Chapter 7
“I am freaking the fuck out.”
“Uh, yeah, babe. We’ve noticed.”
They were sitting in Abby’s house in South Carolina, and Jeremy was carving a path in the carpet with his pacing. In a room upstairs, Abby and Betsy Dobson, two healers, were attempting a magical procedure to break the genie magic wrapped around Jean’s throat and wrists.
“Maybe lay off the coffee?” Laila suggested.
Jeremy glared at her and clutched his coffee tighter to himself.
“It’s not dangerous,” Kevin piped up. “I mean– either it works or it doesn’t. It’s not like he’s getting a coronary artery bypass or something.”
“Vous êtes tous des idiots,” Jeremy said, channeling Jean.
You are all idiots.
Kevin snorted. “Your pronunciation is terrible. I bet that kills Jean on the inside.”
In fact, it didn’t kill Jean on the inside. Jean was quite vocal about how abhorrent he found Jeremy’s pronunciation, saying the American is butchering my language. Even so, Jeremy saw the way Jean’s expression softened every time Jeremy spoke to him in French.
So he was persisting, horrible pronunciation or not.
“Do you think it will work? It has to work.”
“I hope so,” Cat said earnestly. Laila grabbed onto her hand.
The past couple of months with Jean had been more than Jeremy could have ever known to want. He thought he was fine with meaningless, fun hookups but he wasn’t. Not when he now had a taste for Jean Moreau, with his blunt attitude, broad shoulders, and scowls.
Or even better, the way Jean stood at Jeremy’s side through anything. Talking him down from panic attacks. Sitting with him in the garden. Holding him after the phone call where Jeremy finally told his mother he was dropping the Magical Law major and just focusing on Botany.
They had, predictably, cut off all contact and finances. That was fine, though. Jeremy had a full ride for the Botany program, so all their money had been going towards school-wise was a major Jeremy didn’t even enjoy. He worked part time at a florist now.
And Jean had enrolled in an English for foreign speakers course, to work on his reading and writing. He still refused to really look at the pamphlets for culinary school Jeremy handed him, but that was okay. It had taken a lot for Jean to put himself in a room full of strangers, and Jeremy still had to wait outside for him every class.
After everything, Jean was still the strongest man Jeremy knew.
“This is taking too long, right? This has got to be taking too long.”
They all looked at him and Jeremy set down the coffee in his hand. They might be onto something. It was just…
Jean still woke up with nightmares. He still had days where he only said a few words, his body right in front of Jean but his eyes so distant it was clear he was a hundred miles away. And Jeremy was well aware getting rid of the runes wouldn’t fix everything, not by a longshot, but at least Jean would finally be completely, fully free.
Jeremy heard footsteps, and his gaze snapped towards the stairs.
Abby came down first, followed closely behind by Betsy. They were smiling, which had to mean something good, and they were talking but Jeremy didn’t hear any of that, too focused on–
Jean.
There he is.
Jean stepped off the last step. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and black jeans, just like the first day Jeremy had seen him. Except this time, his pale neck was unblemished other than a faint redness and his wrists were clear.
“It worked,” Jeremy breathed.
He heard shouts and cheers behind him, but he only had eyes for the man in front of him. Gray eyes that caught and held his, always.
“Inquiet, soleil?”
Worried, sunshine?
Jeremy bounded forward and threw himself into Jean’s arms. The man caught him easily and laughed. He laughed. A hoarse, rough sound and Jeremy had never heard anything more beautiful in his life.
A carnation bloomed in his hand, and he tucked it behind Jean’s ear.
“It worked,” Jean said. There was something uncertain in his tone, almost disbelieving.
Jeremy pressed their foreheads together.
“It worked, Jean,” He would say it again and again, if Jean needed him to.
“Uh, this is cute and all– but I’m pretty sure we should go out and get shitfaced to celebrate,” Cat sat from somewhere behind Jeremy. “Our Frenchie is a free man!”
Laila let out a whoop and Jean drew back. He looked down at Jeremy, thumb tracing the line of Jeremy’s smile. It wouldn’t leave his face.
“Are you going to order one of those sugary monstrosities?”
“Oui,” Jeremy replied, grinning so hard it hurt.
Jean huffed, shaking his head. He stepped away a bit, but not before folding Jeremy’s hand in his own. Jeremy knew this didn’t fix everything. Jean still had a lot to work through– they both did.
But standing in that house, surrounded by friends and looking at Jean’s pale, unmarked neck–
Jeremy was so blindingly happy he couldn’t help but lean forward, press another quick kiss against Jean’s lips, and whisper “Je t’aime.”