Silent

61. Fallen man

Eric had never seen his friend in such a wretched state. Jean was almost unrecognizable! But in the depth of those gray eyes, he could still see a glimpse of the boy he had once known.

It was obvious that it had been some time since Jean had last showered and his heart ached at the realization of just how low his friend had fallen.

Eric knew what Paul would say. He could hear his heated warnings in the back of his mind; Close the door, call the police! The boy you once knew is far gone! But it was his gut feeling that Eric chose to trust. And so he stepped back and held the door open, allowing the fallen man to enter.

The reek of old alcohol followed Jean inside, but Eric did his best to hide his disgust upon smelling it.

"I wasn't sure you'd allow me in," Jean said and stood there, lost and fragile-looking, and Eric felt conflicted with emotions running through him. There was anger, even pity, and disgust, but most of all, at that moment, he felt heartbroken and relieved Jean was finally out of hiding.

"I'm glad you came," Eric said honestly. "I was... worried."

Jean snorted. "Worried I'd do more bad than I already have?" he asked, and Eric was silent for a moment.

"Can you blame me?" Eric tilted his head and Jean furrowed his brows as he looked down. "I was worried for you, Jean. Worried that I wouldn't get the chance to talk with you again. So, yes, I am glad you came."

 "Glad?" Jean questioned.  "Even though knowing what I've done?"

"Glad, because the fact that you came here means there's hope," Eric replied and smiled, hoping to hide how nervous he felt inside. He knew how easily flammable the situation with Jean was, and knew how important it was to try and make him stay. Make him own up to what he had done and accept the consequences of his actions.

"Would you like a cup of tea first before we talk?" he suggested.

"Don't you have anything stronger?" Jean asked with a hoarse voice.

"No," Eric answered calmly. Alcohol was the last thing Jean needed and Eric did not want to discuss with the demon it could easily wake in him. "Please, go sit in the living room. I'll bring you a cup. When have you last eaten?" He asked, doing his best to continue to keep as calm as he could. Jean, who looked jumpy as a deer caught in headlights, may have just needed a friend to listen in order to turn himself in. Eric wanted to believe it was possible.

Jean shrugged. "It's been some time," he confessed. "Please, don't call the police. I'm not ready yet," he begged.

"Don't worry, I won't," Eric promised, but it was obvious Jean wasn't ready to fully believe him and nervously followed him into the kitchen. "Take a seat, Jean, please," Eric then urged. "Paul is not home. We're alone."

"I know. I waited... I... I don't think he'd want me here," Jean mumbled. Eric looked at him and slowly nodded before reheating the water for the tea. He could feel Jean's haunted eyes following his every movement and felt slight uneasiness about it. Jean's mind was unpredictable, what he had done Eric had never believed him capable of. How well could he then claim to know him? Or be so certain Jean would not harm him?

The story Jean had given him of Michael when they had met was so different from the truth. He remembered how Jean had told of the young, prostitute who had suddenly walked into his life. One who had a controlling and violent ex who had at first forced Michael to that 'profession'. Jean had saved him, Michael had no one else, he had no family, Jean had been the hero of the story... but the truth... The truth had revealed to be much more twisted.