Drifting Through Doorways Chapter 4
“True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen.”
― François de La Rouchefoucauld
IV.
Thursday, October 24
Jared sat in the driver’s seat of his late husband’s 1983 Ford Thunderbird and tried to make sense of his life. It was only 10:30 AM, but Jared felt exhausted. It had been one hell of a morning. As usual, he’d been blindsided by his moment of forget-remember-mourn, but then he’d remembered his dreams. And what vivid dreams they had been.
There had been a short moment of elation when Jared realized that he’d dreamt of Jensen for the first time in over a year. These dreams had been strange in that they’d been more memories than anything else - memories of being at the wake and how Jensen’s friends had physically pulled him away from the coffin and then the night of the funeral. Jared blamed the strange nature of dreams and his own masochistic mind for supplanting a ghostly Jensen in both scenarios. It was when Jared saw Jensen that he realized he was dreaming. For one, the real Jensen would never look at Jared as if he were a stranger. Still, Jared found himself staring at Jensen - familiarizing himself with the green of his eyes and his freckles. It had been distressing to realize how many small details he’d forgotten.
The day of the funeral had prefaced the worst night of Jared’s life. After the ceremony, he’d insisted that Chad drive him back to Austin and let him be alone in his apartment. Chad had caved on the driving but refused to leave Jared alone to rot in his apartment (Chad’s words, poorly chosen in Jared’s opinion). He ended up crashing on Jared’s couch and stayed there a few days, only leaving for fresh clothes and food. That night though, Jared had sobbed himself to sleep like a child; not caring who heard him and not allowing Chad to offer him any sort of comfort.
Strangely, the funeral had been harder to get through than the day Jensen had actually died - then, there’d been a cushion of shock to keep Jared alert and going. The funeral was supposed to provide closure; all it did was reinforce the reality that Jensen was never coming back. Some people said they could feel their loved one’s presence after they died, like they were watching over them. Jared felt nothing. No, that wasn’t completely true. Jared felt completely alone.
His hands shook, and he flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, making the cheap vinyl cover shift and complain. He rested his head on his hands and tried to remember to breathe. Perhaps Misha had been right. Perhaps the reason Jared hadn’t dreamt of Jensen was because he couldn’t handle the memories they’d dredge up.
Jared turned the key in the ignition and was surprised when the car started. It had always been a crapshoot whether the car would start or not, and before Jensen had died he’d made murmurings about needing to replace the battery terminals. Jared was pretty sure there was a clamp under the hood somewhere holding something important together, but he had no idea what or where. He didn’t dare to drive it even though it had started - he’d let the insurance lapse and the tags were expired. Chad had tried exactly once to try to convince Jared to sell the car and with the fight that ensued - well, Chad never brought it up again.
“I’m not crazy,” Jared breathed over the soft rumble of the engine. “That was Jensen. It was.” He felt his eyes sting, because hearing Jensen again - even if it meant he was being haunted - was the most beautiful thing Jared had ever heard. Still, the way Jensen hadn’t seemed to know Jared in the dreams last night and then again this morning left Jared unsettled. Could Jensen have forgotten him?
“Maybe I am crazy,” Jared muttered. He glanced at the clock on the car stereo and realized he’d been sitting in the car for a half hour now, trying to get his head on straight. He wanted to talk to Chad. He needed to see Chad, and to look him in the eye when he told him about this so he could be sure that Chad didn’t think he was crazy. But what if I am? Jared turned off the Thunderbird and locked it before climbing into his own SUV. He reminded himself that today was Thursday and Chad would be at work. Jared took a deep breath and started his car.
Jared was surprised that he still remembered how to get to Chad’s school. After all, it had been over a year since he’d been there and since it was Chad’s place of employment, Jared had never had much reason to visit. Still, he did find it and parked his SUV in the back of the parking lot.
What was more amazing was the secretary in the office who actually remembered Jared. She was a plump, pleasant woman with red curls and an adorable smile, and she handed Jared a visitor’s pass and waved him on back.
“Usually we call them up here for visitors but the kids are at recess, so go on back,” she’d said. Jared thanked her and draped the visitor’s pass lanyard around his neck. Chad’s classroom was the last door on the right.
Jared ducked into the classroom and found Chad immediately. Judging by the amount of paper, glitter and other sundry items glued to the tables and to Chad himself, Jared surmised he just missed arts and crafts time. Chad looked up in surprise and his lips split in a grin.
“Jare? Jared!” Chad was all exuberance as he rounded his desk to come greet Jared properly. “Oh my God, you left your apartment! I’d hug you, but . . .” He held out his hands, which were covered in the aforementioned glitter and possibly bits of feathers.
“Wow, do you teach kids or Tasmanian devils?” Jared asked wryly, and Chad laughed louder than was probably necessary.
“I kind of wonder that myself some days,” he smiled. “Kids are at recess right now. What’s up?”
This was the part of the conversation Jared was dreading.
“Something happened this morning, and I kind of needed to talk to you about it. Face to face. God, you’re gonna think I’m crazy-“
Chad arched one eyebrow and the corner of his mouth turned up a bit. There were so many things Chad could say right now, all true, and none of which argued favorably for Jared’s sanity. After all, he’d become a recluse; well on his way to agoraphobia if his foster mother was correct. Still, Jared did leave his apartment, even if it was usually just to get Chad off his back about it, or to go visit Misha at the flower shop.
“Yeah, ok,” Jared continued, wanting to acknowledge Chad’s look without starting an argument about it. “Just - do you believe in ghosts?”
Chad blinked exactly three times. Twice fast, once slow, and then he stared at Jared for a few seconds. He opened his mouth, furrowed his brow, closed his mouth and seemed to think for a few more seconds before opening his mouth again. This time it was accompanied by one finger held up. One more false start later and it seemed Chad had finally found the words he wanted to say.
“Jared, wait. Ghosts? As in Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore?”
“No, not like that. Like, have you ever heard of a ghost you can only hear?”
“Jared, what’s really going on? I’m not going to call you crazy, but you can’t be vague about something like this - what are you getting at, exactly? Did you mess around with an Ouija Board? Holy shit, did you do a séance to talk to J-”
“Shut up, Chad,” Jared said with a frown. He supposed those were logical assumptions based on how he prefaced the conversation, but still - Chad should have known Jared better than to think he’d actually try something like an Ouija Board or a séance. The joking expression fell off Chad’s face so quickly it was as if it were never there in the first place.
“Jared, are you really hearing things? Hearing Jensen?”
Jared didn’t answer. Instead he looked at his shoes. He felt Chad’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, he knew, but it felt oppressive. He shrugged it off.
“Okay,” Chad said, more to himself than to Jared. “Okay, we can deal with this. Um, I think - let me talk to someone, get some info for you and when I come over tonight we’ll talk about this some more, okay? We’re going to figure this out. You’re not crazy, Jared, but I think we might need some, um, professional help on this one.”
“I don’t want to see a shrink!” Jared was suddenly on the defensive. He backed away from Chad just as the school bell rang to call the kids in from recess.
“I didn’t say a shrink, Jare,” Chad said, holding his hands up. Small kids started to pour into the room and Chad directed his attention to them.
“Alright, kiddos,” he said with a smile. “This is my brother, Jared. Say hi. Now, who wants to ask my brother questions?”
About twenty little faces peered up at Jared and one of the kids raised his hand. Apparently it was question and answer time.
“Yes, Andy,” Chad said.
“Are you a giant?” the kid asked. Jared couldn’t help but smile.
“Not quite,” Jared said. Another kid raised her hand.
“Yes, Kylie?” Chad pointed at her.
“Is your brother mean to you? My brother is mean to me.”
“He’s a little mean sometimes,” Jared said with a smirk aimed at Chad.
“Hey!” Chad said, affronted. “I am not! I’m a great brother!”
“Yeah, he is,” Jared affirmed. Who wants me to see a shrink, he thought. Another little hand shot up.
“Why don’t you look alike?” the little boy shouted out, not waiting to be called on.
“Well,” Chad answered slowly. “That’s because I was adopted. Who knows what that means? Also, Trevor, you really ought to wait to be called on before you shout out your question, okay?”
“Okay, Mr. Murray,” the kid grumbled. Chad called on another little girl to answer the adoption question.
“My mama told me that kids who were ‘dopted don’t got mamas and daddies so they find mamas and daddies who want them.” She looked proud of herself for answering as Chad nodded. “And then the stork takes them to the right place because they were probably at the wrong place anyway, if there wasn’t a mama or a daddy for them.”
Jared couldn’t help but laugh at that, imagining a six-year-old Chad being delivered via stork to the Murray’s door.
“Good job, Angie,” Chad said. “Okay, one more question and then Jared has to go, alright?”
“Do you like cereal?” another kid didn’t wait to be called on and didn’t wait for an answer before he shoved what looked like a handful of Froot Loops into his mouth and started chewing.
“Um, yeah?” it wasn’t a question Jared expected to answer, pretty much ever. Chad laughed and said, “Okay, I’ll see you later.” He was smiling, but Jared could see serious worry in his eyes. Jared felt a little guilty about being the cause of that worry. He waved goodbye to the kids and on his way out heard Chad telling the kid that it wasn’t snack time. By the upset noises the kid started making, Jared would almost bet that a tantrum was on the way. He smiled, softly. Better Chad than him. Nothing to do now but wait until Chad came over after work and hope his apartment stayed silent until then. Never in a million years did Jared think he wouldn’t want to hear Jensen’s voice.
“Jensen?” Jared called as he entered his apartment. He’d driven straight back to the apartment after meeting with Chad. For a moment he’d considered dropping into HEB, the local grocery store, to pick up some snacks but a white flare of panic quickly changed his mind and he’d driven straight home. Now here, he wished he’d gone ahead and made the stop.
Taking a deep breath, Jared closed the door and looked around to see if anything was amiss. Was he really being haunted?
“Jensen?” Jared tried again, and when no response was forthcoming he breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, noting the time before setting it down on his coffee table. It was lunchtime - which seemed odd to Jared, that a day so strange as the day had been should have a lunchtime. His stomach growled its displeasure and he went to the freezer, taking out two hot pockets and popping them in the microwave to cook. He wrinkled his nose, trying to remember the last time he’d had an honest-to-goodness home cooked meal. He couldn’t. Looking around the kitchen, he suddenly wanted that more than anything, but the kitchen needed a good cleaning before he could even begin to start planning a meal.
He looked around with what he hoped was an unbiased eye, hardly believing he’d let it get to this state. Sure, Chad had been helping Jared keep the kitchen usable, but usable wasn’t exactly clean. Jared rolled up his sleeves, wondering where his sudden desire to clean the house came from. Perhaps having Jensen here, even if it was just his disembodied voice, had spurred Jared into action. Before, he’d never had allowed his living space to look like this - and he’d have died from embarrassment if Jensen had seen it like this. The microwave beeped and Jared made quick work of the Hot Pockets, and then spent the rest of the day cleaning up his kitchen.
Chad knocked on Jared’s door around five that evening. Jared gave one final glance around the kitchen and smiled to himself as he went to open the door. Honestly, Jared was a little surprised that Chad had knocked rather than just barge in as was normal. Shrugging it off, Jared answered the door and let Chad into the apartment. Chad bounded in and looked around, coming to a full stop when he saw the clean kitchen.
“Did you?” Chad managed to sputter out those two words and made up for the lack of verbosity by gesturing wildly at the kitchen.
“Yeah, I did, “ Jared said with a smile. “I wanted to cook an actual meal and I couldn’t do it in that mess.”
Chad arched an eyebrow. “You wanted to cook? Something besides Top Ramen or mac and cheese?” He looked around slowly, as if looking for something to explain this sudden change in Jared’s behavior.
“Yeah,” Jared said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I’m cooking very basic lasagna - pretty much just noodles, sauce and cheese. I - I thought you’d be happy to see it. I thought maybe you’d want to have dinner here, with me, while we talked.”
“Of course!” Chad was exuberant once again but Jared doubted his sincerity. “Sounds better than Jack in the Box, which is what I planned on grabbing tonight. So, lay it on me Jare - you wanted to talk about ghosts with me?”
Jared grimaced. He hadn’t heard Jensen since that morning and he was really starting to wonder if it wasn’t the product of his over-reactive imagination. After that dream he’d had last night, he wouldn’t be surprised.
“Um,” he started. “You know what? Let’s wait on that conversation until after dinner?”
“Okay,” Chad said. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the arm of the couch. Jared noticed little dark splotches on the fabric and figured it must be raining outside. Sure enough, when he went to the tall, narrow kitchen window and slanted the blinds, he saw raindrops gently hitting the window.
“I didn’t realize it was raining,” Jared said, and Chad scoffed.
“It’s not rain if it’s not a downpour,” he said. “Besides, it only just started, and you know what they say - if you don’t like the weather in Texas. . . “
“Wait five minutes,” Jared finished up the familiar phrase that was one of his foster father’s favorites. Jared always thought it was a little silly, but it had been proven true time and again. Chad laughed.
“Exactly, bro. Exactly. Anyway, how close is dinner to being done? I’m starving?”
As if on cue, Jared’s kitchen timer rang out its tinny alarm and Jared retrieved the lasagna.
“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t burn it.”
“Miracles never cease,” Chad quipped. “You don’t burn food, Jared. Ever. What made you think it would start now?”
“I don’t know,” Jared responded, feeling sheepish. “I guess I just thought that it had been so long-“
“Pretty sure it’s like riding a bike,” Chad rebutted. “Can we eat now?”
“Yeah if you don’t mind blisters on your tongue. Let it cool a few minutes.”
“So, you gonna do the rest of the apartment like you did the kitchen?” Chad asked, looking around. Jared gave it a cursory glance.
“It’s not as bad as the kitchen was,” Jared said. Then he thought of Jensen again, haunting the place (maybe) and decided it wouldn’t hurt to pick up a few things. Jared walked back to the kitchen and dished up two plates of food, depositing them on the table. Chad immediately dove in. Jared tasted his, and was pleasantly surprised by how it turned out.
“So,” Chad said. “Talk to me about ghosts.”
Jared looked up at Chad with wide eyes and Chad narrowed his own. “Oh no, Jare, you can’t fix me with the puppy dog eyes right away.”
“Promise me you won’t think I’m crazy,” Jared said. Chad’s brow furrowed.
“Okay, Jared, I can’t promise you that I won’t think you’re crazy, but I can promise not to have you thrown into the Psych Ward at the Texas State Hospital.”
Jared arched an eyebrow at Chad.
“Okay, okay,” Chad sounded a little surly now. “You at least got a beer for me? I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
“You’ve gone with me whenever I bought groceries,” Jared said.
“Your point?” Chad shot back.
“My point,” Jared said with exasperation, “is you know I haven’t bought beer since Jensen died.”
It was true, too. Jared had pretty much given up drinking. Not for any noble cause or anything like that, but more for the reason that Jared found himself unbearably maudlin anymore when drinking. All it seemed to do was open up every scar and let it bleed as if it was a fresh wound and he’d end up crying in his pillow all night. Because of this, Jared just stopped drinking since it didn’t offer him the oblivion that every book, movie and TV show had practically guaranteed would happen. Drown your sorrows, my ass, Jared thought. More like, drown in your sorrows.
Chad was staring at Jared now, waiting for him to say something else.
“I heard Jensen this morning,” Jared finally said, figuring it was better to just put it out there, like ripping off a band-aid.
Chad took a deep breath and leaned forward. Jared gave him a minute to process that, but waited anxiously for his response.
“When you say you heard Jensen, what do you mean?” Chad was talking slowly. Jared felt a flare of irritation - he wasn’t a child, Chad didn’t need to speak to him as if he were.
“I mean I heard him, just like I can hear you right now, sitting across the table from me. I just can’t see him,” Jared searched Chad’s expression for a reaction, but Chad’s face was carefully neutral. Another long moment passed.
“Are you hearing him now?” Chad asked.
Jared leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table and threading his fingers through his hair. He exhaled slowly.
“You think I’m crazy,” he breathed. “Shit, Chad, I shouldn’t have said anything. I know - I know it’s impossible. I dreamed about Jensen last night, for the first time since he died and then I heard his voice this morning, clear as day. Am I crazy? Am I going crazy, Chad? I-“
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Chad said, reaching out and placing a hand on Jared’s shoulder. The warmth from the touch seeped through the fabric of Jared’s shirt. It helped center Jared and bring him back into the realm of rational thought. “I do not think you are crazy, okay? I don’t know that I believe that you actually heard Jensen, though. I mean, what are the odds? I don’t even know if I believe in ghosts, man. And if he was a ghost, why would he turn up now, a year after he’s been gone?”
“I don’t know, Chad,” Jared replied, and had to try real hard to keep the surliness out of his voice. “I don’t know how ghost time works. Maybe for him it’s only been a couple of days. Or maybe it’s been a couple of lifetimes. Oh God, maybe that’s why he didn’t know me.”
“He didn’t know you?” Chad looked perplexed. “What do you mean?”
“Let me start over,” Jared said, removing his hands from his hair and setting them on the table, one on top of the other. “Last night, I dreamt of Jensen. I haven’t dreamt of him since before it happened. Did I tell you that?” Jared didn’t wait for Chad’s response before continuing. “Anyway, it was weird, because it was just all the memories, you know? Like of the funeral and that night in the apartment when you brought me home - only Jensen was there. And he looked so confused, and didn’t remember me at all.”
“So you dreamed about-“
“Let me finish,” Jared interrupted, holding up a finger as if to shush Chad. Chad frowned. “Then, this morning, after I got up I could hear Jensen talking. He - he said he couldn’t see me, and he still didn’t know who I was. Anyway, I was thinking - what if Jensen’s been here this whole year and I just now started to be able to hear him? What if that’s the reason I haven’t been able to move on?”
Chad was still frowning and Jared started drumming his fingers on the table. Patience was not one of his virtues. Jared doubted it ever had been.
“I don’t know what to say, Jared. Do you hear him right now? Or was it just this morning? Could you have been sleepwalking?”
Now it was Jared’s turn to frown as he thought about what Chad had suggested. He supposed sleepwalking could be an explanation, but Jared didn’t feel like that was the case.
“No, I’m not hearing him right now. Actually, I only heard him this morning and he wasn’t just talking to me. He was talking to someone named Al. Could he have a ghost friend?”
“Oh, certainly,” said Chad. “Ghosts always buddy up with each other. Jensen was probably having him over for tea and crumpets. Jared, are you listening to yourself? Really?”
“If you’re gonna be an asshole then you can leave,” Jared snapped. “It’s not like I have anyone else I can talk to about this, you know. Your mom would have me committed.”
Chad arched one eyebrow and Jared could tell he was about to say something asinine, because he bit his lip and looked constipated. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m trying to believe you. I really am, Jare, but you gotta admit this sounds pretty far-fetched.”
“I know,” Jared said, and left it at that. “Hey, how’s the lasagna?”
Chad looks at his plate as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Oh, it’s good,” he says, deliberately picking up a forkful and putting it in his mouth. He chewed slowly. Jared did the same. Neither looked at the other, both lost in their own thoughts. It was then Jared heard the front door open. His head jerked over in the direction of the front door, and he craned his neck to see around the partition that divided the dining room from the living room and kitchen.
“Did you hear that?” Jared asked, standing. “It sounded like the front door just opened.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Chad said. “But you should go check, maybe it was ghosts.”
Jared scowled at Chad and contemplated taking away his plate of lasagna. Chad would certainly hear the door if Jared was closing it forcefully behind him. Instead of acting on his annoyance, however, Jared walked into the kitchen where he could see the front door. It was shut, locked and latched properly.
“That was weird,” he muttered to himself.
“Kind of your MO for the day, Jare,” Chad said and Jared revisited his earlier scowl, casting it over his shoulder and hoping Chad saw it. Chad didn’t. Jared moved closer to the door. He had heard it open, was sure of it, and then, while Jared stood there staring at a closed, locked door, he heard it shut again. He felt his heartbeat speed up and his breathing grow shallow.
The sound of someone getting a good stretch and yawn filled the apartment, along with a soft rustling sound that Jared would have sworn was someone taking off a jacket, or a coat. “God, it’s good to be home,” Jensen said softly, as if he were talking to himself.
“Chad!” Jared shouted, smacking his hand down on the counter in his excitement.
“Sweet Jesus on a jackrabbit!” Jensen colorfully swore. “Jared. You scared the bejeezus outta me. Still here, huh?”
Jared couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter that escaped him. Jensen was back, and now Chad would have to believe him. Chad peered at Jared through the archway that joined the dining room to the kitchen. His eyes were owl-wide as he crept slowly into the kitchen.
“Listen, Chad, it’s Jensen!” Jared said with a smile.
“Who’s Chad now?” Jensen asked , and Jared’s smile faltered a little.
“You don’t remember Chad?” Jared asked, perplexed. “Jensen, what do you remember?” Jared turned to Chad. “He doesn’t remember you.”
“Chad who?” Jensen inquired at the same time Chad started to talk to Jared.
“Yeah, I kind of got that,” Chad said dryly. “Thing is, Jared, you’re kind of talking to yourself here. I don’t hear anyone.”
Jared opened his mouth about three times before any words came out.
“Chad who?” Jensen repeated.
“Chad Michael Murray,” Jared clarified and Chad started to look scared. His eyes darted around the room.
“Never heard of - wait, Chad Michael Murray the actor?” Jensen sounded disbelieving.
“Chad, can you seriously not hear this?” Jared asked, frantic. “Jensen, say something. Please?”
“I’m seriously losing my fracking mind,” Jensen muttered. Chad shook his head and Jared felt his knees grow weak.
“Chad’s not an actor - he’s a teacher. He’s - he’s my brother.” Jared took two plodding steps over to the kitchen counter and all but collapsed on it. Jared folded himself in half and rested his head on his crossed forearms.
“An actor? Jared, what are you talking about?” Chad wanted to know. He sidled up next to Jared and rubbed his hand on the larger man’s back in big, soothing circles. “Are you really hearing Jensen right now?”
Jared nodded but didn’t lift his head to look at Chad.
“Okay, Jared, we can deal with this. Hey, look at me,” Chad’s voice had become pleading. “First we need to figure out if you’re really hearing something or if something else is going on. I’ll help you, okay? It’ll be alright.”
That did prompt Jared to raise his head and look at Chad. “I just wish you could hear him - prove that I’m not crazy, you know?”
“If anyone’s crazy,” Jensen said, “it’s me. Or maybe you, too, since I’m apparently having hallucinations.”
“I thought you couldn’t see me?” Jared said. “I can’t be a hallucination if you can’t see me.”
“Auditory hallucination, then,” Jensen clarified.
“I’m not a hallucination, Jensen!” Jared bellowed, clearly upset. Chad took a few steps away. “You’re a ghost!” Jared started pacing back and forth, trying to curb the frustration coiling tight in his belly. Fate wouldn’t do this to him, right? Give him Jensen back in this way?
“I’m not dead!” Jensen retorted. “Great, the voice in my head wants me to kill myself.”
“Jared, calm down,” Chad said, stilling Jared with a hand set lightly on his shoulder.
“I’m trying, Chad,” Jared said. “I really am.”
“I know, Jare, I know,” Chad spoke slowly, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal.
“Hey, um, Jared?” Jensen sounds tentative, unsure. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Jared said, softly now. He turned to face Chad. “I’m not crazy. I’ve never heard voices before. So, before we ship me off to a shrink or have me committed, can we maybe try to deal with this as if I’m completely sane?”
Jared heard Jensen scoff, and then footfalls as if Jensen was walking down the hallway towards the bedroom or bathroom. Jared ran a hand through his hair. “Do you really, really not hear that?”
Chad’s expression softened.
“I don’t, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here,” he said, and Jared could see so many of those doubts reflected in Chad’s blue eyes. “Just promise me if whatever we do doesn’t work, you’ll see a doctor.”
Jared nodded. It was more of a concession than he’d expected.
Jared didn’t hear from Jensen for the rest of the evening. Jared didn’t know where ghosts went when they weren’t being disembodied voices, but he thought he had heard footsteps echo Chad’s as Chad left, promising to call out of work the next day and be back first thing in the morning. Jared cleaned up dinner (which was sadly mostly uneaten). He put the leftovers in the fridge and spent the rest of the night watching inane reality shows. Around 10 PM, he decided to call it a night.
For Jared, trying to fall asleep was the second worst part of each day. Jared brushed his teeth and washed his face. Usually he’d exit the bathroom and immediately change into his pajamas, but tonight he stared in the mirror of the bathroom and wondered if he really was hearing Jensen’s ghost, of all things, or if he was crazy. He looked himself in the eyes.
I don’t think I look crazy, he thought, but then, do crazy people know they’re crazy? I should ask Misha. Jared frowned. That actually wasn’t a half bad idea. If anyone would be open to this new level of strangeness in his life, it would be Misha. With his love of theories and conspiracies it would actually make sense to consult with him. Jared made up his mind to visit him either tomorrow or the day after, depending on whether Chad helped him figure any of this out. Somehow, he doubted Chad would be much help.
Jared abandoned the bathroom and changed into his pajamas, turned off the light, slipped between the sheets of his bed and tried to get comfortable. As was his nightly ritual, he rolled over and buried his face in Jensen’s pillow.
There was still the faintest trace of Jensen’s scent there, and Jared wondered how long he had until that, too, faded away. Wondered when he’d stop being able to remember the minute details of Jensen’s face and the way the corners of his eyes would crease when he laughed. He realized with anguish that, until this morning, he could no longer easily bring Jensen’s voice to mind - the soft, gentle tones when he was being tender or the deep, gravelly voice he used when he took control. That voice could send shivers down Jared’s spine and arouse him in an instant; made him willing to do whatever Jensen asked of him.
Jared had shared so many nights in this bed with Jensen spread out under him, hips thrusting up against his own, eyes glazed over with pleasure and lips bitten red and spit-wet. So damn sexy. Jared felt a halfhearted twitch in his pajama pants at the memory, but as usual, nothing came of it. Jared hadn’t bothered jerking off since Jensen was killed. Oh, he still woke up with morning wood, but he just didn’t have the motivation to deal with it and let it go away on its own, or killed it with cold water in the shower.
Jared was nearly asleep when he heard a very familiar sigh and hitch of breath. His eyes shot open and he looked around wildly for the source before memory kicked in. That was Jensen, aroused and touching himself. Jared could picture it in his mind - Jensen, naked, trailing his fingers up the underside of his own cock to tease at the head, his eyes closed as he lost himself in sensation. Jared knew the sounds by heart and hadn’t ever expected to hear it again. He thought, ridiculously, that he didn’t know that ghosts jerked off. Jared’s own cock twitched and he grew half-hard at the memory. He lay there quiet; somehow he knew that if he said anything that the sounds would stop, and he wanted to hear. He needed to hear.
Jared longed to see and touch. Jensen had always been pretty quiet about things when flying solo, unless he was putting on a show - which was usually done by request only. Jared loved to watch Jensen touch himself, bring himself to the brink of orgasm and then ask Jensen to stop touching. Jared would then take over, teasing and touching until Jensen got loud and begged for release, for Jared to fuck him into next week or at least through the mattress.
Jared heard the familiar sound of hands on flesh; soft slapping and quickening breaths. Jared was amazed to feel himself grow fully hard, and before he could help himself he started moving against the bed, seeking friction. He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his lips and Jared silently cursed when he heard Jensen still.
“Great,” he heard Jensen mutter. There was a soft rustling of fabric which must have been Jensen shifting in the sheets. “My delusion is watching me get off. Jared? Is that you?”
“I can’t see you, Jensen,” Jared said, his mouth twisting up into a wry attempt at a smile. “I can hear you though. You sound so hot, touching yourself like that. Please don’t stop - I haven’t heard you in so long. Please?” Jared’s hips were undulating against the mattress harder now, and he realized it was getting kind of pathetic. He should have just rolled over and taken matters in hand, as it were, but he was afraid that if he moved the spell would be broken and he wouldn’t be able to hear Jensen anymore.
“Yeah?” asked Jensen’s ghost, a little breathlessly, as if having Jared listen appealed to his exhibitionist side. “You wanna hear me come? Cause I gotta tell you, I’m close.”
“Yes, please let me hear you come. God, please. What are you thinking about?” Jared’s own voice sounded a little broken and breathless.
“Honestly?” Jensen said, and Jared could hear his amusement. “I was thinking about you. You know, if I’m gonna have delusions, I’m glad they’re hot ones.”
“Delusions? As in plural?” Jared felt jealous and at the same time terrified that there might be other ghosts hanging out in his bedroom, watching him or worse, watching Jensen.
“Well, no, not really,” Jensen said. “You’re the only one I’m talking to and dreaming about and stuff. Do you think I’m schizophrenic?”
“You’re not schizophrenic, Jensen,” Jared said, the jealousy gone. “But I think you’re neglecting something.”
There was a short pause, and then Jared heard Jensen say, “Ah, so I am.” There came that sigh again, and the soft hitch of breath, and Jared knew Jensen was touching himself again. Jared’s own erection, which had started to flag, was suddenly back in full force.
“Louder, Jensen,” Jared demanded, wanting to hear. Jensen moaned a little, and Jared knew it was strictly for his benefit. “God, I wish I could touch you - I know just how to touch you to make you loud. Wish I could taste you.”
Jensen gasped and increased the speed of his strokes. Jared felt his own balls draw up tight and he wondered if he was actually going to come just from listening to Jensen and from the friction he was getting from the bed.
“Yeah, just like that,” Jared said, and Jensen bit off a curse as he came with a cry. Jared’s own release snuck up on him and it was amazing. It was, quite possibly, the most intense orgasm of his life and Jared felt like it wasn’t ever going to stop. He lay on the bed, boneless and panting when a fresh wave of sorrow washed over him.
Jared was both surprised and horrified to find he was crying, again goddammit, because he may have got to hear Jensen come again, but it was his ghost, his fucking ghost. Jensen was dead and never coming back. The tears were silent though, and they soaked into Jensen’s pillow, following the same path as so many tears before them.
In the next moment, Jared was asleep.
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