Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jeremy Knox had been sad before, depressed even. He could understand the feeling of wanting to hurt yourself or fade away into nothing. Wanting to live in the background so nobody would notice your absence, so nobody would notice you in the first place. But this understanding and empathy did nothing to subtract from the heart-shattering pain he felt now.

Jeremy had been cleaning up the dorm he shared with Jean for once, attempting to organize his mess of art supplies, mugs, and clothes strewn about in various places that you’d never think of finding these things. While doing this, he found a journal stuffed underneath the bedside table that looked suspiciously like it’d been hidden. He hadn’t meant to find it or even open it when he saw it. He thought it was one of his sketchbooks that he just couldn’t remember having, which happened often. Jeremy had tons of sketchbooks: it wasn’t unlikely.

But then a piece of regular, loose notebook paper fluttered out with clean, precise writing that looked nothing like Jeremy’s own fast, sloppy lettering. Jeremy stooped down to pick it up, and with closer examination, he realized this was Jean’s writing. Normally, he would’ve left it alone since Jean’s writings were private, but it was the first line that got Jeremy.

‘I cannot go on like this,’ it said. How recent was this? Jeremy felt his heart speed up with concern. Was this what he thought it was? He kept reading.

‘I cannot go on like this. Like I am not living, simply surviving. Am I truly a survivor if I’m planning this? Survivor is such a false concept; nobody can survive life, especially not someone like me. I am too weak, too broken. If I knew my parents, maybe I could tell them this isn’t their fault, but who would I be kidding? The only person I know is me, and truly, I do not know the truth of me either. It is so much easier to not be known, which is why I’m doing this. I will not say goodbye to an empty room.’

Jeremy sat in the middle of the floor in the space between their two beds with a hand clutching his stomach and a crack that was rapidly growing in his heart. He should’ve been able to guess this had happened to Jean at some point, but the shock had never really set in until now. Jeremy didn’t know what to do with this information. How do you deal with the notion that the person you love had tried to kill himself? Or worse: it was still a plan.

The door creaked open as Jean himself walked in to find Jeremy with tears in his eyes and tears in his heart. Jeremy couldn’t look at him. He saw Jean frown in his peripheral vision before it went blurry with the tears spilling over and down his face that dripped onto his shaking hands.

“Jeremy?” Jean’s voice was soft but concerned as he knelt down in front of Jeremy. After a moment, Jeremy finally got his shit together enough to look at Jean. He pushed his hand holding the note out to Jean, whose face went pale at the sight of it.

“Jeremy, I,” he began, his voice croaky and strained until Jeremy cut him off.

“Jean. I just… I want you to know that I’m glad you’re alive,” Jeremy’s voice was a whisper, soft and wavering like more tears were on their way. Jean sat crouched in front of him, speechless, until Jeremy finally moved to put his arms around Jean. It was a tight hug like Jeremy thought he could squeeze all the pieces of Jean back into place, and Jean sat still and surprised for a moment before loosely putting his arms around Jeremy as well.

There was a pause before Jeremy’s pained voice cut through the silence between them, and their eyes both found the other’s. Jeremy’s brown eyes filled with concern, tears, and pain, while Jean’s gray ones were filled with regret and his own oncoming tears that Jeremy rarely ever saw.

“When was it?” Jeremy couldn’t keep the crack out of his voice, and it was a drastic comparison to the normally upbeat tone of his voice.

“Never. I didn’t go through with it,” Jean began to explain in slow, tired words resigned to the fact he couldn’t run from himself anymore. Jean carefully sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the bedframe. His face looked different somehow, older. Sadness tended to do that to people, Jeremy thought.

“Were you,” Jeremy exhaled a breath to prepare himself for whatever answer he got before continuing, “planning again?” Jean finally raised his head to meet Jeremy’s eyes, and the room was lit gray with the filtered light and the weight of truth.

“If I hadn’t gotten out of the Nest.” It was confirmation at the same time that it was reassurance; Jean was not going to try again.

“I just want you to know, Jean, that I’m here for you. I know it’s hard, and if it’s too hard, you don’t have to, but please come talk to me or any of us if you feel like that. I know you’re trying your best,” Jeremy croaked out a whisper. Jean’s hand shook as he reached up to wipe away a tears on Jeremy’s chin with the pad of his thumb. The contact was small and brief, but it held weight for Jeremy.

“I will,” Jean’s voice was soft and quiet in the responding whisper, and Jeremy knew Jean meant it.

Maybe, Jeremy thought, everything will be okay for us.