Chapter Text
Jean Moreau arrived at LAX with exactly twelve soul marks. It was the same number he’d been shipped to Evermore with and, blessedly, no others had appeared since.
Even before the scars, Jean’s body was an abstract mess. Smears of color spread over his skin like a finger-painting. The brightest, a smudged-yellow star on the inside of his palm, just under his thumb. A singular blue dot lay behind his ear. A red thumbprint on his shoulder, orange squiggle across his foot. Silver ringed his wrist. Jean was a kaleidoscope.
Tidiest of them all had been the three neat, black perpendicular lines on his cheek. They never touched, each representing a different person. All three now covered by the symbol of his place on The Perfect Court. His rank.
His marks had always been a problem. Initially, a problem for his parents. Being born with nine was strange enough, gaining two more before the age of three even worse. For a family trying not to draw any unwanted attention, a child with a novel of influential people on his skin telling tales of an eventful life was the opposite of subtle.
Later, his marks were a problem for Tetsuji Moriyama. Riko. Too many marks meant an overabundance of people Jean could devote loyalty towards.
Property with a flight risk.
There was no sentiment that Jean had ever disagreed with more desperately. The many marks on his person had only ever brought him suffering. He had spent most of his life wishing he had less. Hoping that one day Riko would make good on the threat to cut each mark out of him, instead of just carving through them. Over them.
The small, light-brown spiral over his heart, almost invisible. Riko had taken particularly sick pleasure in tracing that one.
Save the yellow star on his hand, most of Jean’s scars and smudges could be thankfully hidden. With a dark and obvious ‘III’ on his face, he was by no means unrecognizable at the airport but at least his entire, rotting heart would not be on display.
Jeremy Knox, however, didn’t need a myriad of conspicuous marks to be recognizable. Jean would know that smile from a mile away. He was also the only member of LAX in bright gold shorts, ridiculously tangled in the strings of a yo-yo. That helped.
One hand still caught, Jeremy raised the freed one to wave when he noticed Jean approach. “Hey, Hello! Have a good flight?”
Jean refused to dignify such an inane question with a response. Every flight he’d ever been on had been a horrible experience, and that was before he’d developed an aversion to small spaces. “Small talk is a pointless indulgence.”
Jeremy’s smile somehow grew impossibly brighter. “I like to indulge!”
Jean felt greedy for witnessing it. He rolled his eyes just to look away.
“Bags?” Jeremy asked, like the one word was a complete sentence. He hooked two, finally de-tangled thumbs over his shoulder, presumably pointing the way to baggage claim. In lieu of answering, Jean shook his head. He raised the hand clutching the strap of his carry-on. Jeremy pursed his lips, eyes flitting between Jean and his bag. “That’s it?”
“What else?”
Eyebrows raised, Jeremy let out a long whistle. “Minimalist, huh?”
Riko had made it clear that Jean was owned twice over: once through the Moriyama’s purchase of him and again through Riko’s soulmark on his cheek. Possessions did not possess. But Jean couldn’t say that. “This is not the first time I have transferred far in order to play Exy. I have what I need.”
Jeremy’s answering grin wasn’t as blinding as the last. Jean was able to look. “Okie doke! We should head out then. Let’s not make it your first time stuck in LA traffic.”
While trapped in Abby Winfield’s guest room, Jean had had the misfortune of meeting Nicky Hemmick off the Exy court exactly once. Without his armor and confined to a bed, Jean must not have seemed as threatening. Hemmick proceeded to share the intimate details behind the Foxes’ current season for over two hours. After twenty minutes of ‘Who-Kissed-Who’, Jean was certain he had never wished for unconsciousness so hopelessly. At least when the Master beat him there was a chance. Hitting him over the back of the head would’ve been kinder.
Somehow, Jeremy talked more. By the time the two had reached Jeremy’s car in the parking lot, he had cycled through three entirely unrelated topics of conversation. Jean hadn’t needed to ask a single question. In ten minutes, he knew the most popular restaurants near campus, who on the team threw the best game night, and that Jeremy’s favorite coffee shop was serving a disgustingly sweet latte special. How the coaches allowed for such dietary sins was beyond him. Perhaps they didn’t know. For Jeremy’s sake, Jean hoped they never found out.
Jeremy had waited until Jean was trapped in his car before forcing him to participate. Jean was certain. “Soooo…” He extended the word in a lilting way that Jean couldn’t stand. “What’s your major? I tried asking the coaches but they’d only give me your playing stats.”
Something about that small allotment of privacy made Jean’s chest ache. Jeremy was his captain now. Soul mark or no, this was information he should have. “Business.”
Jeremy made a face but otherwise kept his eyes on the road. “What, on purpose?”
“It's practical.” Jean didn’t know why he was offended. School was a means to an end. “Why? What did they give you?” If the Trojans were all on a different degree track, would an exception be made for him? He could not start another degree and still graduate at the end of next year.
The silence that followed Jean’s question was almost unbearably long, especially given Jeremy’s propensity for chatting. Instead of an answer, what Jean got was, “That wasn’t the question I was expecting.”
“What do the Trojans study?”
“Like… collectively?” Jeremy asked, seemingly more confused. “We are a bit of a mixed bag. How many do you want to know?”
It should’ve been a one-worded answer. Jean wasn’t sure how the Trojans remained a NCAA division I exy team, let alone in the top three. But if the Trojans allowed for more deviance in majors, maybe one of them would already be business. Still, curiosity got the better of him. He only repeated Jeremy’s question. “… how many…?”
“Well, you know, I’m an English major. Laila’s in real estate development. I think Cat’s going for Computer Science. Xavier and Shawn are…” Jeremy’s fingers drummed the steering wheel while he searched for the answer. “Communications! And Nabil finally landed on architecture a couple months ago, which I think is so cool—”
“That is already too many options.” Did every Trojan have a different major? There couldn’t possibly be this many subjects worth studying.
Jeremy laughed. “Yeah, I guess we are pretty well-rounded.”
“No,” Jean shook his head. “distracted. How do you find the time to practice?”
“The Ravens were intense but I know you had to go to class,” Jeremy said, infuriating smile still on his lips. It wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. Almost mocking in the way it resembled an expression Jean had seen so many times before. Riko’s mouth curled too. Often into a smirk, a sneer, but always a horror.
Jean felt a little sick comparing the two. He swallowed it down. “Yes. Together.”
“Like… all of you?” Whatever revelation Jeremy was having had his face finally dropping. It didn’t bring Jean the satisfaction he thought it would, only made the twisting in his stomach worse.
“The only way to ensure that Ravens are available for all practices is to give them the same major.”
This only upset Jeremy more. His voice stayed calm, but Jean saw the way his hands gripped the steering wheel. “It’s absolutely not the only way.”
“The easiest then.” Jean amended.
“For who? You didn’t even get to pick?” His voice pitched up at the end, as if Jeremy was somehow the one affected by the conditions of Jean’s past
“Exceptions would be made in special circumstances.” Truthfully, Jean only knew of one.
“Kevin is History. I know that,” Jeremy added. The next time Jean saw Kevin, he’d have to strangle him. “Was it because Kevin was Riko’s soulmate? Did he get some sort of special treatment?”
A partial truth. Kevin and Riko’s shared soulmark was a bit of a public spectacle. The entire basis for Tetsuji Moriyama becoming Kevin’s legal guardian upon his mother’s death and the initial conception of The Perfect Court. The two of them were the poster children for soulmark bonds; best friends destined for great things. The public didn’t know that Jean and Neil shared the same mark.
The question irritated Jean enough even without the sore spot it pressed at. As if Kevin being cosmically tied to a Moriyama brought him anything but pain. “You know nothing. Do not make assumptions.”
At Jean’s tone, Jeremy grimaced a little. “No, you’re right. I didn’t mean to bring up Riko right now, I’m sure that’s still a difficult subject.” Jean mulled over the reality of the assumption. Riko would always be a sensitive topic, but not for the reasons Jeremy believed. No part of Jean mourned the man. Mourned his only chance at peace, perhaps, but not his constant menacing presence. In no world would Jean correct Jeremy’s line of thinking.
Whatever sympathy the previous conversation might’ve earned him only bought Jean a few minutes of quiet. The rest of the car ride was spent with Jeremy detailing classes he had taken “For fun!” Jean didn’t understand the desire for ‘Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse’ or what ‘Introduction to Improve’ had to do with playing exy. But Jeremy had taken enough of these classes to fill almost 30 minutes of driving.
When the car finally stopped, it wasn’t at a residence that resembled any dorm Jean had ever seen. Not even the small collection of Greek houses on Edgar Allen’s campus. Of course, Jean had never been to one, but he had seen photos in a brochure another Raven had carried around the first day of his Freshman year. There were no Greek letters on this building. Squished between the cluster of homes around it, was a skinny, yellow house. The whole street looked entirely residential.
Jeremy stopped talking just long enough to ask after Jean’s empty hands. “Did you want to grab your bag?”
The constant rambling must’ve distracted him. Exhausted him. It was the only explanation for Jean’s carelessness when pulling his bag from Jeremy’s trunk. Jeremy moved from the trivialities of pointless classes at USC to Jean’s bared and vulnerable soul with ease.
“Oh that’s a pretty one! I’ve never seen a star-shaped soulmark before!”
“I didn’t ask you to comment on it,” Jean snapped, eager to shut down any discussion relating to soulmates. He turned, taking large treads up the steps to the front door before Jeremy could continue speaking.
Walking into the house by choice was a mistake. It only made matters worse. Apparently Jeremy had brought Jean to this house because he was expected to stay here.
“No,” Jean tried when his endeavor to ignore the decision and simply walk back to the car had failed. Jeremy must’ve anticipated the escape attempt. He’d placed himself in front of the door, arms crossed. Jean weighed the risk of pushing his new captain out of the way.
Despite blocking the exit with clear intent, Jeremy had the gall to look mildly apologetic. “It’s kind-of too late. Your name is already on the lease.”
“Take it off then,” Jean argued. “I can’t sleep so far from the court.” They wanted him to fail, that was the only explanation. Years of checking and tripping had bought Jean plenty of ill-will. This was revenge. The restaurants, the pointless classes. There was no world in which Jean lived off-campus and lived past graduation.
Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “Can’t or won’t?”
Jean Moreau had always struggled with control. Not with his life, his future, his body. Those were never his to begin with. His physical response, his instinct, was always his problem. Frustrated, he threw his hands in the air. “They are the same word!”
“We can’t just take your name off the lease!” Catalina Alvarez, one of Jean’s apparent new roommates, placed herself between the two. An unnecessary protection, Jean knew better than to hit unprovoked. “Besides, we might be closer to the stadium than the dorms.”
“What?!” The relief that this was not an attempt to sabotage Jean’s career was overshadowed by the horror that every Trojan lived this way. “Your coaches enjoy wasting your time?”
Jeremy stepped out from behind Cat and stood next to her.“No! No offense, USC is a little bit bigger than EAU. We are required to live in the dorms freshman year but after that? I don’t think they’d have enough spots for every student athlete.”
“Oh my god, can you imagine?” Cat exclaimed. “The smell of a student athlete dorm? The locker room is bad enough! No, thank you.” She made a face, as if she could smell the imaginary scenario she’d created in her head.
“Think of it like a warm-up,” Jeremy continued, ignoring Cat’s interjection. “We can run there. It’s only a mile away and parking can be a nightmare anyway.” He counted off reasons on his fingers but the reasons stopped at two.
That did not make Jean feel any better. “This is absurd.”
“This is the best we can do. I think you’re already aware that we do things a little different here.” Jeremy said this as if any of these differences were reasonable. No wonder the Ravens always beat the Trojans at Championships. They wasted precious time walking to class. “If you want to live with other Trojans, this is your only option.”
The most shocking thing that Jean had heard today. “Trojans do not live together. Why?”
“Friends, Family, Soulmates. There are loads of other people we could live with.”
Jean shook his head. “All distractions.”
As if Jean was being the unreasonable one, Jeremy put his head in his hands. “Look. I talked with Kevin about this…” If knowing Kevin had his hands in this disaster was supposed to make Jean feel more confident about this plan, it failed. He only felt angry at yet another unwanted soulmate intervention. “I think this is the closest we will get to a compromise. I won’t make any promises about classes but we can get you a buddy system and Trojans for roommates. Final offer.”
It wasn’t an offer. That implied that Jean had a choice in the matter. He felt a pop in his jaw from how hard he clenched it. “Show me the way to the court.” It was the closest to a concession that Jean could give.
It was a small mercy that Jeremy didn’t grin in satisfaction when he won. Instead, he pointed at a door down the hall. “I can, but maybe put your bag in your room first?”
Jean clutched at the small suitcase in his hand. The last thing he wanted to risk was another comment on the soul mark on his palm. He didn’t move. Cat, however, did paste a smile on her face. Albeit a hesitant one. She motioned to the hallway behind her, as if welcoming Jean in. “Or…” she drawled. “House tour?”
Later, on the walk to campus, Jean had the sense to ask “Who will my partner be then?”
“Hmm,” Jeremy paused in thought. “What are the rules? Preferences? Should it be someone in the same position as you?”
“Less rules. Partners hold each other accountable. Pick-up where the other is lacking.” Jean had never had the option to choose anything about his partner before. They were always chosen for him. First with Zane, later with Neil; both selected for the same dooming reason. If Jean got to pick he’d say, “No soul marks.”
“Easy enough!” Jeremy grinned. “I’ve only got two and I already know one of them. Slim chances, right? I’ll be your partner! Maybe I can even teach you to have some good old Trojan fun!”
A part of Jean — a part that remembered articles with a blinding smile, warm eyes in the otherwise dark and cold — knew this was a bad idea. “You will teach me something more relevant, if you even know how.”