— vingt-quatre ; twenty four —

IT WAS 3AM, THEY had practice in four hours, and Henri was lying in bed making out with Soren.

Henri suspected that Soren was still a little drunk, which was why he was giving up precious sleep he always made sure to get before practice. Unlike Henri, who slept when he had time and took frequent naps to catch up when he had a spare minute, Soren always stuck to a strict sleep schedule. The latest he'd ever stayed up for Henri was one in the morning. Henri had even tried going to his own bed after they'd finished each other off against the bedroom door, expecting Soren to send him on his way, but all thoughts of sleep vanished when Soren threw him down on his bed.

"I'm not finished with you yet," he had said, his gaze
dark and hungry as he stared down at Henri.

That was how they'd ended up here, too exhausted to do anything more than move their lips in sync, but Henri didn't mind or care. Pressed against Soren with one hand curled around his neck and the other flat against his the hard muscle of his chest, familiarising themselves with each other's mouths, he didn't think he even needed sleep. A small part of Henri couldn't help wondering whether Soren's sudden possessive streak was because of Zena, because of the husky tenor to his growl when he told Henri he didn't want anyone else touching him.

Henri pulled away from Soren slightly but stayed close enough that their noses were touching. "Hey," he said, in French. It was something he did when was talking to Soren alone — there wasn't necessarily a reason for the language change, he just missed talking in French and didn't want to lose his touch on it from so much English. Soren usually played along because it was good practice for him, considering his major, and today was no exception.

"What?"

"I didn't peg you as the jealous type," he said, as casually as he could.

Soren finally opened lazy green eyes. "Would you like to watch me push Jude up against a wall and give him a hickey?"

"No," Henri said, sitting up and scowling on instinct. Just the thought of Jude and Soren made his whole body burn with an unexpected jealousy and he tightened his grip at the nape of Soren's neck. "That's different and you know it."

"Enlighten me, Henri."

"I hate Jude and he hates me. You have history with him." Henri traced a light pattern across Soren's skin and followed the movement with his gaze, feeling Soren's eyes on his face. "Zena means nothing to me and that kiss was something she pretty much paid me to do."

Soren raised an eyebrow. "Prostitution? I expected better of you."

"Shut up," Henri said. "If I recall correctly, you told me you hate me and you don't care about me. Along with daily reminders that I'm stupid."

"All facts. Your point is?"

"Why would you care who I kiss?" Henri rolled so he was sitting atop Soren, straddling his hips with both hands against his chest as if to pin him down to the mattress. "If I mean nothing to you, which I clearly don't, surely I can kiss all the girls and boys I want. Right?"

Henri was just messing around — the real fact was that there was no one else in this world, girl or boy, that he wanted to kiss — but Soren still glared up at him through narrowed eyes.

"Right," Soren said dryly. "Then the deal must go both ways. If we aren't exclusive, I can kiss all the guys I want."

"And who would you kiss?"

"Jude, for starters."

"Maybe you should go and make out with him in your bed instead of me," Henri scowled, hearing the bitterness in his own words and not managing to force it out. "I'm sure you'd have a better time."

"Probably."

The hot burst of jealousy in his chest at Soren's dismissive tone wasn't something Henri was used to, or ready to deal with. He removed his hands from Soren's chest and was about to move off him when Soren snagged his wrists again, pulling him down faster than he was expecting. Soren rolled over so Henri was the one beneath him and recaptured his mouth with his own, kissing him fiercely enough to burn away any lingering bitterness from Jude's name on his lips.

"What was that about jealous types?" Soren said against his lips. "Now you know how it feels. I meant it when I said Jude was irrelevant to me."

"Good," Henri said, before he could stop himself. He caught Soren's face in his hands and drew him back down, trying to distract himself from the questions and uncertainty in his head regarding the two of them. When that didn't work, he pulled back again. "Okay, wait."

Soren made an impatient sound. "You're in a chatty mood today."

"When did we discuss exclusivity?" Henri frowned up at him. "In fact, when did we decide we weren't exclusive?"

"It most likely began when you exchanged spit with your coworker a few hours ago."

Henri sighed. "Can you drop that already?"

"No."

"I want another discussion on the decision we never made," Henri said. "Ideally, right now."

"You certainly know how to kill the mood."

"That's what I'm best at, Soren."

Soren rolled off him with a muttered curse and sat up, less than impressed as he looked down at Henri. The room was dark but Henri's eyes had adjusted to the shadows, and he could make out the silhouette of Soren's tousled fair hair and his shirtless torso. That was all Henri's, those haughty green eyes and the full pink lips. He just hadn't realised just how little he wanted to share that with anyone else. Just the thought of someone else touching Soren made his fingers curl.

"Go on." Soren raised an expectant eyebrow. "You wanted a discussion, so you start talking."

Henri went straight to the point. "Are we exclusive or not?"

"Exclusive sounds an awful lot like dating," Soren said. "I don't date."

"No one said anything about dating," Henri replied, staring up at the ceiling. It was difficult to know what the time was down here, considering they were underground and there were no windows, but it had to be nearly time for Soren's alarm to go off. "Here is my proposition. You don't kiss anyone else, I don't kiss anyone else, we continue hating each other but while keeping this up in between everything else."

"What is 'this'?"

"'This'." Henri flicked a finger between them. "I don't know what it is but I guess you're okay with your mouth, so I'll keep you around."

"Okay?" Soren repeated in disbelief. "As if you've had any better."

"Mhm, you certainly think highly of yourself."

Henri was baiting him and he knew Soren was aware of as much, from the gleam in his eyes when Henri smirked. He leant down and pressed his mouth to the edge of Henri's jaw, a featherlight teasing touch, before trailing torturously slow kisses down the side of his throat and along his collarbone. Henri took that gesture, and the kisses that continued down his chest, as all the agreement to his proposition he needed.

— — — —

After nearly two weeks of college, even if it was mainly in the form of lectures and there wasn't much student interaction, Henri decided he was not a fan of institutionalised education. His parents had really saved him a whole lot of chafing under stupid rules and regimented school days by homeschooling him. His tutors didn't insist on early starts, working around the hours that worked best for him, and despite the advanced level they taught him it was all pretty flexible. He never had the displeasure of mind numbing lessons or pointless group work until Edgar Allan.

Art was definitely his least tedious subject. A lot of the hours were independent study, and when he did have to do contact hours, he didn't have to listen to his professor lecturing. Sketching for hours, or even working with the paints and oils he was less familiar with, was a relaxing change of pace from his hectic schedule of Exy and assignments and work. Henri's phone buzzed as he walked out of the art building and he dug it out of his pocket to see a text from Soren, telling him his tutor hours had would run over so he wouldn't be walking with him to the canteen.

It was technically breaking the Master's strict partner system, but Henri didn't exactly have a choice unless he wanted to wait an hour in the chilly September air for Soren. Which he didn't. He was hungry and wasn't about to waste time delaying lunch for anyone. He was about to head for the dining hall when he saw Loren, textbooks clasped to her chest and heading in the same direction he would be walking.

Things were still weird between Henri and Loren, as much as he didn't want it to be. They'd spoken since Soren's birthday, but it was more obligatory than anything — discussing Exy tactics during practice or making conversations within a group, not directly to each other. They hadn't been alone since that awkward conversation in the kitchen and Henri was almost certain she was avoiding him, despite the fact she'd been the one to say they should act like nothing had happened. Henri didn't even like the vast majority of his team, forget have friendships with them, but he had considered Loren as one of the few he was friends with.

He considered his options for a split second and didn't think about it for long before jogging to catch up with Loren. "Hey," he said.

"Oh!" Loren was so startled by his sudden appearance that she dropped all her books. "Shit — "

She bent down to gather up the textbooks and Henri crouched to help her. "Sorry, I didn't realise my presence was so terrifying," Henri said, and Loren glanced up at him with a sheepish look. She hadn't told him to get lost yet so he figured he was okay making jokes. "Am I really that scary?"

"I guess I scare easily," Loren admitted. "Plus, you've shot up since I've known you. I thought you were a random stranger for a moment."

Henri blinked in surprise. "I have?"

Henri knew he'd gotten taller since he'd joined the Ravens, not just because he nearly fit in Soren's clothes or because he was getting decidedly less midget jokes from the others now. They'd all had a physical done one afternoon right before the term started and Henri was equal parts surprised and disbelieving to learn he was 5'9 from the measurement of his height. It wasn't particularly tall, not by American standards, but it meant he'd put on three inches since he had first come here. It was tragically late to have a growth spurt but Henri was willing to take what he could get. 

"You have," Loren said, taking the books Henri held out towards her. She gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

"No problem. Are you heading to the dining hall?"

"Yeah."

Henri fell into step alongside her. "I'll join you."

A not necessarily uncomfortable silence settled between them and Henri chewed his lip, considering what to say. He could have played the easy route and just strike up conversation about general things, trying to force them back into a normal friendship, but it felt like there were too many unresolved things between them for that approach to work. He didn't like feeling like he was walking on eggshells when simplicity was always his favoured lifestyle, and settled on his usual direct nature.

"Do you not like me or something?"

Loren looked at him with wide eyes. "W-what?"

Okay, maybe not that direct. He was so used to straightforward conversations with Soren, who'd probably beat him for beating around the bush, that he forgot most regular people didn't handle such blatant honesty well, no matter how refreshing it might be. As much as Henri grated on Soren's nerves and vice versa, their shared bluntness did mean they meshed well together when they weren't arguing with one another.

"What I meant is," Henri clarified, "are we not friends anymore?"

"Why would you think that?"

"You never come to Matt's Bar anymore," Henri said. "Kit even managed to drag Lucas down the other day, even if it was just so he could point out Zena as his future wife. I get if you're just avoiding it because of the seedy vibe, but — "

"No, you're right." Loren stared down at her hands. "While Matt's Bar isn't exactly my ideal hang out — "

"I don't think it's anyone's," Henri snorted.

" — I might have been avoiding you," she admitted in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry, Henri. It's not your fault and obviously, it has nothing to do with yours and Soren's relationship. I'm totally supportive about that kind of stuff and I, uh, I'm not...I'm not homophobic, just to make it clear. Definitely not."

"I never thought you were," Henri said, amused.

"Well, um, that's good." Loren turned red and was definitely avoiding Henri's eyes now. "It's not that I don't want to be friends with you, not at all. I'm just not very good with adapting to new things like you. I guess it just took some time to get used to...you know."

"I know," Henri said. "Just out of curiosity, have you gotten used to it yet? Because we have our first match in a couple of days and even though we won't be touching the court, considering we're rookie subs, it would be nice to have a semi united force besides the fact all the upperclassmen hate me."

Loren looked pained. "Of course it would be nice. Ugh, I've messed this whole thing up, haven't I?"

"Trust me, I've messed up a lot in my life. This isn't messing up. Unless you turn around now and tell me to hit the road," Henri added. "That might mess things up a little."

"I'm not going to tell you to hit the road," Loren said, and her smile was more genuine this time. "How about we finish patching things up over lunch?"

"Sounds like a plan. Nothing like a structured and healthy meal plan to bond over." 

They were about to entire the dining hall reserved for athletes when someone called, "Henri Moreau!" They both turned and Henri suppressed a groan at the sight of the woman hurrying up towards him. He didn't recognise her but he recognised the hungry gleam for information in her eyes and the eagerness in her gait. He thought he'd finally managed to shake off the reporters desperate to monetise the reveal of his identity while it was still relevant, seeing as he'd finally been left alone for a couple of days.

"Do I know you?" Henri asked, just to confirm his guess.

"No, but I know you," she said with a beam. "Henri Moreau, newest dealer for the Edgar Allan Ravens and none other than Jean Moreau's youngest brother."

"Only brother," Henri corrected.

"Are you sure about that?" The reporter widened her eyes as if hoping for him to spill some dark secret that she could exploit. "After all, for so many years no one even knew there was a brother. Then you pop into existence! Are we certain there aren't any other siblings waiting on the sidelines to reveal themselves?"

"We're certain," Henri said flatly. "Unless my parents got busy while I wasn't paying attention."

Loren coughed into her hand in a poor attempt at masking a laugh and glanced away at the reporter's curious look.

It was just his luck that he had to be harassed by reporters again when Soren wasn't around to fend them off. He was a natural bullshitter in front of the cameras, warding off all prying questions with a smile only Henri could tell was fake and managing to do so in a polite manner so they'd go away. Henri, he wasn't so good with the friendly polite act. He had little patience when it came to annoying and weird bubbly reporters who just wanted to rope as much information out of him as possible. He probably came across as if he had an attitude problem.

It was quite possible he did have one.

"Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?" The reporter didn't wait for him to refuse before barrelling on. "Is it true you're the youngest Raven to ever sign up?"

"You are?" Loren asked, surprised.

"I guess," Henri shrugged. "I'm only one year earlier than usual."

The reporter nodded eagerly. "Why have you never met your brother? Is the Moreau family really estranged? How do your parents feel about having both children signed up to professional Class I teams? They must be very proud, right?"

Henri would normally have a smart response at hand for an unnecessary onslaught of questions, but the unexpected personal turn caught him off-guard. His parents? They wouldn't have been proud, even if they were alive. While they'd trained him with a racquet in hand from birth, they'd kept him hidden from the publicised world of Exy. Learning to play was a precaution, not an expectation. A precaution which had saved his life in the end. Maybe Jean had managed to escape from the Moriyamas during the confusion surrounding the Ravens disastrous last season, but that Henri was playing for them meant he was the Moriyamas now.

"Henri?"

He blinked when Loren nudged him in the side at his silence and realised both the reporter and Loren were looking at him expectantly. "Oh," he said, clearing his throat. He hoped neither of them heard the roughness to his voice. "Yeah. Proud. We're going to go now — "

"Wait, wait! Just a couple more," she insisted, and Henri felt a little too off-kilter to just walk away like he should have done. "What made you decide to sign up with the Ravens? With Jean's recent transfer to the Trojans, it would have made sense to follow him. There's been a lot of talk around the two of you reuniting on live television — "

"No," Henri interjected sharply. "That's not happening."

The reporter leapt onto that. "Is there any particular reason why? After Riko and Kevin had a similar meeting on Kathy's Ferdinand's show — "

"Yeah, and look how that turned out," Henri said coldly. "I'm not taking any more questions, not outside organised press meetings. Don't bother me again."

"But — "

"Hey," Loren said, narrowing her eyes at the woman. More specifically, the hand that had just gone into her pocket. "Are you recording this?"

The reporter looked startled. "Well, I wouldn't say recording, exactly...just a little something to help me with — "

"Answer her question." Henri glared at her and the reporter shrank back a little. "Is that a recorder in your pocket?"

Despite very obvious reluctance, she had no choice but to pull the small black recorder from her pocket under their gazes. Henri forced down the flare of anger at the sight of it and had to take a moment before he trusted himself to speak.

"Delete it," he said. "Now."

The reporter looked crestfallen. "Henri, the public are desperate for something, anything, on you. Give them what they want. I would never disclose anything private."

"Yeah? The fact that you recorded me without my permission is enough of a breach of privacy, so you'll forgive me for not trusting you," Henri said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I won't ask you again. Delete it and do what you can with your memory, because I'm not letting you keep that."

The reporter swallowed and pressed the red button on the side of the recorder. Henri had no idea whether that had even deleted anything, or if it had just saved it somewhere where he couldn't get to it, and the reporter must have seen the skepticism in his expression. "It's deleted," she said hurriedly. "I swear on it. I'm...sorry for taking up your time."

She rushed off even faster than she'd run to catch up with him and Henri released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Dealing with anything to do with the press always put him on edge, but the questions about Jean and his parents left him with a tight feeling in his chest. He walked into the dining hall without another word and Loren sped up to follow him.

"She definitely won't be bothering you again. You really can be quite scary," Loren commented, her light tone a little forced. "When you want to be."

Henri glanced at her. "Scary?"

"When you ordered that woman to delete the recording," she said. "I was almost expecting you to threaten to end her life if she refused, and I think she was, too."

"Please." His lips curled into a half-hearted smile. "I'm nothing if not professional. The only people I threaten to kill are my own teammates."

Loren widened her eyes in mock alarm. "Should I be worried?"

"Maybe. Just don't get on my bad side."

"Noted," Loren smiled.

Even though things felt normal between him and Loren, he couldn't find it himself to be glad about that as he would have been half an hour ago. He was still thinking about the interview turned interrogation he'd been forced into, and couldn't shake one of the things the reporter had said to him. There's been a lot of talk about the two of you reuniting on live television. Just the thought of that made him feel sick. It was one thing to force normal brothers separated in childhood together, but there was far more to Jean and Henri's past than anyone knew. There was a reason Jean hadn't tried reaching out to him when he learnt about him and Henri had no intentions of ever doing that.

Some things were better left untouched and a reunion with his long lost big brother was one of those things.