Chapter 3
Jean was up before any of them, this time. Jeremy had stumbled through the living room and was greeted with the sight of Jean already sitting up on the couch and staring blankly at a wall.
The genie had refused to sleep in Jeremy’s bed again, even though between the two of them, Jeremy was definitely more comfortable on the couch. Jean was tall. Ridiculously tall. Of course, the genie had once again said they could just close the lid of the obsidian box and mist-ify him, but Jeremy, Cat, and Laila had loudly denounced that.
Jeremy had clearly fucked up somewhere, yesterday. Jean had been… maybe not fine, but lighter, as they were building the Lego set. It had filled Jeremy with a frankly unnecessary amount of delight to see Jean’s long-fingered hands gently working over the Lego pieces, every movement hesitant and heartbreakingly soft.
And then Jeremy had gone and shoved his foot into his mouth. Which, really, was typical behavior for him. He should probably be applauding himself that he hadn’t fucked it up sooner.
Still, for the rest of the day Jean had been near-silent. One word answers only, gaze trained on the wall. Laila had tried asking him for opinions on movie choices, and Jean had just stared at her with such a steely gaze that they had eventually all given up.
So, yeah, Jeremy fucked up.
It was a new day, though, and Jeremy was committed to giving it another try.
After he had a large, large cup of coffee.
“Classes at eight in the morning are a fucking crime,” Laila muttered, rubbing at squinted eyes as she walked into the kitchen. “They are a cruel and unusual form of punishment. In fact, they are probably some sort of discrimination against vampires. I’m writing a complaint.”
“Pretty sure vampires being creatures of the night is a well-known myth, babe.”
Laila scowled at him and flashed a fang. “I’ll murder you. Give me coffee.”
Jeremy snorted and poured her a large cup that Laila grabbed with greedy hands. She eyed him over the rim of the mug.
“I don’t know how you’re always so chipper in the mornings. It’s disgusting. Some might even say unsettling. You have a worse schedule than even I do.”
Laila was on the pre-Law track, and so her class and work schedule were packed. She came from one of the most prestigious, old-money vampire families, and almost all of them were lawyers.
She wasn’t wrong, though. Her schedule might be packed, but Jeremy’s schedule during the week was downright miserable. That was what he got for double majoring. He could have just stuck to Magical Law like his family wanted him to, but…
He didn’t. While Laila might be happy following in her family’s footsteps, it made Jeremy slightly nauseous to think about doing the same. A fact that had sparked numerous panic attacks and interventions staged by both Cat and Laila, insisting that Jeremy just drop the Magical Law major and focus on Botany.
He didn’t listen to them, which instead meant that during the week Jeremy was more often exhausted than he wasn’t.
Hence, the coffee. Jeremy loved coffee.
Cat wandered into the kitchen, already completely dressed and ready to go, and pressed a kiss against Laila’s hair. Unlike the two of them, Cat was naturally a morning person.
They chatted about nothing for a couple minutes, before all their gazes turned to the elephant in the room. Well– the genie in the room.
“Do you have a plan,” Cat whispered, not subtly.
Jean was still sitting on the couch, still. Like he was waiting for something.
A command, Jeremy thought with a sick feeling.
“Yup,” he said brightly, forcing that thought away. “I’ve got it all worked out.”
Laila and Cat looked at him dubiously, but Jeremy ignored it. Since he was the one who had found (and opened) the obsidian box, and agreed to do this favor for Kevin, he felt like Jean was his responsibility.
Besides, something about the man…called to Jeremy. The quiet iron at his center, the fact that after everything Jean had so clearly gone through, he was still standing. His steel gray eyes that took in the fact that Jeremy was a green witch, considered one of the weakest branches of magic, like it was inconsequential.
The fact that he was a fucking smokeshow.
Jeremy was trying not to think about that fact, though.
He clapped his hands together, dispelling any and all thoughts. Too early for thoughts. He strode into the living room, smile fixed on his face, already bracing himself for an argument.
“Jean,” he said, and those gray eyes traveled slowly up his body before landing on his face. Jeremy ignored the flush of his skin. “You’re coming to class with me today.”
Jeremy had already thought it over. No way did he feel comfortable leaving Jean alone in the apartment. Jean might have a spine of steel, but there was something… not right, about the shadows in his eyes. Besides, Jeremy figured it would be good for him to get out a little. Experience life that wasn’t a cult that fucking abused him and worse.
So he had decided that Jeremy would sit in with him in his classes. Probably not Jean’s idea of a good time, but it also didn’t really seem like Jean had an idea of a good time, so this was the best Jeremy could do. Most of his professors loved him, and the ones that didn’t had big enough lecture classes that they could just sit in the back and go by unnoticed. The only issue would be Jeremy’s pottery class, but he was already thinking of a solution to that.
He waited for an argument from the man, but all he got was a faint lip curl and a nod.
Jeremy felt that sick feeling again.
“If you want to,” he added. “I just– I don’t want you to be stuck in the apartment all day. And some of my classes can actually be pretty interesting. But I’m not– you have a choice.”
Jean stared at him, with that same look on his face like Jeremy was speaking a foreign language.
“I will go,” he said, the light accent twisting around his words.
Jeremy nodded and forced a smile. He hoped this was the right thing, and not yet another instance of Jeremy fucking things up.
“One issue, Jer Bear.” Laila appeared at his side and ran a finger around her neck. “That wouldn’t be a good look, yeah?”
Right. There was no possible way Jeremy could show up to class with a genie. He chewed on his lower lip, wondering how he could have possibly missed that fact.
“You can command me to hide it,” Jean said. His gaze was trained on the far wall. “If you command me, I can glamour it.”
“No,” Jeremy snapped before he could help himself. “I already told you, that’s not happening. It’s never happening.”
Jean looked at him, something almost amused on his face. Like he thought Jeremy was wrong, or lying. Like he didn’t believe him at all.
Jeremy crossed his arms. He would just have to prove it, then. For however long Jean was staying, he would prove it.
“Makeup exists for a reason, dumbos,” Cat piped up. She took a big gulp of her coffee before tilting her head and considering Jean. “You’re pale as a motherfucker, so it’s going to take some real magic before I have time to get some makeup that matches your skin tone, but I think I can make it work.”
Jeremy grinned.
“See? This is all going to work out.”
--------------------
One week.
One week since Jean had materialized in this strange place. The world flipped upside down, ever since hearing the words Riko killed himself in prison. One week, and no commands had burned through the tattoo chains at his neck and wrists. No one had hurt him. No one had… done worse.
No– instead the fool with his sunshine smile dragged Jean to class. As if Jean was a normal person, meant to be unleashed on a college populace. They gave him food, when they could have just shut his vessel to not worry about it. Cat forced Jean into the kitchen, shoved a knife into his hand, and ordered him to dice those, please.
Jean woke up every day, was brought outside, and allowed sunshine on his face.
He was given a change of clothes by Laila, the vampire shaking her head in disappointment when handing over the bag and saying– I can’t bear to look at the black on black anymore. When Jean had tried to give them back she had held up both her hands and backed away– I’m rich as hell, Jean. Just take the damn clothes.
So Jean did.
And Jeremy.
Jeremy with his seemingly boundless energy and smiles. Jeremy, who carried around a bag of cat food in his backpack for the stray cats on campus. (He had laughed at Jean’s look of bewilderment the first time a small black cat had twined around Jeremy’s ankles and said they’re lowkey obsessed with me but only because they’re greedy assholes.) Jeremy, with his bright clothes and flip flops and messy blonde hair.
But there was more, underneath all the bright and sunshine.
Jean was not a college student, but it seemed clear to him that Jeremy was running himself ragged. He stayed up most hours of the night, pouring over homework. Jean also saw the way Jeremy braced before certain classes, like he was dreading entering the space. He never did that when the classes were over botany or plant magic.
Jean saw the frowns Jeremy tried to hide sometimes. The exhaustion he medicated with ridiculous amounts of caffeine. The kindness that covered a hurt.
Jean could not imagine who would hurt a person like Jeremy.
Jean had always known exactly what he was, where his place was in the world… but Jeremy? It was nearly inconceivable.
He ran fingertips over the paper of the book he was holding. Pottery was the only class Jeremy was not able to sneak Jean into, so instead Jean sat down on a bench outside and read. The first time, Jeremy had given him a book and Jean had just let it sit beside him and stared blankly at the sky for an hour.
“Didn’t like it?” Jeremy asked, biting at his bottom lip in a way he did when he was worried. “That’s one of my favorites, but I’m sure Cat or Laila have some–”
“I cannot read english, soleil,” The name slipped out before Jean could stop it. Riko would have beat him black and blue for the mistake. Jeremy just continued on, oblivious.
“Oh, fuck.” His eyes widened, blue blue blue under the sky. “I– didn’t even think of that.”
Jeremy had not pushed for more. Had not asked Jean why he could speak English but could not read or write it. Had not angled for more information than Jean wanted to give.
No, instead, the next day Jeremy had just handed him a copy of the same book but a French version, like it was nothing.
Jean gripped the book now, running his fingertips over the pages again and again. He was nearly halfway done with it, despite his attempts to savor it. It was strange, reading something in his own language.
Almost painful.
Jean did not stop.
He knew this would not last– couldn’t last– and still, there he was. Reading a book on a bench outside, as if he was a normal person and not a thing to be owned.
People began flooding out of the doors, and Jean knew Jeremy wouldn’t be far behind. Sure enough, the man came bounding out minutes later, looking ridiculous in a bright yellow t-shirt and green sweatpants today. The ever-present flip-flops thwacked against the pavement, and Jeremy’s toenails were painted a bright blue.
“Please tell me you got to the part,” Jeremy said enthusiastically. He flung out his hands, fingertips covered in dried clay.
“How will I know I got to the part if you don’t tell me what the part is?” Jean asked. There was a barely disguised fool in his tone, but it just made Jeremy smile wider.
“You’ll know,” he said with a wink.
Jean tightened his hold on the book. He wished his could dig his fingernails into his neck or wrists, a reminder, but couldn’t risk ruining Cat’s makeup.
“Want to grab some lunch before the next class?”
Jeremy always asked, even though they did the same routine every day this week. As if Jean’s opinion mattered.
“Yes.”
They started walking across campus, towards one of the streets that had a stretch of restaurants. Jean was unused to eating regularly, and he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed it. Sometimes, he wished for the oblivion of his vessel. The simplicity of it. The peace.
There was peace here too, though. With Jeremy.
Jean was the biggest fool of them all.
“I’m thinking we try either the meatball sub place today or the Asian fusion.” Jeremy was saying. “You have to decide between the two of those, though, and don’t try to get out of it–”
Jeremy was cut off by his phone ringing. He pulled it out, going pale at the name on the screen. Jean craned his neck to see and saw MOM in white letters. Jeremy shot Jean an apologetic look before stepping a couple feet away, raising the phone to his ear.
Jean was close enough to hear anything Jeremy was saying-- not that it mattered. He didn’t say much beyond yes, mom or I know or I’m trying. Twenty minutes, and Jeremy the motormouth barely said a word.
He ended the call and walked back over to Jean, a smile stretched across his face. It was not his usual smile– too wide. Manic.
“Okay, well. We might not have time for those places now but maybe a smoothie. Yeah, a smoothie sounds good.” Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. It was shaking. “There’s one, like, five minutes away. I haven’t tried it yet but Cat seems to like it and–”
“Jeremy.”
Jeremy looked up at him, big blue eyes wide and not totally there.
“I– I think I’m having a panic attack,” Jeremy said. He laughed, cheeks pink, but everything about it was wrong. “Just– give me a couple. You can go read or something, I just need to– I can’t– I–”
Jean took Jeremy’s arm and led him to a bench shaded underneath a tree. He sat the blonde down, Jeremy pliantly following Jean’s physical instructions, and crouched in front of him. It was… strange, to be in a position where Jean was listened to instead of ordered. Everything about this week had been strange.
“Jeremy,” Jean said again. Jeremy’s breathing was erratic now, his limbs trembling. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead. “Look at me.”
Jeremy did. Panic was clear across his face.
“Breathe.”
“I– I can’t.” Jeremy sucked in a harsh breath, pressing a hand against his chest. “I’m such a fucking f-failure I even fail at breathing–”
“Tu n'es pas un échec.” Jean slipped into French before he could help himself. Phantom echoes of fists against his skin bloomed, but Jean continued. “Tu es bon et gentil. Tu appartiens à un monde dont je rêvais.”
Jeremy let out a soft breath. Stared at Jean with eyes wide, his eyes on him and him alone.
“Keep– keep going.”
“L'idée que quelqu'un puisse te faire du mal m'est si étrangère que ça me fait tourner la tête.” Jean was helpless to stop. Not when he could see Jeremy’s breath evening out, the trembling slowly stopping. “Je suis censé être dans le noir, mais tu continues à me ramener à la lumière. Rien n'a de sens.”
“Holy shit,” Jeremy breathed, blushing. “You speaking in French is like some sort of drug.”
Jean forced himself to stand. Move away.
“Sorry, that was…” Jeremy ran a hand through his waves and laughed. “Obviously, I have mommy issues. Thanks for…” Another blush. “That.”
“Oui,” Jean said, then forced a “ Yes.”
Jeremy stood up, still paler than usual but leagues better than the shaking man he was moments ago. He peered up at Jean and tipped his head to the side.
“Any chance you’re going to tell me what you were saying?”
Jean said nothing.
Jeremy snorted. “Figured not. Guess I’m just going to have to learn French.”
He said it with a smile, but the sentence sent a chill through Jean’s body. Another beautiful boy had learned French for him, once. They had whispered it back and forth, in shadowy corners where the masters couldn’t find them.
But the boy had left Jean. Because he was human, and Jean was property.
Jeremy must have noticed something on Jean’s face, because his expression dropped a little.
“Jean–”
“You will be late for class, soleil. ”
Jeremy’s eyes scanned his face for a few tense seconds, before he let out a breath and looked away. “Right. Let’s go get some smoothies before we both starve.”
---------------------------
Jean was sitting on the floor of Jeremy’s room, reading the book Jeremy had given him. It gave Jeremy a strange thrill to see one of his favorite novels in Jean’s hands.
It was a couple hours after Jeremy’s totally and humiliating breakdown, but Jean was acting as normal as ever. Well, normal for him– which was stony silences or cutting, dry remarks.
Jeremy still couldn’t believe that all it had taken was a couple of well placed words by his mom– we expect more of you, Jeremy. You’re letting this family down– had been enough to shatter him. Actually, Jeremy could believe that. And it made him hate himself a little.
Except, Jean had brought him back.
Hearing his name– Jeremy– in that accented voice alone was enough to shock Jeremy’s system. But then having Jean so close, crouched into his space, with French dripping off his lips like honey and Jeremy’s system was completely overridden. No time for panic when his brain was melted into a puddle of goo at the Frenchman’s feet.
Jeremy stared down at the Magical Law assignment in front of him and sighed.
“My family want me to follow in their footsteps.”
Jean looked up at the sound of Jeremy’s voice.
“They’re part of the High Council. A long family history of defensive and offensive witches, all doing their duty to protect society.”
Jean straightened. “They are part of the High Council? Kevin knows this?”
Jeremy slid off his chair and onto the floor in front of Jean. Jean could be an impenetrable wall, but it didn’t take a genius to realize there was a hint of fear in his voice– and why.
“Yes, Kevin knows. No, I’m not going to go to them with any of… this.” Jeremy made an encompassing gesture with his hand. “To be honest, I’m fully aware of how corrupt the High Council can be. The way that money changes hands. I wouldn’t risk you with that.”
Jeremy felt like he revealed a little too much with that sentence, but it made the tension in Jean’s expression ease so he figured that was okay.
“They were beyond disappointed when I manifested as a green witch. An embarrassment to the family name.” Jeremy’s lips screwed into a humorless smile. “Being gay didn’t exactly help, either.”
Disappointed w as an understatement. Jeremy’s mother had broken down into sobs, asking why would he do this– as if witches had a choice which affinity they manifested. His stepdad had shouted, veins on his forehead popping out, as if the force of his anger could change anything.
“A gay boy that makes flowers,” Jeremy continued, “Not exactly what they wanted for the family name.”
Jean said nothing, but his stormy stare told Jeremy to continue.
“They said if I couldn’t be part of the Council, I could at least study Magical Law. Not be a total disgrace. So… here I am.” Jeremy bit his lip, feeling another soft part of himself being unearthed. “My dad died when I was young. He was a green witch too, though. I…” Jeremy’s voice went soft. “I sometimes wonder what it would have been like. If he had been here. If… he would have been proud.”
The thought alone was enough to hurt Jeremy, who had only ever wanted to make his family happy. Despite the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t do it. He might as well have had failure tattooed across his forehead.
“I just wanted to explain. About earlier. Why I…” Jeremy felt his body go a little hot. “Freaked out.”
“You should not cater to their whims,” Jean said. He was staring at Jeremy, something heavy in his expression. “You are free.”
Jeremy stared at the tattoo, now uncovered, around Jean’s neck. Many times throughout his life, Jeremy had felt trapped by his parents and siblings' expectations. Suffocated. He had made choices he hadn’t been proud of, all to please them.
All those choices had been his, though.
“Jean,” He said, tone gentle. “I wish you would tell me. About what happened. How I can help.”
“I do not need help.”
That was a lie if Jeremy had ever heard one. Jean had so many shadows in his eyes it was a wonder they were silver-gray instead of black. There was a pain in Jean that he kept hidden, but Jeremy saw it. The scratch marks on his arms and throat in the morning. The distance in his eyes.
“You should not be ashamed of your magic, Jeremy,” there it was, his name on those lips again. “There is no shame in… creating, instead of destroying. Making beauty, instead of pain.”
The words were like a balm on Jeremy’s soul.
“I’m glad I picked up that box on the beach, you know. Even if you judge my coffee intake.”
The distant look in Jean’s eyes dissipated a little. He scowled faintly at Jeremy.
“It is unhealthy.”
Jeremy laughed, warmth unspooling in his chest.