Cat pull him into a gentle embrace and whisper gentle words of comfort to him, though her own voice was hoarse, eyes red and puffy.
Adi and Rhemann returned eventually, and it felt like hours passed before they finally heard, “Jeremy Knox?”
Jean was up and bolting across the room without even checking to see if the rest were following.
“Is he okay? Can I see him?”
“Mr. Knox is stable,” the woman in scrubs smiled and nodded, and Jean bit his tongue so as not to snap at her to not call him that.
“After some…” Jean tried to listen. He did. But the blood was roaring in his ears, and his heart was screaming for Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy.
Finally, they were being led back through the doors and the weaving hallways of the hospital before they stopped at a room.
The woman in scrubs left them there, saying someone would be around in an hour or so to check on him.
Jean stepped into the room first and froze. Jeremy was in bed, pale as the sheets he was lying on, eyes closed. The dark circles beneath his eyes were prominent in comparison, and his face looked gaunt. Jean wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but there was suddenly movement around him, chairs being pulled up to the bed.
A gentle hand wrapped around his, pulling him closer and gently pushing him to sit down beside the bed.
Jean watched, holding his own breath until he saw the soft movement of Jeremy’s hospital gown rising and falling above his chest.
Alive. Jeremy was alive.
Jean thought he must’ve run out of tears, but more managed to silently spill their way down his cheeks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It must have been past midnight now. Cat was asleep in the chair beside Jean, and Adi and Rhemann had left just an hour or so ago at Cat and Jean’s insistence. There was no point in all of them getting horrendous sleep. Cat had dozed off not long after, curling up in what looked like a very uncomfortable position in the small chairs.
He would have to wake her soon. Laila’s plane would be landing any minute now. But he just wanted a few more minutes.
He had his hand gently wrapped around Jeremy’s, softly rubbing the pad of his thumb over his partner’s knuckles. There was a needle and tube stuck into the top of his hand, a few more up his arm.
A soft sound snapped Jean’s attention up to Jeremy’s face. His eyelids fluttered, a soft groan. And then he was looking at Jean, blinking.
“Jean?” His voice was hoarse. He winced, curling in on himself ever so slightly.
“Do not move,” Jean put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “They bruised one of your ribs during CPR. I don’t – I’m not sure –”
He didn’t know what he was trying to say, so he just left it at that once Jeremy stilled and looked around the room.
Jean watched his face as he slowly put the pieces together.
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy finally turned to Jean, and Jean saw the way his eyes glittered even in the limited light provided only from the moon and the hospital hallway. “I called you, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have done that. That wasn’t fair to you to put that on you.”
“You shouldn’t have –?” Jean stuttered, his eyes feeling like they were popping out of his head at the point. His grip on Jeremy’s hand remained gentle, and he tried to ground himself in the contact. “You should have called me sooner. You should have called me before you – before you –”
Jean brought his other hand to his mouth, biting down on his fist and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Are you mad at me?”
Jean opened his eyes to find Jeremy watching him, a wary expression on his face.
Jean let his hand fall away from his mouth before he spoke.
“I am furious.” The words wobbled, but they rang true. He was livid.
“I’m sorry –” Jeremy started again, dropping his head back against the pillow so he was staring at the ceiling.
“Stop saying sorry,” Jean snapped, his voice louder than a whisper. His gaze whipped to Catalina to be sure he did not wake her. She was curled up in her chair, unmoving.
Jean let his gaze fall back at Jeremy, who was still staring up at the ceiling, lips pursed. He did not deny it.
“You will not do that again, Jeremy.”
For years, Jean hated Kevin for the promise he forced him into. For years, he could not understand how Kevin could do that to him, make him stay when he wanted more than anything to let it all go, to just have a quiet nothing.
Right now, Jean would make Jeremy agree to anything just to know he could not lose him. He would not lose him.
“You will promise me, right now.” Jean let go of Jeremy’s hand, and Jeremy’s gaze snapped to his at the loss of contact.
“Jean –” Jeremy started, sounding tired, like he was exhausted from having to explain the same point over and over to a silly child that would not comprehend.
But a harsh trilling interrupted whatever he had been about to say. Cat spasmed with a sharp breath, digging around her jeans before she pulled her phone from her pocket.
“Hey, babe,” she said after flipping open the phone. Her gaze fell on Jeremy, and a dozen emotions passed over before she mouthed, Hi.
Hi, Jeremy mouthed back, with a weak, sad, fake smile.
“Okay, I’ll leave now and probably get there right after you grab your bag.”
“I will go.” Jean stood.
He needed space, he needed air, he just needed to get out of this room.
“Jean, it’s fine, I can –”
Jean sliced his hand through the air in a cutting gesture. “I will get her and pick up some clothes for us.”
He had come straight from practice without showering, and he suddenly felt gross and dirty, the weight of everything hanging on his body and clothes.
Jean held out his hand. Cat stared at him a moment before digging around her pocket again and dropping her keys into his palm.
Jean felt every searing second of Jeremy’s gaze on him as he walked out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Laila seemed surprised to see Jean picking her up, but she didn’t comment on it. She just wrapped her arms around him and held him tight for a long time. After someone finally honked, they pulled apart, swiping at their faces, and made their way to Cat and Jean’s apartment to grab some clothes. Laila packed a bag after forcing Jean to go shower and let her worry about getting the clothes.
Cody and Ananya had stopped by at some point to get Jabberwocky using the spare key they kept under the mat, and Cat had told them to keep it in case they needed anything else.
It was six in the morning when they got back to the hospital, the hallways quiet outside of the whispers and footsteps of the hospital staff. In the distance, there was some shouting, a siren.
Jean led them to the room. When they stepped inside, Jeremy’s eyes were closed, but there was more color to his face.
Cat stood up to hug her girlfriend, and Jean let them have a moment to greet each other and talk.
He headed for the couch on the other side of the room, curling up as small as he possibly could and squeezing his eyes shut. He begged for sleep to just take it all away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Jeremy woke up to Laila being there, Jean and Cat stepped out. Laila crawled into the hospital bed with him, and they held each other and cried a lot.
“I love you, Jeremy, I love you so much,” she sobbed over and over. “Don’t ever do that again, don’t you dare.”
Eventually, a nurse came in for a check-in with him, so Laila reluctantly stepped out to go find Jean and Cat.
When they came back, Cat and Laila did their best to keep the conversation light and flowing, but there was a layer of tension to everything. Jeremy hated that he put it there, hated that they were even there because of him.
Jean was in the room every time that Jeremy was awake. Their conversations were stilted and wrong, but that was fine. Jeremy didn’t really want to talk to anyone any more than he had to during his mandatory psychiatric check-ins.
“You need to eat,” Jean nodded from the couch at the tray in front of Jeremy.
It was his second day in the hospital now. Cat and Laila had gone home real quick to shower and grab more clothes. Jean had refused to leave, but this was the first thing he had actually said to Jeremy all day.
“I’m not hungry,” Jeremy shook his head, continuing to stare at the wall in front of him.
“I did not ask if you were hungry. I said you need to eat. You have not had anything all day.”
Jeremy turned to find Jean glaring at him.
“I don’t care,” Jeremy snapped back, dropping his head back onto his pillow and squeezing his eyes shut. “And you can’t make me, so stop trying.”
He knew it was stupid and childish, but he was tired and uncomfortable and frustrated.
“I know.”
The words were so quiet, so pitiful, Jeremy couldn’t help but open his eyes.
A lone tear slipped down Jean’s cheek, his lips pressed together so hard they were bloodless. He brought one shaking hand up to cover his mouth, the other fisting the couch cushion so hard it was a miracle he didn’t tear it.
Jeremy would have said anything in that moment to fix it, to make it all better again. He opened his mouth to try.
“We come bearing boba!” Cat announced as she and Laila walked into the room, Cat holding a tray of four colorful drinks up.
Jean swiped a hand over his face, shoving up from the couch and mumbling something about needing air, before hurrying out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After 72 hours, Jeremy was released from the hospital.
It took a lot of begging from Cat and Laila, and a private conversation between Jeremy and Rhemann, before Jeremy finally relented to being checked into a facility for a week.
It was a lot like rehab. Check-ins, group therapy, and cold, sterile, empty rooms.
Laila had gone back to Seattle while he was there, but she called him the day he was released and had access to his phone again.
While he was admitted, all his necessary things had been moved back into the loft. Rhemann and the girls had discussed this with him before he was checked in, and he had relented. They didn’t want him to be alone and thought it would be good for him to live with people, even just for a little while.
But it felt embarrassing and stupid and like he needed to be watched, like he couldn’t be trusted to be on his own without doing something wrong. And the worst part of it was maybe that was true, maybe that was all true.
It was Rhemann who had picked him up, and though the car ride was mostly quiet, it wasn’t uncomfortable. He walked Jeremy up to the loft, pulling him into a tight hug when they got there.
“You’re going to be okay. Call me whenever, and I’ll see you Wednesday for lunch.”
Jeremy just let himself be held.
When he stepped into the apartment, only Cat was home. She greeted Jeremy with a forced, cheerful smile. A loud yip, and nails on hardwood were all the warning he got before a furry little thing was darting for him.
He crouched down so he could pet Jabberwocky, who let out long whines and wiggled his whole body the way he did when he was excited, crawling into Jeremy’s lap like he was trying to get as close to him as possible.
“He missed you a lot,” Cat smiled, but Jeremy could see the sadness behind it. The sadness he had caused.
Jeremy picked Jab up, burying his face in his soft fur.
Cat gave him a moment, stepping back into the kitchen for a while before coming out and showing Jeremy to his room. It was weird feeling like a guest there again, when just weeks ago it was his second home. Just a year ago, it was his home. He tried not to let the feeling eat him alive.
He set his bag down, looking at Jean’s room, a room he had spent more than enough time in, slept in more nights than he could count, and yet…
“Is he,” Jeremy trailed off, not totally sure what he was asking, but Cat seemed to.
She gave him a tight-lipped smile, “He’s been sleeping in my room the past week after Laila left. He doesn’t,” Cat paused and shook her head, as if not wanting to reveal why. “We're going to put a cot in here, and he said he would sleep on that.”
Jeremy took that like a dagger to the chest, that his boyfriend (could he even still call him that?) wouldn’t want to share a bed with him after –
“That’s stupid. I’m not sleeping in his bed –”
“It’s what he wants, Jer.” Cat shook her head. “It was the setup he wanted.”
They heard the front door open, a loud thump of what was probably a backpack being dropped. A loud yip and skittering, soft French being spoken.
Cat gave Jeremy a look, and they made their way out of the room. They stepped into the hall to find Jean crouched down, Jabberwocky curled up in his lap, receiving belly rubs.
Jean froze when the floor creaked under Jeremy’s foot, his gaze flicking up to meet his immediately.
Those grey eyes went wide, an emotion passing over them quickly, before it was gone, and they were blank and guarded.
“Look who’s home,” Cat held her hands up as if presenting Jeremy.
Jeremy tried to give a soft smile, but it felt wrong on his face.
Jean blinked a few times before saying, “Hello.”
It was so formal, so distant, so… so wrong. It nearly sent Jeremy stumbling back. It was like he was a stranger to Jean, someone he had just met. And that hurt so bad he felt his breath stutter for a second.
“Hi,” he managed to choke out when he realized they were both looking at him, waiting for a response.
Jean turned his gaze to Cat then. “Did you tell him about the room?”
He spoke to her, spoke about Jeremy like he wasn’t there.
“Yeah, we just took the tour,” Cat said, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but it all felt wrong. It all felt so wrong.
They stood there for a few seconds. The only sound was Jabberwocky’s soft pants as he wriggled in Jean’s lap, looking for more pets.
“I think I’m going to go take a nap,” Jeremy gestured to the room behind him.
“Oh yeah, of course. You’re probably exhausted,” Cat said.
Jean just turned his attention back to Jabberwocky in his lap.
Jeremy pursed his lips, nodding, before walking back into the room. His room? Jean’s room?
Fuck. This sucked.
“Do you need anything?” Cat popped into the doorway as Jeremy slipped beneath the covers, actually feeling exhausted now.
Jeremy only shook his head, wrapping the comforter around himself and burrowing into the bed. He didn’t even let himself feel guilt as he inhaled the scent of Jean deeply, finding comfort in it as he drifted off.
Just before he was lost to sleep, he heard the soft creak of wood, the shuffle of fabric, stuttering breaths. Clicking, the dip of the bed, too light to be human. Snuffling breath and then a warm, soft pressure on his back.
And then nothing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Someone was always at the apartment for the next week, and when it was empty, someone had miraculously made plans with Jeremy for as long as it would be. He got lunch with Rhemann and boba with Cody and went for a walk with Jabberwocky and Ananya. Pat invited him over to play Super Mario Bros, and one day, Laila called him for nearly two hours while Cat and Jean were both at practice, even though they spoke nearly every day.
Jeremy had never felt more childish, like he needed to be watched every second. And yet he couldn’t deny that being around people, people he loved and cared about, was helping him feel even marginally better.
Jean still barely spoke to him, still barely looked at him, honestly. It hurt, it hurt a lot.
Jeremy knew it wasn’t fair to expect things to just go back to normal immediately. He knew it had hurt Jean, seeing him like that, hearing him like that. It wasn’t fair that Jeremy had called him and put that on him. He had expected Jean to feel things about that, of course, to be angry with him, to be upset, to look at him differently.
But Jean wouldn’t even look at him.
It wasn’t like he completely ignored him. If Jeremy asked him a question or said something, Jean would answer. But it was the shortest answer he could give, and if a nod or shake of the head would suffice, he would do that instead. They shared a room, and Jeremy could barely get more than five words out of him a day.
By the end of the week, Jeremy had just stopped trying. He wasn’t going to force Jean to talk to him. It wasn’t fair to Jean, who had worked so hard to set boundaries and learn how to take care of himself. Jeremy wouldn’t force him to throw that all away just for his own petty comfort.
So he would let Jean go, let him slowly slip away, even if it killed him inside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were in the kitchen that Monday, a week after Jeremy had been released from the facility. Jean was brewing another pot of coffee, and Jeremy was cutting up a cucumber. Jabberwocky stood at his feet, shifting back and forth on his paws, occasionally nudging Jeremy with his nose.
“I don’t think you like cucumber,” Jeremy said softly, glancing down at the dog.
He felt it immediately. The knife slipped through the vegetable, slicing his finger.
He hissed, gaze snapping back to the cutting board. In seconds, blood was dripping down onto it. He had cut the pointer finger on his left hand, but he couldn’t even see where at this point.
Rough hands grabbed his shoulders, jerking him back. He dropped the knife onto the counter in surprise as he stumbled away. Jean stepped between him and the counter, snatching up the knife and tossing it away, into the sink, before whirling on him.
Jean grabbed his shoulders again, grey eyes wide as they flicked over his body, landing on his hand, now covered in blood.
“What did you do?” Jean’s words were sharp as he grabbed Jeremy’s wrist, pulling his hand up to where he could see it. “Why did you do that?”
Jeremy wasn’t sure if he was trembling or if it was Jean. He was focused on the blood now dripping down his wrist.
“Why did you do that?” Jean asked again, and Jeremy finally looked up to see how pale he was.
“I didn’t – It was an accident, I –” Jeremy shook his head.
Still holding Jeremy’s wrist, Jean snatched up a towel that was hanging off the oven and wrapped it around Jeremy’s hand. He tugged him over to the kitchen sink, and then made a soft noise in his throat when he looked down into it, tugging Jeremy along towards the bedroom instead.
He pulled Jeremy through the room and into the bathroom, sitting him down on the toilet seat. Jean quickly dug through the bathroom cabinet, pulling out gauze, a washcloth, and some rubbing alcohol. Jeremy watched as he turned on the water, wetting the washcloth. His hands were shaking enough that Jeremy could see it from where he sat.
“It was an accident,” Jeremy said again, hearing the tremor in his own voice. “I was looking at Jab and it –”
Jean knelt in front of him, taking his left wrist again and pulling the towel off. They both sucked in a sharp breath at the blood. Jean blew one out slowly, and Jeremy felt it tickle across his skin. Those grey eyes met his, still wide and fearful, but Jeremy nodded his permission.
Jean began wiping off the excess blood, though more still beaded and dripped, but much slower now. When the cut was finally clear, it didn’t look that wide or that deep. All the blood had made it look worse than it was. Jeremy thought they would both find relief in this, but when he looked up, Jean was still pale, lips pressed together as he studied Jeremy’s hand.
Without getting up, he reached for the gauze on the counter, dropping the washcloth beside them. He began to unroll it, pausing.
“I need to go to Cat’s room to get scissors, can you –” Jean spoke to Jeremy’s hand. He added, so softly that Jeremy barely heard. “Please, don’t move.”
“Don’t you have scissors in your desk?” Jeremy knew he did. He had used them to cut the tags off of countless shirts.
Jean shook his head. “I moved them.”
Jeremy pursed his lips.
Jean stood up, walking quickly out of the bathroom.
Jeremy looked around. The spot where Jean’s razor had once sat was now empty. The bathroom cabinet, left open in Jean’s haste, only contained tape, gauze, a few cloths, and some tissues. All the medicine must have been moved.
Jeremy’s throat was tight, his face hot as he ran his uninjured hand through his hair.
Jean returned in what felt like seconds, grabbing the gauze and cutting off a piece before setting the scissors as far away from them as he could while still keeping them in the bathroom.
“It was an accident,” Jeremy said again, so quiet it was barely a breath, though the pleading in his voice was still obvious. Pleading for Jean to believe him, to forgive him, to look at him.
To still love him.
Jean poured a bit of rubbing alcohol onto the piece of gauze before dabbing at Jeremy’s finger. Jeremy hissed at the initial contact, pulling away involuntarily, but Jean held firm to his wrist. The bleeding had largely stopped now, and Jean cleaned up the remaining blood after cleaning the cut.
Jean grabbed the gauze again, cutting off a long piece and wrapping Jeremy’s finger carefully, using medical tape to hold it in place. Jean studied his work for a moment before dropping Jeremy’s hand and reaching for the scissors, putting them in his back pocket. He quickly cleaned up the supplies and pulled out his phone, stepping out into their room.
Jeremy couldn’t make himself stand up. He felt so disoriented and off balance all of a sudden, like he had just been dropped here into this strange place.
“Can you come home? Please.”
Jeremy heard the quiet whisper and glanced out through the doorway to see Jean sitting on his cot, phone pressed against his ear. His back was to Jeremy, so he couldn’t see his face.
“Please,” Jean said again, so quietly Jeremy might have imagined it. Then he flipped the phone closed, stood up, checked his back pocket where the scissors were, and walked out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cat arrived home minutes later. Jeremy had moved to the bed at that point, facing the wall, but he heard the quiet murmuring. Soft footsteps alerted Jeremy to the fact that someone had stepped into the room, but he remained in his curled-up position facing the wall.
The bed dipped, and a delicate hand ran through his hair.
“It was an accident,” Jeremy whispered.
“I know it was,” Cat said, scratching softly at his scalp. Jeremy sighed and let his eyes fall shut. “Jean explained what happened, and I told him it sounded like an accident. He just,” Cat sighed.
“Doesn’t trust me.” Jeremy tried to make the words sound detached and uncaring, but he couldn’t fully convince himself he succeeded.
“Is worried about you,” Cat corrected. “Very worried.”
The bed shifted again, and Cat wrapped her arms around him. He let himself be pulled so his back was flush with her chest.
For the first time since Jeremy had gotten home, he cried. It was soft and soundless, just tears slipping down his cheek, his body shuddering ever so slightly. Cat tightened her hold on him, and he let himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Jeremy awoke, he was alone, and it was dark. The loft was quiet, but when Jeremy shifted, there was a soft snuffle behind him. Jeremy rolled over to find Jab curled up beside him once his eyes adjusted to the dark.
Once he noticed Jeremy was awake, his tail started thumping in earnest, his little body wiggling as he crawled over to Jeremy.
“Oh, hi, baby. Oh, hello,” Jeremy whispered as Jab let him take him in his arms and pull him close. Jeremy buried his face in his fur as Jab tried to lick every part of Jeremy’s face he could reach.
He lay there for a while, holding Jabberwocky close until he felt like he was grounded in his body.
His stomach grumbled, and he realized he was starving. He hadn’t eaten after everything with the cucumber, and then he had just slept through the rest of the day.
Jabberwocky lept off the bed when Jeremy released him from his arms and bolted out of the room. Jeremy sat up slowly and shuffled towards the kitchen.
The apartment was dark. Cat and Jean must have been at practice.
When he was just passing Cat’s room, he paused. He heard something, a soft sound inside that tugged on his heart.
Soft sobs came through the wood, and though every logical part of his brain screamed that it wasn’t his place to listen, it wasn’t his place to go in and offer comfort, he couldn’t help but push open that door and step into the room.
The room was dark. Jean was curled up on the floor beside Cat’s bed, head tucked into his hands, his body shuddering. Jeremy gasped, a pang in his chest at the image.
Jean quickly glanced up, and when his eyes fell on Jeremy, he let out a soft sound that made Jeremy want to crawl over to him and hold him.
Jean quickly swiped at his face but made no move to stand up.
“Are you okay?” Jeremy spoke softly, unsure if his words were allowed anymore in a moment like this.
“I am not,” Jean spoke to the ground, his voice surprisingly steady despite everything.
Jeremy nodded, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood.
“Stop that,” Jean snapped, and Jeremy startled but released his lip from his teeth.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jeremy shifted on his feet awkwardly.
You can leave. That’s what Jean should say to him, it’s what he deserved to hear after –
“You can sit with me,” Jean’s voice was quiet and gentle. He was looking at the ground again.
Jeremy nodded, stepping further into the room, but keeping a few feet between them as he dropped down onto the floor. For a while, there was just silence, but then quiet sniffles caught Jeremy’s attention.
Jean was looking at him with so much pain, tears falling down his face.
“I can’t stop picturing it,” Jean whispered.
Jeremy opened his mouth to ask what, but he never had a chance to.
“You were dead,” Jean sobbed, curling in on himself. “You were – mon Dieu. You were dead, Jeremy.”
Jeremy’s heart shattered into a million pieces at that, the sound of Jean’s gut-wrenching despair. It was an instinct more than a conscious thought to crawl over to Jean and wrap his arms around him.
A hoarse cry left Jean at the touch, and Jeremy would have scrambled away, but Jean untucked himself from the curled-up position and grabbed Jeremy. One arm wrapped around his back, and a hand came to cup the back of his head. Jeremy crawled into his lap to make the hold easier, and Jean sobbed into his hair, rocking them gently back and forth.
Jeremy’s fingers dug into the back of Jean’s shirt as he buried his face in his chest, and only when Jean’s shirt grew damp did he realize he was crying too, guttural, shuddering sobs.
“I love you,” Jean sobbed into Jeremy’s hair, and he felt a desperate kiss to his forehead.
Jeremy pulled away, blinking and looking up at Jean. Jean’s face was tear-streaked, grey eyes red-rimmed and puffy. A soft touch cupped Jeremy’s cheek, and Jean littered his forehead, his nose, his uncovered cheek with kisses, nuzzling his nose against Jeremy, whispering, je’taime, I love you, je’taime, as tears fell down his cheek.
Jeremy brought a hand up to Jean’s face, cupping it gently, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb, and swiping at the tears that fell. Jean’s face was rubbed raw, making it clear he had been crying long before Jeremy stumbled upon him.
“I love you,” Jeremy whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
For a moment, there was silence, and Jeremy didn’t think Jean would say anything. He didn’t expect him to anyway.
“I have never been so scared in my life,” Jean whispered.
And for some reason, that struck Jeremy the hardest. Maybe knowing what Jean had been through, knowing his past. All of that weighed out, and nothing, no one, had ever scared him as much as Jeremy had.
They sat like that for a while, just holding each other, the only sound between them their breaths and soft heartbeats. Fingers laced with Jeremy’s, Jeremy felt the soft tug of Jean running his thumb over the gauze on his finger.
“It really was an accident,” Jeremy murmured into Jean’s chest.
“I know it was,” Jean pressed a kiss to the top of Jeremy’s head. “I know, I was just so scared in the moment and I could not –” Jean took a shaky breath. “I was not angry at you. I was very scared. And sometimes that looks like anger on me. I am sorry.”
Jeremy pulled away just enough so he could look up at Jean. Jean’s chin wobbled, “And at first when I saw the blood and the knife, I did think that you –”
Jean squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his lips together. Jeremy scrambled to gather him in his arms, to hold him close.
“I never meant to hurt you,” Jeremy said, as Jean wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, Jeremy. I don’t want you to feel guilty for this. I want you to want to live,” Jean pulled away so he was looking at Jeremy as he spoke. “I want you to come to me when you are hurting,” he murmured, hand on his cheek. “I want you to see how beautiful and wonderful and incredible you are, and that your life has so much purpose, that there are so many people who love you, who would –”
Jean took a shuddering breath, the grip on Jeremy tightening.
“Who would be devastated to lose you,” he finally whispered.
“I’m s–” Jeremy cut himself off and pursed his lips. “I will try.” He didn’t say anymore, but he didn’t need to. Jean would understand what he meant.
“That’s all I ask,” Jean said, before pressing a kiss to Jeremy’s palm, and pulling him close, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I just want to see you happy again.”
As things settled, it dawned on Jeremy what time it was.
“Shouldn’t you be at practice?” Jeremy tried to crawl out of Jean’s lap, but his grip on him only tightened. He settled for pulling away enough so he could see his face.
Jean shrugged, “I had more important things to be here for. They will be fine without me for a day.”
It took Jeremy a few seconds to realize that that more important thing was him.
His stomach rumbled, and Jean looked down before looking back up with a watery smile.
“Dinner?”
Jeremy nodded and let Jean pull them up off the ground.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jeremy awoke the next morning to soft kisses on his neck and familiar arms around his middle, a heartbeat he knew as well as his own at his back.
“Good morning,” Jean murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.
“It is, isn’t it?” Jeremy yawned.
And he meant it.
They were going to take Jabberwocky for a walk today and stop at a coffee shop before Jeremy had his psychiatry appointment. It was time he finally got on the right medication, even if that took time and attention and many, many tries. He had one of his biweekly therapy appointments after that with a new therapist whom he liked so far. Then he and Jean were going to dinner, and Cat was going to meet them out for ice cream after that.
It was a good day, but Jeremy knew there would be bad ones too. Ones where it was hard to get out of bed, where it was hard to talk to people, where his mind was loud and cruel and vicious. But he would try to catch it before he spiraled. He would work to learn skills to cope now, so it would be even just a little easier when the downturns came. And they would still hurt, but he would try to make them hurt less.
“What are you thinking about?” Jean had turned them so they were facing each other, his brows pinched in concern.
Jeremy pressed his thumb on the spot between them, smoothing it out. Jean grabbed his hand, pulling it down to press a soft kiss to his thumb.
“I was thinking about this beautiful, amazing, brave man I know, who decided that he deserved to get better.” Jean’s cheeks turned pink, and Jeremy smiled softly before his face went solemn and he whispered. “And maybe, I can decide that I do too.”
Jean’s hands came up to wrap around his waist, and he looked down at him with a serious expression. “You do,” he said, nodding. “You deserve to get better. You deserve to be happy, Jeremy. I want you to know that.”
Jeremy nodded and let his eyes fall shut as Jean pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“I think I do.”