Fic: Gunpoint. AU RPS. Jensen/Jared. Chapter 3
Masterpost
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Epilogue | Author's notes | Soundtrack | AO3
Chapter 3
September 1999
“How old are you, Jensen?”
He shrugs. She knows he’s ten, it says so right there on the file in front of her.
“Your mom tells me you keep having nightmares. Do you want to talk about them?”
He shakes his head.
“You know, Jensen, being afraid is nothing to be ashamed of. But it might help if you talk about the things that scare you.”
He shakes his head again, picking at a hole in his jeans. He’s not scared. Only kids are scared and he’s not a kid anymore.
Outside the open window a car door slams shut and Jensen goes rigid in his seat. In the silence that follows all that can be heard is the sound of yellow drops hitting the floor.
------------
Present day
“If I ask you something do you promise not to bite my head off?”
Jensen glances up from his book, frowning. Chris looks worried, nervous even, and that’s saying something considering all the spats they’ve had over the years.
“You and Jared, have you...” Chris stops, eyes shifting. “Maybe you should get tested,” he finally blurts out. “Just in case.”
Jensen stares at him, stunned.
“You’ve been blowing guys all over campus, man,” Chris continues. His face is red, but when he finally manages to meet Jensen’s eyes his gaze is steady, determined. “Not sure how much you listened in sex ed but that’s not safe, okay? Even if you used protection. Did you? I do your laundry, man, and I’ve never found condoms or wrappers in your pockets.”
Jensen bristles. What the fuck? Who the hell does Chris think he is, his mother? With a snarl Jensen throws his book at the wall right by Chris’s head, so hard it leaves a mark in the wallpaper. To Chris’s credit he hardly even flinches.
“Look...” he starts but Jensen just flips him the middle finger before jumping up from the couch, furious. Like hell he’s gonna listen to this.
“It’s raining,” Chris points out.
Jensen stops with his hand on the doorknob, frozen in place. The walls seem to shift, closing in on him, and he starts to shake, the need to get away clashing with his fear of what’s out there. He doesn’t put it past Chris to have chosen this exact moment to speak up, because he knew Jensen couldn’t get away. Bastard.
Jensen squeezes his eyes shut and tells his claustrophobia to back the fuck off. It’s just Chris. They’re at home. The lights are on. There are windows. The doorknob turns easily in his hand. He still has the option of going out into the hall if he wants to. Holding his breath he opens his eyes again and then slowly lets the air out of his lungs. Okay. Okay. He’s okay.
“I’m not...” Chris sighs. “I’m not judging you, okay? I’m just worried. I want you to have this, this thing with Jared. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. But come on, Jensen. Jared is eighteen years old. You’re the first guy he’s ever been with. The only guy. You don’t want to fuck up his life by giving him an STD, do you?”
He hadn’t thought of that. Fuck. Because Chris is right. On all accounts. He hasn’t been using protection. If he’d been craving latex in his mouth he could just as well suck on a condom and be done with it. He likes the taste of dick. Salty, tangy, the skin soft, like silk against his tongue. It’s why he does it. Well, one of the reasons anyway. Plus fuck safety, not like he was looking forward to a long prosperous life anyway.
Except now there’s Jared. And he really doesn’t want anything to happen to Jared.
Taking a deep breath Jensen turns around, licking at his dry lips. He shakes his head.
Chris breathes out. “Okay. Good. You two haven’t... Not yet, right?”
Jensen shakes his head again. His cheeks are burning. He has no idea why. Not like he hasn’t flaunted his sexcapades in Chris’s face often enough.
Chris smiles, clearly relieved. “I’ll make an appointment, okay? I’ll go with you, talk to the doctors, everything. Just let me handle it.”
Jensen nods. He feels a little sick. Before he didn’t care. Before it didn’t matter. Now it does. Now it matters a whole lot. Even if they never... He needs to know he can, health wise, even if turns out he’s so emotionally fucked up he’ll stay a virgin for the rest of his life.
Presuming he still is one.
--------------
They’ve been going out for a couple of weeks now. Jared’s not sure whether it can be called dating although they do kiss, on occasion, and sometimes Jensen will grab his hand and hold on like he’s worried Jared will suddenly change his mind and walk away.
But it’s not exactly what Jared imagined romance to be. Maybe because with as much as Jensen lets him in, the silence means it’s hard to get to know him. All the little things that people build a relationship on, finding out each other’s likes and dislikes, their common and different grounds? They don’t have that. Jared has no idea what’s going on inside Jensen’s head, what he’s thinking. He doesn’t know what kind of music Jensen likes, what movies he watches, what sport teams he follows - if any. He doesn’t know what Jensen sees when he looks at him. The prospect of talking about his feelings or asking what this thing they have is, feels awkward when he knows he’ll have to read Jensen’s response out of his face and manner.
Jensen listens while Jared talks. And he talks. He talks more than he ever remembers doing in his life. About movies he’s seen, and music he listens to. About school, and Chad and random things that pop up into his head. And then he talks about things he’s never told anyone. Like what it was like growing up gay in a family that taught him people like that were destined for Hell. How scared he was, how ashamed he felt, how close he’d come to giving up, more than once.
Jensen nods and squeezes his hand and once pulls him down and kisses him in a way that feels different than usual. Like he’s trying to kiss his words into Jared’s mouth, moving them from one brain to another with the soft press of his lips. The connection is shaky, the translation half-assed at best, but Jared thinks he can tell what Jensen means, and it’s enough to have him hitching his breath, wishing he could pull Jensen close and hug the hell out of him.
They usually meet up when Jensen is done working. Most times they walk. Side by side they’ve covered more ground in two weeks than Jared’s walked in his whole life, or so it feels. He discovers paths and places he never would have found on his own, and gets strength added to his rather spindly legs that he probably never would have developed otherwise. He stops running out of breath even when he’s yammering on for hours. And when he runs out of things to say and joins Jensen in his silence it doesn’t feel awkward or deafening anymore but comfortable and relaxing.
If it rains they sit in the coffee shop, sipping coffee while Jared talks, and Jensen draws. Sometimes just doodles or complicated patterns that are amazingly beautiful. Sometimes it follows the conversation, providing answers to questions or offering views to Jared’s points. Sometimes it’s just Jared. His eyes, his smile, the lock of his hair. His long fingers curled around a coffee mug. The curve of his ear. Jared leaves those to Jensen although he doesn’t know if Jensen keeps them or not. But the other ones? Those he slips into his bag to take out later when he’s alone in his room. He gazes at them, one by one, studying the precise lines and the softness of the shadows and tries to read Jensen’s mind in the only real outlet he has for his thoughts.
It does happen that Jensen talks. Never much, just a few words that slip out. Like when he’s agitated and seems to forget for one moment that he can’t talk. Then he spits out curses that get cut off as soon as his brain catches on, making him cough and choke. But it happens even more when he’s relaxed and, Jared assumes, happy. Then his words are teasing and his tone soft despite the roughness of his voice. At first it just happens on Thursdays, when interacting with the kids has loosened Jensen up, but after a while the words start coming at other times. A small ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or an occasional soft ‘idiot’ as he sends Jared an affectionate glance when he’s being exceptionally goofy. And then two words, three words. Developing into short sentences that have each word carefully picked out to get the most across in the fewest syllables possible.
It hits Jared every time, that hoarse quiet voice. It hits him even more when Jensen wants to talk and can’t. When the words get caught in his throat, and he starts choking, his face flushing red and his breath rasping as he coughs and clears his throat, getting frustrated and then angry when it doesn’t make a lick of difference. Sometimes Jared pretends he doesn’t notice, like it doesn’t bother him at all. Like it doesn’t break his heart listening to Jensen struggle. Sometimes he leans over and kisses Jensen just to get him to stop trying. If Jensen realizes Jared’s intentions he doesn’t object, just kisses back until they’re both out of breath and have forgotten what they were trying to talk about.
Chris is right though. Jensen is an asshole. He can be incredibly rude and he’s totally self-centered, either not noticing or just not caring that he leaves people hurt and angry at every turn. He bumps into people without apologizing, glares at strangers that bother him and purposefully turns his back on his friends when they’re trying to get through to him, refusing to acknowledge their words. He’s a complete jerk to Chris a lot of the time, so much so that Jared sometimes wonders why Chris puts up with it. He even makes Sophia cry once although she turns and walks away so quickly Jared’s pretty sure Jensen didn’t notice, being so caught up in his own anger and frustration.
“Dude,” Jared finally says when Chris storms out of the coffee house one day and slams the door behind him, leaving them in awkward silence. “You need to calm the fuck down. You’re being a jerk.”
Jensen glares at him, nostrils flaring, but then he looks away, his shoulders slump, and he nods.
“They’re being your friends, man, because they care about you. You can’t just shit all over them like that.” He sighs when Jensen just stares at the wall, jaw ticking. “Seriously, you keep that up, and one day they won’t come back.”
Jensen’s head jerks up at that. He looks guilty and a little scared. He keeps swallowing, like he’s trying to get the words out and just can’t.
“You have scary much anger inside you, Jensen,” Jared says worried. “I wish you’d let me help you deal with it, because I can tell it’s hurting you just as much as it’s hurting them.”
Jensen blinks. He licks his lips. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and the hand clutching the pencil shakes on the table. “You help,” he finally says, his voice strangled.
“Yeah?”
Jared gives him a smile, and Jensen smiles crookedly back then takes a deep breath and says, “You help me get the words out.” It’s rushed, the sounds mashed together as if he has to push them out.
Jared nods. “That’s good, right? Not that I mind you being quiet,” he hastily adds. “It just feels like they’re weighing you down, all those words you can’t say.”
Jensen drops his gaze. “Words are overrated.”
Jared waits for him to continue but Jensen’s eyes are on the table in front of them, and he doesn’t offer anything else.
“Maybe,” Jared says after a while. “I kinda like them though.” He grimaces. “Well, most of them. Not the ugly ones. Some words I really hate. Like the word fag. I hate the word fag.”
Jensen looks up at him, clearly taken aback.
Jared just shrugs, uncomfortable. He has no idea why that popped into his head. Maybe because he finally has someone to talk to about things that have been weighing him down for more years than he cares to remember.
“That’s what I am, you know. A fag. Faggot. What my mother would call me if... if she knew. Dad, too. Everyone back home would. It’s why I left.” He swallows. “And I can’t ever go back. They don’t know that. They don’t know that I’m never... That I’m never going back. Because I can’t... I can’t be who I am when I’m there, and I can’t be with them, knowing what they would say if they... if they...”
Jensen’s lips are soft and warm on his. His hand on Jared’s neck is a little sweaty. His other hand slips into Jared’s, fingers tightening when Jared hitches his breath. Jared can feel a tear tickling its way down his nose, but he ignores it, because who cares about what stupid people think when he has this? When he has the most beautiful guy he’s ever seen in his whole life, kissing him like that’s the way it’s supposed to be?
“Jensen,” he whispers, and it sounds broken, and small and nothing like the grown up person he’s trying so hard to be.
Jensen kisses him again and then pulls back, looking at Jared with concern. He runs his thumb up the side of Jared’s nose, wiping the tears away.
“I’m okay,” Jared says and laughs a little. Embarrassed. “Shit, I’m sorry. I did not mean to dump all that on you.”
Jensen shrugs. He palms Jared’s cheek and kisses him again before moving back to the other side of the table, never letting go of Jared’s hand. They keep silent, just gazing at each other, with Jared still hitching his breath from time to time, and Jensen clutching his hand tighter every time he does.
After a while Jared manages a smile and feels relieved when Jensen smiles back, even if he still looks concerned. “Sorry. Guess you have enough to deal with without having an emo teenager on your hands.”
Jensen’s smile slips. He pulls his hand out of Jared’s grip and to his chest, cradling it in his other hand like a hurt kitten. He bites his upper lip, chewing at it with his front teeth until it’s bruised and swollen. “You know,” he finally says in a low voice.
Jared hesitates. He’s been expecting it to come up, sooner rather than later, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to respond.
“I Googled your name,” he admits. “Read the news reports. And I saw a, a picture. The Time magazine cover. It was... horrifying.”
He wants to reach across the table, reclaim Jensen’s hand, but Jensen looks like he’s on the verge of bolting, so he keeps still, watching Jensen closely for clues to what he’s thinking. Jensen is staring at his own hands on the table, rubbing his left thumb over the knuckles on his right hand in small circles.
“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” Jared risks adding. Jensen nods, but he doesn’t look up. “I’m here if you want to... just anything. I know I talk a lot, but I’m also a good listener. Or, you know, if you just want a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on.”
“I don’t cry,” Jensen whispers hoarsely. He sounds tired. “I just get angry.”
“Well, I have a pretty broad chest if you need to hit something. Just no kicking. My legs bruise way too easily.”
Jensen smiles briefly, but it soon slips away. He takes the pencil again and pulls a new sheet out of his folder. He starts drawing: a room, a corner, a small boy with his arms around his knees, and his face hidden behind them. The drawing gets darker and darker as he adds shadows that look like monsters, reaching, clawing at him.
“That’s what you remember?” Jared asks quietly, when Jensen’s hand finally stills.
Jensen shakes his head. “Imagine. I remember...” He takes the eraser and rubs it over the drawing until there’s nothing left but grey shades and smudges, then looks up at Jared, eyes solemn. Jared swallows and nods. He can’t imagine what that’s like, knowing something awful happened to you but having no memory of it.
“But I, I think...” Jensen adds suddenly and he turns the sheet over and starts drawing on the other side.
Open eyes, open mouth, hand around the throat... The further down he moves the faster and more unsteady his hand gets. Finally it’s moving in quick jerks, so hard the tip repeatedly rips the paper until it breaks off and skitters across the table.
Jensen stops. He clutches the pencil in his hand, tighter and tighter until it snaps and falls to the table in three uneven pieces. Then he stands up and walks away, disappearing behind the counter and into the back room.
Jared sits still. He stares at the drawing where it lies on the table, the beauty of Jensen’s art in sharp contrast with the ugly horror it’s portraying. His hand trembles as he reaches forward and turns the sheet 180 degrees. Jensen’s baby face stares back at him, screaming in terror. Jared takes the drawing by the corner and slowly flips it over. Then he covers his eyes with his hand and waits until he can breathe again.
--------------
Being with Jared is like walking in a world where Jensen’s own problems don’t matter. They’re still there, tripping him in every other step and bricking up his words within his head, but when he looks into Jared’s eyes and listens to him talk and laugh, Jensen forgets for a moment that he will never, ever be like that. He tries to hold on to those moments, capturing on paper the things that inspire them: the twinkle in Jared’s eyes, the soft line of his smile, the warm glow of his laughter. So when Jared eventually leaves him, as there's no question he will, Jensen at least has something left to remind him that, for a short while, he was as close to happy as he can get.
“You can invite him over, you know.”
Jensen nods, more to himself than in answer. His hands are covered in charcoal, there’s a smudge on his nose that keeps disturbing his vision but every time he tries to rub it away he only ends up adding to it. The drawing in front of him is almost finished, about ready to join a dozen others littering the floor.
“He’s a good kid. A little bitter...”
Jensen throws him a glare, but Chris just shrugs. “He is. Not that I blame him. You know if he’s talked to his parents since he moved here?”
Jensen shakes his head. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t really feel it’s any of his business. He’s not even sure he cares except for how it affects Jared. Jared clearly misses them, even if he doesn’t say it. It’s in the way he stares at the phone every time it rings, and he doesn’t answer. Jensen is glad he doesn’t. Jared came here to get away from his old life. If he makes peace with his parents, what’s to say he won’t go back to them?
“Do you talk?” Chris suddenly asks. “I mean, when you’re with him do you... Do you just... talk?” His voice is subdued, and when Jensen looks over Chris won’t meet his eyes, just studies his hands. They’re calloused from hours of playing the guitar and stained with coffee grains and the charcoal that dusts the table.
Jensen waits until Chris glances his way before shaking his head, looking at Chris in question. Of course Jared talks, he never seems to shut up really, but Jensen’s the same mute freak as always, apart from the few mumbled words he manages to force out, so few they’re hardly worth mentioning. He doesn’t really get what Chris is asking. How is he supposed to ‘just talk’?
Chris nods, lips pursed. He looks a little relieved, but when he realizes Jensen is still watching him he flushes, a guilty look in his eyes. “Maybe you should,” he says lightly. “Try at least.”
It feels like a slap in the face. Jensen jerks back, the chair toppling over and falling with a clatter to the floor as he backs away from the table. “F-fuck you!” he spits out, shaking with anger. “You s-s-stupid asshole!”
Chris blinks, mouth falling open. “Jensen?” he says, shocked. “What-?”
“Fuck you!” He balls up the drawing and throws it at the wall where it bounces and lands on the floor, a corner of Jared’s eye staring up at them. “F-f-f-” He chokes, coughing and gagging until he finally gives up and shoves his middle finger in Chris’s face then spits on the floor in disgust.
“Jensen, wait! Hey! Don’t-”
Jensen storms out and slams the door in Chris’s face.
--------------
The loud banging on the door almost gives Jared a heart attack. People don’t really knock around here, they just walk in like they own the place, all hours of the day. Like a guy might not have his hand down his pants every now and then. Inconsiderate assholes the bunch of them. Still, at least then he doesn’t have to get up.
“This better be important,” he mutters and opens the door to a full on Jensen-attack.
“Jensen? What-?” is all he manages to get out before there’s a tongue down his throat and a hand grabbing his crotch. He’s vaguely aware of Chad cursing and saying something about, “Hey, hey! Rule number one! Rule number one! You can’t just- Fuck, I’m out of here,” before Jared’s tripping and ends up flat on the bed, hundred and sixty pounds of Jensen landing on top of him.
“Jensen, slow down. What’s a matter? Don’t... Wait... You got to... Oh fuck.”
It’s only the second blowjob he’s gotten in his life - that one girl in high school doesn’t really count - so pardon him for losing sight of his moral objectivity. Because it wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. Not with Jensen so pissed off he’s growling, so goddamn upset he’s shaking like a leaf. But Jared can’t say no when... He fucking can’t- Oh God.
Jared doesn’t even have his breath back when Jensen is up and gone, door slamming shut behind him.
--------------
Jensen pulls his upper lip in between his teeth and lets it go with a snap. He furrows his brow, glancing over at Chris then back out the window.
“I didn’t know,” Chris is saying. His voice is quiet. His eyes subdued. He looks lost and defeated. “I thought... I don’t know what I thought. That you just didn’t want to. Not that you couldn’t. I didn’t think...”
Jensen closes his eyes. ”I...” he tries but the rest won’t come and he grits his teeth in frustration. The words are there, they just won’t come out. That’s what it feels like. Like there’s a wall on his tongue that the words run into and bounce back into his brain.
“It’s okay. Don’t... Just don’t. It’s okay.” Chris puts his hand over Jensen’s fist where it lies clutched tight on the kitchen table between them and squeezes it. “I’m sorry for... I’m sorry. I should have known. I should have figured it out.”
Jensen shakes his head. ‘Not your fault,’ he should say. ‘You’re not a mind reader. I can’t expect you to know what’s going on inside my stupid head.’
What he wants to say is, ‘I thought you understood. I thought you were the only one who did. Turns out you’re just as blind as everyone else. No different than my parents or all those fucking asshole doctors who think it’s my fucking choice. Who’d choose this, huh? Who the fuck would choose this? Ten years, and you don’t know me at all, do you?’
Maybe it’s just as well he can’t get the words out. He’s a big enough dick without them.
“You ever think of going back to therapy?” Chris asks hesitantly. “Might have better luck with a different psychiatrist.”
Jensen’s anger flares up again, but he forces it down. Chris is still looking like a kicked puppy, and he means well. Hell, he’s probably right. Jensen dropped out of therapy when they moved out here and away from his parents’ money. It had felt like the right thing to do, starting over on his own terms instead of continuing what everyone else wanted him to do, especially since it never felt like it did any good. And because they hardly had enough money to pay for rent and food. Asking Chris to chip in on therapy bills as well felt like taking even worse advantage of him than leeching on his devoted friendship all these years. Because that’s what he’s doing, right? Taking, and taking and never giving anything back.
“You talk more now than you did before,” Chris continues carefully. “You talk to the kids. And I’ve heard you talk to Jared. It ain’t much but... you know. Maybe you’re more receptive now than you were then.”
He doesn’t say, ‘You don’t talk to me,’ but Jensen can read it in the way his gaze slides away, and in the slight downturn of his lips that he’s trying to fight. It’s true, Jensen hardly ever talks to Chris. Which might explain why Chris didn’t make the connection the few times he’s seen him cough and choke. It’s not for whatever reasons Chris thinks though. It’s not because Jensen doesn’t think he’s worth the effort. He’s just never felt the need for words with Chris. He thought they understood each other perfectly without them.
Jensen shrugs then murmurs, “Maybe,” slipping a warm tone into his voice that he usually reserves for Jared. Chris looks up at him surprised. He breathes out then smiles, his eyes filled with gratitude. Jensen smiles back. It feels a little crooked and probably looks it too, but as long as it makes Chris happy it means it’s working.
--------------
“That girl you’re always talking about, Danneel, she works at the library, right?”
Chad gives him an odd look, eyes narrowing. “You switching teams? ‘Cause she’s taken, man.”
“No, the gay is here to stay,” Jared says impatiently. “I just need some info, and I’m no good at research.”
Chad still looks suspicious, like he’s sure Jared is going to snatch his dream girl away from under his nose. “As long as that’s all you want,” he finally says. “What you looking for anyway?”
“Just... something for my Psych class,” Jared lies. “I’m doing a paper on PTSD.”
If anything Chad’s eyes get even squintier. “No, you’re not. You’re trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with your boyfriend.”
“What? No! I’m just...” Jared sighs. “Okay, so what if I am? I just want to get some idea what he’s dealing with.”
Chad glares at him. “He’s dealing with crazy shit, that’s all you need to know. I told you to stay away from him, dude.”
“You’re not my mother,” Jared bites back. “I can make my own mistakes. Did I try to stop you when you hit on Welling’s sister?”
“No, and thank you for that black eye,” Chad grumbles. “Look, roommates are supposed to look out for one another. I know you think I’m just being an ass about Ackles but I like you, man. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Jared snorts. “Are you saying you care? Aww, Chad. That’s so sweet.”
“Shut up, asshole. I just...” He looks away, clearly uncomfortable. “Got a cousin that came back from Iraq a couple of years ago. It fucked him up, that PTSD thing. His wife found him in the living room a year later, hanging from the ceiling. Now she’s all fucked up.”
“Oh.” Jared blinks. He feels like a complete jerk. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry.”
Chad shrugs. “Whatever. She married a normal person and got screwed over. You know he’s crazy. You can still walk away, man.”
Jared bites his lip. “No,” he says quietly, “I can’t. It’s too late for that.”
“Why?” Chad asks, clearly exasperated.
“Because I’m already in love with him.”
--------------
There are days when Jensen is sure the whole world is out to get him. This is one of those days.
It starts to rain when he’s halfway to work, and even if he runs the last block so fast his lungs feel like they might explode, he still ends up soaking wet and spends the next half hour hyperventilating in the bathroom while Sophia pats him with a towel and blow-dries his hair. Then some asshole comes in with a toy gun and waves it around until Chris grabs him by the front of his stupid cowboy vest and throws him out. By the time Jensen has finally gotten his breath back, a girl covered in blood pulls him in for a drunken kiss, and he freaks the fuck out. She ends up on her butt on the floor, screaming insults at him that he can’t hear, because he’s backed up in a corner, covering his ears and doing some high-pitched screaming of his own.
Jensen fucking hates Halloween.
“Just go home, honey,” Sophia says when they’ve finally managed to calm him down. “It’s okay, we can handle this.”
Jensen looks out the window and shakes his head. He can’t. It’s still raining.
Sophia sighs. “Want me to call Jared? I’ll call Jared,” she says, determined, and stands up from where she’d been crouching on the floor before Jensen can stop her. He waves his hand to try and get Sophia’s attention, but she purposely turns her back on him, and then it’s too late, she’s already talking. Fuck.
He hasn’t had a freak out in front of Jared since they started going out. He fucking hates the idea of Jared seeing him like this.
Jensen presses his forehead to his knees and closes his eyes. Inside his head, he’s shrinking.
--------------
Jared loved Halloween growing up, even more when he became a teenager. It was the one day a year he could wear a mask, a solid one, without having to worry that people might see the real one underneath. He loved that freedom, he loved the cheap thrill of scary B-movies, and he loved all the candy. If he’d been asked he would have said it was probably his favorite holiday, only beaten by Christmas, because that involved presents, and who doesn’t love presents?
This is the first time he’s noticed how fucking gory Halloween is. On his run over to The Black Bean he passes a drunken axe murderer; almost knocks down a guy with half his face melted off, and one eyeball dangling out of its socket; and gets the scare of a lifetime when a girl suddenly runs screaming up at him, her throat cut and bleeding everywhere. Jesus!
By the time he arrives his heart is pounding in his chest. There’s a good crowd, way busier than usual, and he has to bully his way through the door, eyes scanning the place for Jensen. Chris is working the counter, looking stressed and angry, but when he spots Jared towering over the crowd, his shoulders slump in obvious relief. Jared pushes through, not caring that he steps on a few toes on his way.
“Where is he?”
Chris motions behind the counter, juggling two coffees in his other hand. “What the hell took you so long?”
Jared’s got an insult ready on the tip of his tongue when he spots Jensen, and the words get stuck in his throat. “Fuck,” he breathes.
It’s like Jensen’s drawing has come to life: the little boy in the corner clutching his knees and hiding his face from the scary monsters. Jared would jump the damn counter if he had the room. Instead he has to elbow his way past the line of costumers waiting, earning himself quite a few curses and “Watch it, man! Wait your turn!”
“What happened?” he asks the second he rounds the corner.
“Halloween happened,” Chris says over his shoulder before yelling at a slutty nurse to keep her boobs in check, because “This ain’t Hooters, lady!”
“I need you to get him out of here,” he continues. “Now.”
“Why was he even here in the first place?” Jared asks angry as he crouches by Jensen’s side. Jensen is shaking, eyes squeezed shut, and fingers digging so hard into his knees his knuckles are ghostly white. “Aren’t you supposed to be looking out for him?”
“I’m not his mother, okay!” Chris snaps. “He showed up even though he had the day off. Probably got his dates crossed. He does that, mixes up stuff all the time. It doesn’t matter. Just get him out of here, before he wets himself.”
“A little too late for that,” Jared mutters and Chris looks over sharply.
“Shit. Some fucking idiot set off firecrackers earlier. Hate those goddamn things.” He sighs. “There are blankets in the back. You can wrap him up then take him home. Here, take my keys.”
Chris shoots out his hip, his own hands busy wrapping a sandwich. Jared fishes the keys out of Chris’s pocket then goes to the back room and finds a couple of fleece blankets, laid out on a small couch. They smell of beer and Jensen, and Jared wonders how many times they’ve had to pull an all-nighter, because Jensen wasn’t able to leave. Speaking of which...
“I’m calling a cab,” he tells Chris as he gets back. “It’s still raining cats and dogs out there.”
“Whatever, just do it! I don’t want to have to-”
A guy dressed as a zombie slams his palm down on the counter with a sharp bang, Jensen screams, and Chris punches the zombie right in the face.
It’s all chaos after that. The guy jumps to his feet, fists raised and nose bleeding, yelling that he’s gonna kick Chris’s ass, “You sonofabitch!” Jared quickly stands up, stretching to his full height, and dares him to, “Go ahead, shrimp. Make my day,” because he’s feeling so damn helpless he just wants to punch someone. They’re screaming, and yelling and threatening each other, but neither makes a move, because the guy is all mouth and no muscle, and Jared doesn’t want to step away from Jensen, who’s still screaming in terror. The crowd is chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Chris is growling, “Get him the hell out of here, kid! I can handle this myself!” and Sophia threatens to cut their balls off if they don’t, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
That does it. Everyone goes quiet except for Jensen, who has succumbed to a low keening wail, which, if anything, sounds even worse than the screaming. He’s rocking back and forth, totally lost in his own world. The guy, whose glare until now had been set on Chris and Jared, shifts his gaze to see where the sound is coming from and his eyes widen.
“Shit, is he okay?”
“No,” Jared growls, moving to shield Jensen from view. “You need to back the hell off!”
“Sure, sure. Sorry.” The guy quickly steps back, raising his hands in surrender. “Fuck, I didn’t know he was there. I swear, I didn’t mean to scare him.” He looks genuinely upset, and Jared slowly lowers his fists, feeling a little confused. “He needs to get out of here, man. It’s Halloween, it’s gonna get really loud.”
Jared blinks. “Uhm... yeah. That’s what I’m trying to do. Just need to call a cab. Rain freaks him out.”
“My car’s right outside. I’m not drunk!” the guy assures him when Jared starts shaking his head. “I’m just obnoxious, I swear. Let me give you a ride. Least I can do.”
He looks completely serious, and Jared gives in, because the chances of getting a cab at Halloween without waiting for at least half an hour, are not good.
“Jesus,” he mumbles and crouches by Jensen’s side. “Hey, Jensen. We’re going now. Think you can walk to the car?”
“I need to go home,” Jensen whispers. The voice is small and childishly bright. “I need to go home. Please let me go home. Please, please.” His face crumples, and he starts to cry. “I wanna go home. I wanna go home.”
Jared blinks. He looks helplessly up at Chris, but Chris has his back turned, his shoulders tense, and his hands curled into fists by his side. Sophia looks shaken. She wipes at her eyes with her fingertips and presses her lips together, clearly fighting not to cry.
“Can you please just get him out of here?” Chris says, his voice strangled. “Please?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Jared puts the blanket around Jensen’s shoulders, wrapping it around him the best he can. “I’m taking you home now, okay? Come on.”
He gets to his feet, staggering slightly under the weight. Jensen doesn’t fight but he’s not helping either, his body a deadweight in Jared’s arms. The whole coffee shop is quiet as Jared makes his way out from behind the counter and to the door. A guy dressed as a vampire holds it open for him, and a rather scantily-clad Red Riding Hood runs over with an umbrella, holding it over them as they make their way to the car parked only a few feet away.
“Thank you,” he tells her, a little choked up, but she just smiles and folds the umbrella before handing it to him.
“Here, keep it,” she says, her make-up already running. “I hope he’ll be okay.”
Jared just nods. He’s not used to people being so generous; it rather throws him. Zombie guy is already starting the car, and Jared slides into the back seat, arm around Jensen’s trembling form, before he gives the guy a quick awkward smile. “Thanks,” he says. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I was being an ass. Least I can do. Name’s Mike, by the way.”
Jared nods. “Jared,” he says, adding, “Just up the road and then to the right, second lights from here,” before leaning back in the seat and slowly breathing out. Jensen is curled up against him, and Jared takes his hand, squeezing it. He doesn’t get any response.
Mike eyes them, concerned, in the rearview mirror once he’s on the road. “I’ve been wondering about him. I’m a psychiatrist,” he explains when Jared looks at him sharply. “Or I will be if I ever graduate. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say he has PTSD. Am I right?”
“Yeah,” Jared says hesitantly. He’s really not sure he should be having this conversation with a stranger.
Mike nods. “Thought so. Childhood trauma? I’m just guessing,” he adds at Jared’s suspicious look. “With the way he was talking, it reminded me of dissociative age regression. Powerful enough that it broke through his SM. Selective mutism,” he elaborates, when Jared just stares at him. "That's what he has, right?"
Jared has no idea. Apparently he has some more reading to do. “I’m not really comfortable talking about it, sorry,” he says. “Over there.” He points out Jensen’s building, and Mike double parks as close as he can before turning around in his seat, looking curiously at Jared. He gives Mike a polite smile back. “It’s not mine to tell,” he says.
“No, of course not. Sorry.” Mike gets out, holding the umbrella ready as Jared wrestles Jensen out of the car. Jensen is still shaking, but he’s gone quiet, and his eyes are blank, like he’s checked out for the time being.
“If you want some info give me a call,” the guy says once they’re inside the apartment, and Jensen is lying curled up on his bed. “Don’t need no personal details, we can just talk general stuff.” He scribbles his name and number on a piece of paper and hands it over. “Anytime. And sorry about earlier. I get a bit excited at Halloween.”
Jared gives him a tired smile. “No problem. Chris isn’t usually that aggressive. I think. The stress just really got to him. Stop by in a couple of days, and he’ll probably buy you coffee. Don’t expect an apology though.”
Mike laughs then glances over at Jensen. ”You think he’ll be okay?”
Jared’s smile drops. He looks over at Jensen, at the blank stare and his pale skin, almost bluish in the twilight. His shirt is covered in fake blood, and the jeans are wet and stink of urine.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I kinda doubt it.”
--------------
Jensen has lost count of how many times he’s woken up in different clothes and smelling of soap. He fucking hates it, because it means he lost his cool - again! - and that Chris has been forced to take care of him. This time is no different. Except...
He’s wearing one of Chris’s old band t-shirts, with Kane written across it in typical country style letters, and the soap is the one his mother sent him for Christmas, and he never uses, because the scent reminds him of his dad. Jensen’s irritation rises. If this is Chris’s subtle way of telling him that from now on maybe he should clean up his own fucking mess then fine. Not like he ever asked Chris to be his goddamn nurse.
The apartment is dark, barring the streetlights shining in through the windows. He has no idea what time it is. His watch is missing from his wrist, and his phone is nowhere to be seen. Looks like Chris just cleaned him up and dumped him in bed before going to sleep himself. Well, that’s just great. Chris knows he has no sense of time and needs his goddamn watch or he’ll get up in the middle of the night, thinking it’s morning. Fucker.
Jensen sits up slowly. His head hurts the way it always does when he’s had one of his episodes. Must have been a bad one, because he can’t really remember anything after that girl tried to kiss him. She’d smelled of old cigarettes and fake blood, and when she’d thrust her tongue into his mouth it tasted of vodka and nicotine. He gags when he realizes he can still taste it. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’s got bile already coming up his throat when he reaches the bathroom, and he spits it into the toilet before grabbing the mouthwash and taking a big gulp.
“Hey,” a rough voice says, and Jensen spits mouthwash all over the mirror. He turns around so fast he trips over the bathmat and is halfway to falling into the shower when a strong hand grabs his arm and pulls him up.
“Shit. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Jared says, looking startled himself. He’s rumpled with sleep, hair sticking out in all directions, and a pattern Jensen recognizes from their couch pillows pressed into his cheek. “Just wanted to ask how you were feeling.”
Jensen stares at him. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he wants to ask. ‘Where’s Chris? What happened? What the fucking fuck are you doing here!?!’
And then he remembers. Sophia called Jared. Sophia called Jared to ask him to take Jensen home. Which means...
His mortification must show, because Jared lets go of his arm and steps back, watching him with worried eyes. Jensen sinks down to the floor, hiding his face in his hands. He feels humiliated. So goddamn degraded. Fuck. Fuck!
“Hey, it’s okay. Jensen, come on.” Jared is tugging gently at his hands, prying them away from his face. “Don’t. Please.”
He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. “Go.”
“No. I’m not going. Dude, it’s no big deal. I didn’t mind.”
“Go! Get out! Get. Out!”
“No,” Jared says firmly. “You’re being ridiculous. So I cleaned you up, who cares?”
“Me!” He pushes away Jared’s hands and staggers to his feet. He can’t look at him. Jesus. “I care! I fucking care! You’re not supposed to see... to see me. Not like that. Not... Fuck!”
Jared steps back as Jensen pushes past him and out of the bathroom, quickly following on his heels.
“Dude, I’m not a perv, I didn’t even look.” Jensen throws him a glare, and Jared’s cheeks turn deep red. “Okay, so I looked. A little. Hard not to when it’s right there. But I didn’t...I didn’t fondle you or anything. I just stripped you naked and gave you a sponge bath.”
Jensen drops down on the bed, again hiding his face in his hands. “God, shut up!”
“But...”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Jared! Don’t you ever shut the fuck up?”
Jared snorts. “That’s rich. Only reason I talk so much is because you never say anything!”
Jensen glares up at him. “Fuck you! I can’t! I have all these words, and I can’t get them out, okay? That’s why I don’t talk. Because I can’t...” He stops, mouth open. He feels a little dizzy.
Jared’s grin is a mile wide. “Except you just did,” he says, looking smug as hell.
“I...” Jensen swallows and tries again, but this time he doesn’t even get that far. His tongue feels like it’s swelling in his mouth, and all the words he’s trying to say squeeze his larynx, like a fist around his throat. He chokes, hand clutching at his throat, and tears spring to his eyes.
Jared’s grin drops like a stone. “Hey, you all right?” he says as he sits down by Jensen’s side. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jerk.”
Jensen shakes his head. The harder he tries the worse he gets. Fuck. Fucking stupid words! He pushes Jared away and gets to his feet. He grabs a sketchbook and a pencil off the table and starts drawing furiously. Jared, tall and strong and confident. And then himself, small and naked and shameful.
“What? No!” Jared says when Jensen angrily shoves the book at him. He looks shaken. “It’s not like that. Haven’t you been listening to me? I’m not like that. That?” he says, pointing at the small naked figure. “That is me. That is me, okay? That is how I feel every day.”
Jensen snorts and rolls his eyes. ‘Are you stupid?’ he wants to say. ‘You have everything! You are everything I wish I could be.’
“Don’t fucking do that!” Jared yells, startling him. He’s gone pale, with red dots in his cheeks, and his hands shake as he rips the drawing out of the book and into little pieces. “Your life may be shitty, but that doesn’t mean you can just fuck over other people’s feelings like they don’t matter.”
Jensen stares at him. ‘You’re serious,’ he thinks. ‘How can you be serious? How can you not see how good your life is? So you’re gay, so what? Tenth of the fucking population is gay. Your parents disapprove? Boohoo. Get over it. I would kill to have your life, you lucky bastard.’
His thoughts must show, because Jared’s eyes blaze and he steps back, shaking his head in anger. “You know, Chris is right. You are a fucking jerk. You’re so goddamn selfish, you know that? You’re so focused on your own problems, you don’t even see what you’re doing to the people around you. You treat Chris like shit, and for some reason he just lets you. Well, I’m not gonna do that. I’m not gonna let you walk all over me like I don’t fucking matter!”
He grabs his jacket and storms out, slamming the door behind him so hard the whole building shakes.
Jensen stands rooted to the spot, the ripped up drawing at his feet. His chest hurts. Like really fucking hurts. He grunts, staggering back until he hits the couch and drops down, landing on the edge and sliding down on the floor. Fuck. Is he having a heart attack? Is that what this is? Because it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his fucking chest. And all because Jared walked out on him. Just fucking left him. Left him. He left him. Jared left him.
Jensen hitches his breath. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the tears start dripping off his nose.
Chapter 2 | Chapter 4