fic: A Handful of Rain Part 4

[riyku]

 

 

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“Thanks for doing this,” Steve said as he and Jensen walked up the sidewalk to the church where the Narcotics Anonymous meetings were held in the basement. “I hate walking into these things by myself. All those people making small talk and avoiding the elephant in the room. Goddamn awkward is what it is.” Steve’s sponsor was out of town for the weekend, and he had come to Jensen, begging him to go with him.

“Do these meetings actually help?” Jensen asked. He didn’t see how it was possible, talking about how bad you wanted something just made it worse. In his book, anyway.

“Why, Jensen,” Jared said, coming up from behind and placing a hand on the back of his neck, “and here I thought you were just here for the free donuts.”

“Who says I’m not,” Jensen replied, hunching his shoulders. It was weird, this daytime thing with Jared. They’d agreed to not flaunt it in front of the others, but it seemed as if they were hiding in plain sight. No one seemed the wiser, or if they were, they weren’t talking.

There was a bench in front of the building, and Jared stopped beside it. “I’ll be right here,” he said, pulling a paperback from his jacket pocket and crossing his legs as he sat down.

“You’re not coming?” Jensen felt a twinge of panic. It was like Jared was his lifeline, his safe spot in the middle of all of this.

“You’ll be fine,” Steve said, pulling Jensen along by the elbow.

“I just never thought that I’d be someone’s wingman at an NA meeting.” Jensen laughed softly, nervously.

“Life has a funny way of turning out,” Steve shrugged.

The basement room was plain. The cinderblock walls were painted white and small windows were set high, right below the ceiling. The fluorescent lights were too bright, and Jensen had the distinct impression that he was a specimen beneath them. People were gathered along the edges of the room, talking in small groups. The tables had been pushed to the sides and a large circle of chairs created in the center.

“You guys aren’t a bunch of bible thumpers, are you?” Jensen asked. They were in a church, after all.

“I’m sure some of them are. Me? Not so much. But whatever gets you through the day, right?” Steve steered them toward a table and poured himself a cup of coffee.

Jensen had his doubts.

Steve handed him a cup of coffee and a donut wrapped in a napkin. “Tools of the trade,” he said. Jensen ate slowly, the glaze on the pastry causing sweetness to explode on his tongue. “If you keep this up you’ll be diabetic by the end of the year,” Steve said, noting the way Jensen’s eyes rolled back at the taste.

“Small price to pay,” Jensen said, and was struck by the normalcy of their conversation, how it wasn’t about using or their past or their mistakes. It was good, and he thought that he could get used to having someone who wasn’t just a fair weather friend.

“Looks like it’s about time,” a woman announced from near the front of the room, and everyone moved to the center. Jensen began to take a seat when a look from Steve stopped him. No one else was sitting. He felt the stranger on his left take his hand just as Steve took his right.

His throat started closing down as everyone started in with a prayer, and he flashed back to about a year ago, when he was sick and strung out, speed that time, if memory served, and someone dragged him to a soup kitchen for a meal since it had been days since he’d eaten. There had always been a price, even for free food. A prayer before supper.

His vision started to go dark around the edges and bright in the center, and then he couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, but soon it was over, and everyone around him was sitting. Jensen was thankful for that, not sure that his legs would hold out much longer for him anyway.

Steve still had a hold of his hand, Jensen noted dimly, and he leaned in close. “You alright?” Concern had painted his normally mild expression.

“I don’t know,” Jensen said truthfully. “I can’t breathe in here.”

“We can go,” Steve offered.

A person started talking, and the crowd responded with the obligatory “Hi, John,” the sudden shock of noise made Jensen jump.

“No, you stay. I just need some air.”

Steve didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyway. “I’ll be fine, go.”

Jensen could feel eyes on his back as he slipped out the door. The sight of Jared still sitting on the bench right outside the doors felt like heaven to him. He collapsed limply next to him, leaned down far and put his head between his knees.

“We’re gonna have to stop meeting like this,” Jared joked, but concern hung heavily about him. He started rubbing Jensen’s back.

“Even a fucking church is a trigger. Goddamned house of the Lord.” Jensen took a breath before barking out a humorless laugh. He was getting mad at himself, even though he knew that it was futile. “I’m hopeless. They started in on this prayer…and I lost it. You know, religion has always meant a free hot meal on Thanksgiving Day, and divinity’s something I could buy for ten bucks a pop down on Washington Street.” He ran a hand through his hair, looked at Jared. “Can I just sit here? With you?”

Jared offered an encouraging smile. “It’s a public bench. Who am I to tell you no?” He leaned close, pressing a warm kiss to Jensen’s temple. “Don’t worry. We’ll find something that works.”

Jensen kissed him back. Jared grounded him, kept his feet planted on the earth like some sort of gravitational force. “I’m starting to think that you are the only thing that’s gonna work for me.”

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to stick around.”

Jensen ran a thumbnail along the edge of the thin plastic, looking at the tiny photo of himself on his new ID card. His hair was getting a little long. Maybe he should get it cut.

The echoes of his footsteps bounced from the marble floors to the high ceiling and back again as he strode across the lobby of the bank. He approached a large polished desk, the woman behind it standing immediately and rushing around it to shake his hand.

“Nancy,” Jensen said, pulling her name from the back of his fuzzy memory, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Mr. Ackles,” she replied, obviously flustered. Nancy looked him up and down once, taking in his ratty but clean clothes and his scuffed up shoes. “You look… better -- if you don’t mind me saying.”

Jensen flashed her a warm smile, trying to put her at ease. “No, Nancy. I don’t mind at all. I’m feeling much better.” He cleared his throat, business-like. “There are a few things—“

“Of course,” she interrupted him, pointing him toward a chair and taking her own. “I was happy to see your brother come in the other day.”

Jensen schooled his expression. “He did?” he said, wrapping himself in a sort of calm detachment. “I trust he’s well.” Jensen was amazed at how easily the language of diplomacy came back to him.

If she was surprised by this, she didn’t let on. “He’s busy,” she replied carefully, “you know him. Now what can I do for you, sir?”

“Everything good?” Jared asked as Jensen slid into the truck.

“My life’s so fucking weird,” Jensen said, laughing. “I go in the bank, and everyone’s calling me ‘sir’ and ‘mister’ and smiling ever so politely. But now I’m gonna go home, and I’ll bet you ten bucks that Katie’s gonna be pissed as hell at me because I forgot to take the trash out before we left.”

“Well then, sir, you’ll have to get on that when we get back,” Jared teased. The truck’s engine jumped to life with a rattle and a cough.

“Here,” Jensen handed over a twice folded up slip of paper -- a cashier’s check -- and then busied himself with his seatbelt.

Jared unfolded it, whistled low and looked over at Jensen, his eyebrows creeping up toward his hairline. “Nope. No way,” he folded it up again and tried to give it back.

Jensen just held up his hands. “Call it rent.”

“But you haven’t been here that long.”

“Then call it rent for next month too.”

Jared continued to protest. “The state pays—“

Jensen cut him off. “Yeah, the state doesn’t pay crap.”

“We do alright. We don’t need it.”

“Then buy Steve that TV for his room. The one he’s been drooling over in the Sunday ads. And get Katie a new bed. She’s been leaving furniture catalogs all over the house. The creak in her old one wakes me up every time she takes a deep breath. Get Chris that Johnny Cash box set he’s been eyeing up. Maybe something nice for him to play it on, and for god’s sake a new set of headphones to go along with it. Do what you want.”

“It’s too much.”

“Then call it a charitable donation, okay? Just don’t tell them I gave it to you. You can keep a secret, right?”

“Jensen.”

“It’s nothing,” Jensen insisted.

“You don’t have to pay us off.”

“It’s a drop in the bucket compared to what you guys have done for me. Besides, it’s just money.”

Jared laughed. “You know that the only people who say that are people who have too much of it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not even mine. Well, I guess technically it is. But I’d rather it be yours. It’s never done anything but get me in trouble.”

Jared was quiet for a moment, and then leveled a direct look at Jensen. “How did you get to where you ended up?” He held the check up between his first and second finger. “With all this, how did you end up on the street?”

“A bit too much crazy and a few too many bad decisions.”

Jared sighed. “Tell me the truth.”

“That is the truth.” Jensen frowned. “Maybe I didn’t want to be tied down by that kind of life, or maybe it was some sort of rebellion that got all mixed up along the way. Or some kind of experiment, I honestly don’t know. Jesus, I sound like a spoiled rich kid.”

“If the shoe fits,” Jared noted with a smile.

“Shut up. You’ll take it then, the money?”

“I don’t think I have a choice. But, thanks, really.”

“Don’t thank me. Don’t even say anything about it. Ever again. Promise?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Cut it out.”

“If you insist, sir.”

“Jared,” Jensen warned, “that’s enough.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what you mean.”

Jensen slid over and kissed him. It was the only foolproof way of shutting Jared up.

“Shhh,” Jared pressed his finger to Jensen’s lips. “I thought that Steve was never gonna go to bed,” he whispered. He slipped out of his jeans, pulled his shirt over his head and left it in a careless pile on the floor. The narrow bed dipped under Jared’s weight as he crawled in behind Jensen. “You’re a heavy sleeper.”

Jensen peered across the room, trying to clear his sleep-addled head. “Jared, it’s one o’clock in the morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Jared pushed Jensen’s t-shirt up, rubbed along his back up toward his shoulders. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you up here. Alone.” His breath was soft, and so quiet, moving across Jensen’s ear and sending shockwaves up his spine. “I couldn’t stop wanting you down there with me.”

Jensen knew that the wall between his and Katie’s rooms was paper-thin and started to protest, even as his traitorous body reacted to Jared’s touches.

“Shh,” Jared hissed again, shoving his thigh between Jensen’s from behind and rocking into him.

Jensen bit down a gasp, amazed at the way Jared could take him from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye.

“Jared --” Jensen tried again, but Jared pushed two long fingers past his lips, thrust them in an out, moaned low when Jensen swirled his tongue around them.

“No talking. Just show me what you want,” Jared whispered.

Jensen’s conscience was telling him to stop, reminding him that his roommates were mere steps away. But underneath that there was that undeniable buzz – that chemical that caused his eyes to go dark at the risk of getting caught. The chance. The chemical – the adrenaline blended with the sensation of Jared’s cock riding along his ass, as well as the insistent press of Jared’s body along his own. It warred with all of his ideas of morality, but Jensen couldn’t fight it, and finally he gave up.

He pushed at Jared, flipping him onto his back. He winced at the protesting creak of the bed springs as he made quick work of his clothes. Jensen splayed his knees wide, grabbed Jared’s hand and guided it down. Their fingers tangled as they skimmed along his cock, and moved lower still. A thrill ran through his system when Jared caught on, made a soft noise in the back of his throat and circled a finger around his hole.

Jared sat up, untangling arms and legs, trying to sit up in the bed that was too small for them. He kneeled between Jensen’s widespread legs. He paused, stock still, staring down at Jensen almost worshipfully. “Are you sure?” Barely even a whisper.

“What happened to no talking?”

“I’m serious about this. I need you to be sure.” He touched Jensen again, lightly, tentatively.

Jensen wanted everything, to feel Jared’s weight sinking them into the bed, to have Jared surrounding him, turning him inside out. Jensen rolled his hips, pushed down onto Jared’s hand, and made a soft whining sound. But that didn’t seem to be enough for Jared. “Yeah,” Jensen said. “I mean yes. Yes.”

Jared tipped forward and kissed him, worked his way down the column of Jensen’s neck, the stubble on his jaw rasping against Jensen’s skin, setting his nerves on fire. “I don’t have any. I don’t have anything,” said Jensen, but Jared just chuckled quietly.

Jared sat back on his haunches, reached across Jensen toward the bedside table. “A few days ago,” he said in answer to Jensen’s questioning look. “I told you that you were a heavy sleeper.”

“Bastard,” Jensen teased.

“Remember to call me that in five minutes. I dare you.” He reached down, a finger skimming along Jensen’s rim, before he flipped open the lube and let it run down the palm of his hand, warming it slightly on the way down. He worked one finger inside of Jensen. “Jesus, fuck,” he rasped, sinking in deeper.

Jensen buried his head in his pillow, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he tried to keep his muscles relaxed, tried to ride out the low burn when Jared pulled almost all the way out and another finger joined the first. Unable to help himself, Jensen hissed against the feeling and Jared froze. He smoothed a hand along the tight muscles of Jensen’s stomach, ran his mouth hot along the inside of Jensen’s thigh, waited for him to relax before starting again, a maddeningly slow slide. In and out, a slick push and pull, and Jensen thought that he was going to lose his mind.

With a frustrated noise, Jared pulled out, left Jensen flinching a little at the absence and pushing down toward Jared.

Jensen rooted through the mess of sheets on the bed, finally finding the foil-wrapped condom and ripping it open with his teeth. He stroked Jared’s cock, a couple of quick tugs, and rolled the condom down. He coated his palm with lube and ran his fist along Jared’s length until Jared shoved his hand away.

Jared laughed, an embarrassed sound. “Ten more seconds of that and this game is gonna end before it even starts.” He leaned over Jensen, lining himself up.

Jensen’s senses took on a crystal clear sharpness when Jared pushed in just a little. He took in the dark glint of Jared’s eyes behind the fall of his bangs, the way the light shined wetly off his slack lips, and the tremble of Jared’s arms as they bracketed his shoulders, trying to hold himself aloft.

It hurt, just a little, and Jared was being so gentle, his chest heaving with the effort of sinking so slowly into Jensen. Jensen moaned with the need to feel Jared fill him completely. He gripped Jared’s hips purposefully, yanking him closer. “I’m not gonna break,” he growled, wrapping his legs around Jared’s waist and holding him there with a tilt of his hips.

“Fuck,” Jared gasped, pulling out slowly. Jensen could feel himself stretch around the tip of Jared’s cock, just this side of painful. He tensed his muscles, testing. He got a groan in response and a second later Jared snapped his hips back down, bottoming out, slapping their skin together.

Jensen dug his nails into Jared’s back, holding on as Jared thrust into him over and over, his cock trapped between them, throbbing against the slippery friction of their sweaty stomachs. Jared’s lips moved in a constant whispered litany as Jensen writhed beneath him, urging him deeper, faster.

Suddenly Jared stilled, head cocked to the side. There was the creak of a floorboard outside of Jensen’s door. Jensen shifted, the hollow sound of shifting bedsprings and their heavy breathing sounding louder than thunder.

The irresistible urge to laugh crept up on Jensen unexpectedly, and he pulled Jared down, snorted into his neck for a second, waiting for it to pass. Jared was obviously biting back his own laughter, and kissed Jensen instead, his lips pulled tight in a grin.

There was the click of a door closing, and Jared shifted, rocked his hips just the right way and some sort of electricity jolted through Jensen’s veins. “Jared,” he gasped, arching off the bed and tangling his fingers into the blankets.

Jared only hummed softly, swallowed Jensen’s moans with a kiss and moved again. Just right. Right there, pounding into that spot relentlessly.

Jensen’s orgasm was building, he could feel it low in his belly, in the way the muscles in his legs threatened to give up and give out, his feet scrambling for purchase on the bed. “Please,” he begged, his voice nothing more than a series of needy-sounding rasps. He reached between their bodies, knuckles bumping against Jared’s taut stomach as he stroked himself fast.

Jared kissed him as he came, painting their skin in hot streaks, moaning into Jensen’s mouth as he lost his own rhythm, sank deep into Jensen, moving in long, hard thrusts. He bit down hard on Jensen’s lower lip, licked across it and broke the kiss to press his forehead again Jensen’s. “I’m gonna—” he didn’t finish the thought, only slammed hard into Jensen one last time, his entire body trembling under the force of his orgasm.

He collapsed heavily atop Jensen, hips moving in shallow thrusts as he rode it out, their sweat-soaked bodies sliding together perfectly. He kissed Jensen deeply, a tangle of tongues and limbs. Jared’s restless hands moved along his upper arms, down his sides, and back up to knot in Jensen’s short hair.

With a grunt, Jared made a motion to pull away, but Jensen didn’t want him going anywhere, not even to get cleaned up. He held on tightly. “Just give me a minute. I’m not ready to let go yet. Okay?”

Jared settled back down, kissed him again. “Okay.”

Chris wove through the small crowd gathered in the largest room at the rehab center, coming up to Jensen and shoving a slice of cake on a paper plate beneath Jensen’s nose. “The spoils of war,” he said. “Hand it over.”

Jensen passed the bronze medallion to Chris. It had the number one embossed on one side and a quote, ‘To thine own self be true,’ etched into the other. Jensen was pretty sure that this wasn’t what Shakespeare had in mind when he’d put pen to paper and come up with that one.

“One month,” Chris smiled, turning the coin over in his hand. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Jensen said, trying to brush it off. He took a bite of the cake, the sweetness chasing away the chalky taste of the opiate blocker the counselor had fed him after their session.

“It’s a big deal, brother. It took me three separate tries to make it as far as you have.”

“What’s different about this time?”

“I wish I could tell you. It’s not like I can say I don’t have a choice, because I don’t think I’ve ever had one. Something’s just clicked. I hope to hell it keeps on clicking.”

“Let me know if you ever figure it out.”

Chris flipped the coin with his thumb, and Jensen caught it. “You’ll be the first person I call.” He looked to a spot over Jensen’s shoulder and grinned. “Jared’s back from taking Katie to work. Looks like he wants to talk to you.” With a mysterious little chuckle, Chris headed over to rescue Steve from a very interested dark-haired woman.

Jared was leaning in the doorway, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. He nodded toward Jensen with a very ‘come hither’ smile and disappeared into the hallway.

Jensen made his way through the small crowd, nodding and smiling as the people from his group congratulated him as he passed by. “What took you so long?” Jensen said by way of greeting when he joined Jared.

“Had some errands to run,” Jared said evasively. He snatched Jensen’s fork and stole a bite of cake. “You shouldn’t eat so much of this stuff. It’s bad for you,” he teased.

“So is coffee, but you guys are getting me hooked on that.”

“One month,” Jared said, turning serious. “I’m so happy for you. Proud.”

Jensen sniffed, took another bite. “It’s no big deal. I have you to thank for it.”

“No, Jensen. This one’s on you.”

Jensen wasn’t convinced but he let it slide. The last ten years of his life had been on him and he knew how well those had turned out. Jared was the only difference, the only new part of the equation. “We’d better head back in,” Jensen said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder. “I don’t want to be accused of ditching my own party.”

“They can wait for a second,” said Jared, sweeping a finger beneath Jensen’s lower lip. He caught a little bit of icing there and sucked it into his mouth. He leaned in close, licked across Jensen’s lips with a soft hum.

Jensen grudgingly turned his head away, willed himself not to get hard and was only partially successful. “I’d like to be able to walk straight when I go back into the room,” he warned Jared, but the man just pulled him in for another kiss with a teasing hint of tongue. Jensen broke free, supporting himself on the wall. “Fuck,” Jensen said, trying to clear his head. “God, I want you.”

“You can have me,” Jared said quietly, crowding into Jensen’s space, trapping him there.

Laughter broke out in the other room, another reminder that this wasn’t the time or the place. “Yeah, I think I’m starting to get that.” Jensen ducked beneath Jared’s arm. “You coming?”

Jared stared at him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “Yup.” He seemed to snap out of it. “Right behind you.”

Jensen awoke in the early hours of the morning, lying on his stomach, Jared’s warm weight sprawled partially across his back. It was the third night in a row that he’d snuck down to Jared’s room to sleep, always waking up before the rest of the household to return to his own room before morning came.

Moving slowly, he gently slid out from beneath him, body freezing for a moment as Jared shifted to his side in his sleep.

Grappling blindly in the darkness, he found his jeans in a pile beside the bed, taking one of Jared’s shirts from a stack of laundry in his closet. He pulled it over his head, laughing a bit to himself at the way it hung partway to his knees and how the sleeves all but covered his hands.

He carefully and quietly padded on bare feet across the room, through the house to the back porch. The houses surrounding theirs were all nighttime dark, stove lights dimly illuminating kitchens here and there. The predawn light was an indistinct glow low on the horizon.

The wooden floor was cold, and he curled his toes against it, gripping the railing in front of him.

This had used to be his favorite time of day, this four o’clock hour; back in a time when getting fucked up had been something he wanted to do, before it had turned into something he had to do. This was a time for the parties to end, to finally have quiet, a time to recharge and greet the coming of the day.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind him dragged Jensen from his thoughts.

“Everything alright?” Chris joined him at the railing, his flannel pants riding crookedly on his hips and his bare chest peeking out from his unzipped jacket. He rustled in his pocket for his smokes and held the pack out to Jensen, who shook his head.

“Everything’s great,” Jensen said and, oddly enough, it was the truth.

“It’s Jared,” Chris said and lit a cigarette, his pale eyes flashing for a second in the small flame from his lighter. “He’s good for you. He’ll be good to you, too.”

Jensen kept quiet, not sure where Chris was going with this.

Chris continued, “Listen, we all know. We may all be a dozen different kinds of crazy, but we sure ain’t blind.” When Jensen stood up straighter, Chris reassured him, “Don’t worry. No one cares, and one thing we’re all good at around here is keeping secrets. Jared in particular. He’s got yours, mine, his own.”

Jensen finally found his voice. “His own?” A burning curiosity flared up within him, a feeling that warred with his desire to allow Jared to have something that was his alone. Jared deserved it, with everything else that he’d given.

“You should ask him.” Chris went quiet for a little while, and they both stood side by side, watching the light slowly creep up higher into the sky. “Love this time of day,” Chris said, finally breaking the silence, and putting words to Jensen’s thoughts. “This time right before the day really starts. It always feels like something is about to break loose.” He flicked his cigarette butt out into the yard, and they both turned toward the house.

When Jensen started following him up the stairs to his own room, Chris gave him a light shove. “Your bed’s that way,” he said, pointing in the direction of Jared’s door. “It’s a secret you don’t have to keep anymore.”

The weight of the key felt odd around Jensen’s neck. The chain was cold, the key itself smooth as he rubbed his finger along the blade of it. Jared had left it atop his dresser when he went into the shower, and an innocent search for a clean pair of socks had turned into something that Jensen knew he shouldn’t do.

He tapped the key against his lips and skimmed Jared’s room, searching for a lock that it would fit into. Not wanting to, but seemingly unable to stop himself, he dropped to his hands and knees and looked fruitlessly under the bed, standing quickly at the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“Hey,” Jared said, a blast of hot moist air following him into the room. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was dripping onto his shoulders. His eyes flickered down to Jensen’s chest, and then back up again.

“Hey,” Jensen answered and took the necklace off quickly, tangling the chain around his fingers. He tried to hand it over to Jared but Jared turned his back to him, and started rustling around in one of his drawers. “Go ahead. I know you want to,” Jared said without turning around. He replaced the towel with a set of boxers, ran his hands through his wet hair, bringing it to some semblance of order.

“What?” Jensen asked, took a few backward steps and landed on the bed.

Jensen could see the muscles in Jared’s back tense as he gripped the sides of his dresser, chin tucked down tight to his chest. “Don’t play stupid. I know you’re not.” With a sigh, he crossed the room to his closet, reached up to the top shelf and produced a wooden box.

It looked a little like a small steamer trunk, with a rounded top and polished brass fittings. There was a lock on the front. Jared set it on the bed beside Jensen. “Here.”

Jensen slid back quickly, like it was poisonous, and dropped the key down on the blanket.

“It’s okay.” Jared’s tone was suddenly a bit reassuring. “It’s not gonna bite you.”

Jensen wasn’t so sure. In fact, in that moment, he wasn’t so sure of anything. But this was Jared, and whatever skeletons Jared had in his closet couldn’t even come close to matching the ones he’d shoved into his own. Jared had never shied away from anything Jensen said, no matter how dark and ugly it had been. It was time to repay the favor.

Not knowing what to expect, Jensen plucked up the key with numb fingers, turning it easily in the lock. He slowly opened the lid, examining the contents with absolutely no idea what they meant.

Before him was a box full of bits and pieces of this and that; papers, scattered photos, a bottle cap from a soda, a chewed up nub of a pencil, and a couple of dog-eared cards from a playing deck. One of them was the three of diamonds. Jensen rifled through the stuff, layers and layers of it.

“So these are your mistakes?” Jensen asked, not understanding.

Jared came to sit close to him, their knees touching. He shuffled through some of the things in the chest, pulling out a folded piece of paper. Jensen recognized it as an intake form. He’d filled one out just like it a matter of weeks ago. “Teddy,” Jared mused, looking down at the paper. “He was just barely eighteen and he’d been hooked on pills for three years by the time he came here. Three years, Jensen. Vicodin, mostly. He had a smile that could light up a room. Left after a week.” Jared folded the sheet again, fingernails sharpening the creases in a practiced move and placed it beside him.

He pulled out a thicker sheet of paper next, a yellowing strip of clear tape holding together a ragged tear down the center. It was a pencil sketch, and Jensen immediately recognized it as drawing of Steve sitting on the front steps of the house. “Jessie made this. I think she had a thing for Steve,” Jared smiled. “I know Steve had a thing for her. I really thought that she’d kicked it. Seven months in, that’s when everything fell to hell. She used to stay in your room.”

“Maybe you should give this to Steve,” Jensen said. “Maybe he’d like to have it?”

“He doesn’t want it,” Jared said with a shake of his head. “Take my word for it.”

Jared went through nearly a dozen more items, listing their pedigrees, names and drugs and how long they were here, why they left and when they did. Jensen kept listening for a happy ending, a success story that never came.

Jensen picked up a photograph near the bottom of the box and Jared went quiet, waited.

The photograph was of a young woman, hazel eyes with a little bit of blue in them, a big smile, a familiar ski slope of a nose. Jensen was struck with the sudden certainty that this woman was one of Jared’s own. With a shaking voice and a heart that was on the verge of beating its way out of his chest, Jensen said, “Who is she?”

Jared offered up a wan smile, as if he was exhausted despite the early hour. “My cousin. I tried to help her. It didn’t turn out good.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, and then snatched the photo from Jensen’s hand, gathered everything scattered on the bed back into the box and closed it. He locked it and placed the key around his neck.

Heaving a sigh, Jared lifted the box, and shoved it back into its spot on the top shelf. He joined Jensen on the bed again, curling on his side and resting his head on the pillow.

Jensen settled next to him, shoved his leg between Jared’s, rubbing their feet together, back and forth. “It’s not your fault,” Jensen said.

“Spare me the speech.”

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated.

“I opened this place about three years ago, Jensen. Do you know how many people have come to stay here? Eighty-eight. You’re number eighty-eight. Do you know how many people have relapsed? Fifty-seven that I know of.”

Jensen did the math in his head, comparing it to the statistics that he’d learned at the rehab center. It wasn’t too bad, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Jared that. Instead he said, “But what about the people who don’t screw up?”

Jared only shrugged.

“So where do you keep the good news? Where does that go?” Jensen asked.

“Those people are out there,” Jared gestured vaguely, “getting on with their lives. Happily, I hope.”

Understanding dawned on Jensen and he closed his eyes, felt his heart breaking.

Jared sent all of his successes away from him, all the people who had stayed on the straight and narrow. He kicked them out of the house with a smile and a wave and maybe a twenty-dollar bill, but most of all with a hope against hope that he’d never see them again. Not ever.

But not his mistakes. Those he kept close, locked up tight where he could reach out and touch them. Memorize them. Never forget.

“You’re disappointed,” Jared said, skimming his fingertips along Jensen’s closed eyelids.

“No, I’m not. Far from it.”

Jensen followed his roommates in through the kitchen door, each of them loaded heavily with grocery bags. He was feeling a little resentful. If there was one thing he hated more than shopping for food, it was having to carry the bags on the bus afterward.

“Lookie here,” Chris mumbled. Jared was sitting at the kitchen table, a stack of bills at his elbow. “You could have come picked us up,” he pointed out.

Jared didn’t look up from his work. “Leave the bags on the counter. Surprise room inspection in five.”

Jensen revised his earlier thought, he probably hated inspections more than the bus. Even if it was just Jared doing it.

The others dashed up the stairs, but Jensen hung back, grabbed a handful of Jared’s hair and tipped his head sideways to bury his nose in Jared’s neck. “Cold nose.” Jared said and smiled at him, shoving him away. “Get going. I want to see hospital corners, Jensen. Hospital corners.”

Jensen was halfway up the stairs when Chris ran into him bodily, holding a set of headphones still wrapped in plastic in front of him like a shield. “I can’t believe it,” he said, eyes wide in surprise and a dopey grin on his face. “And a new stereo. And everything Johnny Cash ever recorded.” Apparently his ability to form complete sentences had flown out the window.

As he passed Steve’s room, he noticed the empty box on the man’s bed. Steve was already hunched behind his dresser, plugging in the new television that now sat atop the shiny wood surface.

Jensen opened his door and was surprised to see a long flat box on his bed, a dark red bow wrapped around it. He untied it slowly and opened the box. It was a new coat, light brown leather that was soft as silk. He thumbed the tag. Italian, expensive. He lifted it up, removed it from its wooden hanger and slipped it on, the heavy lining sliding easily over his worn out flannel shirt. It was a perfect fit. Holding the cuffs up, he breathed in, the smell of leather flooding his nose.

“It fits,” Jared said from behind him, sounding pleased. His arms encircled Jensen from behind, held him close.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I recently ran across this mysterious benefactor who was very generous.”

“But really,” Jensen insisted.

“I know that winter is almost over,” Jared said. “But you need something to keep you warm.”

“Thank you,” Jensen tangled his fingers with Jared’s. “What did you get for yourself?”

“There’s nothing I want. I have everything I need right here.”

Katie came pounding into the room, rocking them sideways when she slammed into Jared. She took Jared by the shoulders, reached up on the balls of her feet and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best,” she said.

Spinning toward Jensen, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, right on the lips. “Thank you,” she said softly to him. “Sorry Jared,” she said as an afterthought, “I always wanted to do that. Seemed like a good time.”

“Don’t thank me, Katie. This is all him,” he nodded toward Jared.

“Bullshit,” she told him. “But I’ll let it slide.”

Jared shrugged and smiled crookedly at Jensen. “I take it she likes the bed.”

It hadn’t been a big deal, not really. It wasn’t because of a fight with a housemate over drinking the last of the orange juice, or whose turn it was to do the dishes, and it wasn’t even a particularly bad day. It was just another day. One like all the rest.

Jensen had bent over the washing machine in the basement, tossed the last of the clothes into the dryer, turned it on and thought that he could really fucking use a fix today.

He marched up the narrow staircase, found a clean spoon in the drawer beside the sink, shoved it in his back pocket, and then signed himself out on the clipboard sitting on the table by the door. He’d been careful to check the time in order to get it right, and made sure he had his key. He was certain that he’d be back more sooner than later.

There had been plenty of chances to change his mind. Like when he didn’t have correct change for the bus, or when he stopped by the free medical clinic to pick up a hypodermic and had to wait for twenty minutes of eternity for the office to open up, or in that half a minute span of time when he couldn’t for the life of him remember his PIN in front of the bank machine. Only he didn’t change his mind. In fact, he hardly thought about it all.

Now he stood once again in that dim attic room, lit only by a single candle on the table and the light filtering through dingy curtains. The Professor was at his appointed post before the window.

“My prodigal son, returned to the fold at long last,” the old man sneered, opening his thin arms wide in welcome.

“Cram it, teach,” Jensen said, crumpling up a twenty dollar bill and throwing it into the man’s lap. He pulled his hoodie over his head, dropped it to the floor and slid his belt from its loops, wrapping it around his upper arm and pulling, pulling tight. “Don’t hold out on me.”

There it was, the backtrack, his blood shooting into the dropper, changing the dirty yellow to dark red, the plunger going down. Down, and then nothing. Blissful, beautiful, a thousand other words, but the best one of all was blank.

The heels of his shoes knocked hard on the concrete stairs. Jensen had a second to question how the hell he’d gotten outside and then a blast of something shot up his nose. He choked on it, sputtering through lips that felt like they’d been glued shut. He felt as if he was crawling out of his own grave.

Jared was kneeling over him, his hair falling across eyes that were open too wide. He had the heel of one hand pressed hard to the center of Jensen’s chest, the fingers of the other shoving into Jensen’s upper lip, right under his nose. “Keep breathing, Jensen, concentrate on breathing.”

Chad hung over Jared’s shoulder, his mouth working in a constant litany of apologies. “Jensen, sorry, brother. You were so far out there. You had too much. Too much, man. You should have laid down on your side, don’t you remember? So you wouldn’t choke. I found this number in your wallet. I didn’t take any of the money, I swear.”

“Give us room, get me some water.” Jared snapped and Chad stumbled backward up the stairs.

“No,” Jensen muttered. He was so slowed down and everything around him was moving too fast. He couldn’t catch up. There wasn’t enough time to catch up.

“You motherfucker,” Jared said, his voice watery. “You scared the hell right outta me.” He lifted Jensen by the shoulders and pulled him across his lap, into a half sitting position, wiping at Jensen’s mouth with his sleeve.

Jensen’s eyelids felt way too heavy. It was too much of a fight to keep them open. He started to let them slide closed once more.

“No,” Jared demanded, pressing his fingers under Jensen’s upper lip again, jabbing up toward his nose. “You’re not getting out of this.”

The shooting pain brought Jensen back.

Chad returned from inside the house with a cup of water, perking up at the approaching sound of sirens. Without another word he took off at a quick walk down the sidewalk, his head down and his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.

Jared tilted the cup to Jensen’s lips and the cold clear taste of water flooded Jensen’s mouth. “Spit,” he said.

Jensen turned his head and followed the order. The water coming out of his mouth was a sick yellow color. He tried to wipe at his chin, but his arms weren’t moving too well.

Nothing was working and he couldn’t figure out why. Why Jared was there, what had happened to him, why he’d come this far only to end up smack at the beginning all over again.

Jared ran his fingers lightly across the clammy stretch of Jensen’s forehead, along his temple and down his jaw. A thumb pressed for a second along his bottom lip. Familiar fingers that felt so alien working across his numb skin.

“You’re going away again,” Jared said, and he didn’t sound angry, only sad, tired.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen croaked, or at least he tried to say it, his voice wasn’t working too great either. He dimly heard the sound of tires screeching to a stop and the tinny sound of a radio strapped to someone’s belt.

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.” Jared shook his head.

Jensen thought he heard the sound of an iron door being slammed shut, and hoped that it was just in his mind.

“What’s going on here?” a strange voice demanded sharply.

“Overdose,” Jared replied, not losing eye contact with Jensen for a second, not even for a blink.

“Who are you?” And there it was again, a flashlight shining into Jensen’s eyes, a blue-gloved hand pressed to his wrist, and the metallic sound of a gurney being wheeled in his direction.

“I’m his…” Jared paused for a second, took a deep breath, and started again “his house manager. I run the halfway house where he lives.”

Pain tore through Jensen’s chest that had nothing at all to do with the smack still running through his system. His ribcage felt like it was suddenly three sizes too small, and tears started leaking slowly from his eyes. He rolled slightly to the side and wretched, watery bile streaking down the side of his face, some landing on the pavement, on his own shoulder, on Jared.

Strong arms were grappling with him, moving him to the stretcher and he was rolling, watching Jared as he still kneeled there on the landing, his head down and his hands resting uselessly on his knees. A small crowd had gathered, keeping their distance as they clogged the sidewalk with curious eyes and hushed whispers.

Then Jared was up and moving, quick strides closing the distance between them. He bent over Jensen, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and then another, running a thumb along the shell of Jensen’s ear.

Jensen pulled back as well as he could, his eyebrows drawn together in a question. He worked his throat to speak but Jared quieted him with a finger across his lips.

“Because,” Jared whispered, close to his ear. No one else was meant to hear this. “Because you need to know that there’s someone in this world who loves you. More than anything. Remember that, okay? Don’t forget it.”



Epilogue