Life, Underwater- 1/6
Jared has his priorities in life.
Swimming is a big one. He has been in the water since before he could walk, has taken to the pool in a way he never quite has to land. On dry land, he's awkward, has been ever since his growth spurt at fourteen left him with arms and legs so long and gangly he’s still trying to grow into them five years later. His mom has always joked that he's part fish, and in a way, she's right. He never feels at home anywhere quite as much as he does when he's in the water.
School's on the list somewhere, he guesses. One and a half semesters into college and he supposes it isn't too bad. Jared is on the swim team on a solid scholarship and his grades are more than decent.
More than swimming, more than school, more than anything else in his life, though, his priority is Jensen. Jensen has been his partner in crime since he was thirteen, swimming alongside him and helping him in securing gold at State their senior year. More than that, though, Jensen is his best friend. His boyfriend since they were sixteen. The love of his damn life, who would mock him endlessly if he said something so damn cheesy, but hell if it isn't true.
Possibly the only place Jared feels more at home than in the water is in Jensen's arms.
So, yeah. Jared has Jensen. He has swimming. He has school. And fuck if he doesn't love his life.
__________________________________
Jensen and Jared have a little place together off campus, a little nicer than most college students have their first time around, but not nice enough to really draw many compliments.
Their parents were split on the idea of them living together: Jared's parents pro and Jensen's parents less so. Jensen came out three years ago to his family, and Jared is convinced they are still waiting for the punchline, the “just kidding!” so that they can all laugh it off together and start planning for grandchildren. Jensen's mom has come around more than his father, who can't quite keep the disapproving look off his face any time Jensen and Jared are in a room with him.
“At least they didn't disown me!” Jensen always says whenever the topic comes up, plastering a fake smile on his face and acting like it all just runs off his back. Jared knows better, though, knows that Alan's approval has always meant more to Jensen than an entire case of gold medals ever could.
“He'll come around,” Jared always responds.
Jensen never looks quite convinced, but he nods anyway.
__________________________________
The first fight they had as a couple was while they were decorating their apartment.
It wasn’t over sheets or curtains or whether forest green and goldenrod were an attractive color palette for their new living room. It wasn’t over which bed at the Mattress Mart was most comfortable or whether the bedroom set Jared’s Aunt Jean gave them clashed with the oak trim in their room.
It was over whether they should adopt a cat named Deb.
A long day of flea markets and garage sales had landed them at a strip mall on the edge of town, a small gathering of stores and businesses punctuated by the large brick building of the Austin Humane Society.
It was a bad idea from the beginning. Jared had never been the type to leave a pet store without some animal in tow. In fact, he spent most of his childhood bringing various homeless animals to his front door, pleading his mom to let him keep countless flea-ridden dogs, bunnies, and, on one infamous occasion, sewer rats.
Jensen knew this. Still, he dragged him inside, past long walls of cages and crying animals. He stalled at a wall of meowing cats, of cages holding little balls of fur that stuck their paws out at their presence.
“No,” Jared said, shaking his head. He may love animals, but the exception was, and always had been, cats. After his friend’s cat nearly clawed Jared’s face off as a kid, he’d kept his distance.
“But look,” Jensen cooed, pointing at a small white and orange cat with brown stripes in the bottom cage, who stared back with wide green eyes.
“No.”
“But she’s so-“
“She’s a cat,” Jared said, arms firmly crossed at his chest. He wasn’t the most well-versed at telling Jensen “no”, but this he wasn’t budging on.
“She’s adorable,” Jensen insisted, placing his palm against the glass. “She likes you.”
Jared snorted, shooting the cat a glance. She was looking at Jensen, occasionally flitting looks in Jared’s direction.
“Her name is Deb,” Jared laughed, reading the tag secured to her cage. “Who the fuck names a cat Deb?”
“Mean Humane Societies who want to kill her?” Jensen said, shooting Jared a pleading look.
That earned him a glare. “Stop.”
“Her name is Deb. Debbie,” Jensen began, and Jared narrowed his eyes in his direction, wondering where he was going with this. “Like Little Debbies. You like those, right? Twinkies and shit?”
“That’s Hostess,” Jared corrected, sounding more petty than intended. “Think Zebra Cakes.”
“Yeah, Zebra Cakes.” Jensen was kneeling now, nearly on the same level as the cat, whose soft meow cut through layers of metal and glass. “She kind of looks like one, right?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Jared bristled, rolling his eyes.
“You like Zebra Cakes.”
“I neglect to see how liking Zebra Cakes relates to adopting a cat named Deb.”
Jensen looked up at him then, wide eyes pleading. “Please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
They argued in the lobby of the Humane Society for a good fifteen minutes before Jared caved, leaving as the proud owner of a little cat named Deb.
He never could say no to Jensen.
__________________________________
So Jensen's kind of stupidly attractive. Jared knows it, Jensen knows it. Everyone with eyes knows it. It's just kind of one of those things that just is, and Jared can't really complain, except when he does.
Jensen is immune to the stares on the street, doesn't even notice them anymore. Jared does. He isn't possessive, really, not overly protective, but sometimes he is. Sometimes he just wants to lock himself away with Jensen, just the two of them, and be the only one who gets to look at Jensen that way.
It's not creepy, except in all the ways it kind of is.
There's this kid on the swim team at the U named Mark Sheppard, who Jared thinks is creepy in his own right. Mark is nice enough, a little offbeat and a decent swimmer. He isn't ugly either, with deep brown eyes, a cut jawline, and a lean body. He has this accent that somehow makes him ten times more interesting, an accent Jared has tried to mock on numerous occasions and never quite succeeded.
Mark is alright. If it weren't for his crush on Jensen and his complete inability to take a hint, he and Jared might be friends.
Mark leans in too closely. He looks at Jensen too long, watches him with a look of longing. Jared wants to punch the kid in the face, almost did when Mark slapped Jensen on the ass last week in congratulations of a job well done on relays.
“It's just a little crush, Jay,” Jensen sighs when Jared brings it up in bed one night, rolling his eyes like the fact they are having this conversation is completely ridiculous.
“I think we're past 'little crush', Jen,” Jared grumbles. “Pretty sure we're into full out creeper status.”
“You're crazy, man,” Jensen dismisses, shaking his head. And maybe Jensen is used to this sort of thing, is used to ignoring catcalls on the street and people watching him like they have the right, but Jared isn't. He isn't sure he ever will be.
“Dude, he just like ogles you the entire practice. Like you're a piece of meat,” Jared continues, never one to know when to stop. And, yeah, the fact that Mark spends half of practice staring at Jared's boyfriend kind of bothers him a little, especially when Jensen is wearing a Speedo so small little is left to the imagine. It's an invasion of the intimacy that should be left for the two of them, Jensen and Jared alone.
“A piece of meat,” Jensen repeats flatly, obviously trying not to laugh.
“Yeah, man. I'm surprised he hasn't drowned yet, staying under water to get a better look at your ass.”
“You're ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.”
“He is,” Jared defends lamely, lip jutting in a pout. Jensen lets out a noise, half amusement and half exasperation and rolls over to bury his head in his boyfriend's chest.
“You have nothing to worry about,” Jensen reassures him, voice muffled in Jared's shirt. “Seriously. Nothing.”
Jared takes the opportunity to rake his fingers over Jensen's back, to rub the back of his neck just below his hairline.
“I know.”
And, really, Jared does know. He and Jensen are the most solid thing he has in his life, the thing he's most sure about. If there is one thing in his life he doesn't worry about, it's the relationship he has with Jensen.
He doesn't worry. Except sometimes he does.
__________________________________
Misha is another teammate of theirs. Jared likes Misha, though. Misha has neither a crush on Jensen or a homophobic streak, which is actually an astonishingly difficult combination to achieve. He's more Jensen's friend than Jared's, but they get along swimmingly as well. Forgive the pun.
“We should make this a tradition,” Misha announces around a bite of Grasperson's, the best burger place in a ten block radius of campus. Jared nods enthusiastically, dipping a handful of his fries in a bath of ketchup before jamming them in his mouth.
“For sure,” he says, mouth also full, because one can't be expecting to mind his manners when the food is this good. Misha is jotting letters down on the crossword puzzle he's looking at, occasionally looking perplexed. The silence that settles in is companionable, welcomed after a long day at practice.
Jared sighs and stretches backward in his chair. His muscles ache and all he can think about is his coach's constant chorus of water and protein. Water and protein, people.
“Man, what crawled up Coach's ass and died today? He-”
Suddenly, Jared feels a firm grip on a fistful of his hair, gently yanking his head backwards to reveal a grinning Jensen looming overhead. He can't help but smile back as Jensen drops a quick kiss to his hairline before letting go, shuffling to plop in the chair between Misha and Jared.
“A ponytail, Jared. Really?” Jensen says teasingly in lieu of a greeting, one eyebrow perfectly arched. He bumps knees with him under the table, letting him know the comment is lighthearted.
“It's in my eyes,” Jared says defensively, fingers automatically reaching to touch his hair.
“There's this thing called a haircut, Jared,” Misha murmurs, not bothering to look up from his crossword puzzle. “You might want to consider one. It's reaching creepy proportions.”
“My hair is not creepy,” Jared protests, glaring at his friend.
“It's a little creepy,” Misha insists. “And even if it weren't creepy, it would probably be worth it just to get Coach to shut up.”
“It's true,” Jensen agrees, eyes bright with mischief. “He brings it up, like, twice a practice.”
“He does not.” Jared's protests are met with another raised eyebrow, this time from Misha. “It's, like, once a week. Maybe. At most.” Jensen laughs at that, earning a balled up straw wrapper pelted in his direction. Annoyingly enough, he dodges it with ease.
“Just think, Jared. It would cut so much off your time,” Misha quips, wide smile breaking his face like he just said something clever.
“Yeah, totally,” Jensen grins. “It would shave seconds off your times, for sure.”
“You guys are so clever,” Jared grumbles sarcastically, stabbing a french fry into the mound of ketchup on his plate. “I hate you both.”
“Aww, baby, you know you love me,” Jensen says, pulling him close for a quick peck on the lips.
“You guys are disgusting,” Misha says, but his heart isn't in it.
“Mmmhmm,” Jensen hums, snaking one of Jared's fries. Jared feigns annoyance, but really, he couldn't care less.
He'd give Jensen the world, if he could.
__________________________________
The alarm goes off the next morning at a way-too-early 6:00, and Jensen manages to hit the snooze button approximately six times before Jared finally reaches over Jensen sleeping form and turns it off altogether. He watches as Jensen burrows a bit deeper within the sheets, face scrunching up in annoyance.
Deb is planted at Jensen’s feet as always, staring at Jared with eyes that are simultaneously wide and disinterested. Jared raises an eyebrow at her before turning his attention back to his comatose boyfriend.
“Jen,” Jared whispers, gently shaking Jensen, hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Time to wake up.”
Jensen's response is something along the lines of, “Nghh,” and when his attempts to shrug Jared off fail, he slugs an elbow back into the meat of Jared’s arm.
“Hey,” Jared repeats a bit more forcefully, delivering a sharp jab between Jensen's ribs. He groans in response, crawling to the very edge of his side of the bed. “Seriously, man. We gotta get up.”
“You get up.”
“You're going to miss class,” Jared chides, feeling a bit like a parent dealing with their toddler. Jared loves the guy, but he's stubborn as hell, and never more so than when being forced to wake up.
“And I'm going to fail and be kicked off of the swim team, I know,” Jensen grumbles, a direct reference to yesterday's attempt to get him out of bed. Jared thought it was a good one at the time.
“It’s our only class together, Jen,” Jared begins, deciding to try a different angle today. “If you skip, I might get lonely and have to talk to the cute guy who sits behind us. And if I talk to him, we'll probably fall madly in love and have to get married and stuff. And I just can't have you as a mistress, babe, I'm sorry.”
Jensen snorts at that, which doesn't exactly indicate Jared's threat has struck fear within his heart, but it means Jensen is still awake, which is something.
“Oh no, Jared, please don't leave me for the kid who sits behind us in sociology,” Jensen deadpans, fighting against his blankets to sit up. He has about ninety percent of the blankets they share on his side, being the blanket hog he is, and it's more of a struggle than it should be.
Jensen glances at him, bleary-eyed and a bit grumpy. He looks so adorable that Jared can't really repress the urge to ruffle his hair, so he does, pulling him to his chest.
“I hate you,” Jensen grumbles, voice muted from where his face is currently shoved against Jared's chest. Despite his words, he isn't trying to break free.
Jared chuckles. “You love me.”
“Meh.”
It takes willpower, but eventually Jared lets go of him and moves to stand up.
“If we hurry, we can grab some Starbucks,” he says in a singsong tone, tossing Jensen a bright smile over his shoulder.
“Tease.”
__________________________________
The thing is, sleep-rumpled Jensen is pretty much the cutest thing ever. He essentially looks like a giant four-year-old and acts like a grumpy eighty-year-old man, only hot. And maybe that sounds a bit creepy, but it really isn't. He's just adorable as fuck.
Jared watches as his boyfriend, who actually isn't four nor eighty, pouts his way through his first cup of coffee. It's a general rule that you don't really talk to Jensen before his first cup of coffee, and Jared usually follows this rule because he enjoys living.
“We still planning on going out tonight?” Jared carefully asks, braving the early-morning wrath of Jensen that will probably descend upon him. Jensen eyes him over the rim of his mug, but doesn't strike.
“Yeah,” Jensen nods. “As long as I still get laid.”
It's a joke to the extent that it isn't, a good nature probe with an undercurrent of truth. It's so close to midterms that they both have been running on fumes, too exhausted to do much else besides pass out at night. Neither of them are nymphos, but they usually have sex a few times a week, usually can't keep their hands off each other for more than a couple days.
So, yeah, they're both a little on edge. Jared learned long ago that wearing a Speedo in public when your hot boyfriend is around can be dangerous, especially when you haven't gotten laid in a week. Since an unfortunate incident junior year, Jared has generally been pretty good at keeping the pipes clean, so Little Jared doesn't make an unexpected appearance through the thin fabric of his swimsuit.
“You know,” Jared says, leaning close enough that they two are nearly nose-to-nose. “I think we might be able to work something out.”
He's going for sexy, but not the subsequent wrinkle of Jensen's nose.
“Dude. Morning breath,” Jensen grumbles, turning back to his cup of coffee. And, really, Jared should have known better than to talk to him when his cup is only half empty.
Jared rolls his eyes, landing a kiss upon the bridge of Jensen's nose before pulling back. “Or maybe not,” he says, referring to the earlier topic of getting laid.
Jensen sighs, catching Jared before he can pull away entirely and bringing him in for a quick kiss. “There. I kissed you, dead animal breath and all. You happy?”
Jared shakes his head in exasperation, flicking Jensen in the shoulder with his finger. “You need to work on your sweet talk, babe.”
“And you need to brush your teeth.
__________________________________
It's by some miracle that they don't have practice that night, a rare occurrence in their world of eating and sleeping pool water and chlorine-wrinkled skin. Jared has the night planned out: dinner and a movie and the rest of the night spent in bed with his boyfriend. It sounds so perfect that he has a hard time concentrating the rest of the day, through droning lectures and too-long free periods of silence.
He meets Jensen in the Union around four, late enough that the hoards of students that usually pile into the area have subsided a bit, leaving it more sparsely populated. He smiles widely when he finally sees Jensen shuffling down the stairs, but his smile ebbs substantially when he sees who he's with.
“Mark,” Jared greets, voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. “Hey.”
“Hey Jared!” Mark grins in return, either not catching onto the disdain in Jared's tone or simply not caring. Jensen's eyes dart between the two of them, watching carefully as though he's watching a couple of dogs sniff their way around one another, the threat of one striking looming overhead.
“Hey Jay,” Jensen says warmly, meeting his eyes with a smile. “Any chance you're up for a swim?”
If possible, Jared's face sinks even more. “A swim? But practice was canceled.”
“Yeah, I know, but Mark works at that new country club down the road, Lawson Hills? He has a key and their pool is supposed to be sweet.”
“It is,” Mark smiles, nodding eagerly. “Three levels, sparkling, and turquoise-”
“We actually get a night off and you want to swim?” Jared interrupts, ignoring Mark altogether. Incredulous, he looks to Jensen.
Jared loves swimming. He does. But nights off happen so rarely that they're stupid not to take advantage of them, and he has been looking forward to having a nice night with his boyfriend since I found out about practice being canceled a few days ago. Not to mention this proposal of checking out the new pool comes with the promise of Mark being there, which is so not how Jared pictured spending his Friday night.
“I know, Jay, but-,” Jensen starts, and really, this isn't surprising. Jensen has always had this weird fascination with pools, always wanting to try something newer and cooler, like it's going to be some new amazing experience. Normally Jared would laugh it off, tease him a bit, and probably give in, but Mark's involvement in this rubs him the wrong way. Jared already has to deal with him all week in practice, he doesn't need the twerp invading his date night as well.
“What about our plans?” he asks in a quieter tone, trying to have a private conversation in the midst of company. Mark doesn't even have the decency to glance away, instead planting his feet and smiling brightly. Jared shoots him a quick glare before turning his attention back to his boyfriend.
“We can still hang out,” Jensen insists, and it knocks the air out of Jared that he says “hang out”, like they're just two buddies grabbing a drink on the weekend. “It'd only take like an hour, Jay. Tops. The rest of the night, I'm yours.” Quiet intimacy encapsulates that promise, and Jensen holds his gaze, slightly pleading.
“Fine,” Jared caves after a beat, shrugging in defeat. “You go ahead. I think I'm gonna head home, though. Catch a nap.”
“Jared-”
“No, it's fine. Go on and I'll catch up with you later,” Jared says, trying to sound nonchalant for Jensen's benefit. Jared doesn't want to be that guy who is so insecure that he freaks out over his boyfriend spending an hour with someone else, but he can't be the guy who sits back and watching someone else flirt shamelessly with his boyfriend, either. Not tonight, anyway.
He still wants the night to be as good as he hoped, and if Jensen wants to go swim for an hour with a teammate, then Jared isn't going to stop him, no matter how much he wants to. It isn't worth having another fight about Mark, another argument where Jensen tells him he has nothing to worry about, but Jared still does. He loves Jensen too much to let an idiot like Mark mess up their relationship, even indirectly.
He'll sacrifice an hour of his own happiness for a night of Jensen's.
“No Jared, I-”
“Seriously, Jen, it's fine,” Jared continues, selling it with as genuine a smile as he can manage. “I think I'll go grab a nap. We can grab dinner afterwards.”
“You sure?” Jensen asks, looking less than convinced.
“Yeah, man. Totally.”
Mark looks happier than he needs to, and Jared's desire to slap the look off his face is as strong than ever, but the bottom line is that Jared trusts Jensen. Implicitly. He trusts that their relationship can get through this unscathed.
And if for some reason Jared is wrong, there will be hell to pay.
__________________________________
Jared isn't an unreasonable person. In fact, he's reasonable. Very reasonable.
He understands things. He understands that things happen, that people lose track of time. He understands you have to be flexible, that people fuck things up by nature and you have to roll with the punches. And he does. He rolls with those punches. He's practically an expert at it.
One punch Jared is having some trouble rolling with, though, is the fact that the one hour not-a-date between Jared's boyfriend and said boyfriend's not-so-secret admirer has turned into three hours. And Jensen isn't answering his phone.
And, okay, Jared could understand that, maybe. Maybe Jensen forgot his phone in the car. Wouldn't be the first time. The thing is, though, Jensen isn't just not answering his phone. Jensen's phone is off. Jared knows this because in the approximately three hundred times he has tried to call him in the past hour and a half, it rolls instantly over to voicemail. Of which he has left six.
So, no. Jared doesn't think he is unreasonable. He also doesn't think he is being unreasonable driving past the school to see if Jensen's car is still in the parking lot. It is. He is also not being unreasonable when he drives past the Lawson Hills Country Club to see if Mark's car is still in the parking lot. He isn't.
Jared's perfectly reasonable. Full of reason. The problem is, Jensen isn't at the pool. He isn't with Jared. He is, apparently, still with Mark, though. And that doesn't look good.
Jared is also reasonable enough to know that Jensen has never cheated on him. He's reasonable enough to believe their relationship is solid enough that he never would.
Something is off, though. Something isn't right. And Jared is reasonable enough not to ignore the signs.
__________________________________
Three and a half hours and Jared's annoyance and paranoid have morphed into full blown panic.
Even in the worst case scenario of something happening between Jensen and Mark, four hours is a long fucking time. Jared knows Jensen well enough to know how he would react if he ever did cheat on Jared, and it doesn't include taking a celebratory jaunt with his newfound lover afterward. If Jensen ever did cheat, and that's a big if, he'd be spilling his guts to Jared and begging for forgiveness within the hour.
Jared knows Jensen and that's the problem. In their six years of friendship, Jensen has never done anything like this. Jensen doesn't skip out on plans. Jensen doesn't turn his phone off and walk away. Even if Jensen were mad at him, Jared knows he wouldn't just not come home, knows he wouldn't just stay out without at least giving Jared a thumbs up.
Even as the dread starts to grow in the pit of his stomach, Jared still expect the phone will ring, with Jensen on the other end calling him a mother hen and apologizing profusely. Jared would be mad, but relief would fuel his forgiveness until it didn't matter anymore.
Jared glances at his cell phone in the passenger seat, willing it to ring. It doesn't.
__________________________________
Four hours and Jared is idling in the driveway of the Ackles' home, contemplating whether or not to knock on the door. He doesn't want to scare them if nothing is wrong, but if on the off chance Jensen is here, there is no other way Jared will know. Jensen's car is still parked in the lot at school (Jared has checked a total of four times), and Jared thinks calling Jensen's parents to ask them if their son is missing or just avoiding him might be more harmful than just stopping in.
Jensen’s mom answers when he knocks on the door. Donna always looks pretty, always put together, but it's obvious she has dressed down for the night. She's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, hair gathered in a ponytail, though her makeup is still on point.
“Jared!” she greets, looking surprised but glad to see him. “What are you doing here? Is Jen with you?”
Jared's stomach twists painfully as he shakes his head. Jensen isn't here. “No, I-”
“Oh, honey, come in!” Donna chirps, stepping aside. “I just finished a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Let me send some home with you two.” Jared follows her inside, feeling a bit helpless to say no, but stalls in the entrance of the living room with hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans.
“Is there something you need, sweetie?” Donna asks, turning to study him with eyebrows knitted in concern. Jared shrugs and bites his bottom lip, trying to look like he isn't freaking out on the inside.
“I was just...” he begins, taking a moment before rephrasing his thought. “Have you seen Jensen tonight?” Has he called you or stopped by at all?”
A look of confusion passes over Donna's features. “No. Why? Is something wrong? Did you two fight?”
“No, no, not at all,” Jared assures, seeing Mackenzie enter the room out of the corner of his eye. “He's, just, um. He's kind of missing, I think.”
“Who?” Jensen's little sister asks, leaning against the doorway. She might be mature for a seventeen-year-old, but she still has that gift of always looking bored even when she's interested.
“Jensen,” Donna answers, eyes firmly locked on Jared. “What do you mean, missing?”
“Well, he was supposed to be home like three hours ago. I keep trying his cell, but it's off, and his car is still parked at school,” Jared explains, words coming out in a rush. He's aware the second they leave his mouth how lame they sound, how it sounds like Jensen is out enjoying his Friday night and Jared is just being some jealous boyfriend who is overreacting. Donna, though, looks concerned, and this is exactly what Jared was hoping to avoid until he really had to.
“Maybe he just lost track of time,” Mackenzie offers dismissively, but there's something in her tone that shows she doesn't quite believe it. Jensen wasn't raised to lose track of time, he was raised on appointments of punctuality, on good manners and yes sirs and thank you, ma'am's, on good old fashioned Texas hospitality and the promises of a nuclear family. It's just not like Jensen, and maybe the police would dismiss the report as being a kid letting loose on a Friday night, but anyone who knows Jensen knows this is out of character for him.
Still, Jared doesn't want to worry the Ackles family more than he already has. “Maybe,” he says in response to Mackenzie's question, forcing a small smile. “I'm sure everything is fine, I really just-”
At that exact moment, there is a knock at the door. Besides being unexpected, it strikes Jared as odd. Why would someone knock in the presence of a doorbell?
Mackenzie scoffs. “Bet that's him. Dweeb probably forgot his key.”
Jared though, isn't quite sure. The three swift knocks resound in his bones, deepening the overwhelming feeling of dread that is starting to fill his veins, coursing throughout his body like a virus.
He watches as Donna crosses the room to answer the door, his mind repeating a mantra of it's fine, it's fine, I bet it's fine in an attempt to keep calm.
She swings open the door and calls out for Jensen's father with a bloodcurdling yell.
“Alan!”
At the door stand two uniformed police officers.
__________________________________
After that, time slows down and speeds by Jared all at once. He feels every second in its entirety, but the words that are being spoken refuse to sink in, refuse to process in anything but snippets of phrases.
The officers ask Donna if she would like to sit down. She refuses.
“There has been an accident,” is what he hears first, what he feels like a knife to the chest. The officers are calm, too calm, and it only serves to deepen the feeling of dread deep in Jared's gut.
“The car crashed in a creek,” is what he hears next, followed by the words, “they were ejected.” And as shocking and scary as it, it's the first spark of hope Jared feels. Because it means Jensen was thrown into the water. He has watched Jensen swim for six years, knows the level of comfort and the level of skill he has when it comes to finding his way through water. He's one of the best Jared has ever seen, the gold medal at State and nationally ranked kind of good, and if there is one place Jensen can survive, it's in the water.
Donna is crying now, held tightly by her husband. Alan Ackles is a stoic man, strong and unaffected, and to see the absolute fear and helplessness in his eyes right now is an indication of just how bad this is. Mackenzie is crying and at some point Jared must have grabbed hold of her, because his arms are wrapped tightly around her. He holds onto her like it's his only prayer, like if he just keeps his hold on Jensen's kid sister, somehow Jensen will be okay. He has to be. Oh god, he has to.
Bad things don't happen to people like Jensen. He's too good of a person, too amazing, too loved. He makes every day Jared spends with him the best of Jared’s life, makes Jared feel like he won the lottery of the lifetime because, by some miracle, Jensen loves him back. He is the best friend Jared has ever had, the best person he has ever known. He's the love of Jared's life, and you don't lose that when you're nineteen. You just don't.
Jensen is too strong for this, too good to go at nineteen. And, yeah, they say the good die young, but fuck. Please, god, make an exception this one time. Just this once.
Jared hears the words, “I'm sorry,” and his knees give out beneath him. He hears the words, “Jensen died at the scene,” and the life leaves him, through his lungs and his pores and his soul.
There are bits and pieces Jared hears after that, like “closed coffin” and “we don't recommend viewing him.” He hears phrases like “he went quickly” that are supposed to make Jared feel better, but that really just make him angry. Jensen was supposed to fight, damn it. He was supposed to win.
Jared is screaming, he realizes this, and after his throat goes raw he collapses in whispered whimpers of, “No, no. No...”
He has never been one to pray, but right now all he can think is, take me, god. Take me instead of him, or at least, take me with him.
Part Two