— quarante-neuf ; forty nine —

HENRI YAWNED FOR the hundredth time, propping his head on his palm and staring down at his textbook. The words were swimming before his eyes. He couldn't figure out if it was exhaustion from his past few sleepless nights or jittery energy from all the caffeine he'd been consuming just to stay awake. He had attempted to make the most of his inability to sleep in the Nest when he wasn't with Soren by staying up late doing assignments due in for the new term, dragging his books out to the Nest when KJ sniped at him for keeping a light on in the middle of the night, but he was still behind on work. He was overdue on his history essay and if he ever managed to get this stupid thing written, he still had an art piece to finish and his Spanish worksheets.

Henri rubbed his eyes sleepily and took a sip of his lukewarm coffee. Bitter, not enough sugar. That sounded like a good enough excuse to him to stand up and stretch his legs, if only for an excuse to leave this desk. Unwittingly, his gaze wandered across the library to Soren, not for the first time. He was focused on his work in a way that was impossible for Henri to even consider, the glow of his laptop screen bright on his face. It had been a week since the master had made them switch rooms. A week since he had been alone with Soren, a week since Henri had last touched him. They were no longer pairs in the Raven system — Henri was stuck with KJ, who walked with him in grim silence to and from the stadium and refused to even go near him otherwise — but they still shared a campus and a stadium.

It was impossible for Henri to move on from what they had when he was stuck with seeing Soren every day. At practice, in the Nest, in the athlete canteen and in the library. It ached every time Henri saw him and knew that he wasn't allowed this anymore, wasn't allowed the one thing that had made his time in America bearable.

As if sensing eyes on him, Soren glanced up to look directly at him. Henri didn't look away and Soren held his gaze. It was always like this, a shared heated look because that was all that they could do. Henri gave in first, this time. He thought he let himself stare so much because he needed to see that Soren still cared but at the end of the day, it still hurt far too much. He grabbed his nearly full coffee and made his way down to the cafe to dump in two full sachets of sugar. He could feel the beginnings of a headache creeping up on him, maybe all the coffee going to his head of lack of sleep. His eyes were getting heavy but there was no time for a nap, not when he needed to finish his assignment and get to lunch and make it to afternoon practice. Plus, he'd told Liza he'd come in tonight for a shift.

Henri sighed. After so long in hospital, he'd forgotten how hectic it was just trying to scrape through normal life.

He trudged back upstairs and settled back in to glare at the hateful essay. If he could just find the dates, he could get some more words down on the page. He was poring over the tiny cramped text with a yawn and the last thing he remembered thinking was that the dense pages looked like a comfortable pillow, if he could just rest his head for a second... A loud bang had Henri startling upright with a gasp. A gun, there was a gun — no, it was a book, dumped unceremoniously on the table in front of him. Soren was standing by the table with his arms folded across his chest. Henri was struck by a wave of deja vu, of a very similar situation back when they were actually allowed to sit together.

Soren must have been thinking the same thing, because he said, "Some things never change."

Henri yawned into his hand with a baleful look. "No one asked you to wake me up. Maybe I was taking a nap scheduled carefully into my timetable."

"Timetable," Soren repeated, in disbelief. "You've never had a timetable with anything scheduled in your life." 

"Rude. Maybe I've turned over a new leaf, become a control freak like you."

"One could only hope." Soren gave him a hard look but it felt weighted, carrying more words than anything he could have ever said. "Why aren't you sleeping at night?"

"Who said I wasn't?"

"Besides the fact you're falling asleep at the library table?"

"I told you," Henri muttered, suddenly feeling very exhausted, hating that this was all they were allowed anymore, a stolen conversation in the library, "it's all part of my timetable, okay?"

"Henri — "

"There you are!" Matthias bounded over, bag slung over his shoulder. He grinned at Henri. "Sorry to steal your man away, but he has a class now. Time to go."

Soren glared at him. "I thought I'd made it clear that you don't need to walk me to my classes, Matthias."

"And I told you, we're paired up now, Soren! That means sticking together," Matthias said. "No wandering campus alone."

"I wander plenty without KJ," Henri pointed out.

"That's because he hates you, rookie."

Soren told Matthias, "And I hate you."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll live up to Henri's expectations soon enough. Now haul ass."

Matthias strolled off towards the door and Soren stared after him in obvious exasperation. "I'd ask how things are going with Matthias, but that seems like answer enough," Henri said. "You'd better go before he drags you after him."

Soren made no move to leave. "And how's it going with KJ?"

"You heard Matthias. He hates me and I hate him just as much. And he goes to bed embarrassingly early," Henri said, with a scoff. "He loves to bitch about me leaving the light on."

"Now you know how it feels."

"Oh, please. Me wanting the light off by midnight is valid — that asshole wants it off by ten. I'm at college, not a care home."

Soren cracked a smile at that. "He'd take a swing at you for that."

"I'd like to see that grandpa try," Henri said, and was pleased when that earned him a quiet chuckle. Amusement from Soren that was neither sardonic nor dry was a hard-earned prize, all the more satisfying in its rarity. "Besides, I could take him in a fight. Don't forget about the missing knife."

Soren rolled his eyes but he was still smiling faintly, tapping his fingers absently against the table. Henri remembered how those long, slim fingers felt against his skin, how their soft touch was chased by the warmth of his lips. He ached to reach out and touch them, to trace the path along his knuckles, the ridges hardened from so many years clutching a racquet. Henri had been staring for too long and dragged his gaze up to find Soren already watching him. His gaze was so heated that Henri felt himself warming, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. Yet Henri couldn't bring himself to look away because he knew Soren was giving him something with this look. An offering, or a reminder.

Henri had to give him something back. While he still could; who knew when they would next get a chance to speak like this alone? He steeled himself to bare his heart in a way he hadn't dared to before.

"I miss you," he said, in quiet french.

"Yeah." Soren's response was just as quiet, in Henri's language, too. "I miss you too, Henri."

Fuck. He couldn't do this.

"Soren!" Matthias yelled from across the library, earning dirty looks from students and a hissed warning from the librarian. He ignored it in favour of yelling some more. "I'm trying to be as patient as possible, but seriously, you're going to be late for French!"

"Be late," Henri said, before Soren could reply. "This is your french lesson, right here. I bet I'm a better teacher than whatever idiot is teaching you."

"That's a bold statement."

"And I stand by it. Stay," Henri said, aware he was breaking the rules and finding it very hard to care. All he knew was that he didn't want Soren to go, that he wasn't ready for him to leave yet. Or ever. "I'll tutor you in French."

Soren stared at him for a moment and Henri could see he was genuinely considering it, before he shook his head. "As tempting of an offer as that is, I can't. I have to maintain top grades as captain and skiving won't help that."

"Right," Henri said, trying to hide his disappointment. "Sure. I'm hardly one to give advice on getting good grades."

"Exactly. Write your goddamn essay, Henri. Next time," he said in French, tapping his knuckles lightly against the table. His fingertips brushed over the back of Henri's hand in a way that didn't feel entirely accidental and the touch sent sparks of heat down his spine. "I'll take you up on your offer next time."

Henri watched him leave the library and was still thinking about Soren long after he'd gone. There wasn't the slightest chance in hell he'd be focusing on his history essay now. He was far too distracted and a little turned on, an inevitable consequence of Soren ever speaking French. Henri downed the rest of his cold coffee and gave up on his essay, relegating it to be a later tonight problem when he was fuelled on adrenaline and possibly more caffeine.

Life fell back into a rhythm with one major difference: Soren. Henri was still waking up at 6AM for practice, going to classes, cramming homework and naps into whatever free hours his timetable allowed, turning up at Matt's Bar for shifts. Zena almost dropped the glass she was polishing when Henri turned up for a shift after so many weeks of absence and then made sure to remark that he looked pale and scrawnier than usual, and by the way, Lucas said something about cancer? After Henri had clarified no, he did not have leukaemia, and yes, he was perfectly fine now, it was back to normal. Zena told him his creepy stalker had come back asking for him once.

"I told Liza about him," she said, and waved him off when he opened his mouth to protest. "And you should thank me for it, because she's put him on the blacklist. The bouncers know who he is and he's not allowed to step foot on the premises. So, you're welcome."

"Thank you," Henri said grudgingly, because admittedly, that had fixed one of his problems. Liza made sure to chew him out about it too; how he should have told her sooner, that they took reports like this seriously and they always had to be dealt with.

Their match against the Eagles was an easy win in the bag and paved the way for their next game, which also happened to be the most highly anticipated in the whole Exy season: the Ravens vs the Foxes. It would be hosted at Edgar Allen this year and the press coverage around the event was through the roof even in the weeks leading up to it. Wymack and Tetsuji were peppered with questions about it by reporters at games, about how they thought their respective teams would fare in the Exy match of the year. Wymack was polite but straight to the point in his belief that his team were stronger than ever, gunning to take the Championships again, while Tetsuji was cold and firm in his comments that the Ravens would never allow a team so far below them to steal their title again.

The Ravens were working themselves up into a bloodthirsty frenzy over the match. This was the team that had destroyed their pride and crushed their ego last year, the worst-ranked team that had stolen the trophy that was rightfully theirs. The whole country would be watching with bated breath to see if the prideful Ravens would fall again, whether they climbed back from the dregs or truly fallen from grace without Riko leading them. Practice became more heated and intense, checks toeing the line of aggression and passes flying with almost impossible speed. Nearly ever Raven stayed back after practice ended for the extra sessions and drills Soren ran.

It wasn't just their playing styles that became more passionate. Tempers were running shorter than usual, with nothing more than a bad pass or inaccurately timed rebound enough for cause arguments to erupt. The Ravens made more efforts at self-restraint during practice in the day at the risk of angering the Master, who would take them off the line-up without hesitation at unruly behaviour, but after hours practice was another matter. Soren spent more time breaking up arguments than anything else. Henri could tell the pressure was getting to him, same as it had in the lead up to their first match. He snapped at everyone, took great care to chew out anyone he didn't think was putting enough effort in, and had sent off nearly everyone on the team at some point.

More than once, Henri had wanted to hang back on the court long after everyone but Soren had cleared off, or wait for him in the showers. He remembered how badly Soren needed a way to burn off steam when he was stressed and Henri was more than happy to offer to be that, for his own entirely selfish reasons too. But he was keenly aware of the Master watching him, and watching Soren too, searching for some sign that Henri had disobeyed him. He was sure Soren had noticed it too. Neither of them dared risk anything beyond the odd shared look.

The Master dropped a new bombshell the week before their game against the Foxes. All the Ravens were kitted up and out on court as early as ever, waiting for practice to start. Henri was trying not to fall asleep where he leant against the racquet case. The night before had been particularly bad, nightmares of his parents heads blown in chasing him through the dark. He'd come so close to caving and texting Soren. It was his own pride that stopped him, and the fact that Soren would be sleeping. Henri had already stolen enough hours of sleep from him with his problems. Now that they weren't involved, and Henri was supposed to be moving on, he had no right to drag Soren into his problems.

An argument had already broken out among the Ravens — Alixis and Soren, unsurprisingly, over who they thought should be on each side of the scrimmage — and Henri was grateful for once at the Master's arrival, because it brought the bickering to a tense end. His head was pounding enough without their voices so early in the morning. His gratitude was short-lived at the Master's next words.

"Ravens," he said, his usual clipped greeting. "With the game against those Foxes in a week, expectations are higher than ever. There is no question that they will suffer a crushing defeat but I will not risk anything after the embarrassment of the last season." More than a few of the Ravens winced, particularly the upperclassmen. KJ scowled and Benjamin cracked his knuckles. "Which is why I am introducing an assistant coach to the team. He will oversee practice alongside me and cover hours when I am not available."

This was met with a muted ripple of interest but Henri was too tired to care. He was glad everyone was too busy staring at the Master to see him yawning. Unless this assistant was Ichirou himself, it would hardly affect his life.

And then he heard him that voice.

"Hello," he said, and Henri's head snapped up so fast he felt a twinge of pain through his neck. He barely noticed it, couldn't believe what he was seeing. No, he thought, it can't be possible — "It is nice to meet you all. I have heard much about this team. I look forward to training with all of you." His gaze flicked to Henri for the first time and any doubt as to who it was, any doubt as to who the heavily accented voice so unfamiliar with English belonged to, was shredded to pieces. Henri's stomach bottomed out as he stared back at a face he hadn't seen in months and thought he would never see again. A face he thought had died on that same day as his parents.

It was his old Exy coach, Lelouche.