— dix-neuf ; nineteen —

HENRI SPENT THE REST of his birthday exploring the Edgar Allen campus and familiarising himself with its layout.

It was something he had been meaning to do before the school year began in a couple of weeks anyway, but he still felt a little detached from reality even though he had finally managed to escape the black shadows of Castle Evermore. Campus was pretty much a ghost town considering students wouldn't begin flying in until a few days later and the buildings were practically deserted, but Henri was grateful for that. He wasn't in the mood to deal with people today. He wandered between different facilities, science and history and modern languages, not really seeing any of it.

He lingered outside the art department, staring through the tall windows into the wide and spacious rooms. There were easels and canvases and brushes cluttering the room in a disarray of organised chaos, paintings and sketches hanging on the walls. Henri liked looking at them, trying to make sense of what the artist meant to convey but also what he saw in them. He didn't realise just how much he'd missed drawing until he saw those and itched for a pen between his fingers. That only brought up dark thoughts of his old sketchbook and his house, going up in flames, so he quickly skipped on past that building.

The downtown area was a little more populated, seeing as it was intended for the general public, but this was still a place catered towards the students of Edgar Allen. Most of the cafes and shops were open but pretty much empty, and flyers up in the windows advertising jobs reminded Henri of his absolute lack of money. His place with the Ravens provided him with basic necessities such as food, but having no finance wasn't exactly comforting. Even if it was for simple things such as a school bag or a pencil case, Henri wanted that independence he could fall back on.

It took a few attempts to find a place hiring that could work around his Exy and upcoming school schedule. It was in the area filled with bars and restaurants, the kind of place that was dead right now but would be filled with bodies and lights when evening came. Henri was wary about stepping inside the bar, aware he was even more underage than usual in America, but he had nothing to lose. The place was dimly lit and a little seedy, with splintered floorboards and peeling wallpaper. It was abandoned besides a cleaner sweeping in the corner and a young woman with countless piercings cleaning glasses behind the bar.

"Hi," Henri said, stopping in front of her. "The sign in your window says you're hiring?"

The woman looked him up and down. "You know anything about bartending?"

"Uh, no? But I'm a fast learner," Henri added, eyeing the array of bottles and glasses stacked up against the wall. "I already know all the different alcohols. Just teach me what to mix and the names of the drinks."

The woman didn't seem particularly interested in his lame offer until he said he could work late evenings from Friday to Sunday. Henri didn't know if he could, not if he wanted to sleep during the next year, but he was desperate for the money. This place was willing to pay more than the others he'd looked into as they didn't question the lie he gave that he was nineteen and he could always drop the job if he found something better. He was expecting to be called back for some kind of interview, but the woman who called herself Liza took his number and said he could take his training now, if he wanted. Henri knew the place was probably a little dodgy if it hired without any kind of background check but he didn't care.

Bartending was not as easy as Henri was expecting. He had to learn what each machine did, which nozzle sprayed what, what was in each bottle, where they were located, which glass to use for which drink and the right amount of mixers used for each cocktail. He even had to learn the lingo that indicated whether to keep drinks alcohol free, ice free, and anything else you could imagine. It was exhausting, being grilled on each thing he learnt by Liza, but Henri gladly took the work. It was the mind numbing distraction he needed from his own thoughts.

"Not bad," Liza said, what felt like hours later of Henri's struggling to take up the overload of information he'd received. "You got a good memory and a cute face. That always makes a good combination for behind the bar. When can you start working?"

"Whenever," Henri replied.

"Great. Be here this Friday, 8PM sharp. You can get paid after every shift."

The sun had set when Liza finally released him and it was late into the evening as Henri began the trek back to Castle Evermore. It was harder not to lose hold of himself now that he was alone with his thoughts and the darkness again. He didn't want to, but every time he blinked, the image of the gun to his parents heads burned into his mind. Liza had given him tasters of every drink he'd made, so he knew what he was making, and dismissed his age with, "As long as you don't tell anyone you had a little sip it's fine." He wasn't drunk but the alcohol had buzzed his senses and made it harder to keep the memories at bay.

Back in the Nest, Henri just felt even more overwhelmed. He hated this place, its black walls and black sofas and black everything. He felt like he was drowning in blackness. When he was finally inside his bedroom, it was still too dark but he didn't want to wake Soren up with the light. He leant back against the door and closed his eyes, releasing a long breath. He had to hope he'd feel normal again by tomorrow. He hated this being like this, off-kilter and unmoored, unable to move on from his parents deaths and unable to put the guilt aside. Even if he survived past Championships, he didn't know how much longer he could live feeling like this.

"Where have you been?"

Henri's eyes flew open to see Soren was sat up, his voice thick with sleep. "Out," Henri murmured.

"What's wrong with you? Henri," Soren said, sliding out of his bed. Henri's body instinctively tensed in anticipation as he stepped forward but he didn't come any closer. "Whatever's bothering you, you need to sort it out. You can't play like you did today. Unfocused and all over the place. It's not good enough for a Raven who — "

"Shut up," Henri snapped. "Shut up about your court and your Ravens and your Exy. I don't give a shit about Exy, I don't even want to play it, I just — " He broke off as he drew in a ragged breath and shook his head. He hated how his voice cracked on his next words. "It's my birthday."

"Today?"

Henri didn't trust himself to speak and managed a nod. They just stared at each other for seconds that stretched into minutes, Henri's heart pounding an irregular rhythm in his chest, and then they were kissing. Henri didn't know which of them moved first but he knew he didn't care anymore. He was too weak to stay away, today of all days, when he felt one breath away from falling apart and Soren's lips were the only thing holding him up. Henri didn't care that this would end in disaster. He felt hot and cold all over as he curled his fingers through Soren's hair, pulling him closer, as close as he could bring him yet it still wasn't enough.

Soren went still and pulled away slightly, their bodies still pressed against one another but his face a couple of inches away. Henri didn't realise the tears burning at the back of his eyes had slipped free, tracking down his cheeks, until Soren brought his hand up and brushed the pad of his thumb along the dampness. It was a gesture at odds with the usual force and aggression Soren handled him with. It only widened the crack that had opened up inside him. Henri turned his head away, hating that Soren was seeing him cry but not strong enough to push him away.

"Hey," Soren said softly.

Henri kissed him and tasted the salt of his tears where their lips met. He tilted his head back and deepened the kiss, needing to taste Soren and lose the taste of his own grief. He slumped back against the door and let Soren hold him up, strong hands gripping his elbows and moving up to press his shoulders against the wood. Soren kissed him more carefully and gently than he ever had before, his lips moving featherlight from his mouth to his neck and back up. It wasn't an inferno that blazed through Henri this time but a slow and steady burn, gradually working its way across every inch of skin Soren brushed. The almost tender way Soren held him finally broke what he was trying to hold back.

"They're dead, Soren," Henri whispered against his lips. "They're dead, they're dead, and it's all my fault — "

Soren pressed a finger against his mouth and it took Henri a moment to realise he was the one trembling, not Soren. "Why is it your fault?" Soren asked quietly. He didn't ask who Henri was talking about. Maybe he already knew.

"They wouldn't be dead if I didn't exist," Henri said miserably. "I don't deserve to have this birthday. I...I shouldn't have even made it to seventeen. He should have shot me instead of them — "

Soren grip on him suddenly tightened. "Someone shot your parents?"

"In the head," Henri whispered, his vision blurring as more tears rolled down his cheeks. He was too busy trying to hold the sobs back to care that he was revealing information he shouldn't, couldn't, tell anyone. "It should have been me. It's my fault it happened, my fault they died, my fault — "

"Shut up," Soren muttered, his voice strained with an emotion Henri couldn't identify. "Just shut up, Henri."

Soren pulled him closer and Henri didn't have the energy or willpower to resist, choking back a muffled sob as he fell against him. He didn't realise how badly he was shaking until he felt Soren's steady arms around him, holding himself tightly as if to force the tremors back. For the first time all day, Henri felt a little closer to coming back to normalcy, at least for a little while longer. He didn't want to leave Soren's arms and knew, without a doubt, there was no way he could stay away from the heat of his body. He didn't care if he ended up thrown aside or broken hearted. It was worth it for the little time he was allowed.

"My parents are also dead," Soren said, into Henri's hair. He must have felt the way Henri tensed against him but didn't stop speaking. "My mother killed herself when I was five and my dad died when I was eight, in a car crash involving both of us. I survived and got shipped off to his sister."

"Your aunt," Henri murmured, his face still hidden in Soren's shoulder. "Loren's mother."

"What did she tell you about her?"

"Nothing. That it's your story to tell."

Henri waited, but Soren wasn't forthcoming with anymore details regarding his childhood. He didn't care. That Soren had willingly told him anything at all, without being prompted, was enough for Henri. He knew firsthand how difficult it could be to talk about parents who weren't the perfect ones you saw in books. Soren finally pulled away only to recapture Henri's mouth with his own, and Henri melted beneath the pressure of his lips. Soren curled his fingers in the front of Henri's shirt and tugged him towards Soren's bed without breaking the kiss, pulling him up on the bed and whipping Henri's shirt off in the same breath.

Soren pushed Henri down against the mattress and stole his breath away with the intensity of his kiss. Henri brought his hands up to cup his face, brushing his fingers along his sharp jaw before drawing him down and closer towards him. He could still feel the dampness of drying tears on his cheeks but it felt faraway now, lost to the heat of Soren's mouth and his hands roaming the expanse of his skin. The guilt and pain wasn't gone, but pushed down deep enough that Henri didn't have to deal with it now. He let himself forget everything but desire and Soren's lips.

Henri lost track of time as he ended up flush against Soren, making out and nothing more, and he found himself waiting to be kicked out of the bed. This was unprecedented for them. Usually when they did anything, it was on Henri's bed or against the wall. It was never something they discussed, just how it ended up, which meant Soren could retreat whenever he wanted. They satisfied each other sexually and then they went their separate ways, always on Soren's account. But even now, when he rested his head against Soren's chest and was so exhausted he was halfway to sleep, Soren didn't tell him to get lost. They hadn't done anything more than kissing tonight but Henri didn't mind. It was enough for now.

Soren ran fingers through Henri's hair. "Happy birthday."

"Don't say that," Henri frowned. "Seriously."

"Fine. Terrible birthday," Soren said flatly. "Better?"

"No. Just stop speaking," Henri suggested, and tipped his head back to kiss him.

Henri found himself falling asleep as the little sleep he'd had over the past couple of days caught up with him. No matter how hard he tried, how much he wanted to stay awake all night and kiss his lips numb, he couldn't force his eyes to stay open. He almost mentioned going back to his bed but stopped himself. He didn't want to sleep alone tonight, and if Soren would let him, he would stay here for as long as possible. It didn't matter if he was getting kicked out in the morning. He could finally fall asleep without nightmares plaguing him with Soren's arm around him.

"Thank you," Henri mumbled as he drifted off, not knowing whether Soren heard but needing to say it anyway.

— — — —

Henri was woken up by the incessant trill of Soren's alarm, louder than usual, and it took his sleepy brain a moment to understand why. He was lying in Soren's bed rather than his own, the covers tangled around his legs and the other side empty. Groaning, Henri reached out blindly to turn the alarm off, managing to shut it up on the third try. Henri could hear the running water of the shower and wondered whether Soren had gotten up earlier just to avoid waking up next to him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd broken down in front of Soren in a way he'd never done with anyone before and he didn't know how to come back from that.

Soren appeared from the bathroom, towelling his wet hair off, and spared Henri one look before continuing to his wardrobe. Henri searched for pity or discomfort after what had been shared last night, and found none. Soren was as aloof and disinterested as always. It was more of a relief than Henri was expecting. He had been expecting questions about what Henri had told him about his parents death, but Soren wasn't the type to ask something out of sheer curiosity, no matter how much he wanted to know it.

"So, I'm seventeen now," Henri said, more to really see whether anything had changed between them than out of a need to clarify his age.

Soren glanced over his shoulder. "That is how birthdays work, yes."

"When's your birthday?"

"August 28th."

"Right before the school year starts," Henri commented, and Soren had nothing more to say to that, so Henri got out of the bed to take a shower.

In the living area, Lucas and Kit were poring over a booklet. Henri bypassed them to grab breakfast and returned with a cup of coffee to see what they were looking at. "Edgar Allan prospectus," Lucas explained, when he saw Henri peering over their shoulders. "You decided on a major yet?"

"No clue," Henri admitted.

"Same here," Kit said, flicking a finger between him and Lucas. "I couldn't give less shits about academics, seeing as I'm here to play Exy and only Exy, but athletes have a minimum of four subjects they have to take. I'm trying to figure out which ones would be the least effort."

"Photography is pretty easy," Matthias said, flopping down on one of the sofas alongside Xander. "I took that in my first year. You just snap a couple of photos and slap it into canvas."

"It was easy because you nearly failed, Matty," Xander pointed out with a smile. "That's why you only took it for one year. Alixis had to put something together for you last minute so you actually passed the course."

Matthias just grinned. "Yeah, well. It could have been an easy subject if I knew how to do photography."

"It's so stupid that any of us have to study at all," KJ huffed, appearing from the kitchen. "Why are we even wasting our time at all? If they expect us to maintain our position as Champions, we need to dedicate every second to Exy, not linguistics."

Henri took the prospectus from Lucas as the others began seeing who could complain the most about mandatory school work. Because the offered subjects were listed in alphabetical order, he saw Art first and stopped to consider it. He hadn't held a pencil in so long and would be rusty as hell, but it was just like the others were saying. None of them actually cared about an education here. Henri couldn't imagine a future far enough where he'd need a degree for a job, because any future he managed to make it to would have to be Exy so he could pay Ichirou back for his life. He might as well take subjects he might actually enjoy rather than plainly useful ones.

"By the way, Henri," Matthias said, and waited until he looked up. "Where the hell did you go yesterday? You totally flaked after practice and no one even saw you come back."

Henri thought about which parts of the truth he was willing to give and settled with, "I got a job."

"A job?" Benjamin scoffed. "Aren't you, what, sixteen? Who would hire a sixteen year old?"

"Seventeen," Henri corrected. "And I told them I was nineteen, so age isn't an issue."

Xander frowned at him. "You're not seventeen. You were definitely sixteen when you signed up with us."

"I was. Yesterday was my birthday."

Matthias choked on the drink he'd just taken and Xander had to thump his back. He wasn't the only one who looked shocked — Lucas gaped at him, Kit shook his head in disbelief, and even the upperclassmen seemed caught off-guard.

"Your birthday?" Lucas exclaimed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Henri shrugged. "It's just a day. What's the point in mentioning it?"

"That is so sad. Not a single one of you can deny that's sad," Matthias said, pointing accusingly at Benjamin and KJ. "The kid has anger issues and he doesn't even know how to celebrate a birthday. You sound like you could have qualified as one of those broken messes that join the Foxes. Who goes out and gets a job on their birthday?"

"Me," Henri said, unimpressed with how dramatic they were being.

"Don't you want to celebrate it?" Kit asked. "At all?"

"Definitely not. It's over now, so don't even mention it."

Matthias didn't seem to understand what that meant, because when Loren appeared from down the Red Hall, he immediately said, "Hey, mini Solberg! Did you know it was Henri's birthday yesterday?"

Loren stared at Henri. "What?"

"Yes, Matthias," Henri said, rolling his eyes. "That is exactly what I mean by not mentioning it. Well done."

"Hey, bigger Solberg!" Matthias ignored Henri's sarcasm in favour of turning to Soren. "Did you know it was Henri's birthday yesterday?"

"So what?"

"Blatant favouritism," Matthias complained. "You told him and no one else."

Henri was done with this conversation. "Shut up."

He was saved from having to discuss his birthday anymore when the seniors made an appearance and they all headed upstairs for practice. Kit and Matthias made a couple more attempts at finding out why Henri didn't want anything for his birthday, but dropped it when he made it clear he didn't want to talk about it. He was aware of Jude looking at him at the mention of a birthday, but true to the silent treatment he'd been subjecting Henri to for the past couple of weeks, he didn't ask about it.

Jude hadn't said a single word to Henri since the third hazing and Henri couldn't have been happier at this decision. He was the only upperclassmen who seemed to still have a real problem with him. Even Benjamin and KJ, who had been openly hostile for quite some time towards him, seemed to have toned down any animosity. Henri doubted they'd ever like him but the sentiment was reciprocated. If Jude wanted to still hate him, Henri was fine with that as long as it didn't affect him. There also hadn't been any other hazings since, but Henri wasn't letting his guard down that easily. They could just be waiting to strike when it was least expected.

Henri just had to make it to the end of summer. Then everyone would be too busy doing with the media and public to have time to even think about harassing him.