Fic: Haven. RPS. Chris/Jensen. NC-17. Chapter 10/11

[felisblanco]

Continued from here.



“Hi.”

Chris looks up. The smile cracking his face is instant. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

He jumps to his feet and hugs her so hard one of her boobs shifts and she has to adjust it, laughing while he apologizes, blushing red in mortification. “I’m just so damn happy to see you, girl, but that ain’t no excuse.”

She shakes her head. “Honey, I just as much expected you to throw me out. A little wardrobe malfunction is nothing.”

“Throw you out? Fuck, I’d like to throw you a goddamn party, that’s what.” He pulls her down to sit beside him, gripping her hand so tight she winces. “You got any idea…” He has to look away as his emotions overwhelm him. “I mean, this ain’t Paradise, not by a long shot, but knowin’ those bastards are gone? Folks here are breathin’ so much easier.” He clears his throat before looking back at her. “My boy is breathin’ so much easier. You did that.”

She’s staring down at the table, her face flushed. “Don’t. I killed someone. I killed two people. They’re dead because of me.”

Chris shakes his head, his nostrils flaring. “They’re dead ‘cause they assaulted you. They’re dead ‘cause they raped and beat countless folks like us, some to death. They’re dead ‘cause they messed with the wrong goddamn woman!”

Her lip trembles. “I haven’t been able to sleep. I just keep reliving it, over and over. And it’s not like I can talk to anyone about it.” She covers her mouth with her hand, breathing harshly through her nose. “God, Chris, I killed two people!”

He puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “And if you were a cop or a soldier, we’d be givin’ you a fuckin’ medal for it.” He smiles gently when she blinks at him, teary-eyed. “I’m sorry you’re dealin’ with all of that, sweetheart. Wish I could make it go away. But all I can offer is my gratitude and the most expensive cocktail Matt can conjure up, yours for free for the rest of your blessed life. Or whatever else you want. Whatever we have, it’s yours. For as long as I hold this establishment.”

Her smile is tentative but genuine. “I’ll turn into a lush. You’ll have to carry me out every night.”

“I’ll make you a bed and give you breakfast,” he says in all seriousness, and she laughs but it sounds a little broken. “Lorna, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “We’re all in your debt.” He nods his head at the crowd dancing and singing along with Steve on stage. “Everyone in here owes you. They just don’t know it.”

“And they never will,” she says quickly, fear in her eyes. “Right? You promised me!”

“I ain’t told a soul and I never will.” He lifts his hand, looking her straight in the eye. “I swear on my sweet boy’s heart, I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

She breathes out. “Thank you.”

He smiles then waves Danneel over. “Whatever you want, ma’am,” he tells Lorna then looks up at Danneel. “On the house. Always. She don’t pay. Make sure Matt makes a note of it.”

Danneel lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, just takes Lorna’s order of a simple gin and tonic.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Lorna says quietly as soon as Danneel is out of earshot.

“I do. That way I feel like at least I’ve done somethin’ to repay you.”

“I should be repaying you! You…” She looks around, then lowers her voice. “You saved my ass.”

“And you saved countless others so just let me do this for you. Please.” He gazes at her, pleading, until she nods, wiping a tear from her eye.

“So how is your boy?” she changes the subject, once Danneel has delivered her drink. “I thought he’d be here with you.”

“Ah, well.” Chris rubs his neck. “He and Steve ain’t exactly bosom buddies.”

She smiles. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me. How’s it feel to be the pinnacle in a love triangle?”

He sputters. “Lady, we ain’t in no goddamn love triangle. Me and Steve, it’s… it’s… We ain’t nothin’ like that.”

“But you used to be.” She studies him as he looks away. “Or he thought you were. That it?”

Chris takes a sip of his drink, unable to look at her. “We were foolin’ around, that’s all.”

“For how long?”

He shrugs. “Eight years, give or take.”

She sighs. “Honey, that ain’t fooling around. That’s being in a relationship. Whatever you call it, that’s what it is. No wonder he’s been so down.”

Chris gives Steve a guilty glance. As if Steve can feel it his gaze drifts over and Chris gives him a strained smile. Steve frowns but then he smiles back although his eyes look guarded. “I didn’t know,” Chris says. “I didn’t…” He sighs. Admits, “Yeah, he’s pissed.”

“You could always make a go of it all three.” She lifts her hands in apology when he glares at her. “Just thought I’d throw that out there.”

“Even if it were my thing, which it ain’t, I’d never do that to my boy.” He takes another sip to hide his embarrassment. “Kid deserves somethin’ all his own, even if it’s just a sorry old bastard like myself.”

She smiles. “You might be an ornery bastard, but you’ve still got a way to go before you can call yourself old.” Her face turns serious again. “How are you these days?”

He shrugs. “Better. You were right, those pills weren’t right for me. They’ve got me on somethin’ else now. And I’m goin’ to therapy,” he adds, feeling awkward as soon as it slips out. He doesn’t know why he’s telling her all this.

“Good for you.” She gives him a wry smile. “Genetic mood disorder. Bet your childhood was interesting. Don’t worry, I ain’t prying,” she adds when he looks away. “Unless you wanna talk.”

He hesitates. “Was my old man,” he says then remembers he already told her that. “Right old bastard ‘til the day he died.”

She nods. “How did he die?”

“Heart attack after beatin’ my ma to death,” he says bluntly, thinking, ‘Is this who I am now? The guy who blurts out his secrets to whoever wants to listen?’ “Was dead ‘fore I could call 911.”

She stares at him. “Shit,” she finally says. “Good thing you’re in therapy.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Probably.” He looks away, gnawing his lip. “Talkin’bout that. Jensen told me you said you’d all been there. Meanin’ like… like him. What he went through. That true?”

“Well, I don’t know what he’s been through,” she says slowly, “but I can guess. He’s a very beautiful boy.”

Chris swallows. “Yeah, he is.” He clears his throat and takes a big swig of his drink. He should have asked Danneel for another. He’s almost out.

She nods, like whatever she can read in his face is what she expected. “I hope Hell claims every single one of them.” She hesitates then says, “Not all, but too many of us, in some way or other.”

He nods. “You, too?” he asks before he loses his nerve, knowing it’s none of his business.

She looks at him. “Yes. You?”

The question catches him off guard even if he somewhere deep down knows that’s why he asked. Because he wants to tell her. Because he feels cut off from the rest of them even if he knows that he’s no different. He stares into his near empty glass, watching the golden liquid slosh like waves as he rolls the glass between his hands. Weariness settles upon his shoulders like a heavy blanket. He closes his eyes.

“Not like that. I mean, I weren’t…” he hears himself say. “I never said no.” He shakes his head, irritated by its sudden weight. “Don’t matter. Was a long time ago. Forget I mentioned it.”

She sighs. “Honey, I told you, you ain’t that old. How long?”

He rubs his eyes with his fingers. He’s only had one glass, he shouldn’t be this goddamn tired. “I don’t know.” He pulls in one slow breath after another. It keeps getting harder. This feels like… But he’s been taking his damn meds. He’s been going to therapy. What the hell is the use of all that if it can still throw him down like this? And so damn fast. “Twelve years.”

“Making you what?” she asks, jerking him out of the dark. She sounds angry, her voice is deeper than he’s ever heard it. “Thirteen? Fourteen? What about them? How old were they?”

He blinks, trying to clear his vision. Everything is getting blurry. “My mama’s age, maybe. Some older.”

He hears her suck in her breath through her nose. Her hand covers his. It’s damp and a little cold from clutching her drink. “Then you did say no, darling, simply by being too damn young to say yes.”

He frowns. That doesn’t sound right. He wasn’t a child. He was… He had a voice, he just didn’t use it. “That ain’t how that works.”

She palms his cheek to turn his head, so she can look him in the eye, then says gently but firmly, “That’s exactly how it works.”

He blinks rapidly. The fog is rolling in, steady and fast.

She tilts her head in concern. “You alright?”

He nods slowly. His head feels so very heavy. He lifts his drink and empties his glass. No use wasting it. “Lorna, darlin’?” he says. Slurs. His tongue is going numb.

“Yeah?”

“Can you…?” He can’t remember what he was gonna say. He needs… Jensen is upstairs. Steve is on stage. Matt… “Get Matt?”

“Sure. You okay?”

“’M fine.”

He sits back as she slides out of the booth, throwing him a last worried look before making her way through the crowd to the bar. Time slips away. Breathing is getting very, very hard. He stops for a moment, just to rest his lungs, then starts again when his throat starts hurting. The music sounds muted, like it’s behind a wall. The lights seem fuzzy, like in the old days when bars were so filled with smoke you were breathing fog. He closes his eyes. He feels like he's sinking. Like he’s breathing under water. He can feel the pressure of the deep crushing his chest.

“Sorry, boss. Just had to finish a large order. What you need?”

Chris blinks his eyes open. Matt is looking at him expectantly. Chris licks his lips. Frowns. Matt frowns back. He leans closer, narrowing his eyes. “Are you alright?” He waves his hand in front of Chris’s face.

Chris opens his mouth. He can’t remember what he meant to say. He closes his mouth again. Matt is starting to look worried. He slips into the booth, tugging at one of Chris’s eyelids with his thumb. “Shit, have you been drugged? Were you roofied?”

Chris wrenches his head away. “No. No. I jus’…” He stops. Talking is hard. Talking is way too hard. “Ti’ed.”

Matt pushes him to sit back, grabbing his chin. “Hey, look at me. What’s wrong? Are you having a stroke? What the hell’s happening?”

“Let me.” Suddenly Steve is there, cradling Chris’s heavy, heavy head in his hands, looking into his eyes, all sad and worried. “Hey, Chris, look at me. Look at me. What’s wrong?”

Chris blinks at him. Frowns. “Ti’ed.”

Steve lets out a relieved breath. He shakes his head, smiling sadly. “Damn, babe, are we doing this again? Chris? You checking out?”

He closes his eyes.

“Shit. Matt, help me get him upstairs.”

“What the hell is wrong with him?”

They keep talking but Chris has stopped listening.

It’s four in the morning and Jensen is finally starting to nod off when Chris stirs beside him, grunting quietly like he’s in pain before opening his eyes. He looks confused for a minute then breathes out, mouth turning down, eyes squeezing shut, like he wants to shut the whole world out.

“Hey,” Jensen says softly.

Chris turns his head and blinks at him, the pout warping into a half smile. “Hey,” he sighs, sounding worn out. When he lifts his hand to rub at his eyes, it trembles. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t.” Jensen strokes Chris’s hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “You scared us. You checked out. Like, scary fast. Did you stop taking your meds again?”

Chris frowns, like he can’t quite remember. “No. I’m fine. I’m…” He rubs his chest, breathing in with a grimace. Like it hurts. He closes his eyes, his eyebrows drawing together as he breathes in and out, like it’s a chore, not a natural function.

“You wanna sit up?” Jensen asks him and Chris nods, shoving himself upright with visible effort, but once Jensen has put some pillows at his back, he seems to breathe a little easier. Not much though. His head is tilted back, a crease still working overtime between his eyebrows.

“Steve said you were talking to Lorna,” Jensen says quietly. “What were you talking about?” When Chris doesn’t immediately answer he adds, “I’ll ask her.”

Chris raises his head and looks at him through half lid eyes. “Was nothin’. Just ‘bout…” He grimaces. “Them folks.”

Jensen nods. He figured. “The fine folks?” he asks to be sure.

“Mhm. She said…” Chris’s eyes fall shut again. “It weren’t right. Was too young.”

Jensen breathes out. He moves closer, putting his head on Chris’s shoulder, closing his eyes when Chris puts his arms around him, always the caretaker, even now. Jensen tilts his head up to kiss Chris cheek, his ear. “Told you,” he chokes out.

Chris turns his head so he can reach Jensen’s mouth, kissing him. “Don’t be sad, darlin’,” he murmurs.

“Chris, shut up,” Jensen whispers. “I’ll be sad if I want to.”

Chris hums. “Alright,” he sighs, like it’s his permission to give. “But not too long. It’s all over. Don’t matter no more.”

God, he’s such an idiot! How can he say that when it’s so obvious that it does? Jensen sits up, shaking Chris’s arm off his shoulders. He feels suddenly enraged, from all the worry and fear when Matt and Steve carried Chris upstairs, from having to watch Chris, waiting for him to wake up, not knowing how bad it would be this time. Knowing Chris is doing absolutely nothing to deal with it, to make it better.

“It does matter! Of course it fucking matters! If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be checking out all the time! This happens whenever someone as much as mentions it, so don’t you tell me it doesn’t matter!”

“Sweetheart…” Chris reaches for him, but Jensen rolls out of bed, too angry to be mollified.

“No! Don’t you sweetheart me,” he yells. “They fucking raped you! How the fuck can you say it doesn’t matter? To me?” His voice breaks and he fucking hates it! “What, you think if you don’t admit it happened, you’re better than me? Like I’m the poor victim but you… you just made bad decisions? That’s fucking bullshit and you know it!”

“Never called you a victim,” Chris says slowly, looking at Jensen like he’s the one who should be pitied. Like he’s the only one broken. “Don’t know why you’re so pissed at me. I never…” Chris frowns. “They didn’t fuckin’ rape me. Why you sayin’ that?”

God, Jensen wants to scream. “Chris, you were a kid and they made you have sex with them even if you didn’t want to. What the hell would you call it?”

Chris shakes his head. “Was not right, I’ll give you that, but-”

“Jesus!” Jensen curls his fingers in exasperation. “This is why you need to talk about it with your therapist! Or this is just gonna happen, again and again, because guess what? I’m not gonna shut up about it. Not until you admit what fucking happened!”

Chris scowls and slowly gets out of bed, swaying a little on his feet. “Now, that’s fuckin’ rich! Why don’t you talk about your goddamn trauma instead of runnin’ out of your therapist’s office every time she so much as prods you a little?”

Jensen swallows. “That’s not the same. It’s not the same and you know it.”

“Yeah?” Chris scoffs. “Tell me what’s different!”

“You’ve had years to deal with your shit!” Jensen yells. His voice is shaking. “I’ve had a few months! I’m not ready!”

“Well, maybe I’m not ready!”

They stand glaring at each other until Chris suddenly loses his balance and crashes into the wall before falling to the floor, cursing. Fuck! Jensen hurries around the bed, his stomach churning with guilt.

“Let me help you,” he says and breathes out in relief when Chris doesn’t shove him away. Jensen drags him to his feet then pushes him down on the bed, making him lie down. But when Chris reaches for him, he can’t… He just can’t. Instead he sinks to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees, his back turned to the bed so Chris won’t see his tears.

“I’m not sorry,” he says stubbornly and hears Chris huff, like he never expected him to be. “You need to talk about it. You do. I don’t want this to keep happening. It fucking scares me. When you just… You shut me out.”

“Baby, no,” Chris sighs. He doesn’t sound angry anymore. Just tired. “That ain’t what I’m doin’. I ain’t shuttin’ you out, I just… I shut down. But I don’t mean to. It just happens.”

“It happens because you can’t face it, Chris,” Jensen says, frustrated. “That’s why. Because you’d rather hide than admit what happened to you.”

Chris sighs again. Or maybe he’s still having trouble breathing. Jensen can feel the warmth of Chris’s arm touch the back of his head but then it moves away again, like it was accidental. Or maybe he thinks Jensen would shrug him off. He wouldn’t. The anger is gone. He just feels empty and guilty and wishes he never started this goddamn conversation.

“I know what happened to me,” Chris says, his voice quiet. “There’s no hidin’ from that. I know, darlin’, believe me.”

“You don’t-” Jensen starts to argue but Chris slams his palm down on the bed, shutting him up.

“I know! I know, alright? I can still taste’em in my mouth. Can still feel their hands on me. Feel’em wet around my dick. Feel…” He swallows loudly. “I stood there, confessin’. To bein’ a sinner, bein’ filthy. Blood still drippin’ down my back from how hard he caned me. And they all sat there in their Sunday finest, lookin’ shocked and disgusted. Like I couldn’t still smell’em on my skin, weren’t still bruised from them holdin’ me down while they shoved into me.”

Jensen hitched his breath. “Chris…”

“I’s fourteen and… not big. A small kid. I…” He’s crying, Jensen can hear it in his cut off breathing, the wetness of his voice. “Too young.”

Jensen wipes at the tears trickling down his cheeks. “Yeah, you were.”

Chris sucks in his breath. It sounds loud and painful. “They raped me,” he says, voice low like he doesn’t mean anyone to hear. Like he just needed to say it out loud. Needed to hear it from the only person he’ll believe.

Jensen closes his eyes. “Yes. I’m so sorry.”

He listens to Chris’s quiet weeping until he can’t stand it anymore. He stumbles up to his knees and turns to face the bed. Chris is lying with one arm thrown over his eyes. His body is shaking. “Please. Can I… Can I hug you?”

Chris reaches blindly out with his free hand, cradling the back of Jensen’s head, pulling him in. Jensen crawls up on the bed, over him, to the other side where there’s space. He lays his head down on Chris’s chest, his arm around his waist, leg thrown over Chris’s legs, pressing close, wishing he could melt into him.

“It’s okay,” he starts but his throat is too strangled to continue so he falls silent and they just lie there, quiet, breathing in each other’s sadness.

Chris spends most of the day sleeping while Jensen putters around the apartment, feeling useless, restless, suffocating in his own emotions. Steve calls to see how Chris is doing, and sometime around dinnertime Matt shows up, screeching to a halt in the doorway when he realizes Jensen is alone.

“How is he?” he asks, shifting until he’s on the other side of the doorstep, looking wary.

“Sleeping,” Jensen says, not offering as much as a smile. He knows at some point they’ll have to work things out between them but not now. Not when he’s got all these thoughts and feelings shaking him to the core. “He won’t be going on stage tonight.”

“I figured.” Matt bites his lip. “You gonna take his place? We gotta have something.”

“I don’t think I’m a Saturday night kinda act,” Jensen says after a moment’s panic. “They’d want something more… you know.” He shrugs. “I’m too mellow.”

Matt scoffs. “You’ve done rock,” he points out. “You’ve done country. You’re good with any kind. You can easily do this.”

Alone on stage with no Chris to jump in or lend him strength. Feeling like he does now? Jensen shakes his head. “I don’t wanna leave him.”

Matt frowns. “What’s there for you to do? He just needs to sleep it off.”

“I need to make sure he stays hydrated and takes his pills,” Jensen says, knowing how lame it sounds, but it’s the only excuse he can think off. “And eats something.”

“A couple of hours on stage won’t make a difference,” Matt says and shoves away from the doorway, into the apartment. Jensen automatically steps back. Matt stops. He holds Jensen’s tense gaze then nods. “Oh. Right.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Shit.” He sighs before raising his head again. “Listen, kid. I won’t deny I find you cute, but I’m never gonna make a move. Never. And not just because Chris would fucking kill me, and we both know that’s not a metaphor. He actually might. But even if the two of you broke up, I wouldn’t touch you. Okay? I like my dates actually willing. Not terrified.”

“I’m not fucking terrified!” Jensen snaps. “I just don’t like you staring at me all the time. It’s fucking creepy!”

Matt raises his hands in apology. “Okay. That’s on me. I’m sorry. I’ll try not to. But you really gonna let that keep you from working a gig?”

Jensen takes a step back. His breathing is coming a little faster. “Got nothing to do with that. I just don’t think I should.”

“Dude, it’s just once. For Chris,” Matt says, frustrated. He starts moving as he talks, hands waving for emphasis, steps adding to steps. Jensen shuffles further back but Matt doesn’t seem to notice in his annoyance. “Think you owe him as much.”

Jensen knows he does, which is why he feels fucking awful for not stepping up. But just the thought of going on stage right now has him close to hyperventilating. He takes another step back, shaking his head. “I said no.”

Even if they’re still at least six feet apart, the closer Matt comes, the more cornered Jensen feels. Like Matt’s going to grab him and haul him down, push him out on stage, no matter what.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Matt bitches and throws up his hands in frustration.

Jensen jumps back, startled, heart hammering in his chest.

“Hey, calm down.” Matt rolls his eyes. “Jesus, kid, I swear to you, I’m not gonna hurt you! Just play the damn gig!”

“No! Stop asking me!” Jensen’s eyes blink rapidly as he tries to quell his panic. “I can’t! It’s not just about you!”

Matt stills. “Ah.” He looks indecisive then blurts out, “That how you gonna live your life? Locked up in here, scared of your own goddamn shadow, never going anywhere without Chris holding your hand?”

Jensen reels back like he’s been slapped. “Fuck you! You don’t know!”

“No, I don’t, but I can guess,” Matt says. “You’re not the only one with trauma on your back, kiddo. We’ve all got shit to deal with but we fucking deal with it! We don’t hide away, letting whatever the fuck happened rule our lives. Jesus, kid, get the help you need and then move the fuck on with your life before life moves on without you.”

“Matt!”

They both jump at the angry growl, turning to find Chris in the bedroom doorway, hair rumpled, cheek creased from the pillow, wearing only his boxer briefs and nothing else. Face like a thunder cloud.

Matt instantly backs out the door, seeming surprised at how far he has to go, how far he’d ventured into the apartment, like he hadn’t even noticed the extra steps he’d taken, backing Jensen further and further across the room. “We’re just talking,” he says, but he looks flustered, a little frightened even.

“Talkin’? Right.” Chris lets go of the doorframe, swaying slightly before lumbering over to Jensen. “You alright, darlin’?” he says quietly, rubbing his back.

Jensen nods and offers him a tight smile. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. We were just talking.”

“I heard what you were ‘just talkin’ about,” Chris says, throwing Matt a scowl. “Matt, this is still my goddamn bar and I pick who fuckin’ plays.”

“I was just…”

“Furthermore, this is a free fuckin’ country,” he continues grimly. “An’ I don’t force people to work for me.”

“I wasn’t…”

“And you, especially, do not force people to work for me. That clear?”

“Yes, boss,” Matt mutters.

“And as for the rest,” Chris growls, and Jensen wishes he could sink through the floor. “I ever hear you say shit like that again, to Jensen, to anyone, you’re out. I don’t fuckin’ care what your problem is, people’s traumas are their own to deal with in whatever way they deem fit. Ain’t your job, or anyone’s, to decide when they should fuckin’ ‘move on’. You hear me?”

“I was just trying to help,” Matt mumbles, his face deep red.

“By shamin’ him?” Chris asks and Matt flinches. “Fuck you. And get the hell out before I get real angry.”

Matt turns to leave but hesitates. “About tonight…”

“I said I’ll deal with it,” Chris spits out. “Now leave.”

Matt closes the door, a little harder than necessary, and then they hear him thundering down the stairs.

Chris sighs before turning back to Jensen, leaning into his side. “You two…” He sighs again and shakes his head.

Jensen bristles. “I didn’t do anything! He just showed up!”

Chris kisses him on the cheek then pulls him to the couch, sitting heavily and dragging Jensen along with him. “Didn’t say you did, sweetheart,” he soothes, pulling Jensen closer. “I just wish you’d get along. And you and Steve. Don’t know why you all don’t.”

Jensen huffs. “Right. Steve hates me because he’s in love with you, you doofus. And Matt… I don’t know what’s his problem.” Apart from undressing Jensen with his eyes every time they meet.

Chris squirms when Jensen mentions Steve, but when it comes to Matt, he just sighs. “I know Matt’s got his faults, but he ain’t bad. He cares about you. Like a part of our family.” Chris reaches up to stroke Jensen’s hair. “What he was sayin’… He went wrong about it, but it comes from a good place. He’s worried about you. We all are.”

Jensen huffs and tries to stand up but Chris grabs him by the waist, pulling him back down. “Let me talk. Now, I ain’t condonin’ him tryin’ to pressure you. He don’t know what’s been goin’ on or what you’ve been through.”

“I don’t wanna sing if you’re not there,” Jensen mumbles. “I’m not scared,” he lies. “It just feels wrong.”

“Alright,” Chris indulges him. “If I come downstairs and sit at our table, would you feel better then?”

“You shouldn’t. You’re not well,” Jensen objects, chest warming at the word ‘our’.

“I can just as well sit my ass down there as up here, bored out of my skull. But this ain’t about me.” Chris kisses him again. “I’m sorry about before. Know that can’t have been easy for you.”

Jesus. Sometimes Chris makes Jensen want to cry. “For me? Chris, for once, stop thinking about me. How are you?”

Chris shifts, looking away. “I’m alright. Sshh,” he says when Jensen means to argue that he’s not and will he please stop saying that! “Was just a bit of a surprise, that’s all. I mean, I always knew, I guess. Was just easier not thinkin’ about it like that.”

Okay, Jensen gets that. But still. “So, you ready to accept none of it was your fault?”

Chris shrugs, grimacing. “I mean… Not like I’m blamin’ myself for gettin’… you know. I just…” He sighs. “Weren’t all bad. I liked some of it. I mean, I was a teenager, gettin’ sex. Boys that age…” His voice trails off.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jensen says exasperated. “You were a kid. Only sex you should have been getting was in your head or by your own hand.” He bites his lip, looking away. “I sometimes got hard when… you know.” Seems neither of them can say it. “Doesn’t change what they did. Just made me feel more ashamed. Like maybe it meant I wanted it. Like maybe it meant I’d no reason to resent them.”

Chris pulls him closer. “Now you know that ain’t true.” He sighs and smiles when Jensen elbows him. “Yeah, yeah, I get what you’re sayin’.” He laughs quietly. “What a sorry pair we make, huh?”

“I don’t know. I think we make a pretty handsome pair,” Jensen says, tilting his head up to kiss Chris softly on the mouth.

“Beauty and the beast,” Chris chuckles, kissing Jensen again when he pulls a face. “Never said which was which, did I?” He gazes lovingly into Jensen’s eyes but then his smile turns serious. “Now about what Matt said… He weren’t all wrong.”

Jensen’s smile drops as his hackles rise. “What?” he says, pulling away.

Chris sighs but this time he lets him go. “You can’t go on like this, sweetheart,” he says gently. “You need to deal with your trauma, and yes, I know that’s rich comin’ from me, but I’m gonna. Okay? I get it now, I’m not alright and I need to tell my therapist ‘bout this whole damn mess, and I will. I promise, okay? But then you gotta promise me you’ll do the same. That you’ll make more of an effort and not run away whenever it gets scary. And you can be pissed at me for sayin’ that, darlin’,” he says when Jensen turns away. “That’s okay. As long as you allow her to help you get better.”

“I don’t feel ready,” Jensen mutters. Just the thought has his stomach twisting.

“Me neither. Maybe we’ll never feel ready,” Chris says, taking his hand and braiding their fingers together. “But I think we can still do it, especially if we do it together. Well, not together,” he amends, “seein’ as we’ll be talkin’ to separate therapists, but you know what I mean. I can cry on your shoulder, and you can cry on mine.” He ducks his head, ears turning pink. “Thanks for that, by the way. Don’t think I’ve cried like that since… I don’t know. Been a long time.”

Jensen decides he won’t mention the times Chris cried before. When he was drunk. When he was out of it because of a downturn. If Chris isn’t aware, he’ll just feel awkward and embarrassed.

“Maybe we should buy a big box of Kleenex, just in case,” he says instead.

“Good for keeping next to our bed as well,” Chris jokes.

Jensen snorts, his cheeks heating up. They haven’t tried having sex again, but they’ve been doing other stuff. And sometimes it gets right down messy.

“Every time I think of talking about that stuff,” he says before he loses his nerve. “That stuff she wants me to talk about. My mind just… I can’t. It’s too much. Like if I start, if I talk about it, it’ll swallow me. You know?”

Chris sighs softly. “Yeah. I know, darlin’.”

“Like that’s gonna be all I am, who I am, and who’s me now will just disappear.” He hitches his breath, feet curling up on the couch. “I’ll just disappear.”

Chris tugs until Jensen is resting his head in Chris’s lap. “Now, you listen to me,” he says, stroking Jensen’s hair, his hand warm and soothing. “What happened to you, what was done to you, that ain’t who you are. It affected you, ‘cause a thing like that leaves no one unscathed, but you’re you despite of that, not because of it. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

“No,” Jensen mumbles, even if he kinda does. He thinks.

Chris smiles. “I’m sayin’, lettin’ all that out will be really hard, but it ain’t all that’s in there.” He pokes Jensen’s chest. “And maybe, once you’ve aired the bad stuff, it won’t take up as much room. Maybe the rest of you will be free to move around more. To bloom and grow and be more you.”

“I don’t know.” Jensen sighs. “I’m just really scared.” He swallows. “I know I’m a coward.”

“Jesus, kid,” Chris blows out. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again. And don’t you listen to Matt. He’s got his own issues, and you don’t see me needlin’ him ‘bout’em. Not mine to tell,” he says when Jensen looks up, intrigued. “Just… don’t ask him to mix you a White Russian. He hates milk,” Chris whispers.

Jensen’s snorts. “Really?” He takes the offered secret for what it is, a small and probably insignificant leverage against everything Matt knows about him.

“Yeah. Milk, cream, even ice cream. Somethin’ about the smell. He grew up on a dairy farm. I decided it’s best not to ask.” Chris grins. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

Jensen mimics zipping his mouth closed. Won’t stop him from asking Matt to make every milky cocktail on the menu, once he’s old enough to order them. Which is still years away. Maybe he can ask Matt to make them mocktails.

“If you were a coward you’d never have left home,” Chris says softly. “You’d have let them beat you down ‘til there were nothin’ left of you. Instead, you made your way here, on your own. You found this place. You got up on that stage to show me what you got. And you’ve gone up there again and again, no matter how much it scares you. So don’t you dare think you’re a coward, sweetheart. You’re anythin’ but.”

Jensen swallows. Fuck, he’s gonna cry again. “That’s different.”

“It really ain’t. It’s all doin’ stuff you’re scared of. And I know talkin’ about what was done to you scares you more than that, darlin’, but I’m gonna be here, right by your side. And they ain’t. Them assholes from back home ain’t never gettin’ near you ever again. And if any of them try, I’ll fuckin’ kill’em.”

Jensen’s stomach turns. “Don’t say that.”

Chris sighs. “How’s this, I’ll beat the shit out of’em and tell’em if they ever go near you again, then I’ll kill’em? I won’t,” he promises when Jensen shakes his head. “Even if I wanna, I won’t. I promise.”

“I’d rather be scared every day of my life than have you in prison, or worse,” Jensen says. He feels sick just thinking about it.

“Darlin’, it don’t matter ‘cause it ain’t gonna happen,” Chris says softly. “They ain’t gonna find you. What the hell would they be doin’ around these parts anyway?”

“Looking for me,” Jensen whispers. It’s been months but still. What if they’re out there looking for him? His dad. His brother…

Chris frowns. “Why’d they be lookin’ for you, sweetheart?”

Jensen swallows. “Because I ran away.”

“You talkin’bout your family?” Chris says, confused. “Honey, even so, you’re eighteen and-”

“I’m not,” Jensen blurts out. “I’ll be seventeen in two months.”

Chris blinks. “What?”

Shit! “I’m sorry!” Jensen chokes out, heart hammering in his chest. Oh God, he’s gonna be sick. “I’m sorry I lied. I had to! I’m sorry!”

“You’re sixteen?” Chris says. He’s gone pale. “Darlin’, that ain’t good.” He covers his mouth with his hand. “That ain’t good at all.”

“It doesn’t matter! Right? It doesn’t… It doesn’t matter.” Jensen sits up, grabbing Chris’s hand in desperation. “Please say it doesn’t matter. Please, Chris. Please! Don’t make me go back. Don’t throw me out. Please.”

Chris squeezes his hand. “Stop. Stop, stop. Baby, I ain’t throwin’ you out. I love you. And I ain’t never lettin’ you go back. But…” He swallows. “Sweetheart, this ain’t good. If someone found out…” He closes his eyes. “Jesus.”

“We aren’t doing anything illegal! We haven’t… we haven’t had sex yet! And even if we had, not like it’s my first time,” Jensen says, mouth twisting. “No one cared who was fucking me when I was living at home, why the hell should they have any say in it now, when it’s someone, someone who actually loves me?” he says, voice breaking.

Chris shakes his head. “You know it ain’t that simple.”

“But-”

“Lemme think. Please, darlin’, just lemme think for a minute.” Chris leans his elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair.

Jensen sits curled up in the corner of the couch, staring at his fists. Why did he tell? What was he thinking? But that’s just it, he wasn’t thinking. He was just scared and needed to tell someone why. Because it’s true, they might come looking for him. And he can’t go back. He can’t. To his dad’s heavy hand and his brother’s sweaty ones. To everyone else that look at him like he’s a thing. Treated him like it. Like he’s nothing. He can’t. Oh God, he can’t. He can’t!

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Chris pulls him into his arms, shushing him, telling him it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay, “Please, darlin’, don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

Steve stays quiet for a long time. Then he says, “Age of consent is seventeen in this state so if you can hold your dick in check ‘til then…”

“Jesus, man! Don’t talk like that!” Chris hisses, his cheeks heating. “I know that. I ain’t worried about that. Much. I’m more worried about his asshole parents findin’ him. No way in hell I’m lettin’em take him back. I’ll hide with him up in some mountain cabin somewhere before I let that happen.” He can practically hear Steve rolling his eyes. “But hell, kid’s been performin’ in my bar for months! Anyone finds out, I’m gonna lose my goddamn license! I might go to jail! You know they’d love to hook me on somethin’ like that.”

Steve groans. “Told you that kid would be trouble.”

“You told me no such thing! You just whined and complained about him takin’ me away from you. Sorry, sorry,” he backpaddles when the line goes accusingly quiet. “Steve, I’m sorry. I’m just stressin’ out here.”

“You’re gonna have to take him off stage,” Steve says after a while. “Least ‘til he’s eighteen.”

Chris groans. “Fuck. His fans are gonna hate me. Hell, he’s gonna hate me. Kid was born to perform.”

“Or,” Steve says slowly, “you could do nothing. Just keep on like you’ve been doing. Who’s gonna know?”

Chris sighs. “Shit, man, I can’t do that. Kid’s a minor. And yeah, I know he was a minor before, but there’s a difference. If the cops show up…”

“So, pull him off stage then,” Steve says, sounding exasperated. “Chris, it’s not that complicated. Either you take him off, or you take a chance and don’t. It’s that simple.”

“Easy for you to say,” Chris grumbles. He runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, Steve, I’ve been datin’ a sixteen-year-old.”

“Explains all the temper tantrums,” Steve says dryly.

Fucker. But he’s right. Chris has been expecting Jensen to handle everything like an adult. A young one, but still. And with all he’s been through… Of course the kid’s a basket case. And now he can’t stop thinking of him as ‘the kid’. Jesus.

“He’ll be seventeen in two months,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll mature completely in that time,” Steve snorts.

Chris hangs up.

He sits covering his mouth with his hand. Then takes a deep breath and gets out of the truck, making his way back into the apartment. Doesn’t remember until he’s opening the door that he told Jensen he was going out to buy groceries.

Jensen looks up when he steps in. He’s still sitting in the same spot Chris left him, looking just as lost.

“Forgot my wallet,” Chris lies, rummaging the pockets of his other jacket before ‘finding’ it. “Hey, you wanna come with?”

Jensen seems to hesitate but then he nods and gets up, fetching his jacket and stuffing his feet into his sneakers without untying the laces. Like a kid.

Chris’s stomach twists. Stop it.

He gives Jensen a smile and Jensen smiles hesitantly back but his eyes are guarded and when Chris grabs his hand he sucks in his breath, looking surprised. Like he expected Chris to never touch him again.

“Hey,” Chris says, tugging him closer. “Darlin’, look at me.”

Jensen bites his lip, eyes flickering up for a moment before dropping again.

“Sweetheart, it’s all gonna be alright,” Chris says with a conviction he doesn’t feel. “I love you.”

Jensen hitches his breath, his eyes filling with tears. Chris’s heart sinks. Oh hell. What’s that boy been thinking while Chris sat in the car, feeling sorry for himself? That Chris was gone? That he was trying to think of ways to break it off, to get rid of him? That he was, once again, all alone in the world?

Chris pulls him close, one hand on Jensen’s neck, the other arm wrapped around his skinny waist. “I love you,” he repeats, trying to catch Jensen’s downcast gaze. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that. Okay? Nothin’.”

“I saw you out the window,” Jensen mumbles. “Freaking out in the car.”

Ah. Shit. “I just needed a moment to think. That’s all. Hard to think with you in the room, lookin’ so beautiful.”

The tiniest smile, Jensen’s cheeks turning rosy. He blushes so easily. Of course he does, he’s got a teenage boy’s complexion, complete with flushes.

Chris swallows and smiles back. “There you go. There’s that pretty smile I love so much.” He kisses Jensen softly on the lips. “Was never about endin’ this, you hear me? I love you, I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

“What-what’s it about then?” Jensen says. His voice is shaking.

“C’mon, let’s sit down a moment.” He pulls Jensen over to the couch and tugs him down so he’s sitting practically in his lap. “Now, first off, I ain’t mad,” he says, looking straight into Jensen’s eyes to make sure he sees it’s the truth. “Okay? I get why you lied. This ain’t because I’m mad. But here’s the thing, sweetheart, I can’t let you back on stage.”

Jensen jerks in his arms. “What? Why? I’m good! I’m making money! I’m not drinking, I’m not doing anything wrong!”

“It doesn’t matter. You ain’t old enough.” Chris sighs when Jensen’s lips turn down in a stubborn scowl. “Sweetheart, it’s a bar. It’s a goddamn gay bar and you’re five years underage.”

“But-”

“No. I was playin’ it loose with you being eighteen but as long as you weren’t drinkin’, I figured I’d talk my way out of it if I ever got busted. But sixteen?” He shakes his head.

“Almost seventeen!” Jensen argues. He’s looking pale, panicked.

“Even so. I wouldn’t just lose my license, I might get thrown in jail.”

Jensen stares at him. “For letting me sing?”

“For allowin’ a person that young to even step a foot in my bar. I’m sorry, darlin’, I really am. I love your singin’, we all do. I’m gonna have a riot on my hands but it can’t be helped.”

“But…” Jensen looks like he’s going to start crying again. “But if I can’t sing… If I can’t… That’s all I’ve got.”

Chris kisses him again, just a soft press against Jensen’s downturned lips. “Darlin’, it ain’t. You can do whatever you want. And even if you can’t sing here, there are other places. Coffee houses, outdoor venues. There’s different rules. You’d be alright there.”

“I don’t wanna sing somewhere else,” Jensen whispers. “I like it here. I’m safe here.”

Chris sighs. He tucks a strand of hair behind Jensen’s ear. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Jensen hiccups. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“No, I’m glad you told me. No, I am,” he repeats, and he means it, despite all the shit he now has to deal with. “Us bein’ honest, that’s a good thing. It is. Even with the hard stuff. Even if it changes some things. It ain’t never gonna change how I feel about you.” He kisses Jensen again and this time he gets a cautious kiss back. “Please, baby, don’t worry. This is mine to deal with. It ain’t your fault.”

“But I need to make money,” Jensen says. He looks so lost, it hurts Chris’s heart.

“Why? You need anythin’, I’ve got plenty.”

Well, maybe not plenty but it’s not as if the kid is spending money left and right. He’s hardly touched what he’s earned, except to pay Chris back what he owed him and put forward what he insists on paying in rent. Chris usually puts the money back in Jensen’s hidden stash first chance he gets. So far Jensen hasn’t noticed. Kid’s got no financial sense at all.

“I’m not a freeloader,” Jensen says stubbornly. “I can’t let you be my, my sugar daddy!”

Chris snorts. “Darlin’, only sugar you’ll get from me is right here,” he says and kisses Jensen again, this time coaxing his mouth open and then kissing him sweetly until he feels him melt like butter in his arms. “How ‘bout we put this conversation on hold for now and go enjoy the fine weather, huh?” he says when he finally lets Jensen go. “Get some coffee, maybe a bite to eat. We can figure the rest out later.”

“Okay.” Jensen’s voice is still subdued, but when Chris tips his face up he smiles a little, lips dark pink and puffy, wet with spit. Eyelids spiked wet, eyes big and green and hopeful. Freckles spattered across his pale skin. God, he’s so goddamn beautiful. How could he ever think Chris would let him go?

“C’mon, I’m buyin’,” Chris says with a wink and Jensen huffs a laugh, punching him lightly before throwing his arms around Chris’s neck and kissing him, hard. Tongue pushed in between Chris’s lips, stubborn and demanding. Chris gives in easily, happy to give him some feeling of control back, if only with this. But when Jensen reaches down to cup Chris’s dick he pulls away with a smile, shaking his head. “C’mon,” he says again, hoping Jensen won’t notice the abrupt retreat. “We gotta get somethin’ to eat or I’m gonna get cranky.”

Judging by the hurt look in Jensen’s eyes, Chris doesn’t pull it off. “Two months don’t make no difference, you know,” Jensen mutters. “I’m the same now as I’ll be then. And we’ve already done lots of stuff.”

“Yeah, well.” Chris shrugs, face heating as he remembers all the things he shouldn’t have done. “Better safe than sorry.”

Jensen scoffs but he doesn’t argue, even if the stomps down the stairs are a little heavier than called for.

Matt stares at him. “Sixteen? Oh Jesus.” He covers his mouth with his hand.

“I know, so don’t you come at me with any of your shit,” Chris growls. “I’m handlin’ it.”

Matt’s eyes narrow. “Chris, he’s a kid. Literally a kid. You shouldn’t be handling his anything!”

“You’re one to talk, the way you’ve been droolin’ all over him!” Chris shoots back.

“Yeah, thanks. I was already feeling plenty bad about that. But I’m not the one sleeping with him!”

“You’re the one who told me to take him in! And I’m not… we’re not…” But they have been. Everything but the long gone cherry. “Fuck you. Besides, you tellin’ me you weren’t hookin’ up at sixteen?”

“With kids my own age!” Matt hisses. “Not adults!”

Chris looks away. He’s not going there.

“Chris,” Matt says quietly. “The kid shouldn’t even be here. He should be home with his family.”

Chris shakes his head, face grim. “No. No, he ain’t goin’ back there. They’re the ones that fucked him up. Among others.” He’s pretty sure. He hasn’t asked Jensen yet, but he’s been thinking about it. About Jensen’s fear and where it’s coming from. About the ‘others’ and whether some of them were right there, behind locked doors. If that’s why he won’t talk about it.

Matt blinks. He looks nauseated. “Jesus. Okay, okay. So, that’s out.”

“Yeah. On that note, anyone ever comes lookin’ for him, you ain’t ever seen him in your life,” Chris says, fixing Matt with a glare. “Make sure the others know that, too.”

“Okay. Sure, yeah.” He shakes his head. “I don’t like it but fuck, this is better than that.”

Chris lets out a deep breath. “Thank you.” He drops his head in his hand, groaning. “What a fuckin’ mess.”

“Always thought he looked young for his age,” Matt mutters as if to himself. “Acted it, too. Teenage hormones, man. Jesus. How did he even get in here, that first night?”

Chris rubs a hand over his face. “Batted his eyelashes at whoever had door duty? I don’t know. You served him.”

“I’m sure I didn’t. Didn’t even notice him ‘til the fight broke out.” Matt frowns. “Somehow those assholes got in, too. Who the hell was on door duty?”

Chris sighs. “I don’t remember. Bill? There’s a reason I fired him. Fuck.” He sighs again. “It was a fucked-up night. You let him in the next day though.”

Matt waves that off. “We hadn’t opened yet and he was asking to talk to you. After that… He’s never ordered anything alcoholic and… Jesus, man, I figured you’d at least asked him some basic questions before you hired him.”

“I did,” Chris shoots back. “He lied.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “Of course he did. You didn’t ask to see an ID?”

“No, I didn’t.” Chris drains his drink. “We done playin’ the blame game?”

Matt shakes his head but seems he’s done anyway because he says, “We can’t let him in here. Which means he can’t go on stage tonight. Or any night.”

“I know,” Chris groans. “Don’t you think I know? He’s spittin’ mad about it.”

“He won’t be the only one. Sunday nights are becoming almost as popular as Saturdays.”

Chris drops his head in his hands again. Goddammit!

“Never sell much booze though,” Matt says, sounding thoughtful. “Mostly beer and wine. Hardly any hard liquor. Lots of soda, even coffee. People like the mellow vibe. They aren’t coming to drink and dance, they’re coming for the show.”

“Not helpin’,” Chris mutters.

“Sorry. I’m just thinking out loud. Wondering what rules there are if we did like a sober night.”

Chris raises his head. “What?”

“You know. If we closed the tab once a week and just served non-alcoholic drinks. There’s no place like that for us. No café we can feel 100% safe at.” Matt shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“I’d lose money,” Chris says but the cogs are already turning in his head.

Matt wags his head. “Probably. But you could reach a broader clientele. Kids who have nowhere else to go. Older folks that like it more quiet. We could open earlier, noon even. Close at ten.”

Chris frowns. “Kids? That would be legal?”

“As long as we aren’t selling alcohol, I don’t see why not. You’d have to check with the board but…” Matt shrugs.

“Huh.”

It’s true, there’s no place like that for people like them. A safe place to just have a cup of coffee and talk. Jensen wouldn’t make as much in tips - alcohol opens wallets even better than a pretty face - but he’d make some. And Chris could even hire him to work beside singing. Making coffee or whatever. Something Jensen could do while finishing school. Which Chris just realizes he probably never did. Shit. He must have at least one year left, possibly two.

Oh God, he’s dating a high school kid!

“How long ‘til he’s seventeen?” asks Matt, as if he’s reading Chris’s mind. He lifts his hands in apology when Chris glares at him. “Just wondering how long I have to pretend to look the other way.”

“Jesus. Fuck you! You make me sound like some goddamn predator! I didn’t know, okay?” He takes a deep breath when Matt just stares him down, not budging. “Two months, alright? And you don’t have to pretend any. Kid’s had more experience than most of us and none of it good, which is why we ain’t doin’ anythin’. Much,” he adds reluctantly.

“Much?” Matt shakes his head. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“Weren’t gonna.” Chris stands up, feeling slightly more hopeful than when he sat down. “Keep this between us, alright?”

“As long as you keep the kid upstairs,” Matt counters.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Chris ponders as he makes his way upstairs. There are going to be some very disappointed patrons tonight. Especially considering all he could get to fill his slot last night was a DJ. Doesn’t happen often, not on weekends. Can’t be known as a live music venue if they don’t have live music. Monday nights are still missing a regular since his Monday girl went off, chasing dreams of fame and fortune. He’s been doing an open mic kinda thing, but more often it ends up being him or Jensen when no one else signs up. For being so much about glee and glamour, his patrons are surprisingly shy when it comes to getting up on stage.

But a sober event? He could do that. If that’s all it takes to give Jensen back his spotlight, to give his fans what they want? Well, he’s okay with losing some money. Especially if it means he can give a little more back to the community he owes so much.

Chris gazes out over the sea of people and feels a sting in his chest at the look of disappointment in their eyes. Even doing his more mellow songs - stealing some from Jensen because Chris has always been more for the rocky side of country and so never really took the time to learn much of anything else - it is clear he’s not who they came for.

He hadn’t offered them any explanation for why Jensen wasn’t there, just apologized and told them they’d have to make do with his sorry ass instead. There were a lot of sour faces, but he wasn’t about to admit he’d been pimping out a high schooler to their horny eyes. Although, when he’s said what he’s about to say, some of them might figure it out.

“Listen,” he starts, after receiving a lackluster applause. There’s no reaction, if anything the din gets louder. “Shut up, will ya,” he yells, “and listen for a minute.”

The clamor quiets down as faces turn his way. He feels weirdly nervous. It’s strange, talking to this crowd in earnest and not as part of the show or to keep them in line. These are his people, but he still feels like he hasn’t earned his place among them. Like he hasn’t paid his due. It’s stupid, but there you have it.

“I wanna run somethin’ by y’all,” he says. “And bear in mind this is just an idea, I don’t know if anythin’ will come of it. You know, I love what we have here. It’s all I wanted this place to be, a safe haven where everyone can be themselves and just drink and dance and forget about all the godawful shit out there.”

A few people cheer and he smiles. God, he loves them.

“But that’s us, the ones that already made it. More or less. And while I feel oh so grateful to have y’all here, there are others who won’t ever make it to this place. ‘Cause they’re too young now and by the time I can allow them to walk through that door, they ain’t gonna be around anymore. We all knew kids like that. Some of us were that kid and only by the grace of God and the kindness of strangers made it this far.”

The room has gone completely quiet now. A couple of people wipe their eyes. Chris swallows. Clears his throat. “If we can reach those kids, if we can show them this, what life can be like, if they just stick around long enough…” He drops his gaze. “I just think it’s worth a few sacrifices, you know?”

A few subdued ‘yeah’s and some sniffling. Shit. What if he can’t pull it off? What if he’s getting their hopes up and it all falls through?

“Anyway.” He clears his throat again. “I’ve been thinkin’. All I’ve got is this place. It ain’t much but it’s ours. And hell, y’all could use a night off from all that drinkin’.”

A few laughs. Someone shouts, “You heathen!” which makes more people laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. I told you.” He lifts his glass, saluting them before taking a drink. “Sacrifices. I weren’t kiddin’ about that. So...”

He looks out over the crowd. There are smiles, mostly. No one is looking openly annoyed. Maybe a bit apprehensive.

“Sober Sundays. Noon to ten. For our teens, our youngsters, us old folks who need a night off from all this racket.” That gets him even more laughs. Fuckers. “No alcohol.” Someone boos but he’s shushed so loudly that Chris pays him no mind. “Live music, mostly featurin’ your favorite sweetheart.”

Oh, now they’re listening. Sitting up, looking interested. Someone whoops, another whistles. A few people applaud.

He grins and rolls his eyes. “Knew that’d get your attention.” His face turns serious again. “I ain’t promisin’ anythin’ but that’s what I wanna do. Still have to figure out how. Anyone wanna help me make it happen, signup sheets are with Matt at the bar. And seein’ as this might be one of your lasts chances to get a decent drink here on a Sunday night, I recommend y’all buy yourself a round while you’re at it.”

That gets him more laughter and he grins, strumming Jensen’s beautiful Gibson.

“Anyway, here’s a little somethin’ I learned from my boy Jensen,” he says and this time when he starts singing the applause is a lot more enthusiastic.

“Welcome back,” she says, smiling a little. Not condescending, but like she’s happy to see him. Jensen can’t imagine why.

“Thanks.” He taps his fingers nervously on his knee. His stomach is cramping. He thinks he might have to run out after all, if only to the bathroom.

“How have you been?”

He shrugs. “Been going out a bit.” Walks around the block. To the park. The library. Always in broad daylight and keeping to well populated areas, but still. Taking the first step out alone had been one of the hardest things he’d done but he’d done it. And with every added venture it gets a little bit easier.

She smiles. “That’s really good. And how do you feel, going outside?”

He shrugs again but when he glances up, she is looking at him so he blurts out, “Fucking terrified.”

She tilts her head. “But you still do it. What changed?”

He rubs his neck, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. “We made a deal. Me and… my friend. To make more of an effort. Both of us.”

She smiles, like she’s proud of him. “That sounds good. Having someone to cheer you on, and to cheer on in return, can make a huge difference. Makes you feel not as alone.”

He nods, gnawing at his lip. “He’s kind of a dumbass. Kept denying he had problems, but he’s just as screwed up as I am.” He wrinkles his nose. “Pissed me off. Like he was better than me or something. So I told him to stop lying to himself and… It was awful. He cried.” He lets out a shuddered breath. “I felt like shit.”

She nods in sympathy. “Are you afraid he resents you for it?”

Jensen hesitates. “I don’t know. Ignorance is bliss, right? But it was screwing him up, not admitting what, what they did to him.”

She looks thoughtful. “Are your experiences similar?”

He shrugs then shakes his head. “He was safe at home. From that,” he clarifies, remembering how Chris’s uncle used to beat him.

“From…?”

Jensen breathes in. He breathes out. “Hands. And, and…” He closes his eyes. He can’t.

“Who? Your dad?” she prods when he doesn’t answer. He shakes his head. “Your brother?”

He pulls up his knees, wrapping his arms around them, hiding his face. Nods.

“Okay. You wanna tell me about it?”

He shakes his head. Then breathes in deep and nods.

“Okay,” she breathes out with what sounds like pride in her voice. “Good. Jensen, that’s really good. Just take your time. You are completely safe here. It’s just the two of us. No one can hurt you. Not in here. This is a safe place. Jensen, breathe.”

He breathes. And breathes. And breathes. And then he starts talking.

Concluded here.