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That being said, I hadn’t expected Jack to look as much like a twelve-year-old goth boy as their portraits suggested.
“Please, come in.”
“How is he doing?” Their voice was quiet, but their brow was wrinkled in concern.
I shrugged, locking the door behind them as soon as they were over the threshold into the foyer. Even way out here, I didn’t feel safe anymore.
“He’s been medically cleared, but he’s not shaking it off.”
It had been a hard twenty-four hours. I was glad Severin, Rodrigo, and Minnow had set up rotating shifts with us, trying to help us talk him through it.
“He won’t speak to any of us. It’s like he’s lost in his own world.”
“Being attacked like that probably dredged up a lot of old shit.”
“We’re worried. He’s talking to himself in French a lot.” I hesitated, feeling rude, but asked anyway. “You seem young for a therapist.”
“Oh, I’m twenty, and I’m not a therapist.” Their eyes gleamed with amusement. “When Loïc and I met, I was homeless. He noticed me living in the park down the street from the hotel he was staying in. He bought me breakfast a few times, and we got to talking. Eventually, he convinced me he wasn’t a creep, and he set me up in an apartment despite my objections.”
“Good.”
“You don’t think I’m wasting his money?”
It was like a punch in the gut. Had they been worried we might tell Loïc to cut off their support? “No one is a waste of money. I’m happy the two of you found each other.”
They gave me a lopsided grin. “I think I’m his only friend, other than his brother’s family and the two of you. He comes by to talk when he’s in town.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Same. He’s been talking about you and Valor incessantly for months.” It was strange seeing them standing right under a painted icon of themself. “I’m glad he didn’t scare you off. I think that would have crushed him, but I know he can get…intense.”
Without a tour, Jack made their way through the house, navigating to Loïc’s room without being guided. Apparently, they’d been here before.
When we reached the bedroom, Valor was sitting on the floor next to the empty mattress. Loïc was across the room, muttering and pacing in front of the window.
If Valor was surprised at how Jack looked, he didn’t make any indication.
“Loïc, c’est moi. C’est Jacques.”
How had I never suspected they would speak French?
Loïc keptpacing and banged his forehead with his fists. It wasn’t violent, but it still had to hurt. He had bruises from hitting himself.
Jack kept speaking to him in French but didn’t try to approach him. Instead, they stretched out on the floor and kept up a one-sided conversation while Loïc paced and sometimes slapped his own face or pulled his hair. Eventually, he put his hands over his ears, and Jack stopped speaking.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid...” Loïc began to mutter.
I frowned, watching helplessly, not sure if I should intervene. I wanted to hug him, but he was so stressed out, I didn’t think he would appreciate it.
Valor’s eyes were red-rimmed. We’d talked at length about it not being his fault, but the worry and guilt were weighing on him. I’d tried to get him to sleep for a while, but he’d given up five minutes later.
“Does Jack know how to help him?” he whispered.
“I’m not sure if they do, but Loïc trusts them.”
“I wish he trusted us the same way.”
“Considering what he’s been through, it might take some time.”
