Fic: Gunpoint. AU RPS. Jensen/Jared. Chapter 14
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 14
August 2010
“No. No, Jensen. This is completely absurd. We put you through that school because you have talent. Talent, Jensen. Talent which you can use to your advantage but not if you’re wasting time making coffee for goddamn college brats. This is your ticket to a future, a chance to make something out of your life, to move beyond what happened to you. So no, I’m not going to encourage this insanity of yours. You want my money, you’re moving back here and that’s my final word on the matter.”
Jensen wants to punch his fist into the wall. Wants to scream, “You don’t know! You have no idea!” Wants to throw paint in his dad’s face and stab him with his sharpest pencil. Wants to yell, “What happened to me? Tell me! Because I don’t know. I don’t know and no one will tell me. It’s my childhood, my past, my fucking trauma, and I don’t even know what happened! Do you know what that’s like? Do you have any idea what the fuck that feels like to have this huge chunk of memory gone from my head?”
He wants to cry and sob and crawl into his dad’s arms and ask, “Why me? Why did you let that happen to me? Why didn’t you save me?” Wants to hide under the table and whisper, “I think he did something to me. I think maybe he hurt me. Like that. Because everything feels wrong and nothing I do makes it better. Please, dad, say that he didn’t and I’ll believe you. I will. Because you’re my dad and dads don’t lie. Dads don’t lie.”
They gaze at each other in tense silence and then Jensen turns around and walks out of the house, across the lawn and climbs into Chris’s truck. After a brief hesitation Chris starts the engine and they drive off.
------------
Present day
“So... I hear you had quite the adventure.”
Jensen looks at her, frowning. There had been something in the news about the robbery, but their names had been kept out of it. So how...?
“Chris called me,” Sam explains.
Of course. Jensen rolls his eyes. Typical.
“He’s worried about how it might be affecting you. Should he be?” Jensen shrugs, looking away. “Are you worried?”
Is he worried? Well, yeah. He almost shot a kid, because he was hallucinating, or projecting or whatever the hell it was that happened. His mind went to some place he doesn’t even know. Sure he’d imagined killing the bastard a few times, but it was all hypothetical. Obviously. You can’t kill someone who’s already dead. He’d never imagined himself acting on it, probably because short from peppering the fucker’s headstone with bullet holes there wasn’t much he could do to indulge his fantasy.
That’s probably what he should be worried about, having those kinds of fantasies to begin with. Killing a human being. Even if the guy deserved it ten times over, that’s not what it’s about. It’s about Jensen apparently being the kind of person who can look a man in the eye while putting a bullet in his brain. He’s not really the most moral person there is, but even he knows that’s not exactly a trait to admire. That that’s probably not the kind of man Jared should be with.
He nods, raising his hand and finger-shooting an imaginary person in front of him. Then he looks at her and shakes his head, feeling so tired all of a sudden. He covers his face with his hand for a moment, needing a brief break from her inquisitive gaze.
Because he’s not really that worried about being a potential serial killer. Not as much as he’s confused about the strange feeling of elevation since it happened. What is that? The thrill of the kill? He almost kills a guy, and now he’s happy? That, that is worrying. Like, psychopathic kinda worrying. Is that where he’s going now, moving on from the joys of PTSD to the absolutely fabulous world of psychopathy?
“I...” He swallows. “I feel... better.” He risks a glance up, not sure what to expect. She just keeps her gaze on him, clearly waiting for him to continue. “Lighter. Like...” He closes his eyes and puts his hands to his chest, breathing in deeply before letting it out in a rush. When he opens his eyes again she is smiling at him.
“Like a weight has been lifted off of you?” He nods, then looks away, uncomfortable. “That worries you? That you feel relief?” He nods again. “You think it’s bad to feel better?”
He rolls his eyes and mimics shooting the gun again.
“Yes, but you didn’t.” She smiles when he taps his head in frustration. “Fantasies aside. Are you afraid something like that might happen again?”
He shakes his head. No. He can’t really explain it, but it’s like the ghost of his kidnapper has faded. He used to be this huge ever-present force of darkness in Jensen’s head, and now he’s just... Well, not gone, but he’s not as overwhelming. He’s not as real. He feels more… dead. Which frankly is about time. It’s been close to thirteen years, it would be nice if his mind would catch up and realize that dead men don’t cast shadows.
“When you held that gun,” she says, “preparing yourself to shoot, who were you? Yourself or the kid?”
Jensen frowns. He was himself but he could feel the kid, inside. The anger was all his but the urge to pull the trigger, to make the bad thing go away, he thinks that was probably the kid.
A snapshot of a memory suddenly flickers through his mind. Him as a kid playing video games with his brother. Bang, bang, bang and down they went, every monster that dared to cross their paths. Yelling "Shoot it! C’mon, Josh, shoot it!" and then laughing in triumph when another bad guy bit the dust. He blinks, and the memory shuts off, just like that. Frantic he grabs a pen and paper and draws a quick sketch, trying to capture the image in case it slips away again. When he hands it over to Sam it’s with great reluctance. He hasn’t had a good memory surfacing in what feels like years. He’ll have to paint it when he gets home, just in case.
“This is your brother, Josh? You two used to play together? Before it happened.”
He nods, swallowing. His breath hitches. “Josh killed the monsters. We... we won.”
“Games aren’t real life, Jensen,” Sam says gently.
He huffs in frustration. “I know.” He points at the drawing. “He doesn’t.”
She looks confused. “He...?”
“Me,” he clarifies hoarsely then starts coughing as the words get caught in his throat.
She points at the glass of water on the table. “Remember, keep your voice low.”
He nods. Drinks slowly and clears his throat before trying again. Whispers, “The kid. He thinks he... I should have fought back. Killed the monster.” He shudders a laugh. “Stupid.”
She dismisses the last remark with a small shake of her head. “You say ‘he’. Is the kid angry with himself or is he angry at you?”
Jensen frowns. “Not... not angry. Disappointed. In me.”
“He thinks you should have saved him.” She leans back again, thoughtful. “Like Josh, your big brother, saved you when you were playing videogames.” He nods. “So how does he expect you to do that? Invent a time machine and go back, using your grown up body to save your ten year old self?” She smiles when his face flushes red. “He’s not very rational, is he?”
Jensen shrugs but he can’t help a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Do you think he expected Josh to save him?”
Jensen thinks about that for a moment. That memory flash is the first one he’s ever had of interacting with his brother pre-trauma, but the feeling he felt with it... Hero worship. Trust. Blind faith. Yes.
She nods as well. “What was your relationship like after you got back?”
Jensen frowns. He remembers Josh, standing in the hall at the hospital, looking through the crack in the door. Hands curled into tight fists by his side. So angry. And then he’d turned around and run out. Jensen wants to say he didn’t care, but the truth is he hated Josh for a long time after that.
He draws a quick sketch to explain and hands it over, his hand shaking slightly. She looks at it, writes something down in her notebook, and then adds it to the pile on the corner of the table before looking back up at him.
“You feel very protective of Jared, don’t you?”
He frowns, not sure what she’s getting at. Gives her a ‘duh’ expression. She smiles.
“Because you’re older. You feel responsible. Kinda like a big brother. You know what I mean,” she adds with an admonishing smile when he snorts. “How would you feel if something happened to him?” She ignores his glare, just raises her eyebrow and waits for him to get it.
Oh. He bites his lip. Remembers all the times Josh tried to approach him after that, and how he didn’t give his brother even a smile. Mostly turned his back on him and pretended he couldn’t hear him. Struck out if he tried to touch him. Didn’t even say goodbye to him before he left with Chris. It’s been almost two years since he saw Josh last. Sometimes he has trouble remembering what he looks like.
“You ever think maybe he feels guilty for not coming to your rescue? Big brothers are supposed to look out for their little brothers. He failed. Right?”
Jensen frowns. Shakes his head. He doesn’t blame Josh for that. He doesn’t really feel much of anything about Josh, not anymore.
“When’s the last time you talked to him?” He shrugs. “You can’t remember?” He looks away, shakes his head. “What...? Oh. Never? You’ve never talked to him? You didn’t play or just spend time together? Nothing? Why?”
He gives her a pointed look. He didn’t play or spend time with anyone. Doesn’t she get that? He went to school, his mother driving him back and forth every day, never letting him out of her sight. Their garden was like a fortress with a high fence, keeping him in. He went to therapy, hating every moment of it. He read books that his mother picked up at the library for him, most of them boring drama, because God forbid he’d read something that would further traumatize him. He drew pictures and painted. The only person he interacted with outside his family was Chris, because Chris... Chris never expected him to talk. About the kidnapping, about anything. He was just there, safe and solid by his side. The big brother Josh wasn’t anymore. The one who beat up the few kids who dared to tease him and acted as a buffer between him and his parents when he felt like they would smother him.
“Well, maybe you should contact him. Try to patch things up. You could make it one of your steps,” she suggests.
He looks at her, incredulous. Contact Josh? How? He’s down in Texas. What’s he supposed to do, send him drawings?
“Don’t be like that. There are ways. Like... you can Skype. He talks to you, you draw pictures and show them to him. Same as we do, just over the computer.”
Jensen snorts. Yeah, right. What would be the point, anyway? Josh is living his own life with his undoubtedly boring wife. He’s probably got a house with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids by now. Chances are he doesn’t even remember he has a brother.
She puts down her notebook, looking exasperated. “Okay, I’m gonna be blunt with you because this is clearly something you need help with. Remember what we talked about? Other people’s emotions, Jensen. Just because you don’t think you’re worthy of his time doesn’t mean he feels that way. It’s not just about how you see things, it’s also about how they see them.”
He sighs. Yeah, yeah. That’s different though. This is now. It’s been years. Why would Josh even care?
“The way you feel about Jared, remember? Those feelings of love, and the urge to protect him? Your family still feels that way. Always has.” She smiles. It looks a little sad. “I’ve talked to your parents, Jensen. I know you’ve had your differences, but they do love you. Very much.”
He sighs. So they keep telling him. He still doesn’t understand why. He’s done nothing to make them even like him. They should feel relieved to be rid of him. All he ever did was make them miserable.
“One day I’m going to remind you of this talk, and you’re going to feel so embarrassed,” she says lightly, but there’s pain in her smile that she can’t quite hide. “Just think about it, okay?”
He rolls his eyes but raises his arm. Hand to God, he promises mockingly.
“Smartass. So, have you been doing the vocal exercises?”
He glares at Sam. Yes, he’s been doing his goddamn exercises even if he sounds like a baby seal dying. It’s fucking humiliating, that’s what it is. Of all the things they put him through back home, he hated speech therapy most of all. If anything it’s even worse now. Then he’d mostly been bored and annoyed. Now he’s frustrated and feels like a fucking failure. He’s not ignorant, he’s actually read up on this thing. Weeks, maybe months, that’s what it takes for people to overcome this kind of mutism. So what does it say about him that it’s been almost thirteen years, and he’s still stuck?
“I know you’re hoping it will fix itself, but, Jensen, you can’t rely on that. Overcoming something like this, usually you have to work for it. If that is indeed what you really want, Jensen. Is it?”
He swallows his pride. Clears his throat and whispers, “Yes.”
“Okay. So do your homework. Focus on just whispering, we’ll worry about volume later.” She smiles when he scowls at her. “Don’t give me that look. I asked Chris, he says you can laugh, quite loud even. No whispering there. It’s the same function, you know that. If you can do one, you can do the other. You just have to believe it.”
He sighs. He knows all that. It’s just... It’s just that he is getting better. He knows he is. He’s painting more than ever, the colors are brighter, the images not as creepy. He’s not crying at the drop of a hat anymore, thank God, although he still gets teary-eyed for stupid reasons. He hasn’t had The Voice visit his nightmares since the 7/11 incident. These are all clear signs of him getting better. So how come he still can’t talk?
He gets it, okay, the whole psychological reason for him being practically mute. According to Jared the kidnapper told the kid to be quiet, so that’s what he’s doing. Being fucking quiet. Doesn’t matter how many times he tells his stupid brain that, with the shithead dead and buried, the threat has been lifted. Who’s gonna punish him if he talks? The guy’s goddamn ghost? It’s ridiculous. The fucker apparently also told him not to cry, and he’s doing plenty of that. And whatever the third rule was, he’s probably broken that as well. He figures it had something to do with being a good boy and bending over when told to. Whatever. He really doesn’t want to think about it, and it’s not like it matters anyway.
The thing is that all these years it’s never really bothered him that he couldn’t talk. Sure it’s frustrating at times, especially when he’s pissed off, and flipping people the finger, or slamming doors just doesn’t quite get the point across. But apart from that he hasn’t really had any great need to express himself verbally, about anything. Apparently it’s part of his whole disorder thing, has a fancy French name and everything. La belle indifference. Meaning fucked up people like him just don’t care that they’re fucked up. Not in that way anyway. They feel comfortable in their disability, hiding behind it like the cowards they are. The coward he is. Because as long as he can’t talk, he doesn’t have to talk about that, and ain’t that just too bad. Insert sarcasm as needed.
Yeah, he gets it. He thinks it’s stupid, but he still gets it.
But that was then. Now... now he’s ready to talk. He’s so goddamn sick of this fucking silence. Christ. Just give him some words, goddammit. He can mouth the words, he can breathe out; but try doing it at the same time to make some actual sounds? Yeah, no. That only works once in a blue moon, and never when he really wants it to. Fucking stupid words. He growls in anger.
“Okay, let’s leave that for now,” Sam indulges him. “How’s Jared?”
Jensen relaxes. Picks up the sketchbook and starts drawing.
“Jared not home yet?”
Jensen shakes his head, smiling a little at the way Chris says home. It’s not just his and Chris’s anymore, it’s just as much Jared’s, even if he insists on keeping most of his clothes at the dorm. Only times he actually sleeps there though is when he has an early class or test, and even then it’s reluctantly.
“He’s struggling, you know,” Chris says after a while, his voice serious. “You need to keep an eye on him. Make sure he takes care of himself.”
Jensen nods. Jared is still looking a bit pale, and he’s way too quiet. Which is another reason why Jensen wishes he’d just move in already. He doesn’t like the idea of Jared alone and depressed in class or at the dorm. At least when he’s living here Jensen can make sure Jared eats and sleeps and has someone to talk to. Additionally, getting Jared to talk to someone who can actually talk back would probably not be such a bad idea.
“But you feel better?” Chris says, interfering his thoughts. “Right? You look better. I’d go so far as to say you look happy,” he adds awkwardly.
Jensen shrugs, but he can’t help smiling a little. He does feel happy. Well, happier than he ever has before in his life as far as he can remember. It’s not perfect, but it’s far from the mess he was just a few weeks ago. Hell, it’s galaxies from the lonely, bitter bastard he was before Jared walked into his life. Sure it’s been hard, changing so much, caring so much, dealing with everything a relationship entails, including the bad sex. But the good parts outweigh the bad ones at a thousand to one. And even when they don’t, knowing he has Jared waiting for him at the other end of the tunnel makes living so much more bearable.
“Maybe this is it,” Chris says. He sounds so hopeful, and Jensen’s heart sinks, because he knows what’s coming. He looks up and sure enough, Chris is gazing wistfully out the window. “Maybe this was all you needed. Someone like Jared to get through to you. You’re even talking now. Well, not right this minute, but, you know. You can now. Sometimes. And it will get better with time. I mean, if you do those exercises. And once you’re talking...”
Jensen slams his palm down on the table, making Chris finally look at him. Jensen holds his gaze, waiting for him to catch on, and he can tell the moment Chris does. The smile goes stale and the bright hope in Chris’s eyes dims, until all that’s left is sad desperation and stubbornness.
“You haven’t had a flashback in weeks. You’re so much more relaxed. You’re...” Chris shakes his head when Jensen just sighs. “Don’t. Don’t be like that. You’re doing fine! Better every day. It’s all finally happening. So why won’t you believe-”
“Chris,” Jensen cuts in, “Don’t-” That’s as far as he gets before his voice shuts off. Fuck.
“Just because some doctors say-”
Jensen picks up his pencil and snaps it in two, right in front of Chris’s face.
“Jesus! What are you doing?”
Jensen holds his gaze as he puts the two parts of the pencil together. The moment he lets go of one end the pencil falls apart again, and he ends up with one half in his hand, the other lying on the table between them. He fits them together again, splintered ends sliding into each other, but they only keep as long as he holds on to both ends. He lays the pencil down on the table then looks up at Chris with a solemn face.
Chris shakes his head. “What?”
Jensen sighs. He points at Chris with his left hand and picks up one half of the pencil. Then draws a J on the table with his right before picking up the other. Again he fits the pieces together then lets go off the pencil. It falls down on the table, once again broken into two pieces.
Chris rolls his eyes. “Okay, I get what you’re saying. Me and Jared are the glue that hold you together. You can’t unbreak a broken thing. Blahblahblah. But you’re not a dead thing, okay? You’re living. Like bones, right? They heal. They grow whole again, and it’s like they were never broken in the first place. Right? Who’s to say your mind can’t do the same?”
“You ever break anything?” a voice says, and they both jump.
The door falls shut as Jared dumps his backpack on the floor before walking over and giving Jensen a kiss on the top of his head. Jensen leans back, breathing out when Jared wraps his arms around him.
“I broke my hand five years ago,” Jared says calmly. “It still hurts sometimes, and that was just this tiny bone. With Jensen... I can imagine it’s more like breaking your spine. If the break is bad enough, you end up paralyzed. I’m not saying you’re paralyzed,” he adds quickly when Jensen turns to frown up at him, “but chances are you’re gonna be walking with at least a limp the rest of your life.”
“So that’s it?” Chris says incredulous when Jensen nods. “You’re just gonna give up?”
Jensen flinches. It took him a long time to come to terms with the fact that he would never be cured. Better, yes. Good, maybe. Normal? No. Never. That doesn’t mean he has made his peace with it. It sucks, it’s not fair, and most of his anger issues have to do with exactly this, his inability to accept that this is his lot in life. That this is his life. It’s hard enough, without having to deal with other people’s disappointment as well.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” Chris sighs. “I just want you to be okay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Whatever. Jensen shakes his head and stands up, impatiently shrugging Jared off when he tries to hold him back. He heads for the door but stops and turns back, fixing his gaze on Chris.
“Not giving up,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Still here, right?”
Chris swallows. He nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, you are. Thank you.”
Jensen gives him a curt nod and shifts his gaze to Jared. “Walk?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Jared throws Chris a small smile. “We’ll pick up some food. Chinese okay?”
“Fine with me. Jensen?”
Jensen shrugs. He’s not really hungry but whatever.
It’s cold outside. The air smells of snow, and Jensen keeps a distrustful eye on the clouds. He might tolerate water on his face now, but that doesn’t mean his phobia has just disappeared. He can control the shower, shut it off or step out if needed. Rain and snow are a different matter.
“He just feels helpless, because he can’t magically make you better,” Jared says quietly. “I can relate, just so you know.”
Jensen sighs. He really doesn’t want to talk about this. They’re supposed to be focusing on his progress, on what he can change, not the things he can’t. That’s what Sam keeps telling him, and he’s trying. He’s trying, okay, but it’s hard, when the one thing he can’t change is so fucking big.
“You wanna make out on the couch tonight?” Jared offers. “You can whisper dirty things into my ear in that sexy whiskey voice. I’ll even let you blow me, if you ask nicely.”
Jensen snorts. “Or you can fuck me,” he suggests casually.
Jared’s face falls. “Jensen...”
“Forget it.” He squares his shoulders, humiliation flushing his cheeks. Why the hell did he bring that up?
“No.” Jared sighs. “I think we need to talk about this.”
Jensen shakes his head, dismissing it with an angry wave. “You don’t want to.”
“That is not why,” Jared says quietly. “Of course I want to. I want you. I just... I needed a break.”
Jensen nods, jaw tight. “From me kicking your face in.”
“No. It wasn’t that. I could handle that.” Jared’s arm tightens around Jensen’s shoulders. “I needed a break from... from the kid,” he finally admits. “I couldn’t handle the kid, Jensen.”
Jensen rolls his eyes. Of all the stupid excuses. “I’m the kid,” he points out coolly.
“No, you’re not. See you? You want me. I know you want me. But the, the kid...”
Jared shudders suddenly, so violently Jensen can feel it like an earthquake in his bones. He stops, looking up at Jared in alarm. His face is pale, mouth downturned. He looks like he’s about to be sick. What is going on?
“Jensen, he’s terrified of me,” Jared says, voice filled with self-disgust. “As he fucking should be.”
Jensen stares at him, bewildered.
Jared clenches his jaw. “Don’t you get it? I’m trying to have sex with a ten-year-old! He thinks I’m... That I’m the one who... who...”
Jared’s face crumples, and that’s when Jensen finally gets it. Oh. Oh shit. Jesus!
“Jared,” he says, hand coming up to cup Jared’s cheek. “No.”
“I want to be with you,” Jared whispers. “I do. Don’t you ever think I don’t want you. But I can’t... Not like that.”
“Jar-” Jensen’s throat closes up, and he wants to scream in frustration. Dammit! Not now! He takes Jared’s face between his hands, forcing him to look at him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he tries to say, with his eyes, with the stroke of his fingers over Jared’s cheeks. ‘I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?’
“I’m sorry,” Jared chokes, and Jensen shakes his head. He steps closer, pulling Jared’s head down for a kiss. Just presses their lips together, feeling Jared’s breath like a warm breeze on his face, then wraps his arms around Jared and holds him tight. Every time Jared says he’s sorry Jensen shakes his head and pulls him tighter, but it’s like Jared is lost in the horror of what he thinks he’s done, and he just keeps repeating it over and over again. “I’m sorry,” and “I just can’t.”
Jensen finally pulls back and looks up at him, hating himself for the misery he sees in Jared’s eyes. He pats Jared’s chest and shakes his head then hits his own chest with his fist, lips twisted into a disgusted sneer. Repeats the gesture again and again.
‘Not you. Me. It’s my fault. I never should have pushed you like that. I didn’t think. I just saw myself failing; I never even considered what it might be like for you. I’m sorry. Jared, I’m sorry.’
Jared grabs his hand, stills it. “Don’t. You’re hurting yourself,” he says quietly.
Jensen huffs. Yes, his chest hurts, he’s probably bruised his sternum, but fuck that. The only thing that matters is that Jared understands that he’s done absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing. ‘Me. It’s all me. My fault.’ He holds Jared’s gaze, until finally he sees a flicker of understanding in his eyes.
“No. You didn’t know,” Jared says. “I should have told you. I know I should have. I just... You wanted it so much and I...” He sucks in his breath. “I want to give you everything. Everything. But I can’t-”
Jensen cuts him off with a kiss, pressing their lips together, until Jared finally relaxes and kisses him back. They stand there, holding on to one another as snowflakes descend gently from the sky. Jensen keeps his eyes closed. Jared’s hair over his face like curtains, sheltering him from the snow. It doesn’t even make him shiver.
“You never told me about that,” Sam says. She looks worried. “Did it happen often?”
Jensen shrugs. Throws up a couple of fingers. It was probably more like five times, but it’s bad enough having to admit it happened even once, let alone that often. How could he have been so fucking stupid?
“Was he badly hurt?”
Jensen bites his lips. Clears his throat. Starts pointing at various parts of his face but stops. His hand falls to his lap, and he looks away. Then he presses one trembling hand to his chest, over his heart. What the hell do a few bruises matter when you’ve broken someone’s heart? Made them feel like...
Oh God.
He hides his face in his hands.
“You didn’t know,” she says quietly.
Jensen shakes his head. He should have known. He should have realized. He just didn’t think. He never fucking thinks. It’s all about him and his problems, and how it affects him. Never anyone else.
“How is he?”
He gives her a look. How do you think he is?
Jared says he’s fine. That yeah, it shook him up, but that was then. He’s good now. He just doesn’t want it to happen again. And it’s not going to. Jensen will make sure of that. He can’t even remember why he thought it was so important in the first place. Stupid. He was stupid. Should have known it wouldn’t work and just accepted it instead of using Jared as some kind of fucking sex experiment. It sickens him, just thinking about it. They were good, everything was good. Way better than he ever imagined it could be. Why’d he have to fuck it up by wanting more? It was damn selfish. Greedy. Stupid. So damn stupid.
“What about you? Has it changed anything for you?”
He looks up at her, incredulous. Does she really have to ask? Can’t she see he’s feeling so fucking guilty he wants to kick his own face in?
“I mean, how do you feel about that kind of sex? Of being the recipient? Do you still want it?” she elaborates.
He starts shaking his head but one look from her and he stops. Swallows. Balls his hands into fists.
“Yes,” he whispers.
God help him, he does. Nothing has changed in that aspect. He still feels like he’s missing out. He still feels inferior. More than that, he feels like... like he’s letting the sick bastard who raped him into his bedroom, into his bed. Letting some dead fucker control what he can and can’t do with his boyfriend. It makes him so damn angry. So damn fucking furious.
“I want...” He stops. Grits his teeth. “I want him gone.”
“The kid?” she asks curious.
He shakes his head even if, yes, that would be great, too. “Fuller.” He chokes on the latter syllable, coughing until his eyes water. It’s the first time he’s been able to say the man’s name out loud. It should feel like a victory, but there’s just this awful taste in his mouth, like sour sweat and cigarettes.
“Gone in what way?” Sam asks. She doesn’t sound puzzled, just intrigued.
“From my home. Our home. Exorcise him.” He looks up at her sharply. “I’m not crazy.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think you’re crazy.” She drums her fingers upon the notebook, looking thoughtful. “But are you sure he’s still there?”
Jensen frowns at her.
“I just mean, what happened before Christmas has made a big difference in you.” He starts to protest, but she cuts him off. “Jensen, you just said Fuller’s name. You have never said his name before. Your art is blooming. Your speech is a lot more fluid. Even if it still frustrates you, the change is clearly noticeable. You are making plans for the future, when a few months ago you would have said you didn’t have one. These are not small steps, Jensen.”
He gives her a doubtful look. What is she saying?
“I’m not saying you’re back to ‘normal’,” she continues, smiling as she does the air quotes. “We both know that’s not gonna happen. But you seem to have managed to distance yourself from Fuller to some degree, probably because by pointing that gun at someone that your mind thought was him, you finally stood up to him. He’s not dominating your life in the same way as he did before.”
She leans forward, her face serious. “You know rape isn’t really about sex, Jensen. It’s about power. If he’s lost his power over you...” She raises her eyebrow, allowing him to take the thought further.
He licks his lips. “I can’t chance...” He stops, coughs. “I’ve hurt Jared enough,” he finally settles on.
She nods, thoughtful. “I get that. But this isn’t just your decision, Jensen. It’s Jared’s as well. Talk to him. If we're right... You never know, he might be willing to give it another try.”
Jensen swallows and doesn’t say anything.
Talking to Jared proves to be even more difficult than he imagined. How do you really tell your boyfriend, ‘Let’s see if you can fuck me without my crazy younger self popping up, trying to bash your head in’? And what if Sam is wrong? What if the kid does come back? Jensen never, ever, wants to see that look on Jared’s face again. He did that. He made Jared feel that way. Can he really risk that happening again for something he’s not even sure he’ll like?
“You ever think of selling your work?” Jared asks suddenly. He’s sitting by the kitchen island, eating toast and drinking orange juice, surrounded by schoolbooks.
Jensen looks over, frowning, then back at the drawing he's sketching in front of him. Seriously?
“Well, not that one,” Jared says, sounding embarrassed. “I’d rather keep my privates... private. But, you know, your paintings. Or the drawings. Like the ones you do of the kids, the portraits. I’m sure their parents would happily pay you for those.”
Jensen shrugs. He doesn’t mind giving them away. It’s just lines and swirls on paper, not like it’s worth anything.
“I’m serious,” Jared says, getting up and moving over to the stack of paintings in the corner. “This is art, Jen. It’s not just a hobby, it’s real art. Like this?” He pulls out a painting of the night sky view over the city. “This is so amazing. And this?” He goes over to a table where a series of drawings lie unevenly stacked amongst a collection of pencils and a dirty coffee mug. “All of these are just exquisite. Look at this.” He lifts up the one Jensen drew of him sleeping that morning. “I’m embarrassed as hell but that doesn’t keep me from seeing how beautiful it is.”
Jensen turns away. He feels uncomfortable talking about his work. It’s just what he sees, brought out on canvas or paper. And so many of them are too personal, him trying to show what he can’t say. Selling them would be like selling a diary filled with all his dirty secrets.
“I don’t mean you should sell these, I just mean you could paint for a living. If you wanted to.”
It reminds Jensen a little too much of his dad, so he sends Jared an irritated glare, but Jared just rolls his eyes and comes over to kiss him on the nose.
“I said if you wanted to, idiot. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, okay? I’m just pointing out the possibility. You like painting, right?” Jensen gives him a ‘duh’ look. “Right. So, having a job doing what you like wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”
Jensen shrugs. Suppose not. He still doubts people would want to pay for his depressing paintings. Plus, he likes The Black Bean. Okay, so he only really likes Thursdays at The Black Bean but, still, it’s something he’s content doing, working with the kids.
Oh.
He turns to Jared, blinking slowly. He could do that. Paint with kids. A workshop maybe. He feels a lot more comfortable around the kids than any adults he knows. Besides Chris and Jared. Even Sophia feels intimidating at times, because he can tell she pities him more than she understands him. And she can get really frustrated when she has to rescue him from irritated customers that just don’t get why he won’t speak to them. But the kids don’t care if he speaks or not. They’re just there to paint and draw and have fun.
“What?” Jared says confused. “Why are you staring at me like that? What did I say?”
Jensen opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and he ends up waving his hands and pointing as he gets more and more frustrated. If he can talk to Jared sometimes why the hell can’t he talk to him all the time? It’s fucking annoying.
“You, me...? Not me. You. Painting... small? Who’s small? You’re small? Ok, not you. Dude, I know what that means, and you can stick it up your own ass. I’m trying here, okay? You paint small... Oh, kids! You want to paint with the kids. That’s it? But you already do paint with the kids. I don’t get it.”
Jensen breathes out. Seriously, how slow can one person be? He stalks over to the calendar stuck to the fridge and points at the Thursday column then sweeps his hand over the whole month and looks at Jared pointedly.
“Ah. All the time. You want to do that for a living. Yeah, totally. That’s a great idea.” Jared grins. “Ha, see what I did there? I read mute people!”
“Idiot,” Jensen says, as clear as a day. He throws up his hands in frustration. Seriously, now it works? He’d be pissed off if Jared wasn’t laughing like it’s the funniest thing ever.
“You should see your face,” he says, and Jensen glares at him before pulling him in for a hard kiss. That shuts him up.
Now the idea’s come to him it’s all Jensen can think of.
First off he needs to find a place for it. He could just have it at home, but if those kids’ parents are only half as paranoid as his own, he can’t see them trusting a half-mute weirdo with their kids in that kind of setting. So, something more public, more official. Question is where. And how to pay for it.
“You can probably apply for a grant of some sort,” Jared says thoughtfully. “Teaching underprivileged kids or something.”
Jensen hums, pencil tapping his nose. Trying to make up a lesson plan is a lot more work than he anticipated. He’s used to the kids just showing up and then he helps them with whatever they want to do.
“My sister used to draw a lot,” Jared says quietly. “Always doodling, you know. Not as good as you but...” His voice trails off. “You think she still does that?”
Jensen shrugs. How should he know? He’s never even met the girl. He frowns, sketching a floor plan. He’ll need small easels. Those are gonna cost. And all the paint and paper and pencils and...
“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Jared says some time later. He gets up and comes over to stand by Jensen’s side. “You good here?”
Jensen waves him off. After some time the door closes and Jensen looks briefly up before going back to his planning. How many can he handle at once? Ten? Twelve? Maybe he can ask Jared to help out, just to make sure it doesn’t dissolve into chaos.
It’s dark outside by the time Jared comes back. He looks tired, but Jensen kisses him and after a while he’s smiling and pulling Jensen into his lap to make out. They even manage to get partly naked before Chris comes home, shielding his eyes before ducking out the door again, claiming he has a date with Sophia. They continue kissing after that, but somehow it’s not the same, and in the end Jared squirms away and says he has homework. Jensen sighs and gets back to his planning. He really needs to talk to Chris about their living arrangement. Sooner rather than later.
Chapter 13 | Chapter 15