Broken Wings - Jared/Chris BigBang Fic (2/10)
Chapter Two
There were blinding, bright lights swirling overhead, shouts and pleas were called all around, screaming out his name and trying to get his attention, but his eyes just remained staring forward and unseeing. There were bodies pressed in close around him, grabbing at him and pulling on him, but his body remained numb and unfeeling.
The bright, flashing lights and shouts for his attention were nearly enough to make him turn around and wheel away, but with a firm hand landing on his shoulder and a small smirk from his friend, he pushed on. It reminds him of a time, all those years ago, when he nearly lost his life, but he doesn’t get caught up on that right now. Jared and Jensen were at another bar opening. It was near their shop, and their presence had been requested. Jensen had simply shrugged and said it was just another good opportunity to get drunk. Jared, on the other hand, cringed on the inside; sure he liked a good drink, but openings were always crowded, making it practically impossible to move around.
Wearing his favorite faded, ripped jeans, rock band t-shirt, black leather jacket and gloves, Jared made his way down the bar’s version of the red carpet. Jensen, dressed similarly minus the gloves, followed right behind him. People from the local press were taking pictures like crazy, and random fans were screaming their names. Jared could have laughed. Never in his young life had he thought he’d be in this position, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
The bar was dark, and the music was loud. Everyone was either dancing or drinking and having a good time. Jared pushed himself toward the side of the room, probably running over a few people’s feet as he went, and waited for Jensen to come back with their drinks. He waited and watched; everyone standing taller than him, paying no mind to the lone man in the wheelchair, regardless of his small acquired fame.
The isolation makes him think back to his first week home after months in hospital, where everyone started to treat him differently. They had shown him how to get in and out of bed, to and from the wheelchair, but for that first week, he generally did nothing but lay in his pajamas in his bed. The first time Jared decided he was going to get dressed, he purposefully mismatched everything he put on. He wheeled himself out to his family, who were all eating breakfast together at the table, and waited for someone to notice him. The room fell silent as everyone took in the fact that Jared had cleaned himself up, dressed and come out of his room.
His mother had started crying, thanking the Lord that Jared was up and about. His dad’s eyes shone with pride, and his siblings had huge smiles on their faces. They placed a plate out for Jared to eat and included him in their previous conversation as if nothing had changed and as if nothing was wrong. No one mentioned the fact that what he was wearing was ridiculous. They all failed the test that day.
A few days later and a small group of Jared’s friends were meant to be stopping by, he had decided to try the same experiment. He picked out some of the most ridiculous clothes he owned, most of them gag gifts from friends, and waited for them all to arrive. Jensen was the last to arrive, everyone else sitting in the lounge room talking softly. Jensen looked Jared up and down before shaking his head. He grabbed onto the handlebars on Jared’s chair and pushed his friend back into the bedroom, “You look stupid, Jared. Now, get in there and put some real clothes on!” Jensen had said in all seriousness in front of everyone. The others gasped behind them, but Jared just laughed; Jensen was the only one to pass that test that day and since then, never treating him any differently from before the accident to afterward.
The bar slowly kept filling up, so much so that Jared kept getting pushed around in his chair, the brakes barely helping at all. Jensen finally returned with two beers and handed one to Jared, both quietly surveying the place. “I give it two weeks tops before this place tanks,” Jensen laughed.
“I’m with you there,” Jared agreed. There were so many bars around that they really didn’t need this one, too. Tonight was just a good excuse for everyone to get out and drink.
“I think I’m going to head home now. I have an early appointment tomorrow, unlike some people,” Jared said after a few minute’s silence, the loud music making conversation impossible unless Jensen got down to Jared’s height.
“You alright, Jared?” Jensen asked looking down at his friend. Jensen was one of the few people who hadn’t started treating Jared differently after his accident; he was one of the few friends from before the accident that Jared was still speaking to.
“Yeah, I’m good, just work tomorrow, man. I figured this client I have was going to be a long session and set it for the morning. We can’t all be like you, who usually only has to deal with walk-ins,” Jared joked, downing half his beer in only a few swallows.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, boss. I’ll call you in the morning then? Unless, you wanted to go somewhere else?” Jensen asked, obviously knowing Jared was uncomfortable in this place.
“Enjoy yourself here, Jensen, just don’t be late for work tomorrow, though!” he ordered, slapping Jensen on the thigh, as you would normally do to a friends shoulder, before making his way out, his beer left unfinished.
As soon as Jared was outside, he paused and breathed in the fresh air, glad to be out of the confined space. Jared lifted himself into his custom modified mustang and, with practiced ease, got his wheelchair folded and into the backseat just as easily. He used a combination of hand pedals for accelerating and breaking and a slightly modified steering wheel for turning and switching on and off the blinkers and lights, and while it may have looked confusing, it hadn’t really taken him all that long to get use to it. It gave him the independence to travel wherever he wanted without waiting on someone else.
It wasn’t a long drive. He had his music turned up loud, and the traffic was light, so it wasn’t long before he reached his large studio apartment, which was located on the first floor of the apartment block and even had its own garden area sectioned off just for him and his dogs. His apartment was spacious, giving him enough room to move around in his chair, and was mostly modified so everything was within Jared’s reach; enabling him not only to cook for himself and his friends but also to support himself in his own home without anyone’s help. A few years ago, all of what he had seemed liked an impossible dream, driving and living by himself. He never would have thought it, but now, he was more independent than half of his friends.
Opening the door, he was greeted by two large, brown dogs. They jumped up on their hind legs and greeted their master with enthusiastic tongues and wagging tails.
“Harley, Sadie, down!” Jared ordered, laughing as he tried to prevent his chair from rolling backwards. His two dogs had been given to him only last year by a dog assistance program he supported. Both of them had failed the test to become full assistance dogs, but he didn’t really need their help so just promised to give them a good home. It didn’t hurt though that they were already so well trained, just a little too enthusiastic. Jared gave his dogs some attention before pushing them away and heading towards the kitchen to get their food. He lay two bowls down, smiling as he watched them scoff it all down, giving them one last pat before deciding to get some more work done.
Leaving his dogs alone, he wheeled himself over to his desk and retrieved his pile of papers, settling in for a few hours of work before getting ready for bed. He had a new client coming in tomorrow, a friend of Jensen’s, who he had never met before. He had simply called last week, the husky voiced man asking for a simple tribal. Jared had said yes immediately, anything for a friend of a friend, and they had talked for a few hours, detailing the design, and then, somehow moving on to other topics.
They hadn’t spoken since, but Jared was still looking forward to meeting this guy; they had clicked instantly in the span of one phone call. Jared smiled at the idea of meeting Jensen’s friend, but he kept himself in check, shaking his head as he returned to the job at hand. He had several tracings and designs laid out. Some he liked; others he didn’t, but it didn’t really matter what he thought, as long as the client was satisfied.
Jared got lost in his art, sketching and designing, not stopping until he was completely satisfied by his work, his muscles protested and bones cracked, his body not being able to stay so still for so long anymore, but he continued to push himself. He pushed the balls of his hand into his eyes, rubbing out the tiredness, before pushing away from the desk. Looking at his watch, he decided that 2am was a good enough time to call it quits.
He made his way to his gym and decided on only doing an hour’s worth of exercise. He had various weighing dumbbells, resistance ropes and bands, and exercise balls all lined up on one side of the room. His automatic exercise equipment, most driven by a torque system that allowed him to work out his legs, were all scattered around, giving him enough room to move around with his chair. Jared spent most of his time lifting weights, building up the upper body strength he needed to move around, but he also worked his legs, keeping them toned and muscular, always taking pride in his appearance, strength and physique. Had he not been paralyzed, the only difference in Jared’s appearance would be seen in the presence of the chair he was confined to.
After an hour’s workout, Jared then made his way to his bathroom. He stopped next to the shower and started removing his clothes, the t-shirt lifting to reveal a montage of tattoos. His two colorful, full-length sleeves covered every inch of his well muscular arms and even included chest plates, and his back had barely any clean skin left; his ribs and hips were also covered. Shucking off his jeans with practiced ease revealed that, while the rest of his body was all but covered in tattoos, his legs, however, only displayed one.
It was his very first. He stroked the small wings of his tattoo on his upper right thigh, the sleek black ink blatantly obvious against his pale skin, still expecting to be able to feel his fingers against his skin, even after 6 years of being disabled. The raven’s head was turned up, and the beady eye staring right back at Jared, the wings stretched out and ready for flight, but just not ready to yet. It may be old and fading, but he never got it reworked. He loved it the way it was, and in his eyes, it was perfect.
Jared sighed before hefting his weight and transferring his body onto the seat in the shower using the specially installed grip bars. He turned on the water and waited for it to heat before starting to clean the day’s grime off of him. The warm water did wonders for his tired and abused body, the muscles unknotting and, eventually, relaxing.
Jared soon turned the water off, grabbing the towel off the nearby shelf and patted himself dry before grabbing his clean boxers and slipping them on. He gingerly transferred himself back to his chair and wheeled himself into his bedroom, clicking the lights off as he went in both the bathroom and his bedroom. Jared situated himself beside his bed in the dark, pushing the breaks down and moving himself on to his bed, leaving his wheelchair locked beside the bed.
Jared let out a quick and sharp whistle, calling his two dogs to him; “Sadie, Harley! Come!” Jared called out, waiting only moments until his dogs burst into the room. They both leaped up onto his bed and settled in for the night; Jared taking a few minutes to manually stretch his legs before doing the same. This was his routine, the way he lived his life day in and day out, and most of the times he wouldn’t ever dream of changing it for anything in the world. Most of the time.
Next Chapter | Masterpost