Chapter 5
A ex-cult member, the son of a criminal crime lord, and a werewolf all sat in Jeremy’s apartment, because this was his life now.
Jeremy had honestly been expecting the reunion between Jean and Kevin to be a little… well, he didn’t exactly know what he was expecting. But it was definitely not the stiff Kevin and nod that Jean had delivered.
It had taken weeks for Kevin to finally fly out like he had promised. The past couple of days, Jean had opened up more and more. Opened up for him, anyway. Which meant he actually gave his opinion on a movie one night (Jean did not like Marvel, called it useless drivel), didn’t immediately throw away the cooking class pamphlets Jeremy had left strategically laying around, and made dinner every night in the kitchen with Cat.
It made Jeremy’s heart ache a little, watching the genie in the kitchen. The careful, methodical way he went about the recipe and the lack of any tension around his shoulders while he did so. Jean had been transformed into a genie when he was eleven, which was too early for his witch abilities to have settled on an affinity but Jeremy wondered if, given time, Jean would have been a food witch.
Every time he thought that, Jeremy’s eyes landed on the tattoos circling Jean’s wrists and neck and felt heartbroken all over again.
The past two days, though, Jean had been back to his silent, steely self.
Jeremy completely blamed it on the news that Kevin was traveling to visit, and for the first time in their friendship, he felt a little ire towards the man.
But now here they all were. One big, happy reunion.
Totally.
“Uh… would anyone like some water? Lemonade? Juice…?”
“We’re good, Knox.” Kevin Day was sitting on his couch, Neil Josten next to him and Andrew Minyard on the other side. Andrew had one arm thrown over the back of the couch, the move so blatantly possessive towards Neil that Jeremy had no trouble deducing what the two short men were to each other.
Jean and Jeremy were sitting in the singular armchair, with Jeremy perched on the arm of it. It wasn’t the most comfortable seating, sure, but considering Kevin had tried to kick Jeremy out of his own apartment (and had succeeded in doing so with Cat and Laila), Jeremy would take what he could get.
There was no way he was leaving Jean to this conversation alone.
“Jean. You’re looking good.”
Jean stared at Kevin. “You changed your tattoo.”
Kevin pressed a thumb against his cheek, where a number two once was. Now, there was a queen chess piece.
“Time to let go of old masters.”
“It’s ugly.”
Kevin blinked at the insult and Jeremy suppressed a snort. He personally liked the tattoo, appreciated what he signified, but any conversation with Jean was like a conversation with a bulldozer. Absolutely no tact at all.
“I’ve come to give you…” Kevin’s eyes flicked to Jeremy. “Updates.”
The room fell silent. Jeremy flung up his hands.
“For fuck’s sakes, I know how to keep my mouth shut. Stop with all the secrecy and loaded looks. I’m not leaving unless Jean wants me to leave.” He looked down at the man next to him. “Jean. Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” he said, gaze never leaving Kevin.
It wasn’t a declaration of feelings, but Jeremy felt like it was all the same. He settled more heavily into his perch on the arm of the chair and crossed his arms.
“Just tell them, Kevin.” Neil rolled his eyes. “We don’t need to draw this out forever.”
Kevin Day pouted.
“Fine. Jean– we did some investigating. The main branch, Ichirou, doesn’t even seem to know of your existence. Or that you’re gone.”
Jeremy’s brows drew together. “Ichirou? The businessman?”
“The Moriyamas had two branches. Only one got taken down,” Kevin explained.
“You’re saying that Ichirou is a criminal too?”
“Going to go crying to mommy and daddy?” Andrew asked. His tone was even, flat– but Jeremy saw the violence gleaming underneath his eyes. The way his fingers twitched to the armbands covering his wrists.
“No,” Jeremy returned evenly. “I just– want explanations.”
“Ichirou made a deal with us,” Kevin said. “Me and Neil. He doesn’t want any more of the publicity touching his seemingly clean business, and he never approved of Kengo’s more, ah… violent tendencies. Do you get what I’m saying, Jean?”
Jean said nothing.
“He does not know you exist. You’re free.” Kevin switched to French. “C'est fini ta, vie t'appartient, maintenant.”
Jean twitched at the words.
“Riko,” he said. Tone even. “Is he really dead?”
Jeremy looked down at Jean in shock. He had never realized that fact was up for doubt, and it made him a little sick to think that this entire time, Jean had just been waiting for Riko to– what? Return? Force him back?
“Yes,” Kevin confirmed.
“He would not have killed himself,” Jean said.
“He might have had a little help.” This was Neil. He shifted forward on the couch slightly, a smile overtaking his face, and made a gun with his fingers and pressed it against his temple. “It’s crazy, huh? How easily these monsters die in the end.”
Jean made a soft sound and stood up.
“There’s a place for you at the Foxes,” Kevin added. “If you want it.”
Jean ran a thumb over the tattoo at his neck. He said nothing, giving the three men on the couch one last lingering glance before stalking off down the hallway, towards Jeremy’s bedroom. Jeremy was torn on whether to follow him or give him the space he so clearly needed.
He couldn’t imagine how it felt, to suddenly be told he was free. Or at least– free from Riko and Kengo. Because the fact was, Jean still had a collar around his throat and wrists, and anyone who got ahold of his vessel could use him.
“Do you have hot chocolate?” Neil suddenly asked.
“100%, rabbit,” Andrew said from beside him.
Jeremy didn’t understand that at all, but he hopped down from his perch with a nod. He could make an ex-mobster’s son some hot chocolate. Sure.
He headed into the kitchen and pulled down the box, not noticing Kevin had been on his heels. The taller man stood there, scrubbing the back of his neck with an uncomfortable look on his face.
Jeremy had thought Kevin was handsome, once. Come on– it was impossible not to. Six feet tall, pale green eyes, dark waves. But Jeremy was realizing all of that was nothing compared to stormy skies and faint scowls.
“Listen,” Kevin said. “Do you know how genie commands work?”
Jeremy stared at Kevin. “Uh, yeah dude. I’m pretty sure I know how they work.”
“Did you know that commands can be forever? A former genie master can place a command on the genie, and it won’t be broken until he takes it away or another master breaks it.”
Okay, Jeremy hadn’t known that little tidbit. He thought of the library books shoved under the bed in his room, and realized he really needed to start reading them.
“I’m not going to command Jean to do anything, Kev. I thought we knew each other well enough to know that.”
His eyes widened. “No– of course I know that. It’s just…”
“It’s just…”
“Jean may ask. For you to break one of Riko’s commands.” Kevin scrubbed his neck harder. “You can’t.”
“What?” Jeremy stepped forward, fully preparing to storm past Kevin, burst into his room, and dissolve whatever commands that monster had placed on Jean.
“Knox, listen–”
“That is fucking insane, Kevin. I can’t believe you’d ask me to–”
“It’s that he can’t hurt himself.”
Jeremy stilled.
“The command,” Kevin clarified, unnecessarily. “It’s that he can’t hurt himself. I think if that wasn’t there, Jean would have… a long time ago…”
Jeremy thought about the dark shadows underneath Jean's eyes. The faint trembling and faraway look when they had been hiking the past weekend. Jean going silent sometimes. The way he acted like any human comfort was foreign, the bump in his nose, the uneven patches of his hair, the scars Jeremy had caught sight of sometimes beneath his shirt, the fucking collar of runes around his neck–
“Oh my god.” Jeremy pressed a palm to his forehead. His fingers were tingling, but there was no way he was having a panic attack right now, not when Jean needed him. “Kevin.”
“I know,” Kevin said. “What I told him is true. There’s a place for him at the Foxes. We can fly back with him after this weekend.”
And then Jean would be gone.
The thought left Jeremy feeling cold.
“It’s whatever he wants,” Jeremy said, the words sour on his tongue. “It’s his decision.”
Kevin nodded and left the kitchen. Jeremy measured out the rest of the hot chocolate, his hands trembling slightly.
Whatever Jean wanted, Jeremy would support him.
Any feelings he had about it didn't matter.
-----------------------
This was Jean’s second time at a bar, and he did not find the experience any more enjoyable than the previous one.
Cat and Laila had dragged him to a bar one night for karaoke night, when Jeremy had gone home for some family dinner. It had been loud and bright and sticky, Jeremy had come home sad and quiet, and all around Jean had decided it was terrible.
Here he was again.
Jeremy was dancing in a throng of people, Laila and Cat pressed tight against him. His blonde hair gleamed under the flashing lights and he was throwing his head back and laughing. He was wearing low-rise jeans and a shirt just cropped enough to show a sliver of his tanned stomach.
Neil and Andrew were pressed along the wall. Andrew had a proprietary arm thrown around Neil’s waist and a glass of whiskey in the other. Neil said something and Andrew leaned forward, his eyes gleaming amber. Jean looked away.
Back at Kevin, sitting next to him at the bar.
“You’re more quiet than normal,” Kevin observed.
“You don’t know me,” Jean said. “It has been two years since you left.”
Two years of being alone. Facing his monsters, alone.
Kevin’s face twisted. “Jean, I… I was never going to leave you. It just took– time.”
Time that Jean spent broken and bruised. Time that Jean spent hurting other people, at his master’s command. Time. Jean had watched time slide between his fingers for years, praying for it all to finally end. For time to stop.
“He doesn’t know about me.”
“He doesn’t,” Kevin promised, knowing Jean meant Ichirou. “It’s over.”
It’s over. A fool’s promise. It would never be over, not when Jean could feel the ghost of Riko leaning over his shoulder. Hear his voice whispering in his ear. Nine years of the collar around his neck, all for Kevin to say it’s over.
It couldn’t be that easy.
Nothing, nothing for Jean had ever been that easy.
He cast his gaze back out to the crowd, eyes latching onto Jeremy. Sunshine Jeremy, who left flowers where he walked. Jean had blood on his hands, and Jeremy had petals in his.
“He’s a good person,” Kevin said quietly.
Jean dipped his head in a nod.
Kevin sighed. “I’m saying– you can trust him, Jean. You can trust this. If you wanted to–”
“Don’t,” Jean said. He didn’t want to hear however Kevin finished that sentence. “He is good.”
“You deserve something good.”
No– Jean didn’t deserve something good. Jean broke good things.
It’s over. You’re free.
Jean pressed his thumb against the tattoos at this throat. Not free, not completely. But more free than he ever had been, if Kevin was to be believed. A foolish part of Jean, that he had long since thought was extinguished, flickered inside his chest.
“What are we talking about?” Jeremy asked brightly, popping up between Kevin and Jean. His gaze bounced between the two of them, landing on Jean’s hand at his throat. Jean dropped his arm.
“I was just about to head to the bathroom, actually.” Kevin stood up and clapped Jeremy on the shoulder. “Keep him company.”
Jeremy easily slid onto the stool Kevin had been sitting in. He motioned to the bartender and ordered a drink before turning to Jean. His expression went soft, pink purple lights sliding across his skin.
“That was a lot, today,” Jeremy said.
“Oui.”
“If I asked you how you’re feeling, would you tell me?”
Jean considered it. It meant something, that he considered it. Ultimately, though, he realized he didn’t even have the words. The language. There was no possible way to put a sentence to this feeling of bruisesfistsdespairhopesunshine settling in his stomach.
“Didn’t think so,” Jeremy said with a rueful grin. The bartender slid his drink over– something bright red with an umbrella– and Jeremy took a long sip through the straw. Jean forced his gaze on the bartop. “Do you– are you…”
Jean looked back at him with slightly raised eyebrows.
“Asshole,” Jeremy griped with no real heat. “I don’t know how you somehow manage to be so sarcastic while saying absolutely nothing.”
“And I don’t know how Americans drink so much sugar without dying,” Jean said, sending a pointed look at Jeremy’s drink.
Jeremy flipped him off, smiling the entire time.
“Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“No thank you,” Jean responded, “I care for my teeth.”
Jeremy snorted and sent Jean a look his brain couldn’t interpret. Whatever it was, though, it was enough to leave him feeling half-panicked, half-wanting. Completely lost. In some ways, it was easier– being under Riko’s command. He knew exactly what he was.
If he was free now, then what was he?
I am Jean Moreau had always meant I am property.
“So,” Jeremy began. It was clear the blonde was trying to be casual, but he failed miserably. There wasn’t a deceptive bone in the man’s body. “The Foxes. South Carolina.” He twirled the paper umbrella. “I’ve heard it’s pretty up there.”
The Foxes– with Kevin.
Another coven. Sure, they claimed to be different. Perhaps they were. But it left a bitter taste in Jean’s mouth all the same. Not to mention having to see Kevin every day. Staring into those green eyes he had once thought beautiful but now only left a feeling of hollow abandonment behind his breastbone.
Except, what options did Jean have?
He could not read or write in English. He had no skills beyond following commands. He was barely even a human.
Jeremy, Cat, and Laila– they would be glad to be rid of him. This strange genie that had crashed into their lives and brought a shadow into their sunshine. Took up their precious resources like food and clothes because they refused to lock him back in his vessel. Like idiots, they had welcomed Jean in. But all kindness had its limits.
Jean looked at Jeremy then and felt a violent pang in his heart.
Jean has been a dog his whole life, and part of him wanted to throw himself at Jeremy’s feet. Beg the blonde to pick up the other end of his leash, if only so Jean could follow behind in his bright, sunshine wake. Feel the after effects of that warmth.
But Jeremy wouldn’t appreciate that, Jean knew. He didn’t like when Jean pointed out what he was— property. It made him frown, an expression that was wrong on a face made for smiling. Jean had been property his whole life, and now Jeremy wanted him to be a person. Everyone wanted him to be a person.
Jean was horrible at being a person.
He would never be able to give Jeremy what he wanted.
You’re mine, dog, Riko’s voice raked up his spine. You’ll always be mine.
Jean Moreau did not know how to be human. It was not in his nature, not anymore. The more he allowed himself to slip, the harder it would be once this all inevitably shattered. Sure, Kevin said it was over. But Jean wasn’t sure if he could believe that.
And yet, one look at Jeremy’s ocean eyes and Jean forgot that all. One easy grin, and Jean was hoping for impossible things.
Like belonging here. Letting the sun burn his shadows away.
Jean did not belong to this world, and he certainly did not belong to Jeremy.
He needed to remember that--
“Stay,” Jeremy blurted.
Jean stared at him, and Jeremy stared back with wide eyes.
“I know– I know you and Kevin are friends. Or have history, or whatever. But Cat will miss you. She hates that me and Laila are horrible cooks.” Jeremy continued, rambling in the way he did when he was nervous. “And Laila needs someone around that appreciates her horrible period drama movies. And I…”
Jeremy looked at him. “I would miss you. You’re finally starting to get a little bit of a tan. And you promised me you would teach me how to make French desserts-- okay, that’s a lie. But you were going to, eventually. And you… it’s good here, isn’t it?” Jeremy’s tone turned into something different, almost pleading. “We’re good. You and me— and Cat and Laila. You and me and Cat and Laila. So… stay. If you want to. I’m asking you to.”
Jean wasn’t sure what to do with that overflow of earnest words, so foreign to his ears. It almost made him wonder if Jeremy had suddenly started speaking a different language, but no– still English. Still enough to squeeze what was left of Jean’s heart.
“I understand, though,” Jeremy said at Jean’s silence. “If you go to the Foxes. We’ll get you a phone and I’ll text every day. It would be fine.”
“Jeremy.”
He dropped his head and groaned. “Stupid French accent. Ruins my brain.”
Jean had no idea what he meant by that.
“I am not… good,” Jean said. He trained his eyes on the bartop. “I have done things. Bad things.”
“That monster did bad things, Jean. Not you.”
His hands were the ones that had been covered in blood, though.
But now, his hands were filled with different things. The assurance that a monster was dead. A promise that he was free. The possibility of never having another master, not like Riko. And this–
A plea to stay.
“It would be unfair,” Jean said quietly.
“Damn right,” Jeremy agreed, and Jean’s head snapped up. Jeremy’s blue eyes were blazing. “It’s unfair of me to ask you to stay, but fuck it– I’m doing it anyway. I feel strong when I’m around you, Jean. Like I can tell my family to go shove a flower up their asses.” Jeremy winced. “Ok wait– a flower does not deserve that. I walk that back.”
Jean huffed, a smile curving across his face.
Jeremy stared at him and a flower bloomed in the palm of his hand.
“Oops,” he breathed, staring down at it. “A carnation.”
“What does it mean?”
“I’ll explain another time,” Jeremy said. He reached forward and tucked the flower behind Jean’s ear. Jeremy stayed where he was, close, and studied Jean’s face. Jean could feel the soft puffs of his breath. “It’s okay, Jean. Whatever you decide, you’ve got me in your corner. Cat and Laila, too.”
Jean knew what he wanted, but he had never been allowed to want.
It’s over, Kevin had said, you’re free.
Saying the words out loud felt like ripping up the last piece of his heart and begging for it to be broken. Jean should know better than to want, or to hope, or to dream. Riko should have beaten it out of him. But he hadn’t.
“I’ll stay,” Jean said.
Jeremy smiled, slow and bright, and more flowers bloomed at his fingertips.