— trente-deux ; thirty two —

IT WAS PAST midnight when the cameras finally switched off, with Mandy seeing them off stage with lots of hand shakes and a promise that they could keep the clothes, and Henri was exhausted. Not only had he played a game, been smashed in the stomach by an angry dealer, and had an interview on a talkshow, but he'd spent the entire day and night before too stressed to sleep or relax properly. He was pretty much dead on his feet as he was ushered into the waiting room but instantly felt more awake when Jean yanked him to a stop by the shoulder.

"How did he kill them?" he asked, in low urgent French.

It was the last thing Henri was expecting and it took him a second to find his voice. "Bullet to the head," he said numbly.

"Good," Jean said, something in his voice cracking. "At least they didn't suffer."

The words felt so out of place that something in Henri cracked too and he had to blink back the sudden mistiness in his eyes. "I'm sorry — "

"Don't." Jean briefly closed his eyes and sighed as he opened them again. "These are the separate paths we have taken and it's too late to change them. There isn't much I can do now that the Master has you. I might never see you again, but you are still my brother, whether I want that or not. If you need help you can call me. My number — "

"I have it," Henri muttered. "Soren gave it to me."

"I know firsthand playing for the Ravens won't be easy, but you have no choice. The Moriyamas will always have their claim on you, just as they do on me, but if you survive those five years at Edgar Allan you've made it. You will never be free but you will be alive. You have to live," he said quietly. "Our parents gave their lives so you could have yours."

There was nothing accusatory or hostile in his tone, just resignation, but Henri still felt the words like a punch to the stomach. "I didn't want them to," Henri said sharply, not sure who he was trying to convince. "You don't think I regret it every day? That I don't wish it had been me instead?"

"Regret is a pointless emotion. Don't waste your time on it," Jean said, as if it was really that simple. "What's done is done and you have to move on. Lingering over the past doesn't bode well."

"Do you really not care at all?" Henri demanded, feeling irrational anger rising up in his chest. It was more frustration at himself than anything, that he had spent a lifetime feeling independent and standing here in front of Jean made him feel like a little boy who needed answers from someone older. The older brother he'd never had. "I just tell you our parents are dead, shot in the head, and you're telling me that feeling upset is a waste of time?"

"You think I'm not upset?" Jean's expression was livid. "Fuck you. They were my parents first, of course I'm fucking upset."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

Jean's eyes flashed angrily. "Don't presume to think you know how I feel about anything. You don't even know me."

"You're right," Henri snapped. "I don't know you. And you don't know me. So let's stop pretending you give a shit about what happens to me and that I'm not just the Ravens replacement to get beaten on your behalf. Handy, isn't it? Another Moreau to take the heat so you can continue with your life?"

"You ungrateful brat," Jean hissed, grabbing Henri by the collar of his shirt. "I have no obligation to treat you kindly. They died because of you and yet you throw that back in their faces? You don't deserve it. I hope the Master and Ravens ruin you."

He gave Henri a shove that was hard enough for him to stumble into the wall and turned on his heel without another word. Henri flinched at the loud slam of the door behind him and he slid down the wall to the floor when his legs gave out from under him. He had just found another reason to hate himself which he could add to the growing list. Jean was right — he'd tried to help Henri in the only way he could using advice, when he had every right to openly hate him, and Henri had picked an unfair argument out of it. Now Jean definitely hated him and he couldn't even blame him.

The truth was, he panicked. He panicked because for the first time in seventeen years, it had felt a little like he actually had the older brother he'd wondered about for years and Henri was scared of the hopeful trust he'd felt. It came too close to the way he'd trusted his parents which was inextricably linked with the pain he felt when he lost them. The pain he still felt, even now. He couldn't bear to experience that again, not with a brother, and it was easier to push Jean away than to risk letting him in only to lose him again. He'd already let Soren in, without meaning to. That was one mistake too many. He wouldn't let it happen with Jean too.

The ride to the hotel the Ravens were spending the night at was longer than Henri expected and he couldn't have stayed awake if he tried. He dozed off against the window to strange dreams he couldn't make sense of, but he remembered enough to know each left him feeling lost and empty. Seeing Jean had stirred up his ache for everything he couldn't have and the future of comfort he doubted would ever be his. He wanted home. No, he thought, surprised at how easy it was to correct his yearning — he wanted Soren. He wanted to feel the warmth of his skin and his soft breath tickling his cheek and just to be near him.

The intensity with which he felt that need scared him a little. He'd grown dependant on Soren for comfort and he didn't know what to do about it.

The driver gave him a key card for his room number and floor after he'd pulled up outside of the hotel. It was fairly empty considering the late hour as Henri trekked up to the fourth floor and pushed the door open to his room slowly, unsure whether the team would be sharing their rooms. Sure enough, Henri could make out two single beds in the darkened room and at the light seeping into the room, Soren sat up. He was an unbelievably light sleeper, and Henri felt both guilty and relieved that he'd woken up.

He blinked sleepily as Henri closed the door behind him. "How was it?"

Henri didn't reply straightaway. He kicked off his shoes and joined Soren on his bed without bothering to change out of his clothes. The bed was only intended for one body but Soren didn't protest to the tight squeeze, obligingly shuffling over slightly so Henri could fit on the narrow frame. They were pressed flush against each other, close enough that Henri could feel the reassuring rhythm of Soren's steady heartbeat against the cheek he rested against his chest, but Henri really didn't mind. Too close wouldn't be close enough for him.

"Didn't you watch it?" Henri asked in quiet French.

"I think the whole team did after I told them where you'd gone." Henri could feel the reverberations of his voice through his body when he spoke and found it strangely comforting. "You should expect an interrogation from them about it at breakfast tomorrow."

Henri sighed. "I figured as much."

Silence settled over them, comfortable and sleepy. Soren must have been curious about how his first meeting with Jean had gone but he didn't bring the topic up, leaving it up to Henri as to whether he wanted to talk about it or not. Henri trailed a finger along the back of Soren's hand in absent patterns and fought the heaviness of his eyelids, not ready to sleep yet. He knew there would just be more nightmares waiting for him. It was safer to stay in the present with Soren, the heat of his body keeping the darkness at bay.

"Jean hates me," Henri said, into the peaceful quiet of the room.

"Because of your parents?"

"No," Henri muttered. "Probably that too. But mostly because I was an asshole."

"He'll get used to it. The rest of us did and besides, he isn't particularly delightful himself."

"There won't be any getting used to it." Henri traced the outline of Soren's long and slender fingers with a frown. "I'm fairly certain he doesn't want anything to do with me, forget ever speak to me again."

"Does that bother you?" Soren's voice was neutral but his other hand, which had been playing with the curling ends of Henri's hair, stilled. "Yesterday, you didn't want anything to do with him."

Henri hesitated despite the resolution he'd made to himself earlier. "I don't."

"Really?"

"Yes," Henri said firmly.

"Could have fooled me."

Henri tipped his head back to glare at Soren, but it fell a little flat from his lack of conviction. "Hey, whose side are you even on?"

"I'm not picking sides, Henri," Soren said, rolling his eyes. "I'm telling the truth. You make sure to call me out when you think I'm lying and I'm returning the favour."

Henri wasn't a fan of having logic used against him and decided to end the conversation all together by closing that last inch between them to meet Soren's lips. Soren understood that concession meant he'd won the argument, judging by the smirk Henri felt against his own lips, and he responded by catching Soren's bottom lip between his teeth. He bit down gently until Soren moaned and Henri didn't stop, the sound sparking heat in his veins and turning his blood to molten. He'd done this so many times, chasing his hands down Soren's chest with his mouth, but Henri would never tire of it.

When he finally fell asleep, still curled up on Soren's bed in the circle of his arms, he didn't have a single nightmare.

— — — —

For the first time in a long time, longer than Henri could remember, he was allowed to sleep in. He was so used to Soren's alarm waking him up that when his body woke him up naturally, in a sleepy and dozy way rather than forced awake, it was disorientating. The late October sunshine filtering in through the window was also disorientating — Henri's room in the Nest had no windows and he wasn't used to waking up to natural light. Henri felt properly well rested for the first time in days and rolled over with a yawn, only to bump into Soren.

He was still fast asleep, one arm pillowed beneath his head and the other thrown across Henri's body. Soren was usually awake before Henri and it was nice to have a few moments just to enjoy the view, the slight part of his pink lips each time he exhaled and the sweep of dark gold lashes against his cheek. They were both naked under the covers and considering how close they were pressed to fit on the bed, skin-to-skin, Henri was already growing hard. He propped himself up and was about to press a kiss against Soren's neck, with every intent of making the most of their rare lie-in, when there was a knock on the door.

Henri stifled a groan and rolled off the bed, snatching up his pants where it had been tossed to the floor with the rest of his clothes. They were a little rumpled from rough treatment but he couldn't be bothered to dig through the duffel of his things on the other side of the room for something else to wear. He didn't bother with a shirt before opening the door to see Xander standing on the other side.

"Hey," Henri said.

"Morning," Xander smiled, glancing past him. Henri followed his gaze and knew what he was thinking. One bed was made up and untouched, and Soren was still sleeping in the other with the cover partly thrown aside. Xander didn't know that Henri never bothered making his bed but he didn't need to to guess they'd shared the bed.

"What's up?" Henri asked, before he could comment on the sleeping arrangements.

"I heard you made your TV debut last night," Xander said. "Well, saw that you did. I'm pretty sure I could hear Lucas freaking out over it from his room next to mine."

"You came all the way here just to talk about that?"

"No, I came to call you two for breakfast," Xander shrugged. "Master wants us back on the road by twelve so we get to the airport in time. But I am also very curious about how last night went."

Henri sighed. "You and everyone else."

"You got that right. How come you didn't tell anyone about it? Besides Soren," Xander added, with that knowing smile. "But you tell him everything so no surprise there."

"I didn't see any point in mentioning it when you would have found out about it eventually," Henri said, choosing to ignore his final comment regarding Soren. Xander always seemed to know more about the two of them than even Henri did, as if he could see something Henri wasn't hiding well at all. "And I only found out two days ago."

"Fair enough." Xander was one of the Ravens who was willing to leave things there and took a step back. "I'll see you both downstairs for breakfast."

Henri woke up Soren after Xander had left and rummaged around in his duffel for clean clothes. He didn't think travelling all day in the talkshow clothes he'd slept in would be particularly hygienic and besides, all they reminded him of how terribly things had gone with Jean. He thought it would be easier to stomach in the morning but as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror while brushing his teeth, the grey eyes and black hair that felt more like Jean's than his own, he realised the truth was harder in daylight.

His brother hated him and he had no one to blame but himself.

The rest of the team was already downstairs when he and Soren reached the hotel dining room. Their rather large group had been given the entire left side of the room with tables pushed together to make enough space and the breakfast was being served buffet-style. Matthias was the first one to spot them as he passed with a plate piled high with every type of breakfast food you could imagine and he grinned when he saw Henri.

"If it isn't our new TV star," he said, and pointed at accusatory croissant at Henri. "I have a bone to pick with you."

"What?"

"How could you not tell me you were going to be on a talkshow?" he demanded, much too indignantly for Henri to take him seriously. Then again he rarely took anything Matthias did seriously. "With Jean, no less? That is not something you keep from your team, Henri. Not cool."

Henri rolled his eyes. "My team hates me. I don't owe you people anything."

"Hey," Kit said, who'd caught the tail end of that comment they reached the table, looked affronted. "What the hell, dude?"

"Most of my team hates me," Henri corrected. "Happy?"

Kit pouted. "No. You still didn't tell me about it."

"It's not a big deal," Henri said, aware of the other Ravens looking over and the fact it kind of was. Meeting your brother for the first time in your life after seventeen years was something even Henri couldn't brush off as insignificant no matter how hard he tried. "I did a talkshow, I met Jean, and came back here. The end."

"Not the end," Aria interjected, with a maniacal gleam in her eyes that boded well for no one. "Give us the juicy details, Moreau Junior. How did you get along with the other Moreau? Did you end up hating each other? I guess you got along well enough on screen, but Ravens are better than anyone at faking it."

Henri was aware of Soren watching him from the corner of his eye but he had no intentions of spilling anything he'd told to Soren to the rest of the team. "We are, in fact, best friends," Henri said, with a measurable dose of sarcasm. "As for juicy details, keep dreaming."

"Poor Jean. First losing Kevin and Riko, then us," KJ smirked. "Does he miss us?"

"I didn't care enough to ask," Henri said. "But I think it's safe to say no, he doesn't miss a single one of you."

"So many tears," Benjamin said, with a wide yawn.

"Good riddance," Alixis said dismissively. "Jean always acted like he was above and better than the rest of us."

Henri raised an eyebrow. "You two must have that in common."

Henri doubted they'd even come close to finishing with their questions but he was hungry and not in the mood to deal with them right now. He headed to the buffet and tried to distract himself with as much food as he could fit on his plate. Since joining the Ravens, Henri's appetite had swelled to at least triple what it used to be and he'd had to make do with the stupidly healthy meal plan Edgar Allan had. Intense practice and training meant they all had to eat a lot to produce the energy they were burning daily. Even though Henri had a late start today and no practice, he still ate like he did.

"Wow, okay," Zena said, coming up next to Henri at the buffet and eyeing the seven hash browns stacked up on his plate. The Ravenettes were travelling back to the airport with them and looked considerably less conspicuous in normal clothes rather than their cheer outfits. "Save some for the rest of us, yeah?"

"I'm a growing boy. I don't have time to consider anyone else's appetite."

Zena rolled her eyes and plucked one of the hash browns from his plate. "So, I hear you made your TV debut last night."

"You did?" Henri asked, surprised.

"One of your teammates is very chatty," Zena smirked. "What was his name, Matthew? Marcus?"

"Matthias. Of course." Henri spooned a huge helpful of baked beans on his plate and ignored the strange look from one of the staff member passing by. "I'm guessing you watched it then?"

"That's granted. I was stuck in a hotel room all night and it's not like I had anything better to do."

Henri scoffed. "Wow, I feel so honoured."

"It must have been weird meeting Jean," Zena mused, biting into a blueberry muffin. "I mean, weirder than it was for me seeing him again, on TV. He hasn't changed much."

Henri glanced at her at her thoughtful tone. "What, stirred up all those old feelings?"

"Please, Henri," she said scornfully. "I moved on, like, a year ago when we first ended. Besides, I've got an eye on someone else. That teammate of yours is kinda cute."

"Which one?"

"Red head over there," Zena said, glancing over her shoulder to where Kit was tryingy to catch grapes in his mouth while Lucas's cheered him on. Henri resisted the urge to facepalm — Kit had spent months trying to impress her, and this was how he did it? "Kinda cute in a silly, puppy dog way."

"Ah, yes. The most attractive level of cuteness," Henri grinned.

Zena shoved him in the shoulder. "Shut up. I wonder if he's single?"

"Oh, he's single." Henri shrugged at her side glance. "I'd say go for it. I can guarantee he'll say yes."

"Hmm," Zena said, looking back at him again. Kit noticed her attention this time and Henri could see his blush from across the room as he quickly looked away, obviously flustered. "Maybe I will."