— quarante-cinq ; forty five —

FIVE DAYS LATER, Henri was packing away the meagre supply of things he'd accumulated during his stay in South Carolina away into a bag. On his second day here, Jack had griped about having to share his wardrobe and stuffed Henri into Abby's car without much choice to drive him to the closest mall. It was a random assortment of clothes and toiletries that had been enough to sustain himself in Abby's house. It felt strange leaving with an entirely new bag of supplies — Soren had taken his bag for the banquet back to West Virginia with him. He hesitated with a hand on Soren's jacket, the soft sleeves worn from being worn so often, before slipping it on.

It was nowhere near warm enough to ward out the winter chill but it was the best he had. The faint citrusy scent of Soren still clung to it when he pressed his face against the folds.

After his early morning solo practice, burning through his small reserves of energy to outrun his thoughts, he'd been certain he could go back to Edgar Allan. The three hours had burnt him out and he'd been drained the whole day, skulking around Abby's house, but he'd been more bored than weak. Abby wasn't quite so lenient and insisted he stay at least until a week had passed. Henri's protests had been half-hearted — if he went back then, he would have been back just in time for Christmas and he couldn't imagine any group of people who could make that festive holiday anything but gloomy. He spent his Christmas with the Foxes, who gathered in Abby's house and exchanged gifts and ended a day of cooking up a feast with enough alcohol to knock them all out by the end of the night.

Surprisingly, Henri had liked it more than he thought he would. Kaelan was easy to make conversation with, more than happy to discuss Exy plays and where he thought the season was going, with Dan chipping in her two cents. When the other freshmen weren't bickering with each other or picking fights with the upperclassmen, they could hold a conversation long enough for it to be interesting. Matt was perfectly friendly after their initial rocky meeting and Nicky was more than friendly, hitting him with unsubtle advances that reminded Henri of Matthias. Even Kevin, whom Henri was carefully wary around considering they shared the same shady background, was okay to talk to when Exy was involved. They both steered clear of anything heavier and neither of them mentioned Jean.

The only one who didn't speak a single word to him was Andrew but he couldn't bring himself to care. Andrew rarely moved from his own place by Neil's side and considering the distance Neil kept from Jack, Henri didn't see much of either of them. Henri spent most of the night alongside Jack. Henri knew better than to bring up their interaction on the court that morning, when he'd been too close to falling apart and Jack had revealed more than he intended to, and Jack gave no indication that it had ever happened. He chattered relentlessly in Henri's ear and made rude passing remarks to piss off his teammates and only laughed at their annoyance. Whenever Henri managed to surprise him with a response, it earned him a quick but genuine smile.

The more Jack had drunk, the longer and more frequent the smiles had been. Henri had spent nearly three weeks now getting acquainted with the sharp, mocking curve of Jack's lips and wasn't used to these flashes of a real smile. It transformed his face, smoothing over the wildness that permeated his persona and giving rise to something that was impossible to look away from, his blue eyes bright in an entirely different way. Henri remembered thinking, on his third or fourth glass of wine pressed into his hands by Nicky, that Jack was very attractive indeed. His prickly, impossibly personality somehow only made him more appealing. By his sixth glass, he knew better than to stay near him and spent the rest of the night seeking conversation among the rest of the Foxes.

Henri shoved his last shirt into his bag and shook off the turn his thoughts had taken, with an unexpected start of his guilt. He could still remember clearly being drunk in a hotel room, Loren sat less than a breath away, her green eyes filled with tears. He hadn't spoken to her once since that night and Henri suspected, with a sinking heart, any friendship between the two of them would be ruined now. Henri told himself with as much conviction as he could muster that this was different. He wasn't dating Soren, and even if he was, he hadn't done anything with Jack. He'd made sure of that on Christmas even with alcohol flowing freely.

Jack was attractive, Henri could admit that to himself, and maybe he was attracted to Jack. That didn't mean anything because nothing more was going to happen there. Henri thought of Soren, his soft gold hair that was even softer to the touch, green eyes that saved all warmth and tenderness for when they were alone together. Henri missed him so much he felt it like a physical ache in his chest and he curled his fingers in the sleeves of his jacket. Only a few more hours and he wouldn't have to settle for the jacket to be near him again.

Jack was waiting for him in the kitchen with Abby and stood up when Henri appeared. "About time," he said, with bored impatience neither of them believed. "I thought maybe you were changing your mind about going back, for a moment."

"How presumptuous of you," Henri said, and was rewarded with a grudging curl of his lips. He had learnt that the way to earn Jack's favour was to return his snark with as much as he dosed out. "Here for a teary goodbye?"

"Oops, guilty. No," Jack said, with a jangle of his hand. He had Abby's car keys between his fingers. "I'm your lift to the airport."

"Why can't Abby take me?"

Jack made a tutting sound. "For shame, Henri. She has better things to do than chauffeur you around."

"I need to get through physicals with the Foxes," Abby said. "You can drop me off at the court on the way."

"I remember what happened last time I trusted you to take me to the airport," Henri said, with a levelled look in Jack's direction.

"Oh, so little faith. Where else would I take you?"

"I don't claim to understand how your snakey little mind works."

"My snakey little mind," he said the words with a smile, and this one was wicked, "is bored of you now. Run on back to your little Ravens and master. I'll call you back when I'm in need of more entertainment."

Henri rolled his eyes but Jack was already turning away and heading to the front door. "He likes you," Abby said, with a smile as she walked past him. "I can tell."

Outside, it was snowing. Henri couldn't help feeling a little marvelled at the soft white flakes drifting down from the blank white sky, not substantial enough to stick. He held a hand out to catch one of the snowflakes on his fingertip and watched it melt away to a spot of cold damp. With such mild winters, and so close to the sea, Henri had never seen snow before. He'd anticipated freezing discomfort to accompany any sign of snow but he barely felt the cold and tipped his head back to stare at the sky. The effect was all together much calmer, much softer, than he had expected. He imagined a world blanketed in snow, a world of white reflected in both the earth and the sky. He imagined getting to stand in that silence and pretend he was the only person to exist in the whole world.

"Frenchie," Jack said, and Henri glanced at him. Something in his gaze changed at whatever he saw on Henri's face. "What, never seen snow before?"

"No," Henri said honestly.

"Wait until you see real snow, then. It's nothing compared to this pathetic dusting." Jack considered him for a moment longer before giving a sharp press of his horn. "Hurry up and get in. Imagine the horror of missing your flight after all the faff you made about getting back."

The Foxhole Court was only a five minute drive from Abby's house and she turned in her seat before leaving, pulling Henri into a hug. "Be careful," she said, her brown eyes tracking him as if reminding herself how he appeared without any injury. "Look after yourself, okay? You can call us for anything. We'll always be willing to help."

"I know," Henri said, surprised to find he meant it. Before the banquet, the Foxes had just been another team to beat on court. Now, he knew they'd make a space for him if he ever needed it, no matter how much they were fracturing as a team themselves. "Thank you, Abby. For everything."

She pressed a kiss to his head, offered him one last sad smile, and then she was gone. Jack, surprisingly, had nothing to say on the entire ride to the airport and they made the twenty minute drive in comfortable silence. Henri stared out of the window and watched the snow fall, the occasional snowflake catching on the mirror to cling for a few seconds before melting out of existence. He didn't realise Jack had pulled up outside the airport until he gave another impatient honk of his horn.

"Thanks for the ride," Henri said, and opened the door.

"What, no tears at our farewell?" Jack's eyes gleamed as he turned to face Henri. "No kiss goodbye?"

Henri stared at him, betrayed by the way his heart suddenly picked up speed, but he recovered his wits only a second later. The way Jack was watching him told him he hadn't recovered them quite quick enough. "That would hardly be appropriate," he said, "considering our teams are rivals."

"Aren't all teams rivals?"

"The Foxes and Ravens more so than any other. You know that."

"I suppose so. A shame," Jack said. "It could have been a forbidden love, if only you were a little braver."

Henri couldn't school his expression into something neutral and got out of the car before Jack could see his words had gotten to him. The only time they'd come close to this boundary of teasing that toed the line of flirting had been Christmas, both of them a little flushed from alcohol and a little reckless from the warm bubble cast by the other Foxes. Now, in the cold snow of daylight with cars and people hustling around on all sides of them, Henri didn't know how to react. He hadn't really let himself consider Jack might return his attraction because he didn't know what to do with that information.

Jack rolled down the window to watch him go and Henri turned at the last second, a foot away from the entrance. "Come visit if you're ever in West Virginia," he found himself saying. "The Ravens wouldn't know what to do with someone like you on our court."

Jack's smile was fierce and all teeth. "It would be my pleasure."

It was a short flight of only one hour but Henri let himself sleep through it. He was basically fully recovered, able to keep up throughout the entirety of practice for his last two days with the Foxes, but he still got tired much more quickly than he once would have. Something told him he'd have to reintroduce power naps in the couple of weeks it took him to adjust to the Ravens intense schedule. Yawning, he wandered off the plane with his carry-on and perked up almost instantly perked up when he saw it was snowing here too. Proper snow, falling much more thickly and already covering nearly every surface he could see. He bypassed baggage claim and headed for the exit.

His eyes found Soren immediately where he was waiting with the others people here to collect passengers. He hadn't changed at all, which shouldn't have been surprising — it had only been three weeks. That it felt more like three months apart made no difference. His blonde hair was slightly damp from the snow outside and his green eyes carefully blank as he studied Henri, scanning him slowly from head to toe as if searching for some hint of his time in hospital. He didn't know what Soren found in that appraisal but came to a stop in front of him and waited. They couldn't touch each other in public like this but Soren's gaze said everything his hands couldn't when it lifted to meet Henri's.

"You're wearing my jacket," he said.

Henri glanced down, as if he'd forgotten. "There was nothing else to wear. I assumed your leaving it meant I was allowed to borrow it."

"It's not warm enough for this weather. It's snowing," Soren said, a little accusatorially.

"I know."

Soren looked at him for a moment longer before shrugging out of his winter coat and offering it out to Henri. "Take it. No," he said, speaking over Henri when he tried to protest. "I'm wearing more layers and you look like you're one cold away from falling apart. There's no need for you to be hospitalised again after such a recent trip."

Henri had no choice but to shrug on the coat because Soren was already walking away. Admittedly, he felt much more comfortably warm as it settled around him. "I don't look that bad," Henri said, hurrying to keep up with him. It was at least somewhat true. He knew the illness had left him paler than usual but during his time with the Foxes, he'd managed to gain some of the weight he'd lost back and the dark shadows around his eyes were considerably less pronounced.

Soren said, "You look like shit."

"Rude," Henri muttered.

Outside, the weather was taking a turn for a snowstorm and Henri's awe at the blizzard of white was only slightly dampened by how long it took Soren to get the car out of the parking lot. He wanted to roll down his window to feel the force of the snow in his face but he didn't think Soren would appreciate him ruining his car like that. He settled for saying, "It never snowed back home."

Soren glanced at him. "Ever?"

"Not while I lived there, anyway. Marseille," he said, another snippet of information he hadn't given away before. "It's too coastal for us to ever get any snow. I've never seen it before, forget this much."

"Welcome to West Virginia," Soren said, a little dryly. "We get more than enough snow here to make up for it. You'll sick of it by the end of winter."

Henri stared out of the window. "I doubt that."

As if by some unspoken consensus, they steered away from heavier topics during the ride back to Edgar Allan. Maybe they both knew they just needed some time to acclimatise to each other's presence again before delving into anything controversial. There was no mention of the master or Henri's stay in hospital or even that argument they'd had on the drive down to Palmetto, which already felt like a distant fragment of the past. Talk of the weather turned to how the Ravens had been over the past three weeks, that Soren's stony silence on Henri hadn't wavered even in the face of Matthias's pestering, and in turn Henri told him about his time with the Foxes.

He talked about how their sense of team was much more fragile than the Ravens, that there was constant infighting and feuds, but it was still a less toxic environment than the Nest. As much as the Foxes struggled to come together, they weren't interested in cutting each other down. It was clear to see that at the end of the day they would view success as something the whole team strived for together.

"Christmas was just like any other day," Soren said, when Henri asked about it. "We practiced, the master gave us improvements, we went to bed."

Henri was appalled. "You didn't even exchange presents?"

"I did with Loren. I don't care about anyone else on the team."

"As sad as I should have suspected," Henri said.

"What about you?" Soren waved a hand at Henri's puzzled look. "How did you pass your Christmas in South Carolina?"

"Oh, you know," Henri said, thinking about Jack and his electric blue eyes and the way his hair had tickled his cheek when he turned to loudly whisper some rude remark or so about Luci. He quickly pushed the memory away and hoped it didn't show on his face. "I spent it with the Foxes. Even if they don't beat us on court this year, they could definitely beat us with their combined alcohol consumption."

"They most certainly won't be beating us on court," Soren said, with a hint of scorn, "so let them have alcohol consumption to drown their sorrows."

Henri just rolled his eyes at this typical display of arrogance.

The Edgar Allan stadium looked like a gloomy castle straight out of a medieval fiction, it's towers rising into the pale sky and the black walls covered in a blanket of white. Henri twisted at the sight of it. Up until now, he'd been trying not to think about the fate awaiting him at the end of the master's cane, but it was difficult to shove down those nerves now that the master was only a few walls away. He had little choice but to force himself to follow Soren as he led them down through the stairs into the stadium. The Nest was empty and a glance at the wall confirmed the Ravens would still be up in practice. There was no hint in the decor of the room that Christmas had been a few days ago.

"Well," Henri said, dropping his bag on a sofa.

Soren raised an eyebrow at him. "Well?"

They were alone for the first time since Henri had returned and he watched that realisation dawn on Soren's face, the way his gaze quickly darted around the room as if to check it was empty before returning to Henri. They weren't really alone here, where any of the Ravens could walk in, but Henri couldn't care less. He closed that space between them and tipped his face up to meet Soren's, until it was mere inches away. He saw with some bemused delight that there was little more than a couple of inches separating them in height where it had been at least half a foot when he first joined the Ravens.

"Would you look at that." Henri raised himself up slightly on tip-toe and smirked when he found he could meet Soren eye for eye. "I'm almost as tall as you now."

"In your dreams," Soren said, and kissed him.

It started slow, soft, both of them aware that they weren't in the privacy of their own room and could be walked in on at any time. Henri soon forgot this as Soren tipped his head, deepening the kiss, and his arms found their way around Soren's neck to slide fingers into the gold hair at the nape. Soren gripped his waist, strong and steady hands that would always be there to hold him up, before his fingers toyed at the zipper of the coat he was wearing with obvious impatience. Henri liked feeling that Soren wanted more of him, closer to him, and he must have smiled against his lips before Soren bit down with just enough pressure to draw a low moan from the back of Henri's throat.

"Get it off," Soren murmured in his ear, and the hairs on the back of his neck raised at the husky tenor to his voice, thick with desire. "Now."

Henri broke away from the kiss only long to pull the coat off and Soren was there before it had even hit the ground, shoving him against the wall, hard. He pinned Henri against it with the weight of his body and then his hands were slipping under the hem of his shirt, dragging hot fingers along his skin. Henri could feel his every nerve ending sparking, lighting on fire where Soren's hands moved, and tightened his fingers in his thick hair to draw his face closer. Henri's mouth trailed along his jaw down his neck, welcoming the familiar curves and edges he had gone too long with, and soon found that soft hollow at the base of his throat. Henri bit down, lightly, and felt all the blood in his body rush down at the sound Soren made.

"We have to get to practice," Soren said, drawing back only enough to leave a breath between them. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark where they met Henri's and the sight only turned him on more.

"Fuck practice."

"The master is waiting for us."

"He can wait a little longer," Henri said, curling a hand in the front of Soren's shirt and drawing him away from the wall, down towards the black hall. "Because I've been waiting three weeks to be able to do this."

Whatever other protests Soren may have had were drowned out by Henri's mouth on his his and his hands wandering further, the definite sound of the lock clicking in place as he kicked the door shut behind them.