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Chapter Text

Jeremy hadn’t meant to end up at Eden’s Twilight with a fuck-ton of Foxes and a tight-lipped Jean, but then again, this wouldn’t be the first time he ended up somewhere he hadn’t planned on being. The music pounded in waves above him, the lights a watery blue as lasers zigged and zapped over the dancefloor. The place smelled of nicotine and gin stuck to the bottom of shoes. It made Jeremy’s skin buzz.

They had found a corner with some seating, but it was tight, pressing Jean and Jeremy together on one side, and Neil and Andrew together on the other. Kevin stretched his long legs out in a seat of his own, feet crossed at the ankles, while Nicky, Aaron, and Katelyn stood close to each other. 

Kevin was mourning his loss to USC, 4-6, (and the end of the Foxes’ season) with a vodka sprite, hold the sprite. Meanwhile, Andrew and Neil nursed their caramel-colored drinks in silence as Aaron and Katelyn whispered and giggled back and forth, sharing a glass with two straws. Nicky stirred around his bright pink martini. 

Jeremy couldn’t stand the Foxes’ stuffy silence any longer. Jean was just as bad, practically growling into his soda. They were supposed to be watching Exy recaps in the Foxes’ dormrooms right about now, but the Foxes had wanted to let off some steam and Jeremy hadn’t wanted to sit still, so Jean had to compromise if he was to keep watch over his partner like a good (ex) Raven. So now, he was scowling at the flagrant display of hedonism. 

Bobbing his head to the music, Jeremy leaned over Jean to shout at Nicky over the noise. “Man, I love The Killers , don’t you?”

“Oh my gosh, yeah!” Nicky said. The bait worked. Nicky began rambling about top hits and Eden’s epic DJ as Jeremy tapped his foot along to the beat. He shook his waterglass around, nothing left but ice cubes. He was sick of water. But he knew Jean was watching him, so he kept his press-worthy smile plastered on. 

“We should dance!” Jeremy said when Nicky finally paused for a breath.

Ecstasy filled Nicky’s face. “I like you so much more than Neil and Andrew.”

Jean caught Jeremy’s wrist as he moved to get up. Andrew’s sharp gaze snapped to them, but Jeremy ignored it as Jean gestured for him to lean down so he could speak into his ear. Jean’s breath tickled against Jeremy’s neck, and he tried not to shiver as Jean asked, “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be with Nicky. We’ll be fine. Get some bonding in with your rehabilitated Ravens and let me be a Fox for the night.”

Neil had that bitter edge of a Raven to him that made Jeremy consider him part of the Edgar Allan flock, though he hadn’t spent more than a couple weeks with the cult. He had been scarred by his time there just as much as Jean or Kevin. 

Kevin’s Queen tattoo was looking regal in the club lights despite the sharp, downturned look in his green eyes. It wasn’t really the Foxes’ fault they had lost their chances at making it to the championship. Neil and Andrew had been pretty beat up earlier in the season, and it had impacted their performance since. Still, Jeremy knew by Kevin’s sulking (and his post-game interviews) that the Trojans were performing better than they ever had.

Jeremy and Jean had planned to stay in South Carolina a bit longer than the rest of their team, win or lose, to show their support for the Foxes after their difficult season. It only took a few sweet words on Jeremy’s part ( It’s about good sportsmanship, Coach ) and phone calls to the travel agent for Coach to bump their flights back a couple days. What Coach didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.   

Jean’s dark gaze didn’t flick away from Jeremy’s eyes, even as Neil, Andrew, and Kevin tried to read their expressions through the dark. Jeremy pulled back, and Jean kept hold onto his wrist a second longer than he needed to. When he released, Jeremy pushed the flutters in his stomach away. It didn’t mean anything. 

Jeremy smiled at the others, sending them back to staring at their drinks. He gestured to the nightclub, shouting, “Any other takers?”

Katelyn and Aaron didn’t hear him over the tongues they had in each other’s mouths, and the rest of the Foxes offered only a disgruntled shake of the head.

“Killjoys,” Jeremy teased before slinging his arm around Nicky’s shoulder. Nicky blushed. Andrew cast Nicky and Jeremy a two-finger salute, and Jeremy bobbed his head back. Then, Nicky was whisking him toward the dance floor. Right before they were going to descend the stairs, Jeremy poked Nicky’s shoulder so the other man would lean in.

“I forgot my phone in Jean’s pocket. I’m going to run back to get it. Can I meet you down there?”

Nicky took a satisfying gulp of his fruity drink. “Of course!”

When Jeremy was sure Nicky was out of eyesight, he slunk through the crowd to the bar. The liquor bottles shone, illuminated by a faint white light, and just the smell of tequila and vodka and gin was enough to make Jeremy dizzy. 

Jeremy’s thoughts were a giant shred of static. He imagined lines of candy sugar cut into stripes across the bar counter. Pink and powdery. Names pierced through his ribcage like small knives: Noah. Bryson. Fraser. Jean. Jean. 

The last time he had done shots, he had ended up with bruises around his neck and a forcibly deleted phone number. He still remembered the look on Jean’s face in their hotel room as the other man said: I will kill him . And then, Do not ever backslide, Jeremy. I will never forgive you .

Jean wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t. He had been taught denial was punishment. Jeremy knew overindulgence was.

Jeremy leaned over the counter to wave one of the bartenders down. He needed to do this quickly before he was caught, or changed his own mind. A good-looking bartender caught Jeremy’s gesture. He approached.

“One of Andrew’s friends?” the bartender asked with a curious glint in his eyes, gaze flitting behind Jeremy’s shoulder to the back corner. Jeremy leaned in as low as he could so the crowd would cover him from sight. He didn’t want the Foxes or Jean to see him.

Jeremy laughed. “I don’t know if I would say that .”

“Another Exy addict, then.”

Jeremy snapped his fingers. “Bingo.” He looked the bartender up and down. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

A smile pursed on his lips. “Roland. What can I do for you?”

“Three shots, please.” He shuffled from foot to foot, nervously keeping his stare ahead so the Foxes wouldn’t catch sight of his side profile if the crowd parted at an inopportune moment. “Four, actually.”

Roland raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he laid the glasses flat on the counter and filled all four in one steady motion. Jeremy was about to slip out an emergency twenty from his wallet but Roland waved him away. “Put it on Andrew’s tab. I’m sure it’s the least he can do for you.”

Jeremy grinned. Then he took the shots one by one, knocking them down his gullet. He wiped his mouth at the end, watching Roland’s impressed, or rather, enthralled, stare. Jeremy gave the bartender a wink before turning away.

Downstairs, Nicky was howling along to the music, having a grand time as he danced. Jeremy joined him, bobbing his head to the DJ’s remixes, people crowded on either side of him. He could barely keep track of Nicky. Jeremy blinked, feeling the alcohol sift around in his stomach. It was beginning to work its way into his veins with a warm flush, and he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to the ceiling of the nightclub, relishing the feeling. He hadn’t been high since the night –

His eyes flashed open as someone jostled him. No, this wasn’t high. This was just drunk. This was just having fun. This was just celebrating USC’s win and his friends’ company. This was just what normal college students did. 

Jeremy was getting more and more unsteady on his feet, but the other drunk people bumping into him sporadically helped his sober ruse. At least, he had thought so.

Nicky squinted his eyes in the dim light, shouting, “Are you okay?”

Jeremy leaned into Nicky’s space with a teasing glance. “I just haven’t danced in awhile. I’m a bit rusty, aren’t I?”

Nicky retreated into a blush immediately. He was easy. Too easy.

Jeremy leaned in further, so just Nicky could hear him. “Hey, you know where a guy can pick up another guy around here?”

Nicky’s eyes parted in surprise. Certainly it wasn’t because Jeremy was gay – that was common knowledge for anyone who paid even a little bit of attention. It’s not like Nicky was subtle, either.

“I thought…” Nicky trailed off, gaze drifting to the stairwell.

“You thought what?”

“Nothing, I – I guess I just figured a golden boy like you would be already taken.”

“No, not taken,” Jeremy laughed. “Just lacking self-respect, apparently.”

Nicky didn’t know whether or not to laugh at that. Jeremy waved the hesitation away. “I’m going to try my luck.”

“Wait, Jean said not to let you–”

Jeremy put a finger to his lips with an impish grin as he backed away. “Our little secret, Nicky.”

He found himself back at the bar, catching Roland’s eye again. Roland came over, and Jeremy drummed his fingers along the counter, leaning in again so Roland could hear him. Well, more so he could feel Jeremy’s lips close to his neck. 

Jeremy smiled. “Hey, do you ever get a break around here?”

Jeremy wasn’t slurring yet, but give it some more time, and he would be. He wanted to hook Roland before the man thought anything of it. He didn’t know Jeremy’s tolerance; he didn’t know how long it had been since Jeremy’s last drink. Roland glanced at the watch on his muscled wrist, and Jeremy followed suit. It was a quarter past midnight.

“I can take five minutes.”

“Good enough for me.”

“Follow me.”

Jeremy met Roland by a door that looked like it went to a staff entrance. Roland buzzed through the door with his badge and led Jeremy up a cold, concrete stairwell. The music reverberated through the walls, but it was much quieter. Quiet enough to hear his own breathing and the blood rushing into his ears as he climbed the stairs, keeping his grip tight on the railing.

Roland unlocked the door to an empty rooftop, filled with fancy glass tables, some cushioned seating, an empty bar, and dim, humming neon lights. A waist-high glass barrier separated the plaza from the sky. The Eden’s Twilight sign glowed below. Jeremy’s heart rate spiked, but the world was beginning to spin. He pulled Roland against him, pressing his own back against the wall close to the door.

“Our own secret place?” Jeremy simpered as he curled Roland’s hair in his fingers. “I’m a lucky guy.”

Roland cleared his throat. Jeremy ran his hands up Roland’s shirt so he could feel each of the man’s pecs, and Roland fought off a sound, bracing an arm above Jeremy’s shoulder as his fingers found themselves in the waistband of Roland’s jeans.

Roland made a noise. “Definitely not one of Andrew’s.”

“What do you mean?”

Roland just shook his head, sighing as Jeremy’s lips found his neck, then a sliver of his collarbone that peeked out through his black, collared shirt. Jeremy resisted drawing blood to the surface, instead tasting the sweat on Roland’s skin and the aftertaste of the shots he had downed. 

“Hey,” Jeremy said, punctuating his words with kisses, switching to Roland’s other collarbone. He brushed a hand against Roland’s navel, drawing an inhale from the other man. “You don’t happen to have any…special party favors? I’d give you anything you wanted for it, baby.”

Roland guided Jeremy’s hand into his back pocket. He had a firm ass, Jeremy noted, as he felt for the small packets there. Jeremy took a few baggies into his grip, sliding them into his front pocket before ripping one open. He dumped the cracker dust into his mouth. 

“Much better,” he sighed, returning his hands to Roland’s solid sides. Roland’s glance at him fluttered with uncertainty, but whatever he was thinking disappeared as Jeremy knelt to his knees. 

“Fuck,” Roland said as Jeremy unzipped his pants. The man was already hard – Jeremy knew he had that effect on his hookups – which made his job that much easier. Roland was girthy, that was for sure, and if Jeremy had had more time, he would’ve loved to get that man behind him, fucking him raw.

Jeremy began to work lips around the man’s dick, a hand on his shaft while he sucked as fervently as he could, aware of their time constraints. The alcohol and dust was hitting, and Jeremy was feeling higher than higher, warmth spreading in his navel, head full of black sparks, mouth full of the taste of pre-cum. Roland’s hand on the top of his head was gentle but charged, and Jeremy could feel the man holding himself back underneath him.

Roland’s watch beeped, signaling the end of his break. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, using his light grip to direct Jeremy to stop. Jeremy looked up at him with doe eyes. Roland winced, pulling away to stuff his dick back into his pants. “I have to go. It’s not you, I promise.”

“But–”

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay. You’re great, really. I just can’t lose this job.”

Roland helped him up to his feet, then zipped up his own pants. Jeremy barely noticed how badly his knees were starting to hurt; surely they’d be bruised tomorrow. Roland composed himself, taking a deep breath and loosening his shirt around his waistband, as if that would cover the large lump in his pants. 

“Come to Eden’s another time?” Roland asked weakly. Jeremy pulled him for one last rough kiss, and the man biting his bottom lip made him let out a groan of his own. Roland slipped his hand around the doorknob, opening it for Jeremy, but Jeremy didn’t move.

“Are you coming?” Roland winced at his question. “I mean, coming back down with me.”

Jeremy forced a smile. “I’ll be down in a sec. Need to catch my breath.”

“Okay. Don’t stay too long. I don’t want to get caught breaking the rules with a patron.”

Jeremy reassured the bartender he would. Roland cast him one uncertain glance before leaving. As soon as the door had clicked shut behind him, Jeremy tore open two packets of cracker dust, throwing them down his sore throat. He stumbled forward toward a set of teal couches arranged around a glittering, unlit firepit. 

The roof overlooked what existed of the short city. Columbia certainly was no L.A. He could hear people chattering down below, waiting in line to get into Eden’s. He clamped his hands onto the railing to steady himself, heart thumping. 

Was this how Noah felt in his last moments? Exhilarated? Spinning? Like everything was wrong, but nothing was?

No. Noah wasn’t conceited like Jeremy; he was depressed. 

Sure, maybe Jeremy was close to an Exy championship win, with the Foxes knocked out and the Ravens self-destructed. But what did he have after that? A string of unsuccessful hook-ups? Law school? A swept-under-the-rug arrest record? Parents who hated him? A dead brother? 

His parents would never let him play professionally. And Jean – Jean would find a new partner. It would be easy, now that Kevin’s favorite Foxes were destined to make Court. Jeremy would be left with only himself – and the person he had become for everyone else.

His heart trilled as he leaned further over the glass, taking in the drop. Hard concrete. A couple cars lining the street. The Trojan’s season would suffer without him, but he knew they would prevail. They had Jean and the Floozies and the over-eager freshmen. Laila and Cat could take care of Jabberwocky. They would survive without him. Wouldn’t they? Jeremy’s hands shook.

“What are you doing?” he heard from behind him. 

He spun around to find Andrew and Neil standing at the doorway, Roland’s keycard in hand.

Neil looked at him with that blank face he loved to use, the one that made it difficult to discern what he was thinking. It didn’t help that Jeremy’s vision was spinning, and he was having trouble holding himself up. Andrew dug his lighter and a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting the stick and taking a sharp drag. Jeremy watched the smoke curl into the night.

Neil approached slowly, like Jeremy was a frightened stray he had found on the street. 

“Don’t tell Jean,” Jeremy said quickly. 

He turned back to the railing to look at Columbia again. The presence of these two Foxes made everything so much worse. They would tell Jean, and Jean would never forgive him. Jean had said it, hadn’t he? Don’t backslide, Jeremy. Don’t backslide . 

I won’t forgive you.

Jeremy had backslid. Jean would never forgive him. What was there for him now?

Neil appeared at Jeremy’s side.

“Jeremy,” he said pointedly. “Back away from the edge.”

Jeremy clenched onto the glass railing, swaying. The streetlights spun in his vision like hazy stars, and he could hear the reverberations of the music through the floor. He felt heavy, so heavy.

“Jesus, what did he take?” Andrew asked from behind them.

“Not helpful,” Neil said between gritted teeth, a soft hand finding itself onto Jeremy’s upper arm. “We’re not going to tell Jean. Step away from the edge, and we’ll talk about this.”

“I was just looking,” Jeremy said, unconvincing, as he let Neil lead him away. Andrew pointed with his cigarette to one of the couches. “Sit.”

Neil gently pushed Jeremy down into the seat, taking the spot beside him. Andrew sat across from them, his eyes darkened in the night. Andrew lit another cigarette, forcing it into Jeremy’s hands.

Jeremy raised the cigarette to his lips what felt like an eternity later. He took a rough drag. Andrew raised an eyebrow. Jeremy was on a five-second delay, wasn’t he? His reaction time dulled by the drugs and the liquor. 

The streetlight washed over Neil’s face scars, a blurry patch of skin marring his Raven tattoo, and a terrible line dug into the other side. Still, he held himself with confidence, like he’d never been hurt before. Jeremy was weak, so weak, compared to that.

Andrew snapped his fingers in Jeremy’s face. “Knox. Knox. We asked you a question.”

“Where is Jean?” Jeremy mumbled. 

The Foxes exchanged a look.

“Kevin will keep him busy,” Neil said. “We told him we were going to smoke. Roland let us know you were up here, but we didn’t tell him. He won’t come looking for you yet.”

Yet . How was Jeremy supposed to sober up in time to face Jean? How would he pay for his transgressions? He thought about the cross chain Jean liked to wear. Jeremy had always wanted to watch it hang down onto his face, take it in his mouth as Jean pinned him down.

“ Knox ,” Andrew said, smacking the back of his head, cigarette still held lazily between his fingers.

“ Ow ,” Jeremy said, touching the spot. 

Neil cast Andrew a glare, removing the forgotten cigarette from Jeremy’s hand to stamp it out on the ground. “What did I say about not helpful?”

Andrew shrugged. “Seemed pretty helpful to me. This man keeps going into another dimension. Knox, we asked you what happened.”

Neil pinched Jeremy’s chin in his hands to analyze his pupils. 

“Not cocaine,” Jeremy said, unable to fight the smile rising to his lips. He began to laugh, a hoarse thing. It was hilarious, wasn’t it? This was all so funny. He doubled over, coughing, his throat burning from the substances he’d taken and the exercise he had gotten in with Roland.

Neil patted his back in what was supposed to be a reassuring gesture but felt more like a mother babying an infant. Jeremy pushed himself up and away from the two Foxes, stumbling forward. Andrew was on his feet just as fast, an arm pushed out to knock Jeremy in the gut.

“ Oof ,” he said, leaning over to hold his stomach. Neil made a disgruntled noise.

Andrew took another drag of his cigarette. So much for him supposedly quitting. “I’m used to suicidal Foxes and suicidal Ravens. But a suicidal Trojan is a new one.”

“I’m not,” Jeremy wheezed. “Don’t tell Jean.”

“Jean is not your concern right now,” Andrew said, forcing Jeremy to stand up straight with a tap on the man’s shoulder. “Let us worry about Jean. You need to worry about getting down these stairs and out of Eden’s. Now .”

Neil slid Jeremy’s arm around his shoulders and though Andrew kept his distance, Jeremy knew he was prepared to swoop in if need be. Jeremy limped down the stairs with the Foxes on either side of him and prepared to face Eden's once more.

-

[JEAN'S POV]

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Chapter Text

Jeremy didn’t remember how he got to Columbia House. In fact, he didn’t remember much of what he’d said to Neil and Andrew at all, just that they had been on a rooftop with him, and he still smelled faintly of their cigarette smoke. He remembered the hot bartender – sucking his dick, that is, but not for very long – and before that, abandoning Nicky to pursue his vices. 

He did remember to feel guilty, though. Very guilty.  

Jeremy was vaguely aware of Jean leaning against the wall, asleep with his knees to his chest, but the moment didn’t last long as Jeremy pushed himself up from the bed and rushed to the bathroom to clear the contents of his stomach.

He felt Jean’s presence in the doorway, then his hand on his back as Jeremy leaned his head against the toilet seat, his eyes watering. He closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to look at Jean, so he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of his actions. Eventually, Jean was helping him up, splashing his face with cool water, leading him back to bed.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jeremy said when he had laid back on the pillows, covering his eyes with his hands.

“We have to talk about it.”

Jeremy peeked between his fingers to see Jean’s big eyes trained on him. A curl had plopped onto his forehead, and Jeremy wanted so badly to twirl it in his finger, run his hands into the rest of Jean’s hair and then pull Jean’s lips into his. Jeremy shielded his eyes again. 

“What happened?” Jean asked.

Jeremy peeked out again. “They didn’t tell you?”

Jean grit his teeth. “Damn Foxes. Treat everything like it’s a competition and their game is on the line. Even roughing up Nicky didn’t yield results.”

“Did you fight Nicky ?” Jeremy squeaked. 

Jean flipped his hands into a shrug. “I told him not to let you go anywhere alone.”

Jeremy groaned, grabbing one of the extra pillows to cover his face. His relationship with the Foxes was surely irreparably damaged. If they talked, perhaps his entire reputation, and if the news were to get back to his parents, he’d be officially disowned and –

Jean’s voice was slightly muffled from the other side of the pillow as he said, “If you’re not going to tell me what happened, at least tell me if you’re okay.” His voice lowered. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

Lying to Jean would only make things worse. Jeremy had promised not to lie at the fall banquet. He settled for answering the second question instead.

“Water. Please?”

He felt the pressure of Jean’s body weight leave the bed, and once the door had closed, Jeremy threw the pillow as far as he could. It hit the wall and then the ground with a soft plunk . He stared at it with as much frustration as he could muster.

Jeremy Knox was Sunshine Court. Jeremy Knox did not show emotion. 

Someone had thrown Jeremy’s travel bag at the foot of his bed, and Jeremy used the opportunity to change out of his party clothes. Sure enough, soft purple bruises were forming on his knees. He changed out of his dress pants and into a pair of athletic shorts. Jean opened the door without knocking as Jeremy rifled around for a clean shirt. 

Jean merely blinked at Jeremy’s bare chest then looked away as he held a glass of water in front of him.

“Thanks,” Jeremy said, stepping forward to take the water and down it with one gulp.

“Oh,” Jean said. “I’ll get some more.”

He left again, and Jeremy finished getting dressed, then flipped open his phone to his missed texts. A couple messages from the Floozies, but nothing concerning. Nothing that said they knew what happened. He did have a missed call from his mother, however.

He called her back, let her yammer as he held the phone away from his ear. He pulled it in as Jean stepped into the room again. 

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry. The Foxes needed some time to mourn their loss last night and – yes, I’m sorry, I overslept – I know, I know.”

He took the glass from Jean, drinking the whole thing again. Jean offered to take it back, but Jeremy shook his head, still fielding questions from his mother. 

“I told you, I’m staying at the Lofts for finals. No, we already agreed on this. You promised. I can stay with the girls if I take the LSAT as soon as the season’s over.”

Jean looked surprised. 

“Yes, mom. I will.” He snapped his phone shut, analyzing Jean’s reaction. He handed the glass back. “Are the others awake?”

“Yes,” Jean said, grim. “They want to head back to Palmetto.”

Jeremy clapped his hands together, smiling and scooping his duffel up from the ground. “Great! Let’s go.”

Jean caught him by the elbow. “Not so fast. I am going to ask you one more time, and then I will not ask again. What happened?”

Jeremy kept his fake smile on. “Things got a little out of hand, I admit. But nothing to be worried about!” He couldn’t bring Jean into this, not before finals. It would be too upsetting. “Come on! Wouldn’t want to keep vicious foxes waiting.”

Everyone else was ready to go as Jeremy entered the kitchen. It was obvious he was the center of attention, but he didn’t let anyone stop him as he went out the front door and straight to the car. Neil unlocked it. Jeremy was loading his things in the back of Andrew’s car and threw himself into the backseat in the blink of an eye. The others loaded up.

They had piled into two cars on their way over: Andrew’s fancy-shmancy sports car and Katelyn’s cute slugbug, which Aaron, Katelyn, and Nicky now promptly hid inside. Jeremy grimaced when he saw the shiner on Nicky’s right cheek. 

That left Neil and Andrew in the front seats and Jeremy, Jean, and Kevin in the back. 

Neil sparked the engine and the car made a smooth, guttural growl that Jeremy tried not to find incredibly sexy. Neil pulled them onto the road, Jean’s shoulder and thigh pressing harder into Jeremy’s at every turn.

It was curious that Neil was driving Andrew’s car when Jeremy was specially told it was Andrew’s car , but nevertheless, all that mattered was that they made it back to Palmetto State in one piece. 

It was proving harder to do than he would’ve thought. Jeremy leaned his head against the glass, feeling ill. Jean kept nervously glancing over while Kevin’s eyes drilled holes into the back of the passenger seat.

“Kevin, can you please be quieter?” Jeremy said, massaging his temples.

“I didn’t say anything,” Kevin said, voice raising an octave. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“We’re really just not going to talk about this?” he retorted. “Your season–”

Jean put a hand up to silence him. “It is not about Exy. It is about Jeremy’s well-being.”

Laila and Cat would’ve been proud of him, if they had been there. Jeremy pushed the thought from his swimming head.

“Can you pull over?” he asked Neil. 

Three pairs of eyes swiveled to Jeremy. The car squealed to a sudden halt on the side of the road. Jeremy wasn’t going to be sick, but he did need to get out of there. He closed the door shut behind him before anyone could follow. 

He walked as far out of sight as he could on the side of a freeway, putting his arms behind his head like he was cramping after one too many laps. He felt the tingle in the back of throat and a spike of want for another vodka shot, for another packet of cracker dust, for a single white line. He leaned forward onto his knees, breathless.

Oh, what had he done? 

He heard footsteps crunch behind him. 

“I already told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

A lighter flicked on, and Jeremy spun his head around to find Andrew watching him with beady eyes as he put the stick to his lips.

“Oh. You’re not who I thought you'd be.”

Of all the people to follow him out, Andrew was the last one Jeremy expected. The man’s silence was unnerving. That stare could kill. Or seduce. Was there something to be said about cars resembling their owners, or was that just for dogs? Jeremy floundered his hands for something to say.

“Thank you?” he said weakly. 

Andrew flicked ash off. “Don’t thank me.”

The Fox continued to smoke and stare at Jeremy.

“What is this, suicide watch?” Jeremy laughed uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his torso. 

“Yes,” Andrew said, matter-of-fact.

Jeremy hissed, turning away from the blonde. “You’re going to freak Jean out. Or worse. Kevin.”

“Again, why are they your concern?”

“Because – because –”

Andrew pointed at him with nimble fingers. “Exactly, rich boy.” He tapped ash off again. “I could honestly give less of a fuck about their thoughts, and you should start, too.”

“I–”

Andrew stepped forward, and it was as reassuring as it was threatening. “I’m also not about to tell you to give a fuck about Exy.”

“That much is clear.”

“But maybe you should give a fuck about–” He gestured to all of Jeremy. “This.”

Jeremy bit his thumbnail. Whatever therapy Andrew had been in since his court trial, it was working. How was a Fox (and a Minyard twin, at that) more stable than Jeremy was right now?

“I’m taking care of it,” Jeremy said.

“I know a liar when I see one.”

Jeremy made a noise. “I see why the others obey you now.”

That drew an eyebrow raise from Andrew.

“Pssh,” Jeremy said. “Look at you, all humble. You’re the most foxy Fox out there. I have trouble believing you don’t know your own influence.”

“Are you flirting with me, Jeremy Knox?”

Jeremy made a surprised noise. “No! No, I’m not. This is just…how I am.”

Andrew looked at his nonexistent wristwatch. “Okay. You have two more minutes to be ‘how you are,’ and then we’re pulling onto the road and driving back to Palmetto without you.”

Jeremy was flushed as Andrew walked away, before turning back to the trees, confused. If Andrew had thought Jeremy was flirting with him, he wasn’t nearly as angry as Jeremy would’ve predicted. He didn’t throw a punch or draw a knife. Almost like…he was used to men flirting with him. Jeremy glanced back to the car where he saw Neil’s sharp blue eyes watching them. Could they be…

Jeremy turned back around to the trees. No, that was silly. He was getting off topic as he tried to distract himself from his royal fuck-up. He took several deep breaths, steadying himself before he had to get back in the car and deal with Kevin’s quiet desperation and Jean’s soft concern and Neil’s try-hard nothingness and Andrew’s frustratingly wise pep talk. 

Andrew was right about one thing. Jeremy did need to take care of all…this.

-

[JEAN'S POV]

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Chapter Text

Jean and Jeremy had another full day in South Carolina, thanks to Jeremy’s genius idea to extend their trip as part of his diplomatic Exy relations campaign. ( I’m practicing for law school, mom , he had said. Don’t you want me winning arguments? )

The Foxes took them to a local diner for lunch, and it was the most tense meal of Jeremy’s life. (Okay, maybe not the most tense. But definitely up there). The tension between Nicky and Jean was ready to snap, despite them being placed on the exact opposite sides of the table, and Kevin was obviously pissed off after Jeremy’s inconclusive response in the car. Andrew and Neil had somehow managed to maintain their calm demeanor, though Jeremy suspected that was more so because they didn’t feel anything in general. 

The other Foxes (Boyd, Captain Dan Wilds, and another girl Jeremy couldn’t remember) didn’t know what the argument was about, and though the pretty blonde one tried to ask, no one gave her a straight answer. Jean was sad Renee couldn’t make it, but she had gone home for the weekend to be with her mom after the Foxes’ loss.

When the waitress came around, Jeremy shone his bright white smile at her.

“Hey, you’re that star California captain, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Sure am!”

He felt the dead gazes of the Foxes around him, and Jean’s flustered one.

“Extra chocolate chips in your pancakes,” she said, making a note.

“Thanks!” he beamed.

“He should be a fucking politician,” Andrew said to the table once the woman had left, taking a sip of his black coffee. Jeremy cast the Fox his winning (sarcastic) thumbs up, and that was the end of that conversation. It turned out, everyone else was too hungry to care about much else once their food arrived. Only Jean barely ate, shoving his bacon around on his plate. 

Jeremy leaned in, whispering, “Do you need someone to calculate it for you?”

Kevin’s ears perked up. Jean shook his head, channeling his breathing.

“It’s mostly protein, Jean,” Kevin said, and though Jeremy expected a harsh edge to his voice, he said it with flat sincerity. Kevin pointed his fork to Jean’s plate. “Just avoid the pancakes, and you’ll be fine.”

“Look,” Jeremy said, rolling some of the blueberries from his plate over onto Jean’s. “Blueberries!”

Jean grunted. “A subpar fruit.”

“Gasp,” Jeremy said. “How dare you. I’ll have you know they’re good in…uh…yogurt and…”

“Smoothies?” Nicky suggested. A harsh glare from Jean shut him up. Jeremy jabbed his foot into his partner’s shin as a way of saying, Be nice . 

Jean only huffed and returned to picking at his plate. Once they were finished, they quickly left and went back to the dorms. Jeremy took the longest and steamiest shower of his life, analyzing Andrew, Kevin, and Neil’s lack of adequate bathing products with displeasure.

Besides that, things were going a lot better than they had been when he was at Eden’s. Jeremy didn’t usually leave room for mistakes, on or off the court, but maybe one bad night didn’t have to spoil everything he had been working for. Everything he and Jean had been building since the first day the (ex) Raven came to California, handsome and rattled. 

His stomach trilled as he thought about just how much he enjoyed looking at Jean’s smooth skin. The tattoo on his cheek, The slender scars that peeked out when he hadn’t fully buttoned his shirt.

Someone knocked on his door, even as the water was still running, interrupting Jeremy’s daydreams.

“Alive in there?”

It was Neil.

“No,” Jeremy called back. “I’ve actually slipped and died. You’re talking to my ghost right now.”

Based on the lack of reaction, he guessed Neil had walked away. He gave an amused huff at himself, shut the water off, and stepped out to towel off before wrapping it around his waist. He kicked open his duffel bag, hoping he had packed enough clean clothes to get him to Sunday. He was surprised when something fell out of the back of his dress pants as he moved them from inside-out to outside-in. 

The packet of cracker dust was bright against the wooden floorboards. Jeremy snatched it up quickly as if the Foxes could sense it through the door, or see it underneath the thin crack. He hadn’t thought there had been anything left over after his tryst with the bartender. He stood, holding the baggie up against the fogged mirror.

Easy answer. Flush it. Be done with it. It was just some sleezy, synthetic drug only edgy kids found cool. It was nothing like the kind of drugs Jeremy would pick, if he could. He set it on the counter and finished getting dressed. He shook out his hair, trying to get his beach tussle just right. The South Carolina humidity just didn’t sit right with his hair. 

He returned to the counter, staring at the cracker dust. He picked it back up. It was just a small bit, wasn’t it? He opened the packet, wetted his pinky and then dipped it in to get a taste. The sensation sparked from his throat up to his temples.  

Jeremy jumped when someone pounded on the door, almost dropping the dust.

“This isn’t your locker room shower,” Kevin said, annoyed. “There’s a line , Jeremy.” 

“Jesus, Queen, I’m going.” Jeremy quickly sealed the bag and shoved it into his athletic short pockets before zipping up his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Why haven’t you gotten your own private accommodations by now?”

He opened the door. “Ah, let me guess. A Raven never sleeps alone.” He cast the Queen his perfect smile, relishing in Kevin’s flustered expression. “It’s all yours.” Kevin looked at him suspiciously but Jeremy kept his smile. Kevin just grumbled, pushing past the Trojan. 

Jeremy wracked his brain for his memories from last night. He had told Andrew and Neil not to tell anyone, hadn’t he? And they had listened. More importantly, he hadn’t really told them what had happened, which meant even if Jean shook them down, they couldn’t say whether it was drugs or alcohol or both or neither. Maybe they could guess. But it hadn’t been cocaine, so no one could be that worried. 

Don’t backslide , he heard in his head. Don’t backslide, Jeremy.

The baggie in his pocket weighed a hundred pounds. The kitchen was empty as he stepped into it, Jean sitting on a beanbag chair watching Exy replays in the main area. 

“Where are the others?”

“Roof,” Jean said as quietly as possible.

Jeremy pretended he hadn’t heard the tentativeness in Jean’s voice, like he had to skirt around Jeremy’s triggers. Jeremy could handle it. He had handled it for years now, and Jean didn’t know about last night. Unless he did? No. That was paranoia talking. Jeremy needed to get out of this apartment.

Jeremy opened the fridge to take out a soda to distract himself, cracking it with a loud hiss. “I think I’m going to go on a run.”

Jean’s head whipped to him. “Are you sure? In your…condition.”

Jeremy almost spit out his soda. “It’s not like I’m pregnant or something, geez. Just a little tired.”

“You just showered.”

Curse Jean and his rationality. Why couldn’t anyone be a little impractical around here?

“I need to keep my cardio up for finals,” Jeremy argued. Jean moved to stand up, to come running with him, but Jeremy waved him back down. “Someone has to stay with Kevin.”

There it was. The Raven logic again. Jeremy felt cruel for poking at it, but Jean was never going to let him out of his sight if he didn’t come up with something . He left before Jean could argue anymore. In the hallway, the two Foxes were back, looking ruffled. 

“What, you get in a fight or something?” Jeremy said to Neil and Andrew. If Neil and Andrew were together, then they were the hottest couple in Exy, straights be damned.

Andrew cast him a glare. “Where are you going?”

“A run.”

“Funny. Neil was just about to go on a run, too.”

Neil didn’t react, instead mumbling, “Let me change.”

Jeremy crossed his arms, casting the Foxes a tight smile as they disappeared into the room. He tapped his feet as he waited in the hall. He glanced at either end of the hallway, but it was empty and remained so. His heart jumped. Quickly, he pulled the packet from his pocket and dumped the contents down his throat, stuffing the baggie away again. He dusted off his hands, pleased with himself.

By the time Neil returned, Jeremy was buzzing, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He started down the hallway without a word, and it turned out, that was fine with Neil. The man was fine with silence which, for once, Jeremy was grateful for. The less he spoke, the less trouble he could get himself into. 

He followed Neil around Palmetto State in a light jog, watching his surroundings blur around him. It was just a little cracker dust. Jeremy hadn’t combined it with anything. It was like drinking caffeine. A little pick-me-up, nothing to worry about. 

Jeremy took another shower when he came back, pressing his nose into the humid tile. He was feeling the consequences of his unfinished sexual conquest, his groin aching with desire. He tried to focus on the bartender’s hard pecs and muscled arms, but his mind quickly drifted to Jean’s lips and Jean’s hands. Lightly skimming his fingers over Jean’s III tattoo. Jean, coming into the shower with him. 

He pushed the thoughts away. He didn’t have time for this. Plus, he’d already used too much of Palmetto State’s water supply.

They spent the rest of the night eating microwave dinner and watching movies on the Foxes’ couch. Jeremy tried to keep his eyes from crossing and hoped his delay in responding to peoples’ questions would be attributed to fatigue. 

When eventually Kevin, Andrew, and Neil retreated to their room, Jeremy’s come down hit him like a truck. He slumped into the couch, feeling his eyes flutter and his mind start to drift off. He was vaguely aware of Jean placing a blanket on top of him before he fell asleep for good.

-

[JEAN'S POV]

-

Chapter Text

Before sunrise, Jeremy crept out of bed as quietly as he could. Surely the toll of watching after Jeremy on Friday night had worn Jean down, because he was out , head rolled back where he slept on the beanbag chair to show off his sculpted nose and fine jugular. 

Jeremy was aware of his empty pockets, the last of his cracker dust gone, and he certainly wasn’t going to go rifling around the Foxes’ cabinets with Jean in the room. He put a hand to his forehead, breathing in slowly. He didn’t need it. He wouldn’t need it.

He slipped out the door quietly. Jean had said something about a roof yesterday, and Jeremy desperately wanted to see the sky, wanted to feel fresh air slip into his lungs. 

He wasn’t fragile. He could handle a skyline.

Jeremy found a stairwell at the end of the hall and climbed it until he came to an impasse. He frowned, but upon further inspection, the door opened with some finessing. He stepped out onto a gravely roof, the beginnings of an orange sun rising across the campus. 

He watched it from several feet away, lost in his own thoughts until Andrew interrupted him from behind.

“Christ, Knox. If I find you on one more roof, I’m going to push you off myself.”

If Neil was there, surely he would’ve chided Andrew for his crudeness. Jeremy just smiled tightly. “What are you doing up here?”

Andrew held up his pack of cigarettes.

“I thought you quit.”

Andrew shrugged. “Our season’s over.”

“Hmm,” Jeremy said. He extended his hand out for one. “At least share if you’re going to rub it in my face.”

Andrew complied, and they watched the soft sunrise together. He didn’t know why Andrew’s presence was growing on him, only that the man’s sadness seeped through without him having to say anything. It was nice to know someone else felt pain that he wouldn’t say out loud.

“I have to ask,” Jeremy said, tapping ash off over the edge. He tried to keep the smoke as far away from his body as possible, so Jean wouldn’t smell it when he got back. “Neil?”

Andrew made a noise, and it was as confirmation as any. Jeremy’s lips pursed into a smile. He knew Andrew was the most loyal Fox there was, despite his harsh edges, and Neil was a fighter. They were a fitting match.

Andrew leaned forward on his elbows, staring intently at the horizon. “Jean?”

Jeremy’s smile fell, and he turned away. “No.”

No. No Jean.

“So that’s why you’re doing this.”

“Doing what? I’m not doing anything.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. 

“You know those ex-Ravens,” Jeremy laughed uncomfortably, waving smoke away. “No attachments, or whatever. I’m fine. I have plenty of my own attachments.”

“Or whatever,” Andrew said. He shook his head before taking the almost-gone cigarette from Jeremy’s hand and stamping it out. 

“You going to be Court?” Jeremy asked. The invitations to play professional Exy would be coming soon. Kevin practically swooned whenever he mentioned it to the group. Which he had. Every day. 

“Are you?” Andrew retorted.

Neither man answered. 

Jeremy could imagine it – the three remaining members of perfect Court, all under the same stadium roof. A Queen, a scar, a III. Neil on the court without Andrew was impossible to imagine now. Then again, Jeremy had trouble imagining himself on the court without Jean there, too. 

Of course, the current Foxes had some time to prepare for their professional Exy careers. But graduation was around the corner for Jeremy. He’d have to decide soon.

“I want to go back before Jean wakes up,” Jeremy said. 

That word again: Jean, Jean, Jean . He sounded like a broken record, but he couldn’t stop himself. Jeremy’s heart thumped. Jean was his addiction. Jean was his drug of choice. Jean was the thing he couldn’t have. Jean was the thing he needed to quit. Jean .

When Andrew opened the door to the apartment, Jean was wide awake and on his feet. He crossed the room in a stride, arms crossed. He scrunched his nose at the smell, glaring at Andrew.

“Foxes,” Jean cursed under his breath.

Andrew ignored him, continuing into the kitchen to fix himself breakfast alongside Neil. Kevin had come out from his room, but had fallen back asleep on the couch for some reason. Jeremy checked his phone. “Leaving for the airport soon. Think we’re forgetting anything?”

“Some common sense?” Kevin suggested, keeping his eyes shut. So, not sleeping, just loitering. Jeremy cast him a smile anyway before turning to make eye contact with each of the Foxes.

“Thank you for letting us stay here. I know, I know, why would anyone want to leave California? But really, it’s been a pleasure. You played a great match. You’re a formidable opponent, and I think the Foxes will come back even stronger next season.”

Andrew held up a hand. “Save the PR speech for someone who gives a shit.”

“He just has to check his boxes,” Jean grumbled.

“Consider the boxes checked,” Jeremy smiled. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

He hoped his desperation to leave the Foxes wasn’t too obvious. Jeremy had his ways of skirting around most people’s questions and suspicions: smile, always have an excuse, derail the conversation to something else, smile again. But these Foxes could clock that Jeremy was a risk management case faster than anyone at USC ever had. 

Jeremy was the first out in the hallway. Nicky must have gotten the memo that their guests were leaving because he peeked his head out his door. Jeremy cast Nicky a sympathetic look. 

“I’m sorry about all…this,” Jeremy said, gesturing to Nicky’s face. At least the bruise was yellowing away quickly. 

Nicky rubbed the back of neck, giving a tight smile. “It’s fine, really. I’m used to accidentally stepping on toes around here.” Jeremy heard Jean beginning to file out. Nicky leaned in to fist-bump Jeremy, then whispered, “Win it for us.” He disappeared back into his room.

Neil drove the Trojans to the airport, and Andrew and Kevin came along from the ride. Kevin and Jean lingered in the back as Jeremy got out of the car when they arrived at the curb. As Neil was helping Jeremy unload the bags, he said in a low tone, “You have our numbers. Don’t hesitate to call.”

Andrew was leaning against the other side of the car. “It’s not like we have anything else to do with our summer.”

“That’s not true. We have our night practices,” Neil said.

“ You have your night practices,” corrected Andrew.

“As pleasant as night practices sound, I assure you, I’ll be fine.” Jeremy slung his duffel bag around his shoulder. “But thanks for the offer. We’re going to finish our season on a high note. No shenanigans or tomfoolery. We’ll be the sunshiniest sunshine court you’ve ever seen. A trophy will be a cherry on top.”

Neil raised a brow. Was there a specific part of Jeremy’s speech he didn’t believe, or was it all of it? Jeremy ignored the thought, casting his smile at the Foxes. He reached out to shake hands with Neil. Andrew crossed his arms tighter. 

Jeremy stepped away to say, “It was a pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen. See you on the other side.”

-

[JEAN'S POV]

-

Chapter Text

Back in L.A., the sun was beginning to roast the city, sunbleaching the campus lawn and bringing sweat to Jeremy and his friends’ foreheads even as they hid in the shade to study for finals. To be honest, his tests were the least of his worries – his senior year coursework was a joke. Half of his finals were easy papers he’d already finished before leaving for the Palmetto match.

Jeremy was restless and irritable, but he and Jean went back to normal. As normal as possible, that was. Jean still sent him looks, the kind of looks that refused to reveal their true intentions, and Jeremy still sent him brilliant smiles to remind him, I’m okay . He could pretend nothing had happened in South Carolina as they studied in their free time and spent all the rest practicing for their next game.

Everything was going fine. That was, until their next match.

By some stroke of God – or the devil, depending on who you asked – the Arizona Wildcats had made it into the finals, and they were up against USC next. The Wildcats lost to USC, 1-7, and it was a brilliant victory for USC, meaning they would be facing off against Penn State next week in a final battle for the championship trophy. 

The game ended too late for the Trojans to fly back Thursday night, so they were stuck in a Tucson hotel for the night. Jeremy had told Jean he would meet him in Cat and Laila’s room after he ran to the bathroom in their room, but Jeremy left the hotel instead. He sent them a quick text that he was fine (once his taxi was far enough away) but needed to be left alone. He put his phone on silent after that. He wouldn’t be able to face them after what he did next.

When Jeremy showed up at Ivan Faser’s apartment, the desert air stuck to his skin even as he stood downwind of the apartment’s air conditioning. 

“Jeremy,” Faser said surprised, as a party pounded inside his apartment. A consolation party to the end of the Wildcats’ season, or a celebration, Jeremy didn’t know. Faser was known for his ragers. 

The man’s lips twisted. “I didn’t expect you. My texts have been rebounding. Would you know anything about that?”

“Sorry. Dropped my phone in the ocean. It was a whole thing. Can I come in?” Jeremy asked sheepishly. 

The crowd barely noticed a newcomer as Faser shut the door behind them. Jeremy cast him an impish grin, and he returned it with a slick smile himself. Faser dragged him into the kitchen. He shoved an opened beer can into Jeremy’s hands, and Jeremy cracked it, swallowing it one chug.

“Jeremy Knox,” Faser said, impressed. “Have you returned to your roots?”

Jeremy brushed his hand against Faser’s ass as he moved behind the man, briefly so it would like an accident if anyone else had seen him. Faser smirked.

On the counter, a fratty-looking man doled out crisp, white lines.

The man cast Faser and Jeremy a warm smile as they approached. Faser gestured for the other man to move out of the way, and he did so, disgruntled. Faser went down on the table first, sniffing the line as accurately as he could.

“Whoo!” he shouted. Jeremy found himself inhaling the powder next, and as soon as he stood, he grabbed Faser by the front of his collar, despite their onlookers. He could kiss him right here, right now. Faser shook him off, putting his hand around the back of Jeremy’s neck as he smiled cruelly. 

“Want another line, Knox?”

He guided Jeremy back down to the table when he nodded, and Jeremy gasped when he came back up, his nose burning. He had missed this. God, how he had missed this. He couldn’t think about anyone else – not Noah or Jean or his parents – through the powder. 

He wouldn’t. 

Faser gestured for Jeremy to follow. When they were safely inside Faser’s bedroom, Jeremy threw him back onto his bed and straddled him. 

Faser laughed uncomfortably. “Always so eager. Is that why you’re so good on the court?”

“Yeah, talk Exy to me, baby,” Jeremy joked, gyrating his hips into Faser’s and tossing his tank top to the floor. 

Jeremy’s favorite kind of Exy players to hook up with were backliners. They knew how to take a hit, all solid and big. And their stamina, wow. Not like strikers, who were too slippery, too clever. The goalkeepers, too stubborn. And the dealers, pseudo-aggressive but babies in bed. No, a backliner knew how to take it – and give it.

The drugs were making Jeremy euphoric and spinny. The man’s hands gripped onto Jeremy’s waist with a deathgrip. Jeremy knew what he could do with those big knuckles. He rocked into Faser again, causing the man to groan. 

“You know, everyone was pretty upset last time. About the…” Jeremy wrapped his hand softly around Faser’s neck and squeezed softly. Faser grinned.

“But you liked it.”

“Yes. I did.”

“I could do it again.”

“Maybe you should.”

Faser rolled them over, so he was on top of Jeremy, hand delicately situated at the base of his throat. Jeremy smiled. 

The man leaned down to press a rough kiss onto his mouth, squeezing down on his neck until Jeremy felt the air squeezed from his trachea. “How tight do you want it, bitch?”

The world sparked in white and gold. He pawed at Faser’s ribs. “Okay, a little less.” The pressure lifted until he could breathe again, and he inhaled, relishing in the head rush. So hot. Why did he find this so hot? His dick was hardening by the second. 

“You are a little bitch, aren’t you?”

Jeremy whimpered a yes, adjusting his hips under the man. 

“And what do little bitches do?”

“Whatever you want,” Jeremy gasped. 

“Turn over.”

Jeremy didn’t hesitate, flipping onto his stomach. Faser pulled his athletic shorts down, and Jeremy gasped at the flush of air. 

“Always so fucking loose, aren’t you? Always so fucking ready, like a little slut.”

Jeremy nodded enthusiastically. He groaned as Faser toyed with his back, brushing his cock along the back of his thigh and his ass, and Jeremy’s hand gravitated to his own dick. Faser slapped his hand away when he saw what was happening. 

“Not so fast.”

Jeremy whimpered as Faser pulled out lube from his nightstand, doling out a sizable portion onto his hand, which he first brought down to tug on Jeremy’s dick, and then wiped onto Jeremy’s ass. 

“Fuck,” Jeremy breathed, feeling the burn of cocaine in his nose even as Faser began to work his fingers around and into his body. Time was on slow motion, fast forward, rewind. Jeremy wanted more , more of Faser, more of the beer, more of the drugs. He wanted more of anything that could stop him from thinking about more – Jean-Yves Moreau. 

Was it more in his future, or less? Less Exy. Less USC. Less Jean. Just…less. And who was Jeremy without the things that had made him more? 

“Are you going to fuck me, or not?” Jeremy whined, feeling the peak of the cocaine and beer buzz hitting, his throbbing dick ignored as Faser played with his asshole. 

“So spoiled. You want me to fuck you, huh? Fuck you until you can’t stand? Until you can’t breathe anymore? Until you can’t play anymore?”

“Yes,” Jeremy begged. “Yes.”

Jeremy dug his head into his arms on top of a pillow, and as Faser slid his cock into Jeremy slowly, he whimpered, gratified. 

This was more, and this was enough, wasn’t it?  

When Faser had gotten into his rhythm, he wrapped an arm around Jeremy’s stomach to jerk him off in synchronance with his thrusts. Faser went harder, faster, blurrier. Coked up sex felt better than regular sex, that was a fact. Luckily, the music bouncing around in the hallway would cover the pornographic noises coming from Jeremy’s mouth. Though, it was possible one or two had broken the threshold. 

“So good for me, Jeremy,” Faser groaned into his ear. “Such a good little bitch.”

Jeremy let out a strangled cry as he came, and he swore it was the best orgasm of his life. It hurt, but in a good way, like removing a splinter or running cool water over a burn. It hurt like it meant all pain was supposed to feel good. 

He crumpled into Faser’s pillows, falling into a soft layer of sleep almost immediately. Somewhere, an Exy buzzer went off. 

Red card, Knox , he heard in his dreams.

-

[JEAN'S POV]

-

Chapter Text

Jeremy’s phone had a ridiculous number of missed calls when he woke up in Faser’s bed at 9 a.m. That was when he remembered, the Trojans had a flight at 10 a.m.

“Fuck,” he said, throwing the sheets off and getting his clothes back on. “I’m late as fuck.”

Faser groaned in his sleep, but didn’t get up as Jeremy headed out the door. He sidestepped through the disaster left behind by the party, and thanked God no one had left drugs out on the counter, or else he would be tempted to take them with him, even though he’d get stopped at airport security. 

Jeremy called a cab and returned Coach’s frantic text on the ride over. Your friends won’t leave without you , the message said, and Jeremy’s stomach squeezed. 

He texted the Floozies that he was on his way, too, and Jean immediately rang his phone. He declined the message, sighing into the window. The taxi driver looked at him but didn’t say anything.

When he arrived at the airport’s curb, he was running – sprinting – through the small terminal to catch his puddlejumper to Phoenix. Security took in his bedraggled appearance and gave him a rough pat-down, but he didn’t come up with anything alarming. He had to hope Jean had grabbed his luggage. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Cat said when he showed up at their gate, panting. He leaned against a column. The last stragglers were waiting to board the plane, the rest of the team presumably onboard. 

Jean shoved his bag into his arms.

“Thanks,” Jeremy breathed, scooping his hair back away from his forehead.

Laila sniffed. “You smell like –”

“Oh fuck no , Jeremy,” Cat said, glancing at his neck. Jeremy touched the spot where he was sure Faser had left light bruises from his fingerprints again. Jean all but growled, his knuckles curling into fists, his hand pushing into the column above Jeremy’s shoulder.

“Jean, Jean, calm down. I asked for it. Wait, that sounds bad. Let me try again. I let him? No. That doesn’t sound good either. He wasn’t–”

Jean clenched his teeth together. “I’m going to–”

“No, no, no,” Laila said. “We are not dealing with this here. We have two hot, inconvenient flights to get through, and no one is staying in Tucson fucking Arizona, not even to murder Jeremy’s sadistic fling.”

“Thank you ,” Jeremy said. There wasn’t much Jeremy wouldn’t be into when it came to the bedroom, but he didn’t mention that. “But I already said it was con–”

“You, be quiet,” she replied. He shut his mouth as she waved a finger at him. “You need to stop looking so happy about this.”

Jean couldn’t look at him, not as their line began to board, not when they were seated side-by-side in jittery chairs, and not when they transferred airplanes at the hub. He did no more than grunt when they touched down in Los Angeles, heading to the bus to return to campus.

Jeremy was starting to get dizzy, lightheaded from drinking no more than two small airplane waters and nauseous from eating nothing more than peanuts, not to mention the heat that had traveled from Arizona to California with them. Perhaps Jean saw the pale tint to his skin and the way Jeremy was nodding off, because suddenly he wasn’t scowling anymore, but propping Jeremy up in his bus seat and demanding he drink the rest of a water bottle.

“We’re talking about this,” Jean insisted as Jeremy drank.

Jeremy crumpled the empty plastic water bottle in his hand. “You already said you wouldn’t ask me again.”

“That was when I thought nothing would happen again.”

Jeremy tucked his empty bottle into the back of the seat’s netting. “How do you know something happened?”

Jean stared at him with a dead gaze, and Jeremy flushed. Okay, so maybe his hair was out of whack. And he had bags under his eyes. And he smelled like sweat and sex. And he was hungover as fuck. But that didn’t necessarily mean drugs were involved. Jeremy resisted sniffing his nose. 

“You are my partner,” Jean said. “I can’t let you continue like this.”

Jeremy leaned away from him. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not a Raven anymore. If you have a partner that fucks up, then it’s a real fucking shame, but what are you going to do about it? Huh, Jean? Hit me? Do you want to hit me?”

Jean retreated into his shoulders, staring flat ahead. Jeremy’s heightened tone had drawn the attention of Cat and Laila behind them, who popped up to play referee. 

“Jer…” Laila said.

“No!” he replied. “I’m tired of being treated like the bad guy when all I’ve tried to do is my best for this team. Figures that as soon as I don’t, I’m worthless to you.”

“Worthless would imply we don’t care about you,” Cat said. “This is us caring.”

Jeremy had gone too far, he knew it. Jean had grown pale and distant, arms folded as he gazed out the window.

“If you say anything to Coach, he’ll take me off the court,” Jeremy said in a furious whisper. “You can’t do that to me, not after we made it this far. Not after everything I did over the past couple years just to stay in Exy. I’m your captain. I’m finishing the season.”

The girls’ browlines softened as Jeremy’s tone grew increasingly more desperate. Jeremy ran a hand through his hair, turning to Jean. “Give me one more chance. Please. I’ll be good.”

For you, Jean , he didn’t add. I’ll be good for you .

Jean’s gaze had gone somewhere far away, and guilt crushed into Jeremy’s ribcage like a stray Exy racket. 

Jeremy was split between two versions of himself: Jeremy Knox, who never admitted anything was wrong, and Jeremy Wilshire, who made everything wrong. He felt himself twisting his words and his intentions to manipulate his friends, and he wanted to stop, but he didn’t know how. He was hurting Jean, and he was hurting himself, and he was hurting everyone around him, and god , he was hurting. 

Jeremy touched the bruises on his neck, pushing into the spots, and Jean noticed. He moved Jeremy’s hands away.

“You are captain,” Jean said at last, and Jeremy looked at him with relief. Laila and Cat exchanged a glance but didn’t say anything else as they slid back into their seats, the bus driver announcing from the front that they were arriving soon.

Jeremy would dry out. He wouldn’t touch or look at any illicit substances until after the Penn State game. He would finish his last season with an Exy championship win, his best friends standing around him as the stadium thundered with applause. He would smile his golden smile.

He would be good. He would be good. He would be good.

Chapter Text

The invitation for the U.S. Court draft came in the mail the Tuesday before USC’s final championship match against Penn State. 

Jean, Jeremy, Cat, and Laila stared at the identical envelopes, each refusing to open theirs first. 

“Okay, fine,” Cat said, grabbing hers and tearing it open in a fell swoop. She scanned quickly with her eyes and then whooped, waving it around. “Oh my god, you guys! We’re going to be Court!”

Everyone except Jeremy took their envelopes and opened them to join her in the celebration. They’d have a year of professional Exy training and matches and then the Olympics. The thought sent a thrill down Jeremy's spine.

Jeremy walked out of the kitchen and over to the window, feeling Jabberwocky sidle up against his calf, but he didn’t lean down to pet him. He clutched his envelope to his chest, his throat feeling dry and his eyes strained. 

His friends were still worried about him after the stunt with Faser, of course. His mom called him every day, morning and night, to make sure he was at the Lofts, and Cat, Laila, and Jean wouldn’t let him so much as walk Jabberwocky without a plus-one. Any impromptu hook-ups would be an absolute no-go. 

Jeremy was fighting withdrawals again, shaking and barely able to sleep, but he couldn’t risk caving again. He couldn’t risk failing, not when he was this close to winning. Even if it meant he passed on Penn State’s court from exhaustion or dehydration, Jeremy would be there. 

“You know what this means?” Jean asked, his elbow brushing Jeremy’s. “If you accept, you’ll have your own source of income. Your parents won’t be able to control you anymore.”

Jeremy kept his stare ahead. “In an ideal world. But we don’t live in an ideal world.”

“Accept, Jeremy. Accept the offer. We won’t start practices until mid-summer. You do not have to tell anyone until then.”

Jeremy looked into Jean’s eyes. Laila and Cat had retreated to the kitchen, but he still felt them eavesdropping.

Jean had seen so much. He’d been torn down so far. Jeremy was a fool to risk tearing him down again. A pathetic excuse of a team captain. A bad representation of the Sunshine Court, a blight on their name. Would he risk following Jean to the U.S. Court with that? Bringing all his issues and fake smiles, unable to stop lying? 

Coach Rheumman had approached him after the Arizona game to check on him, and Jeremy had kept himself calm enough to make up an excuse: Just some family things going on. You know how it is. I won’t let it impact the rest of the season, coach.  

Jean stepped back, something flashing over his face. His eyes were downcast as he murmured, “I’m here if you need me.”

Jeremy wouldn’t be needy. 

He’d been avoiding his therapist’s office, but he knew he was displaying symptoms that had been shown to him on intake paperwork and therapy sheet hand-outs time and time again. When they got back from Arizona, he had peeled one out of his desk drawer where he had stuffed it so far back, it was fully wrinkled.

Depressed? Angry? Irritable? the sheet asked. 

Perhaps some things were bothering him more than they usually did.

Losing interest in your favorite activities? He ignored that one.

Weight loss or weight gain? Not really.

Sleeping too little or too much? He liked getting up early, what could he say?

Feeling restless or acting slower than usual? He was restless, yes.

Being very tired or losing energy? Yes.

Feeling guilty and worthlessness? Absofuckingloutely. 

Having a hard time thinking or concentrating, or not being able to make decisions? What was new?

Thinking about, planning or attempting suicide?

Jeremy crumpled the paper into a ball, tossing it toward the wastebasket. It landed on the floor. There was a reason he wasn’t a basketball player. 

In the end, as Jean, Cat, and Laila licked their envelopes and applied the stamps to their Court invitations so they could return their acceptances in the mail, Jeremy left his tucked in the junk drawer, unsigned.

Chapter Text

After the last practice of the season – and Jeremy’s NCAA career – Jeremy stayed late at the stadium to run laps.

Jean sat on the inner court, watching Jeremy with an emotionlessness Jeremy found hard to believe. Everyone else had long gone back home to rest.

Jeremy ran until his shins began to sting. His lungs began to burn. Someone turned off the bright spotlights, leaving the court with nothing but a faint glow from the emergency lighting. His heart burned, and his thighs ached. A pounding headache was coming on. 

But Jeremy would keep going. And going. And going. 

He hadn’t noticed Jean step onto the court to intercept him, catching him by the shoulders before he could finish his lap. It knocked the wind out of Jeremy, and he had to crouch down to put his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

“That’s enough,” Jean said. “Stop punishing yourself. You can’t play in finals if you work yourself to death, either.”

Jeremy didn’t have the energy to argue, he merely stood and weakly tried to break from Jean’s arms with no luck. He felt his knees buckle, and Jean grunted as he caught Jeremy, before letting them both sink into a seat on the court.

Jeremy felt outside his body, nothing but a ghost inside bones. He pressed his forehead to the court floor before he knew what he was doing, inhaling sharply. He couldn’t look at Jean, not when his heart hurt this bad. And not from the cardio.

“Jeremy?” Jean whispered, placing a cautious hand on his back. If Jeremy had any energy left, maybe he would’ve been able to muster tears, but his throat was closing, and his hands shook, and he couldn’t face his partner.

He heard Andrew’s voice in his head: So that’s what this is about. 

“Please,” Jean said, a hint of desperation slipping into his tone, “Talk to me.”

Jeremy looked up at the man’s chilled gray eyes. 

“I really like you, Jean,” he said.

Jean was speechless. This wasn’t the time or the place for this confession, but Jeremy couldn’t hold it in any longer. It was killing him faster than the drugs would.

Jeremy thought Jean might retreat, jolt back or spring to his feet, but he remained where he sat, staring back at Jeremy. He stuttered for the words. “But…Faser…and the others.”

Jeremy shook his head, staring back at the floor. “I was only with them because I couldn’t be with you.”

Jean was silent. Jeremy looked at him again. Jean’s Adam's apple bobbed, a twitch of his throat, and Jeremy could almost see the hairs on the backs of arms raising. 

Jean swallowed. “I like you, too.”

Jeremy smiled his first real smile in days. Relieved tears pricked in his eyes. He hadn’t been imagining it. He had been delusional about a lot of things in his life, but this wasn’t one of them. He liked Jean. And Jean liked him.

Jeremy reached out slowly to tuck a curl away from Jean’s forehead. Jean closed his eyes, inhaling. Jeremy leaned in to touch his forehead to his partner’s.

Jeremy remembered Kevin’s phone call: If you tell him to submit, he will. He wouldn’t force Jean to do anything. He had more scars than Jeremy could count, more trauma than Jeremy could fathom. Jeremy couldn’t be the one to start this, but he was running out of self-control.

“I know you won’t kiss me like this,” Jeremy whispered. “But what if I told you that you could?”

“I…” Jean hesitated. 

Jeremy cupped Jean’s face in his hands and felt Jean’s hands shift to his waist. Jean’s nod was barely a twitch of the chin but it was enough. When Jean brought Jeremy’s lips softly to his, he tasted like peaches: sweet, soft, ripe.

Jeremy was ready for Jean to break away, to change his mind, but he maintained the kiss, fingers digging into Jeremy’s hipbones. Jeremy’s breath caught as he changed his angle on Jean’s mouth, hungry, starving for more.

Jean leaned forward, pushing his hand into one of Jeremy’s shoulders so he’d lean back onto the floor. It was like before the banquet: Jean, a god above him, navel almost touching Jeremy’s, curls falling forward. Jean’s cross necklace hung down.

Jeremy laughed as Jean pressed him into the hard Exy court. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“I don’t care,” Jean said.

“Your arms are going to get tired,” Jeremy said.

“I don’t care,” Jean said. 

Jeremy laughed again as Jean kissed him. 

“I suppose I’ve already been a bad influence on the team,” Jeremy said between kisses.

Jean shifted one of his legs in between Jeremy’s groin, and Jeremy inhaled. He was supposed to be the seductress in this situation. How had Jean gotten him hard instantly, maneuvering exactly the way that drove Jeremy crazy? There was just something about backliners – they always knew where to go.

Jeremy couldn’t wait anymore; he tore off Jean’s shirt and then his own. From where he lay, he ran his hand up Jean’s chest, breaking from the kiss to look at him. God how he wanted to kiss every scar. It seemed to make Jean shy, but Jeremy quickly dispelled the sentiment.

“You’re beautiful.” 

Jean grunted, using the pause to run his hand from Jeremy’s collarbone to his nipple to his belly button, hovering on the skin above his waistband. Jeremy felt his hips bucking against his will. The wanting hurt . 

“Is this okay?” he asked Jean, whose eyes flicked back up to him.

Jean hitched in a breath. “Yes. I want…you.” He paused, flushing. He was thinking, and the consideration he was giving the thought was adorable.  “What do you…like?”

“Usually I like whatever someone else likes,” Jeremy said, sheepish.

“Why is it never what you like?”

“I – I guess I never thought about it. I aim to please. Maybe you should just, uh, kiss me.”

Jeremy pulled him back in. Just the thought of Jean’s dick was enough to make Jeremy swoon, but now, he could feel it . Athletic shorts didn’t leave much to the imagination in situations like these. 

“Yeah?” Jean said, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Kiss you…here?”

His lips drifted to the crook of Jeremy’s jawbone, right above his neck, and Jeremy gripped the back of Jean’s hair as delicately he could manage. 

“Yes,” he made out. “Definitely.”

“And…here?” Jean lips moved to the other side, and Jeremy felt his own back arch. 

“Mhmm. Keep going.”

Jean’s free hand had gone to toying with Jeremy’s elastic waistband, and Jeremy’s vision was going blurry from pleasure. How many times had he imagined this moment? Dreamed about it? Neither were as good as the reality.

Jeremy made a noise, drifting his hand down to catch Jean’s wrist. Jean paused as Jeremy brought the man’s hand up to his mouth.

“If I had to ask for something,” Jeremy murmured. Jean paused as Jeremy brought the man’s hand up to his mouth. “It would be for you to touch me.” 

Jean watched, awestruck, as he let Jeremy take his fingers into his mouth to wet them with spit. 

“Touch you,” he repeated, entranced as Jeremy sucked on his fingers.

“Mhmm,” Jeremy said, guiding Jean’s hand to the elastic and past his hipbones until he had wrapped his solid fingers around Jeremy’s dick. His fingers were cold and slippery at first, but the new sensation jolted through Jeremy’s stomach like liquid fire.

Jeremy head slacked back onto the floor as Jean adjusted into the new position, folding himself further onto Jeremy’s chest as he began to move his hand up and down Jeremy’s length gently, almost as if he was afraid to hurt him. Jean’s breathing in Jeremy’s ear sent shivers up his arms. 

Jeremy reached out to touch Jean’s chiseled jawbone, feeling the stubble roughen his fingers there. “God, you’re a saint.” Jean’s thumb brushed his tip, and Jeremy’s heart hiccuped. “But you don’t have to be, you know. You can be a little mean.”

“Mean?” he asked.

Jeremy gripped Jean’s hand so he would squeeze harder, and the move worked. When Jean continued, it was with a vengeance. Jeremy was out of words – he had only noises to give now. Was this really happening? Was he really going to defile USC’s Exy court on his very last day? And why did he find that so , so hot?

“Come back up,” Jeremy said quickly, propping himself into a sitting position so he was almost chest to chest with Jean. He needed a breather. He had expected to do cardio tonight, but not this kind of cardio.

Jean withdrew his hand. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Jeremy smiled. “I just wanted to see if you would do what you were told.”

“Am I not following directions well enough, captain?” Jean said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jeremy raised a flustered eyebrow. 

Jean jabbed a finger into Jeremy’s ribs, and Jeremy let out a giggle that made Jean laugh. Jeremy quelled the noise with his tongue, which playfully explored the inside of Jean’s mouth. He ran his hands along Jeremy’s chiseled biceps. Jeremy adjusted his legs so he was straddling Jean now, his ankles hooked around Jean’s ass. Jean’s legs laid out flat in front of him as he cupped Jeremy’s shoulder blades. 

Jean hadn’t been able to identify the nervous energy in his stomach, but now as he hesitated to move his hands, he realized he was afraid. He didn’t want to lose Jean because of this. Because of crossing a boundary or going too far. 

Jean had noticed Jeremy’s energy slowing down. His lips twisted into a frown and he cupped his palms around either side of Jeremy’s face, his tone urgent. “Are you okay?”

Jeremy glanced away. “I just…don’t want to hurt you.”

“I thought you were worried I was going to hurt you.”

“You mean physically? Oh Jean, no, of course not. I like it a little…uh, rough. But that’s beside the point – I was worried I would hurt you emotionally.”

“You’re not hurting me,” Jean said. “You revealed something in me that I didn’t know I still had.”

“What?”

“Trust.”

Jeremy averted his gaze, ashamed. “Even after everything I’ve done?”

“I trust you. Trust me now.” Jean used his finger to raise Jeremy’s chin. “You are my partner. Where you go, I go.”

“Apparently, that’s down on hard Exy floors.”

“Speaking of which,” Jean said, prodding Jeremy’s shoulders so he would lay down on the court again. Jean seemed so pleased with himself, Jeremy couldn’t resist laughing. He hadn’t felt this kind of joy in a long time.

His usual hookups were about giving so he could receive without guilt. But Jean didn’t want anything from him. He just wanted him. 

Jeremy held back a profanity as Jean’s hand went down his pants again. Jean was more sure this time, and Jeremy watched his lips purse into a smile through his kisses, giving Jeremy space to moan between them. 

He liked Jean’s tongue, and he liked Jean’s hands, and he liked Jean’s legs, straddling his. The man’s grip was firm now and steady, building the pressure as he jerked Jeremy off. Jeremy clutched his hands onto Jean’s sides for dear life as he got closer, sputtering and whining.

“Is this mean enough for you?” Jean whispered into his ear.

“Yes,” Jeremy whimpered. “Definitely.”

It didn’t take long after that for Jeremy to come, gasping and ascending to another dimension, as Jean rolled his shoulders back with pride. 

Jeremy pulled his partner in for a final fevered kiss. Jean laid his head on top of Jeremy’s chest, and Jeremy cupped his gorgeous hair, nuzzling his face into it. Jean smelled musky and warm, like a cup of coffee on a cool day. Jeremy wanted to stay there forever, just the two of them alone under the dim lights of the Exy stadium.

Thank god they hadn’t made a mess of the court, and Jeremy had a change of clothes in the locker room. Jean didn’t want to shower, but Jeremy insisted he stay close, so he sat on the benches as Jeremy doused himself with cold water, soothing his aching muscles and his satisfied soul.

When they finally left the stadium, it was hand-in-hand.

Chapter Text

Someone had let the Foxes out of their cage, and they looked ready to bite.

Andrew, Neil, Aaron, and Kevin sat in the front row of the stadium at the Penn State-USC final match, wearing bright orange even as a sea of gold and red surrounded them on one side, and blue and white on the other. The drive from South Carolina to Pennsylvania, while not fun, was not entirely improbable. 

“Did you know anything about this?” Jeremy asked Jean as they did their warm-ups on the court. The Penn State players on the other side looked formidable and gruff, cracking their burly knuckles. Their teeth almost looked like canines. 

Jean shrugged. “The Queen wanted to be here for your last game.”

Jeremy gave a smile to Kevin, waving at the man as he watched him. Someone in the crowd squealed, for Jeremy or for Kevin, he didn’t know. Kevin bobbed his head and the gesture was a demand: Win it .

Jeremy nodded diligently.

The Trojans played with focus and determination, and Jeremy gave every stride his everything. They were neck-and-neck: every time the Trojans scored, Penn State wasn’t far behind. Just before half-time at 5-5, Jeremy took a hard hit to the shoulder from a Penn State backliner. He hit the wall of the court with a smack and stars spun in his vision. The crowd gasped. 

He was vaguely aware of the Penn State coaches arguing against the foul as he stood where he was, stunned. Jean watched him from across the court, grip tight around his racket, ready to run over if Jeremy buckled. A player arrived at Jeremy’s side.

“Jere?” Cat asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he grunted, turning his body toward the backliner, who watched him through the grates of his helmet with a scowl. It was a red card for Penn State. Jeremy held out his gloved hands in a thumbs up toward the player, grinning. The man’s eyes blazed. The crowd went wild. 

He was pulled from the court anyway for a check-up and because the half-time buzzer was about to go off. 

He sat in the nurse's room as she asked him to roll and move his shoulder. It twanged, but it wasn’t dislocated or broken. She gave him a heat pack for the muscle. 

The nurse left him unattended for a second to check on another player, and Jeremy didn’t know why he did it, but suddenly he was standing and searching the drawers as quietly as he could for any kind of medication he could find.

Stop , he thought to himself, holding the heat pack to his shoulder. Stop it, Jeremy .

His gaze settled on a bright orange pill bottle tucked away in the bottom drawer. He slipped the bottle into his pocket and sat back down.

After the game , he told himself. He wouldn’t taint his final match. Only after the game . 

When the nurse came back, she cleared him to play as long as he didn’t aggravate it anymore. It was Jeremy’s last game; he was playing, even if he had a broken ankle or an open, gaping wound. Everyone knew that. 

He moved slowly out of the room, not wanting to rattle the pills. The rest of the team was back on the court but Jeremy stopped by the locker room to tuck the bottle away. When he went to sit on the inner court with his team members, he found the Foxes’ faces in the crowd. 

They were watching the game with an intensity he’d never seen before, Neil’s blue eyes trained on the path of USC’s other strikers while Kevin leaned forward on his knees to track Jean’s progress across the court. Even Andrew’s gaze was locked ahead, calculating the next move the goalie would have to make to save the shot. 

Perhaps the Foxes took Exy more seriously than they wanted to let on. 

When it was his turn back on the court, he caught Jean’s gaze from across the way. The man was concerned but Jeremy gave him a shake of the head that said everything was fine. He was called into sub with 10 minutes left on the clock, the score at a stalemate of 6-6.

He knocked rackets with Cat as they crossed paths once more. The Penn State backliner went after Jeremy again when he caught the ball, the clock ticking down with a minute left. Jeremy raced across the court, adrenaline roaring in his ears along to the screams of the crowd.

He angled his racket, skidded into his toes, and flung, watching as the ball slipped past the goalie’s racket by a centimeter to land in the net with a soft plunk . The stadium went dead silent, and Jeremy felt the pain prick in his shoulder. Then, everyone was roaring, from the crowd to the Trojan’s coaches to the on-court players.

“Yes!” Cat yelped, raising her racket above her. It was too late for the Lions to make up the point they lost, and as the seconds ticked away, the noise only got louder. Finally, the buzzer rang, signaling the end of the game, and the screams were ear-splitting. 

Jeremy tossed his helmet to the ground and collapsed to his knees, laying his racket against his kneecaps. He stared at the ground, catching his breath, taking this last moment in: the thrill of the game, the rush of ecstasy, the hint of pain.

Then, his team was lifting him back onto his feet, shouting and cheering, “Jeremy! Jeremy! Jeremy!”

He caught a flash of Jean’s proud expression, and Cat was kissing him on the cheek, and Laila was running her hands through his hair to ruffle it back into form, and his coaches were hooting at him. Derrick and Derek were beaming, and Cody and Xavier had their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders as they shouted joyfully.

It was the second best moment of Jeremy’s life. (If he could’ve kissed Jean, perhaps it would’ve taken first).

He saw the Foxes on their feet, applauding. Kevin had a stupid grin on his face. Andrew cast Jeremy a two-finger salute. Jeremy returned it.

It seemed like hours later when the applause died down and they were finally ushered off the court, trophy in hand, after their charged but respectable handshakes with the Lions.

Jeremy lingered in the locker room after his shower. His team had urged him to come join in on the festivities, but he wanted one last minute alone before he admitted this was all over. 

Near the doorway, Jean leaned on his Exy racket, watching Jeremy. 

“You did good tonight, captain,” he said. 

Jeremy forced a smile, hoping the premeditated guilt wasn’t shining in his eyes. His mother hadn’t even come to his last game. Jeremy felt stifled and stuck, suffocating on all the standards he could never live up to.

Pennsylvania was a long flight from California, which meant they had a hotel to stay at overnight. Nittany Lion territory would not be Jeremy’s place of choice, but he couldn’t complain after the win they had just eked out. 

They took a bus back to the hotel, every team member humming with energy. They were already talking about what they would do after: go to a 24-hour diner and feast their heart out on waffles.

“I need to go up to the room,” Jeremy said to Jean beside him. Jean raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t argue.

When they made it there, Jeremy walked quickly ahead of Jean in the hallway, wanting to make it into the hotel room first. The decision was eating away at him like acid as he kept the pills in his pocket quiet. 

Take them. Don’t take them. Take them. Don’t take them. Take them.

He blinked and he was past the front door, rushing into the bathroom. He gulped for air, locking the door behind him. He fell onto his knees, hands shaking as he retrieved the medicine. He spilled the pill bottle out on the bath rug, to slow himself down or to size up his haul, he wasn’t sure. 

“Jeremy,” Jean said frantically, slamming his palm against the door. “Let me in.” 

He ran his hands into his hair, squeezing his temples, as he looked at the mess of little blue pills scattered across the floor. He began to rock back and forth, holding the empty pill bottle in one hand. He was being irrational: this was supposed to be a happy moment.

“Let me in,” Jean demanded with another smack.

Jeremy’s hands shook as he held himself back from picking the pills up one by one and dropping them into his mouth. It wasn’t about dying – it was about the drugs. How would he be able to resist the allure of the feeling for the rest of his life? 

“I will break down this door,” Jean said. 

He was vaguely aware of himself leaning toward the door and unlocking it before he was back to his curled position on the floor. Jeremy didn’t want Coach to get fined the hotel fees for broken property. Jean fell to his knees, grabbing the bottle from Jeremy and tossing it across the bathroom.

“Did you take these?” Jean said, shaking him. 

Jeremy gulped but shook his head. No .

“Come here,” Jean said, folding him into his chest. Jeremy couldn’t hold it back any longer: he began to sob, ugly and loud into Jean’s USC T-shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said to Jean, rocking back and forth into the backliner’s embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It was over, wasn’t it? His Exy career. His Trojan mask. His future with Jean. He had lost his chance to accept his U.S. Court invitation and now that finals were over, he had to leave the Lofts to live with his parents again, to be the Jeremy they wanted him to be. 

“Breathe with me,” Jean said, inhaling. Jeremy imitated the man’s inhales and exhales, fighting through his rough hiccups. When his breathing had finally settled, Jean said softly, “The girls and I sent your letter back to the U.S. Court.”

“What?” Jeremy said sharply, sniffing and wiping away a tear. 

“We forged your signature. We figured you could always withdraw your acceptance, but the deadline to accept was going to run out.”

Jeremy let out a short laugh before burying his head back into Jean’s chest, palms pressed into the scar tissue there. They were quiet together, all of Jean protecting all of Jeremy. 

“Jeremy,” Jean whispered into his hair. “I think it’s time.”

Jeremy’s voice broke as he kept his nose pressed into Jean’s shirt. “I don’t want to go to rehab again.”

“No,” Jean said. Jeremy looked up in surprise. Jean ran his finger along Jeremy’s jawbone. “A better option has come up.”