"Why do you keep following him, even after he hurt you?"

Jean's head snapped up the second the silence in his own little sanctuary was broken, the smoke curling from his lips quickly halting, trapped behind his teeth. The faint wisps that he did let out clouded his face for just a moment, but his equally gray eyes pierced through the haze like steel, glaring right at you.

He was quiet. Too quiet. For a long, long time, before he slowly let out the rest of the acrid smoke in an exasperated, tired sigh, the sunshine that filtered through the shutters finding its way through, highlighting his reluctance. A rare vulnerability.

The papers that sat in his roughened hands were set down on the worn desk, littered with old ash, and he laid his cigarette to rest in the nearby tray. Overflowing. Jean rubbed his eyes with his fingers, briefly hiding the dark shadows that looked more akin to bruises.

He knew exactly who you were talking about, even without a name. He had caused him so much pain and heartache over the course of seven years. It was hard to get rid of. To simply scrub it away and forget about it, like it never happened.

"...I don't," Jean finally hissed lowly, but it held no anger. Only exhaustion. "I don't follow him. He always finds his way to me, no matter how much I tell him no."

Denial.