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The crowd roared in Jeremy's ears like white noise, camera's flashing on the side-lines, as reporters waited for their post game interviews.
Rhemann had already assured Jeremy he would not be taking them tonight, and for this Jeremy was eternally grateful. His whole body shook with an anger so foul it was burning through his chest. The game had not exhausted him. His half time go around on the team's punch bag had not settled him. He needed to get out of here.
Still, he took his place in line following behind Cody, Jean one step behind him momentarily putting his mind at ease. He gripped his racquet so hard his fingers shook with it as he made his way down shaking hands with the Jackals. His trademark winning smile stretched across his face causing a burning ache to pulse under his cheeks.
He repressed the urge to curl his lip in disgust as he reached the Jackal’s striker, Stevens. He stood a couple inches taller than Jeremy, closer to Jean's height. Jeremy came to a slow stop in front of him, smile still in place but ice in his eyes. He took in the mans foul smirk and begrudgingly held his hand out.
His mind flashed back to the game, to every malicious and horrifying insult he'd hauled at Jean across the court today. He could feel Jean tense and stiff beside him as he waited his turn to shake Stevens’ hand. Damn Trojan sportsmanship, Jeremy thought. It was taking everything in him not to reach up and smack that cocky look off Stevens’ face. He had thrown Jean off tonight, badly. Jeremy had had to help haul him off the court to stop him clawing his neck off and now he had to stand here and shake the hand of the man who'd sent Jean spiralling. Jeremy would have to stand by while Jean did the same.
He'd do it of course, wouldn't complain, wouldn't falter. Would endure it because it's what he thought he had to do, what was normal to him. And that's what made Jeremy so furious to begin with. That men like Stevens could get away with saying nasty things because men like Jean wouldn't fight back. Maybe he was more of a Trojan than he thought. This brief thought settled the thunderstorm in Jeremy's mind momentarily. Then Stevens took his hand harshly in his own and Jeremy felt a growl rise up his throat. He squeezed back just as hard as he got, his smile never wavering even as Stevens tried to crush his fingers. They both pulled back harshly. Jeremy allowed a second of disgust to display on his face before he drowned it in a smile.
He turned away, ready to leave as Jean took his place. He could still feel that tension radiating off the other man's body, so he slowed right down, though he wanted nothing more than to storm off and pound his frustrations out elsewhere.
He had taken only a step when he heard the venom in Stevens’ voice when he said, "No thanks, I don't wanna catch anything from a whore like you, Mor-"
Later, Jeremy would marvel at how quickly everything transpired. Would be baffled at his own speed and loss of control.
But in that moment, the match caught flame and anger burned through him. He heard this distant clatter of his racquet hitting the floor at the same time his body spun, his fist raised. He barely braced himself for pain before his fist smashed into Stevens’ face.
The unexpected force causing him to stumble backwards, tripping over his feet and falling flat on his backside. Jeremy moved forward, ready to strike again, his lip finally curling upwards in anger and disgust. He drew his arm back again ready to take another hit before a body stepped in front of him forcing him backwards. Arms snaked around his torso hauling him back and Jeremy looked up into grey eyes, searching.
Jean looked at him, his lips parted ever so slightly, his brow furrowed. He was looking at him as if he'd never seen him before. Jeremy had only a second to glean his reaction before Jean was swallowed by a crowd of reporters and Trojans, trying to form a barrier between them and their captain, as he was hauled off the court.
Only then when his feet skidded back, sneakers squeaking on the floor as microphones waved in the air and cameras flashed, did Jeremy realise what he had just done. The roar of the crowed muffled under the sudden ringing in his ear.
Whoever had a hold of him did not let up until he was tossed roughly into the locker room where he skidded to a halt, bending over, bracing shaking hands on his knees.
He panted as the ringing slowly faded and the once muffled voices of shouts around him came in to clarity.
"What the fuck?"
"Jeremy, are you serious?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"That was insane."
"Jeremy, are you okay?"
Laila's hand touched his shoulder and Jeremy jerked up. Her worried face came into view, and he tried to hold her gaze before his eyes dropped back down to his now split and bloodied knuckles.
He inhaled about to speak when the locker room door slammed open once more. Laila's worried gaze shifting to move behind him. Jeremy spun to see Coach Rhemann at the door, a stony look on his face as he looked at Jeremy.
"My office, now," he said.
Jeremy quickly stumbled out after him, only coming to a stop in the corridor when he caught sight of Jean. He stopped when he saw Jeremy too, that lost and confused look still on his face. He held his racquet in one hand and Jeremy's in the other. Both boys swallowed nervously.
"Now, goddammit," Rhemann's voice cut through causing Jeremy to jump. He gave Jean one last look, following Rhemann into his office.
The knowledge of what he'd just done finally hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt panic overtake him as his hands shook. He paced up and down Coach's office.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Rhemann cut into his path placing a heavy hand on his shoulder forcing him to stop and look up at him.
"Breathe."
Jeremy followed obediently. Closing his eyes he inhaled and exhaled deeply until his racing heart settled and his body shook a little less. When he was considerably calmer, Coach released him and rounded to take a seat at his desk, gesturing for Jeremy to do the same.
"I'll take an explanation now, and it better be good."
He folded his arms across his chest as he considered Jeremy before him.
"Jean." It was all Jeremy could get out. He swallowed, breaking Rhemann's gaze, looking down as his steadily aching hand, the adrenaline now wearing off.
Rhemann was out of his seat a second later, "Hold on." He left and came back before Jeremy could take another breath, handing him an ice wrap to place over his hand.
"Thanks," Jeremy said sheepishly.
"Jean?" Rhemann prompted as he took his seat again.
Jeremy sighed deeply, "He- Stevens said something to Jean. He'd been saying that stuff all game Coach, you saw it. You know what happened. A-and I just snapped. I'm sorry."
Rhemann sighed haggardly. "Let me see your hand," he rose from seat again to lean back against his desk in front of Jeremy. He examined Jeremy's hand before sighing again and letting it fall back to his lap. "Wash it off and keep the ice pack on. You should be fine."
He stood up and paced slowly to the far end of his office. "I will call the Jackal's coach and have a word with them about Stevens. But you do not take these matters into your own hands, do you understand? Believe me I want nothing more than to ring the necks of anyone who taunts that poor kid but there are levels and rules to these things Jeremy. Off the court you can handle things however you like, albeit I'd appreciate if you maintained your decorum. But on my court, we do not behave like animals."
Jeremy hung his head, "Yes, Coach."
It was silent for a while then Jeremy asked, "The reporters?"
"Can hang themselves and their interviews. We handled it for now. But you can bet there will be a fall out in the press so prepare yourself for some lashings." He paused, then "You going to be okay with..."
His words trailed off, but Jeremy knew what he meant. His family were no doubt already blowing up his phone. And Jeremy had just played into the exact image they'd had of him. If his choosing Exy, dyeing his hair, being...who he was, was not enough to add insult to injury, then this surely was.
And it was for that exact reason Jeremy would not be returning home tonight. No, he would camp out with Cat, Laila and Jean. If his family wanted him home, they'd have to come and drag him back themselves. Jeremy would not leave without kicking and screaming this time.
He clenched his jaw as he felt his anger begin to resurface.
Rhemann seemed to sense his growing tension as he addressed him hesitantly, "Jeremy."
Jeremy inhaled shakily, "I can handle it, Coach. I'm sorry for causing a ruckus."
Rhemann considered him for a long minute, rubbing his chin contemplatively. He sighed and dropped his hand waving towards his door, "Get out of here, rest up. The next few days are sure to be a handful."
Jeremy swallowed feeling guilt pierce through his chest before the words Stevens had thrown at Jean came flashing back. He wasn't sorry he did it. He was just sorry everyone saw.
"Thanks, Coach," he said quietly before leaving. Thankfully most of the team had cleared out of the locker rooms by the time Jeremy returned. Though Jeremy slowed when he saw that Jean was still sat on the bench fiddling with the strap of his gym bag. He did not look at Jeremy as he passed, and Jeremy tried not to let it get to him, but he couldn't help the sinking feeling settling in his stomach.
"That was quite a hit, Cap," Derek said as he emerged from the showers, patting Jeremy on the shoulder as he stood at his locker removing his clothes. He'd had to place the ice pack down on the bench. He couldn't take it with him to shower of course. He flexed his fingers, wincing at the throbbing ache in his knuckles.
"I think you broke his nose; blood was gushing when I caught a glimpse of him," Derek continued in awe.
Jeremy huffed out an awkward laugh. He wanted to say he didn’t care, and he was glad the man was badly hurt. But he could feel the tension rolling off Jean's body where he sat at the bench, his back to Jeremy's locker as he waited for him to wash up. Cat and Laila were nowhere to be seen, most likely waiting out by the car.
But Jean was still here waiting for him.
Jeremy brushed past Derek to the showers, not saying another word. He could feel the sourness of the whole day creeping back up on him as his irritation flared. He didn't want to talk to anyone.
He stood under the spray of the shower making a fist and then flexing his fingers out, watching the way his knuckles shifted under his skin. Bruises beginning to blossom. He pressed his thumb of his unharmed hand into his knuckles wincing at the pain but welcoming it as a needed distraction.
One punch wasn't enough. Potentially breaking his nose wasn't enough. Jeremy didn't understand how people could be so needlessly cruel. Jean was so undeserving. He could be crass and vicious with his words. He was aloof and uncaring for trivial things. But he was not a horrible person. He did not deserve any of the things that had happened to him. And he did not deserve ugly words and rumours that only added insult to injury.
He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. He hated feeling this way. But what he hated more was not knowing how much it probably ate Jean up inside.
He took several deep breaths, quickly finishing his shower when he remembered that Jean was still waiting for him on the bench. Jeremy paused when he saw him again, dripping water all over the floor, but not caring. Jean still did not look up. He kept his head down as Jeremy approached, now fiddling with his necklace, the silver cross pressed to his lips.
Jeremy, not wanting to make him wait any longer and hating the tension in the air, rushed about. Throwing his clean clothes on and tugging on his shoes. When he was ready, he looked at Jean's hunched over form and said, "Ready?"
Jean didn't respond, just rose from the bench and left the room. Jeremy sighed and followed him out. He came to an abrupt stop as he was blocked by Jean's outstretch arm. Jeremy's forgotten ice wrap clutched in his hand.
Jeremy looked up at him, but his gaze was fixed ahead down the corridor. His jaw clenched as if he was stopping himself from saying something. Jeremy bit the inside of his mouth and took the wrap slowly from Jean's hand. His icy fingers brushing against Jeremy's. He shivered slightly as he pressed the wrap back to his knuckles. Though if it was from the ice or Jean's skin against his, he couldn't tell.
They walked out of the stadium in silence. Jeremy could feel his phone buzzing in his bag where it rested against his hip. He resisted the urge to pull it free and fling it into the sun. He didn't want to deal with his family. Not now, not ever.
Laila and Cat gave him worried looks and sheepish smiles as he approached the car, but he just shook his head as he climbed into the back seat. They allowed him, and the foursome drove home in weighted silence.
He hesitated once they reached the house, keeping his distance as the other three climbed the small steps up to the front porch.
He cleared his throat and they all turned to look at him, "I'd like to stay here tonight, if that's okay?"
"Of course, why would you even ask?" Cat said, softly.
But Jeremy shifted his gaze to Jean, looking at him questioningly. Jean just stared back; his face kept carefully blank, before he finally gave the tiniest hint of a nod in acknowledgement.
Inside, the girls and Jean made a beeline for their rooms, but Jeremy dropped his bag in the living room and sunk into the couch. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back, taking several deep breaths before ripping the band aid off and digging his phone out his bag.
As he suspected, his phone continued to ping with various unpleasant sounds as texts came in from his family demanding an explanation for what the hell just happened and awaiting his arrival at home. He was sure to be punished for this. He tossed his phone back onto his bag. He wasn't going. He didn't care.
He rose abruptly off the couch and stumbled back out onto the front porch, setting his ice wrap down (now rapidly melting) where he sat with his back against the edge of the wooden barrier at the edge of the step. The sun was well on its way to setting now, the sky getting darker.
He couldn't be sure how long he was sitting out there for until the door opened behind him. Soft steps padded on the porch floor towards him before he caught sight, in the corner of his eye, of Bark Bark's cardboard cut out being leant against the opposite side of the porch from him.
He looked up, watching as Jean sat down, his feet resting on the steps below. He was so close that Jeremy's knee pressed into his thigh, but Jean didn't seem to mind or care.
Jean didn't speak, so they sat in silence till Jeremy spoke up.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, avoiding Jean's gaze as both men continued to watch the sky darkening in the distance.
"What for?"
Jeremy wasn't expecting that and so wasn't sure how to respond. He felt like Jean was disappointed in him. But at the same time, what was he sorry for? He wasn't sorry he punched Stevens.
They sat in silence for several more long drawn out minutes before Jeremy spoke again, turning his head to look at Jean this time, "Aren't you going to ask me about it? "
Jean turned to look at him. He held Jeremy's eyes and Jeremy felt his breath catch in his throat at the heaviness of emotion in Jean's gaze, before he blinked, his grey eyes blank once again. He looked away. "No."
Jeremy broke then, frustration rising to the surface. "I can't stand it. I can't stand the way people talk to you, or about you. I can't stand what they fucking did to you."
Jean looked down as he rubbed his palms together. "It's not your job to stand it. It's your job to be my captain."
Quietly Jeremy said, "This isn't me. I don't do things like this.”
Jean was quiet too when he said, "I'm sorry. I told Kevin not to send me here."
He sounded guilty and ashamed like this was his fault. And Jeremy hated that more than anything. He cut in quickly, needing to reassure Jean, "I'm glad you're here. It's just…not like me, but maybe it should be."
Jean's head snapped up to him then, something fierce behind his voice as he said, "No. Even if you tried you could never be anyone's villain. I already told you this."
Jeremy scoffed and shifted so that his legs were now crossed, both his knees pressing into the side of Jean’s leg, his hands resting in his lap.
A moment later, Jean reached out gently taking a hold of Jeremy's injured hand. He ran his fingers softly over Jeremy's split and bruising skin.
He said lowly, his gaze tracking his own movements as he held and caressed Jeremy's hand carefully, "I know what evil is. I know what cruel is. I know maliciousness. I know ego. And aggression."
Jeremy hadn't realised that he too was entranced by the way Jean ghosted his fingers over his knuckles until he felt fingers under his chin, tipping his face up gently to look Jean in the eyes.
"It's not you."
They held each other's gaze and Jeremy felt something settle over him. A calm washing over his heart that had felt like a raging fire since the first whistle blew on the court several hours ago.
Jean considered him for a second, then leaned forward, his fingers still holding Jeremy's chin up.
"Tell me to stop," he said, barely a whisper.
"Never," Jeremy breathed deep, his eyes fluttering shut.
And then all he felt was the soft press of Jean's lips against his own. A soft and gentle pressure. Before Jeremy parted his slightly, pressing in a little more. Jean reacted in kind, his hand moving from under Jeremy's chin to smooth over his jaw and cup the base of his neck. Jeremy sighed into his mouth and Jean tilted his head to get closer.
He pulled away abruptly and Jeremy let out a surprised sound before Jean lifted his injured hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. Jeremy shivered and inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling, as he watched Jean turn his hand over to kiss his fingers, his palm and then his wrists, holding Jeremy's gaze the entire time.
Jeremy lifted his free hand to cup Jean's cheek and Jean turned his head towards it, kissing his fingertips and his palm on that hand too.
Jeremy chuckled and leaned in to peck Jean on the lips once more, pulling back only a hair’s breadth away. "People will talk. About me and you," he said. His eyes searching Jean's.
"People have always talked. And will always talk."
"I'm tired of talking," Jeremy sighed.
Jean nodded tipping his forehead to rest against Jeremy's, "No talking."
Then he pressed his lips against Jeremy's once more as he held his aching hand soft in his own. No, Jeremy wasn’t sorry he punched someone for Jean. He would just as soon do it again.
"I would not ask you where you came from,
I will not ask and neither should you.
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips,
we should just kiss like real people do."