poems have possibilities [6/6]
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EPILOGUE
Jared pulled his coat a little tighter around him as he walked around the corner, a gust of wind colder than expected making him shiver. Winter was merging slowing back into spring, but it was still felt. His coat was too light, the sun deceiving when he had looked out the window that earlier. As he had pulled it on, rushing, Harley and Sadie had leapt to their feet. Their barks of excitement quickly turned to dejected whines when it became apparent that they wouldn’t be going out with him. He felt awful, shooing them out into the backyard at the last minute, but what else could he do? At least Jared’s new place had a backyard, the biggest thing about the place and one of the main reasons he moved there, the others being proximity to work and distance from his - his mistakes.
He inhaled sharply and shook his head, hair too long again and brushing against his cheekbones.
Jared pulled up abruptly outside the door to the bookstore and stared at the sign, biting his lip. His feet were glued to the pavement. It didn’t surprise him, this fear, caught between the desire to see Jensen, for the first time in almost seven months, and the desire to turn about face and walk away. Except, that was what he did before, isn’t it? Cut everything to ribbons, damaged beyond repair and then ran away.
Locking himself away, Jared had spent weeks avoiding Jensen, changing his running patterns so he wouldn’t spot Jensen sitting in his bay window, eyes blazing with anger burning right through Jared. He moved away as soon as he could, bandaged up his heart and plastered on a smile. Lucy tried to talk to him about it, and he shut her out in the beginning but eventually caved. She wanted him to reconcile with Jensen, kept telling him that there had to be some misunderstanding. Jared was too ashamed to speak to Jensen, couldn’t stand the possibility of receiving the vitriol he so very much deserved.
He focused on the banner placed up against the glass panelling of the door. His eyes traced the words ‘D.S Winchester’ and he knew that he would go in, even as he hesitated outside. He had to see the man whose words had changed him, irrevocably. Who had opened him to the possibility of something else, something more. And even though the result of that had nearly broken Jared’s heart beyond repair, it had been worth it, for those brief few months where everything had been almost perfect. And he had to apologise to Jensen, for the words he had hurled at him.
Jared had a lot to atone for.
He still didn’t move to open the door although he saw through the glass that the introductions had already begun. This was Jensen’s territory and Jared knew he was intruding. He rubbed a hand across his mouth. Jared took a deep breath and pushed open the door. He walked inside with his shoulders hunched, trying to make himself appear smaller, less of a threat.
He kept his eyes lowered, catching brief glances of this little place that Jensen loved so much and something twisted violently in him stomach. A now familiar trepidation and dread rushed through him, and his arms broke out in goosepimples.
What if Jared had been wrong? It was a question he’d asked himself endlessly over the last seven months, equally terrified of either answer. Bitterness flooded his mouth. As always, he was horrified by the thought, by the possibility. The coincidence of the reveal of D.S. Winchester happening in Jensen’s little bookstore, of all the places in Texas.
“Oh no,” Jared moaned, under his breath. He felt ill. Movement to his left made him look over and he saw Jensen’s friend Jakob stare at him intensely, leaning on the stained wood of the counter. Jared froze. Jakob’s gaze was piercing, assessing, but there was nothing hateful in his eyes, no sneer of his face. He forced himself to shuffle into one of the chairs at the very back.
The chairs were set facing the centre of the store, where a desk was placed in front of all the bookshelves that had been pushed away to make room. Piles of Winchester’s new book were placed on either end of the desk with a chair behind it. In front, a man, probably Winchester’s agent, was speaking, his arms waving about in his excitement, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. Despite the rolling nausea in his stomach, Jared forced himself to listen.
“-about love and loss, finding something incredible, perfect, too much like a fairytale, and then losing what was found in the worst of ways. This book is about how a relationship can fill up your whole world and inspire you, and how quickly it can turn sour.” The man paused, gazed around at the people assembled in the chairs before him and smiled. “But most importantly, it is about self-discovery and forgiveness.”
This is D.S. Winchester’s finest collection of poetry and I can’t wait for you to agree with me,” a ripple of small chuckles swept through the audience, “and so, without further, I present to you, D.S. Winchester.”
This was the moment and Jared gripped the sides of his chair, leaning as far forward as he could. The sharp edges of the chair dug grooves into the palm of his hand and the underside of his fingers. Jared’s mouth was dry and he was sweating. He could hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears, hear each slightly panting breath. His vision seemed to tunnel, focusing on the door of the back room as it opened.
The was a burst of applause and the door behind the counter opened, Jensen walked through and Jared felt as if his heart had been shoved up into his mouth. Jared’s felt the blood leave his face and he sunk down into his chair, slouched, hid. The nausea got worse, twisted his stomach into knots, but he couldn’t look away.
Jensen looked good. Jensen always looked good, bright green eyes, freckled skin, his hair lightly tousled, like he’d been running his fingers nervously through it.
Jared couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t-
Jared felt like he was on fire, his lungs were burning, like a fish thrown out of the water and left to suffocate on dry land. He knew, he knew, even as he tried to deny it. He refused to believe it because if it was true, if it was true--
“Oh God,” Jared whispered, voice stuck in his throat and breaking. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
When Jensen reached the other man, he shook his hand, gave him a nervous smile, and then turned that smile onto the crown, all of them still clapping. Except Jared.
“May I give you, Jensen Ackles, poet extraordinaire and owner of this fantastic bookstore,” the other man announced, made a flourishing gesture with the hand not holding Jensen’s, and then took a step backwards. “Jensen is going to give his own quick introduction before giving a small reading, and then we will open the floor to your questions.”
Jared fingers were cramping from his tight grip. He couldn’t let go.
Jensen waved at the group gathered before him. “Thanks, Robert,” he laughed nervously. “You make it sound like so much more than it is. It’s poetry that came out of a turbulent time in my life and how, in many ways, I finally came to peace with that.” He cleared his throat, eyes flicking across the faces in front of him. “My father passed away, over a year ago now, and I couldn’t see past it. Without his support, I floundered. Up until he died, he had been the one pushing me to reveal myself to the world but when he was gone, I folded in on myself. And then I met someone who, instantly and bizarrely, made me open back up again.” Jensen looked down at the floor, a brief smile tugging at his lips before it morphed into a frown. “As Robert said previously, it didn’t end well.” He shrugged. “I expected too much and gave to little, and he - ”
Jensen cut himself off abruptly and gave a weighted sigh. Jared’s feet tensed, pressing against the floor. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
“He wasn’t ready, incapable of staying in one place. But I realised that this is the way life is sometimes. What God giveth, he also taketh away. And on that happy note,” Jensen reached to pull one of his books across the table, “I will read you something new. This is called “The End”.
“I like honey off your skin
and trace the taste though our histories
we are not yet but we hoped to be
I hoped we had a future, lined with the filled cracks
where we shattered and became something new
but this is the end…”
Jared zoned out, horror slicking his insides, ice cold, and mortification made his cheeks burn. He had been a fool, angry and bitter and looking for thing that weren’t there so that he could have his reason, his excuse, for running away. Jensen had been right about him and that was a hard pill to swallow.
Those were D.S. Winchesters words, but they were Jensen’s too, and they had been written for Jared and about Jared. He had thrown away such a gift and he hated himself for it. He was determined not to squander such a thing again. He uncurled his hands from the sides of his chair. He grimaced as the blood flowed back, thumping painfully back into his gnarled fingers. It hurt.
“-the relationship with? What happened to him?” He caught the end of the question, from a woman sitting in front a few rows in of him. Jared sunk lower in his seat. Between the heads of the people arrayed before him, he could see Jensen’s face, the creased brow and downturned mouth, how they were quickly smoothed away. Jensen let out a dry laugh.
“Yes. I haven’t spoken to him in several months.” Jensen paused for a long time. “He pulled a disappearing act on me. I’m not proud of the things I said to him, as well as how I treated him. I didn’t act like a nice guy. But he was gone and there was no chance for reconciliation. I didn’t make an effort either.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead, mouth pinched. “As for our relationship, he wasn’t ready, didn’t believe in me. It was bad timing.” Jensen pulled his hand down to scratch at his jaw.
“Would you forgive him or even get back together?” It was the same woman and she sounded curious, intrigued.
Jared’s heart turned over in his chest, thumped sickly. His hands were clammy and he wiped them on his jeans.
Jensen opened his mouth, closed it again. He chewed on his lip. He sighed.
“I don’t know.” He held out his hands. “Forgive him? He had a lot going on when we were together, stuff that nobody deserves to go through. That’s not to excuse him but in a way, I can understand the pressure he was under. So, in time, maybe I could forgive him, if he could forgive me for my actions on that day.” Jared sucked in a wavering breath. That shove was the only violence Jared had ever seen come from Jensen and Jared had all but goaded Jensen into it. There was nothing to forgive.
“Would we get back together?” Jensen continued. He shook his head. “He didn’t believe in my when I needed him to the most. I can’t let that go that easy. He’d have to work for it.” He gave a smile that didn’t sit right on his face and slid off too quickly for it to be real.
Jensen didn’t say no. Jared could feel hope swell, could taste in in the back of his throat. He had a chance. He could prove himself, couldn’t imagine not trying. He would put himself forward. He would try. Try and hope that Jensen didn’t shoot him down.
Jared wasn’t the same person he was seven month ago. Neither was Jensen. They might be a better fit now. He locked the thought into place, tucked it into his chest, right beside his heart. He sat up from his slouch, squared his shoulders.
“And on that note,” Jensen’s agent, Robert said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get on with the signings.”
Jared bounced his knees, blew out a heavy breath. “Screw your courage to the sticking place,” he whispered. He rubbed his hands over his face and the pushed his hair back, tucking it behind his ears. He would wait until the end to take his place in the queue. Time trickled by slowly, Jensen listening to every single person in front of him, asking their name, listening to their story. Some people seemed to get upset and Jensen reached up to give them a hug. Jared felt his eyes grow hot. He discreetly wiped at the tears that threatened to fall.
“He hasn’t forgiven you.”
Jared jerked in surprise, whipping around to see Jakob sitting beside him, looking at him with cool eyes.
“He took a chance with you and you threw it back in his face.” The words were harsh but the voice calm and even. Jared still flinched. The truth of Jakob’s words stung, like salt rubbed in a fresh wound.
“I know.” Jared’s voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper, forced around the lump in his throat. He cleared his throat. “I do, and I don’t expect a miracle. But I’m not leaving.” He looked over at Jensen, now laughing at something someone said. Jared’s heart ached. “He deserves an apology, at the very least.”
“He never got over you either, you know. And he still regrets how he treated you that day.”
Jared turned back to Jakob. “There isn’t anything for him to regret. And even if it takes forever for him to even talk to me, I have all the time in the world,” he said, honestly, voice clear. “I’ll wait as long as I need to.”
Jakob kept his gaze on Jared for a very long time before he nodded and stood up, moved back behind the counter. Jared knew it was the closes thing to a blessing as he could expect.
When the queue had filtered down to a bare handful, the rest milling about the space or else up at the counter with Jakob, Jared made his way over, heart sore and filled with a fluttering feeling he dared not name. He drank his fill of Jensen - his eyes, his mouth, his voice, his hands carefully signing the books opened in front of him. He was a charcoal grey shirt, his broad shoulders pronounced. The first button was open, revealing his clavicle. He was pale, though, and his bright smile couldn’t hide the bags under his eyes, not to Jared.
He missed Jensen, more than he had allowed himself to admit.
The person in front of him moved away, and Jensen reached for the next book open ready at his side, pen poised. Jared watched with a sinking feeling as Jensen looked up at him, recognition flashing across his face. He flinched, his face contorting before smoothing out, unreadable. He looked straight at Jared and his eyes were blank.
“Who am I signing this for?” he asked in monotone. His hand was clenched around his pen, knuckles pressing white against his skin.
“It’s for someone who wants to apologise and is willing to work for it.” He attempted a weak grin but is slid off at Jensen’s unchanging face. There was a long pause as Jensen stared at Jared unblinking. Jared resisted the urge to fidget.
“I am sorry, Jensen,” Jared said softly, quiet enough to allow an illusion of privacy. “I have no excuse for how I treated you, so I won’t try to give you one.”
A flicker of something, Jensen’s mouth twitched and his eyes narrowed. He rolled his shoulders and begins to write something on the book before him.
“Thank you for coming, I appreciate your support.” It was said mechanically, something learned of for this specific occasion. Jared went cold and he thought he heard something crack, shatter. He couldn’t breathe. His lips hurt from where he was biting them.
“Oh.” His voice cracked and faded at the end, whittled away to nothing. Jared turned around, made his way to the door, prepared to forever leave his heart there at Jensen’s feet. His whole face felt numb. He wanted to go home. He wanted a hug from his Mom, her famous chocolate mud pie placed in front of him, her heart break fixer. Except he doubted it would fix anything.
He had lost his happy ending.
“Jared.” It wasn’t very loud but it was enough to have Jared spinning back immediately, breathless with the possibility that, that maybe --
“Do you.” Jensen cleared his throat. He was standing in front of his desk, cheeks flushed and nervously chewing his lips. He was the most beautiful thing Jared had ever seen. He took a step closer to Jensen. “Do you want to go for coffee?”
“Yes! Today?” Jared said instantly, eager and too loud, given the way that people turned around to look. He didn’t care. The tension around Jensen’s eyes disappeared. There was a hint of a curve around his lips.
“You’ll have to wait until after I finish up here. It might take a while.” Jensen gave a small, half-shrug.
“That’s okay.” Jared closed the distance between them slowly, almost hesitant. “I can wait.” After a moment, he tentatively placed his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. When Jensen looked at him with an increasing warmth, he gave a light squeeze.
“This time,” he said with meaning, “I’m not going anywhere.” He moved his hand down until it came in contact with Jensen’s. Their fingers curled around each other.
Jensen smiled at him. It was like winter was over and the sun had finally come out.
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