Darken your clothes 1/3
Title: Darken your clothes
Author: marlowe78
Rating: Hmmm. PG-13, maybe? (see warnings for why 'maybe')
Characters: Jared, Jensen, OCs
Word count: 3.560 this one, 14.983 in toto.
beta: soncnica
Warnings: Mentions of past-violence, mentions of past sexual molestations of a minor. Bad language. Swearing, I think. Definitely bad city-council-decisions of a fictional city.
Summary: Highschool-AU.
It's been six weeks since Mark Parker brought two guns to his school and raised Hell in Highschool. The investigation of that incident are nearly over, but there are still some secrets untouched. Jensen and Jared know more about what led to That Day than anybody else. But will they be able to share their knowledge not only with each other, but with the whole city?
Sequel to What you got under your shirt, which you should read to understand this one.
Title is taken from "Teenagers", by My Chemical Romance
a/n: So, here we are. Surprised myself, but I managed to finish the story like I planned, and even better, my friend and partner-in-many-crimes was able to beta this right away. **kisses her**
I hope the questions left from the last story will be answered to your satisfaction and I sure hope you'll enjoy this little thing (which turned out to be not-so little). Oh, and because I'm awesome, I made a Master-Post for both stories and THIS one will be posted all at once!
Enjoy!
J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2
Jared lay on the bed while Jensen’d taken the ground, leaning back against the frame to keep as close to his friend as possible without doing girly stuff like hugging, or something.
It might be silly, but truth was ever since September, Jens felt safer whenever Jay was close. Maybe it was the same with Jared, but they didn’t talk about that. Not really. Izzy slinked in and dropped with a loud huff, dumping his big, fuzzy head on Jensen’s thigh and snorted.
Nothing can express extreme comfort like a dog. A purring cat might be good for your health and all, but she’d never make you smile, like the hrumph a dog made when it finally lay down, right after it tried to dig a hole in the carpet.
Jensen was glad he had Izzy.
Funny, how life turned out sometimes. There you are, vaguely missing your friend but not enough to do anything about it, next you’re happy as they come, fusing your best friend with your new life - and then your world explodes in death and blood.
Who’d have ever thought something like that would happen in Hilldale? Then again - who’d have thought something like that would happen in Columbine, so…
From above, he heard Jared’s stomach growl. It’d been doing this every time they were together, and he assumed it happened anywhere else as well. Jay’d stopped eating, and wasn’t that fucked up beyond comprehension? Jay was an eater. He loved to eat, but since September...
It’s not that Jensen felt so much like eating either, but at least he still nibbled on pie and chocolate - Jared stopped even that. And Jay was a giant.
“Jensen, Jared?” his mom called through the door. Since that day, she was home more often, trying to stop worrying but clearly not succeeding. She hovered, and that made Jens itch and feel tight in his skin - but he couldn’t stop it or wanted to. She cared, and it felt good to know that. Even Mack was nicer than she used to be - tried to be less noisy. And he appreciated it, he really, really did. Loud, unexpected noises - car-doors, doors in general, screaming or whatever - made him flinch, and he was glad that his mom and Mack picked that up without him saying it out loud. But still, this… this coating in cotton, this feeling of being apart, adrift from the rest of the world made him want to scream.
He’d been so glad that after two weeks intensive coddling and cuddling and shrink-visiting, he’d been allowed to go back to aikido. He’d go nuts if he wasn’t allowed to throw someone on a mat once a week.
Hey, maybe that’d be good for Jay too? God knew his friend was messed up, and sometimes violence was a good thing. Controlled violence, not the shit that Mark… yeah. Not going there.
“What?” he answered.
“You wanna come down, eat something?” before he could respond, she went on “I made some apple-pie.”
He wanted. So much. He loved his mom’s pie; it was full of delicious apples, a crispy crust and no cinnamon. He hated cinnamon, even if he liked the smell. But he couldn’t even think about sitting there and look at Jay pick listlessly at his plate, pretending to eat but not really doing it.
“Jay?”
“Hmm… Not hungry”
Jensen sighed. “Later, okay, mom?” He heard her softly thump her head against the door. She did that sometimes and he didn’t like it. Was worried she might get a concussion some day. But he couldn’t really stop her and the urge to do it himself once in a while was hard to conquer. He needed to conquer it, though, because if he started to bang his head… well, it would certainly not be called softly.
“Jared, come on. Please. Eat something?”
“Told ya, not hungry.” His friend turned his head, stared at the wall now instead of the ceiling.
“Bull.”
“Whatever.”
Enough of that, Jensen suddenly decided. Enough. “No!” he stood, glared at Jared’s body on the bed. He’d gotten thinner during those last five weeks. Or maybe it was just the pallor and sickish tone of his face, the dark circles underneath his eyes. He looked more like a reaper than Jensen’d ever been able to mimic. “No, Jay. Stop guilt-tripping, man! I know… I know it’s hard and stuff tastes like sand. I know that. But… Please, man. Come on.”
Jared flicked his gaze to him, sat up, crosslegged on the mattress now, his back against the tapestry, right under the Master of Puppets-poster. Jensen’s mom had shoved the bed to the edge of his room so there were walls on the headboard and on one side now. He couldn’t sleep in the middle of his room anymore - too much might sneak up behind him.
As if he didn’t have enough shit on his plate with murderous classmates.
“Jens. I just can’t. I try and it comes up again. I swear, I tried. I… it just won’t stay down.”
Another annoying and deeply worrying thing about Jay - new-Jay - was the lack of emotion in his words. He strung the sentences together, but the joy and bubbling fun that had made Jared Jared… seemed gone. Where Jensen drowned in anger, Jay sank into nothingness.
“Right. Ok. So find something that will stay down. I swear, Jay, I won’t… I can’t!”
“What?” Jared looked into his eyes - an unsettling blankness clouding his blue-green-brownish irises. “What’s it to you? Don’t go all shrink on me, man - I have enough of that at home.”
“You asshole! You … I… Stop that. Stop maudlin, stop being all silent and … and in pain! Stop starving, goddamit! I can’t… I can’t have that! I can’t watch you die. I just can’t! I… I… I’ve…” He had to swallow hard and fast, three times, to get that big lump of pain, anger and fear under control so it wouldn’t leak out of his eyes. “I’ve seen the same fuck you did. I… I s-s-saw it as well. I was there, Jay! I was fucking right next to you! I saw him point a gun at your head and I saw him point one on my own - and I swear, I can’t tell what’s worse! And that’s so me-messed up! So fucked up! It was … I- I still dream of it - of Sa-Sa-Sally. Of Mrs. Jenkins and … all the-these others. Sometimes it’s so bad I need those shitty drugs, just to get some sleep - and I hate them, they make me feel flubby and rubbery the whole next day! I know exactly…”
“You know shit!” Jared roared, and if Jens hadn’t been so angry, he’d been delighted by the outburst, by the emotion that surfaced after five weeks of nothing. “You know absolutely shit about me! Yeah, you’ve been there. And… I -I - I’m… But you don’t know. It’s no-not your fault! You… you’re not the one… You heard they wanna give me some award? For bravery, or moral courage, or somethin’! Those fuckers! It’s my fault in the first place, a-a-and they wa-wa-wanna…”
Ah, fuck. That was his problem?
“It’s not your fault, you stupid oaf! Man, Mark was so fucked up, it wasn’t your fault! You… “
“I thought it was you!” Jay jumped from the bed, prowling the room and eventually crowding in on his friend. “I thought it was you - I knew it was gonna happen, and instead of going to the police, of… of telling an-anyone, I th-thought I could do it on my own. I wanted to be a hero, and I wanted to be … wanted to… I…“ Tears ran over his face and he wiped them away angrily. Jensen knew that feeling well - too often those fuckers came unbidden and ruined a perfectly reasonable argument. Mack was so scared of making him cry, she stopped fighting with him altogether, and that was just wrong. So he ignored that Jay was crying and pushed him away from him.
“So what? Huh? It wasn’t me! You were wrong. Yes, you shoulda told someone. Hey, you might’ve told me! But you didn’t, and it happened - and it’s still not your fault! Not... not only yours, anyway. Mark had… problems. Many, many problems. And nobody'd listened. His parents weren’t there half his life. His friends… man, Jay! You’re sixteen! I’m sixteen! Kevin didn’t listen either, or Sally or… Jenkins. It’s a mistake, but if ya feel so terrible about it, go and tell someone! Go, tell your uncle, or your mom, or your dad! Don’t sit there and go all starving hero on my ass, because I swear to god, I will not watch you die too! I’ll stuff a tube down your throat and feed you m-myself if I haveta!”
“What, you gonna chew it for me before?”
“I just might!”
They stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard and glaring at each other. Certainly Jensen’s mom had heard them, they’d been screaming like AC/DC. Ten seconds went by. Twenty.
Jay gave a coughing scoff. A tiny grin tugged at his mouth and Jensens’s lips started to answer. Shortly after, they were grinning at each other.
“You’re an ass.”
“Back atcha.” Nearly in coordination, they ran their hands through their hair.
“So… what about that pie?”
“You wanna?”
Jay shrugged. “Might as well start with somethin’ tasty, right?” He didn’t wait for his friend, stepped around him and out the door, so he didn’t see the beaming smile on his Jens’ face. Didn’t matter anyway - Jens’ mom’s made his pale in comparison when Jay dug into the still warm pie with gusto.
-*-
It had been a mess of jumbled emotions, of tears that’d come unbidden and unwanted, questions asked over and over. ‘Where was Mark, did he go straight to the cafeteria? Did you actually see him shoot Coach Johansson, could it have been someone else? Did Mark have a partner, did he seem different the days before.’ All this shit and how the hell did they expect Jensen or Jay to answer all that? It was all a big blur, blood and screaming and shots over and over and sometimes Jens had to think hard which event happened when. The only thing he was sure of was that he’d always been with Jay during the time, so the only thing he could tell them was that Jared certainly wasn’t an accomplice. Not that anyone ever thought that, so it didn’t help one bit.
He’d told the detectives about what Mark had said to Mrs. Jenkins. Nearly word-for-word. But strangely enough, nothing more was ever asked about what he thought Mark might have meant. He had his doubts that anyone even bothered to look into it.
Sure, Jenkins was dead. But fact was, apart from who accidentally got into his way, Mark’d had two targets that day. Coach Johansson and Counselor Jenkins. That nobody seemed to investigate that connection seemed wrong in Jensen’s eyes.
“I-I-I… I was wa-w-w-walking right next to her. I w-w-was askin’ ‘bout h-h-h-her dress, of all things. A-a-a-an---“ a loud sob, heartwrenching, tore out of the girl’s throat, making her shudder. Tears streamed over her pretty face which didn’t look so good all clenched up and soggy and swollen now. Miriam, or Miranda, Jensen’d forgotten her name again.
“It’s ok, honey. You can stop, it’s ok. We all understand, don’t we?” Counselor Troy, Jay had called her. Handsome, aloof and oh-so-patient. Jensen had to grit his teeth whenever she opened her mouth. This caring, schmoopy, affected attitude grated on his nerves.
“Does anyone else want to tell us something about that day? Anyone who needs to share the load?” Her big brown eyes swept over the assembled teenagers; ten, including Jay and Jensen.
They’d been more or less forced to attend this group-counseling, on top of their personal shrinking-sessions they had to go to every week. Apparently, it’d ‘help them to talk with someone their own age’. His mom had asked him if he wanted and he’d’ve loved to refuse. Just… stay at home, draw stuff. Listen to Metalica or Kings of Leon (so what? Jay was right, they did rock!) and go beat some sandbags every Friday, right before aikido.
His trainer, Samjy, had practically ordered him to go decompress before training, since aikido was a strictly defensive martial art and Jens’ mood on Fridays was far too aggressive to get into the right mindset. He’d threatened to kick him out after Jensen’d gone on fighting, nearly getting seriously hurt after his Nage - the defensive partner in the training-groups of two - had him already incapacitated. He’d just not given up, gone on and on and on until Samjy had grabbed him and dragged him into the bathroom, under a cold shower. He’d sent him home and given him the ultimatum: get his head straight or get out.
So he went there half an hour earlier each week to kick the shit out of some bags, observed by kickboxing-trainer Morris, the polar opposite of smallish, gentle Samjy. Huge, black and imposing. Interestingly enough, Jens had the suspicion that Morris and Samjy were not just partners in business.
He’d have loved to stay at home instead of sitting here with all the other teens, but Jared hadn’t had the luxury to choose. His parents and even his uncle said he had to go, it would be good for him and they’d even wept a bit when Jay’d said it was just stupid and he didn’t want to.
Ah, good old parental blackmail.
Jay’d begged him to come with him and well, Jared’s puppy-eyes were kinda epic. And now they sat here the second time. First session had been three weeks after Mark’d snapped and apparently, they planned to make it a regular three-weekly-event. Yak.
Jensen scoffed. How would talking to these kids here help him? Maybe Jared, but him? Nobody here had been even close to a friend for him these last years, Jared notwithstanding. They didn’t know shit, didn’t know what he knew. Whenever someone sobbed how she - it was usually a she who sobbed, apart from Peter who never said anything but just cried silently in his corner - couldn’t comprehend how anyone would do that, his gaze flittered to Jared and Jared met his at once.
They knew. They might be the only ones here in the circle of fucked-up teenagers who had even an inkling of what might have gone through Mark’s head.
Jay‘d talked to Jensen, once or twice, about the chat and about not wanting him in prison or in a mental-hospital. After their screaming-match in his room, Jens had gotten more and more insight to Jared’s guilt and his role in all that. And yeah. He did blame him a bit. Not for wanting to protect him - God, no! - but for not saying anything. If Jay’d asked him, outright, somewhere where even if he’d been a raving madman he couldn’t have drawn a gun or whatever, asked Jensen if he was the guy who talked on the internet about ‘making them listen’, it coulda all been avoided. They would’ve teamed up and done something. But Jay had taken it all on himself. It was a mistake, and it still hurt that their reunion had been instigated because Jared thought Jensen was a killer.
But he couldn’t blame Jay for everything. He’d played his own role in that drama, one nobody was aware of. And since he hadn’t talked, he was just as guilty as Jared and couldn’t really put all fault on his friend. They’d both messed up royally.
Yet, so had Mrs. Jenkins, and if she weren’t dead, Jensen would’ve been furious with her. She was the real guilty party, but she’d already paid a price. Not the right one, mind. But a final one.
“I know what you feel, Milinda.” Ah. Not Miriam, then. “I was, like, joking with Ben when this, this… maniac-” the black-haired, overdressed girl - Christina-Ann Corelli, stupid bitch - spat the word “-strolled past, all cool, shooting at someone in his path. Freaky weirdo!”
Jensen still flinched at those words. It’d been usually him who’d been called that. Still was, often enough. Never Mark. In a way, Jens felt sorry for the dead classmate. Mark hadn’t ever bothered him before nearly blowing his brains out, and he’d been well-liked. Now, when it was apparent that nobody really knew anything about him, when it’d become clear that Mark’d been fucked up and that nobody’d cared about that, now everyone found ways to paint him as the bad guy. The weirdo. The one who’d always ‘had such a darkness in him’ - Jens’ favorite lie. Nobody’d known anything about Mark Parker! They had no right to say this stuff about him.
Instead of wondering what could make someone as apparently well-adjusted, well-liked, handsome and intelligent as Mark go all cablooie, they rather invented crap about him. Because right, if he was just a normal person, that could mean they themselves could blow like that, one day. And that was just not the American Way. Ergo - it wasn’t possible, ergo - Mark had been a weirdo.
Poor Mark.
“Shut up, you arrogant bitch!” Jared hissed at Christina. “You have no idea who Mark was. He wasn’t a weirdo!”
“Now, Jared. If you want to say something, you can raise your hand like anyone else” Troy reprimanded. Jensen felt the urgent desire to kick her so she’d stop using that patient voice. They weren’t little babies!
“Well, sorry!” Jay scoffed and raised his arm in mockery, still glaring at Christina.
“You’re just defending your friend! We all know he was your friend, Jared. You’re probably one of the reasons he flipped!” she hissed back
“Christina!”
“You bitch! You have been slobbering after him all last year and now you pretend like you’ve always known he was capable of that! If that were true, why didn’t you do somethin’, huh! Arrogant, brainless cow!”
“Jared!”
“You - you- what are you even doing here! You shoulda stayed home, with Mommy, cry-baby! Big, bubbly, crying Jared Padafucki!”
“Chris-“
“Right! Maybe he was in on it, got off, or somethin’. Jay and Mark’d been all together all the time…” Milinda butted in.
“Oh, now you need a chaperone, Chrissi? Not enough words in your brain?”
“Shut up! Milli, you too, I…”
“No, you shut up, you…”
“Kids, kids, please. Be quiet. Kids, come on, Christina, Milinda. Jared - no, Erin, don’t…”
Jensen leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest and watched the mayhem that unfolded in the artfully decorated, touchy-feely-Feng-Shui-room they were sitting in - on floor-cushions, no less. He could’ve kissed Jay for interrupting Pissy-Chrissi and her entourage of brainless Barbies. This was the most fun he’d had in weeks!
Counselor Troy - she might be called Miller, or Meyer, or whatever - couldn’t get another word in, some girls had started to cry and sob into their hands and tissues while others screeched in support of either Christina or Milinda or someone else. It was loud an close to Jensen’s tolerance-level of noise, but dammit, it was a beauty to watch. Jay stood in the center, facing off with the much-smaller Chrissi-Prissy-Pissy and looked magnificent in his ire, only a tick away from throttling her; yelling into her face what he thought of her while she kept insulting him, his parents and, for whatever reasons, Kevin.
It was awesome.
“I w-wanna go home…” A quite voice whispered somewhere left of Jensen. Peter.
The boy didn’t belong here. He might be fifteen, so around the same age they were, but he was so much gentler and quieter, so much more of a child, really. Whoever thought he’d be right here, with all the puberty-hazy teenagers musta been a whacko.
The kid looked shit-scared.
“Jay. Stop it.” Jensen interrupted the screaming. “You’re scaring Peter.”
To anyone watching, it would’ve been shocking to see how fast Jared unwound, stopped the growling, snarling attitude and transformed back to the kind-eyed, overgrown puppy he was.
But Jensen didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard by his friend. Ever since that day, Jay and him were hotwired into each other, knowing, hearing and more importantly, listening to what the other wanted or needed or said.
“Aww, shucks.” Jared murmured and Jensen grinned. Who said ‘shucks’ these days? ”Sorry, Pete. I just… come on, let’s getcha home, ok?”
The boy with the tear-streaked face nodded and Jensen rose from his cross-legged seat into standing in one smooth motion and placed himself between Jay, who extended a hand to help Peter up, and the rest of the room. Which was still boiling with emotion, since now that Jared had dropped out of the fight, Milinda and Christina-fucking-Ann were screaming at each other, both with loud supporters behind them.
Jensen didn’t know he’d done it, placing himself between Jay and possible danger. He didn’t realize how often he did that, these days, and he didn’t notice that Jared did the same if the circumstances were reversed. He just followed Jared and Pete out the door, only turning around to give a mock-salute and a huge grin to the bug-eyed, overstrained counselor.
Maybe this group- counseling- shit wasn’t so bad, after all.
Chapter Two
Author: marlowe78
Rating: Hmmm. PG-13, maybe? (see warnings for why 'maybe')
Characters: Jared, Jensen, OCs
Word count: 3.560 this one, 14.983 in toto.
beta: soncnica
Warnings: Mentions of past-violence, mentions of past sexual molestations of a minor. Bad language. Swearing, I think. Definitely bad city-council-decisions of a fictional city.
Summary: Highschool-AU.
It's been six weeks since Mark Parker brought two guns to his school and raised Hell in Highschool. The investigation of that incident are nearly over, but there are still some secrets untouched. Jensen and Jared know more about what led to That Day than anybody else. But will they be able to share their knowledge not only with each other, but with the whole city?
Sequel to What you got under your shirt, which you should read to understand this one.
Title is taken from "Teenagers", by My Chemical Romance
a/n: So, here we are. Surprised myself, but I managed to finish the story like I planned, and even better, my friend and partner-in-many-crimes was able to beta this right away. **kisses her**
I hope the questions left from the last story will be answered to your satisfaction and I sure hope you'll enjoy this little thing (which turned out to be not-so little). Oh, and because I'm awesome, I made a Master-Post for both stories and THIS one will be posted all at once!
Enjoy!
J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2J2
Jared lay on the bed while Jensen’d taken the ground, leaning back against the frame to keep as close to his friend as possible without doing girly stuff like hugging, or something.
It might be silly, but truth was ever since September, Jens felt safer whenever Jay was close. Maybe it was the same with Jared, but they didn’t talk about that. Not really. Izzy slinked in and dropped with a loud huff, dumping his big, fuzzy head on Jensen’s thigh and snorted.
Nothing can express extreme comfort like a dog. A purring cat might be good for your health and all, but she’d never make you smile, like the hrumph a dog made when it finally lay down, right after it tried to dig a hole in the carpet.
Jensen was glad he had Izzy.
Funny, how life turned out sometimes. There you are, vaguely missing your friend but not enough to do anything about it, next you’re happy as they come, fusing your best friend with your new life - and then your world explodes in death and blood.
Who’d have ever thought something like that would happen in Hilldale? Then again - who’d have thought something like that would happen in Columbine, so…
From above, he heard Jared’s stomach growl. It’d been doing this every time they were together, and he assumed it happened anywhere else as well. Jay’d stopped eating, and wasn’t that fucked up beyond comprehension? Jay was an eater. He loved to eat, but since September...
It’s not that Jensen felt so much like eating either, but at least he still nibbled on pie and chocolate - Jared stopped even that. And Jay was a giant.
“Jensen, Jared?” his mom called through the door. Since that day, she was home more often, trying to stop worrying but clearly not succeeding. She hovered, and that made Jens itch and feel tight in his skin - but he couldn’t stop it or wanted to. She cared, and it felt good to know that. Even Mack was nicer than she used to be - tried to be less noisy. And he appreciated it, he really, really did. Loud, unexpected noises - car-doors, doors in general, screaming or whatever - made him flinch, and he was glad that his mom and Mack picked that up without him saying it out loud. But still, this… this coating in cotton, this feeling of being apart, adrift from the rest of the world made him want to scream.
He’d been so glad that after two weeks intensive coddling and cuddling and shrink-visiting, he’d been allowed to go back to aikido. He’d go nuts if he wasn’t allowed to throw someone on a mat once a week.
Hey, maybe that’d be good for Jay too? God knew his friend was messed up, and sometimes violence was a good thing. Controlled violence, not the shit that Mark… yeah. Not going there.
“What?” he answered.
“You wanna come down, eat something?” before he could respond, she went on “I made some apple-pie.”
He wanted. So much. He loved his mom’s pie; it was full of delicious apples, a crispy crust and no cinnamon. He hated cinnamon, even if he liked the smell. But he couldn’t even think about sitting there and look at Jay pick listlessly at his plate, pretending to eat but not really doing it.
“Jay?”
“Hmm… Not hungry”
Jensen sighed. “Later, okay, mom?” He heard her softly thump her head against the door. She did that sometimes and he didn’t like it. Was worried she might get a concussion some day. But he couldn’t really stop her and the urge to do it himself once in a while was hard to conquer. He needed to conquer it, though, because if he started to bang his head… well, it would certainly not be called softly.
“Jared, come on. Please. Eat something?”
“Told ya, not hungry.” His friend turned his head, stared at the wall now instead of the ceiling.
“Bull.”
“Whatever.”
Enough of that, Jensen suddenly decided. Enough. “No!” he stood, glared at Jared’s body on the bed. He’d gotten thinner during those last five weeks. Or maybe it was just the pallor and sickish tone of his face, the dark circles underneath his eyes. He looked more like a reaper than Jensen’d ever been able to mimic. “No, Jay. Stop guilt-tripping, man! I know… I know it’s hard and stuff tastes like sand. I know that. But… Please, man. Come on.”
Jared flicked his gaze to him, sat up, crosslegged on the mattress now, his back against the tapestry, right under the Master of Puppets-poster. Jensen’s mom had shoved the bed to the edge of his room so there were walls on the headboard and on one side now. He couldn’t sleep in the middle of his room anymore - too much might sneak up behind him.
As if he didn’t have enough shit on his plate with murderous classmates.
“Jens. I just can’t. I try and it comes up again. I swear, I tried. I… it just won’t stay down.”
Another annoying and deeply worrying thing about Jay - new-Jay - was the lack of emotion in his words. He strung the sentences together, but the joy and bubbling fun that had made Jared Jared… seemed gone. Where Jensen drowned in anger, Jay sank into nothingness.
“Right. Ok. So find something that will stay down. I swear, Jay, I won’t… I can’t!”
“What?” Jared looked into his eyes - an unsettling blankness clouding his blue-green-brownish irises. “What’s it to you? Don’t go all shrink on me, man - I have enough of that at home.”
“You asshole! You … I… Stop that. Stop maudlin, stop being all silent and … and in pain! Stop starving, goddamit! I can’t… I can’t have that! I can’t watch you die. I just can’t! I… I… I’ve…” He had to swallow hard and fast, three times, to get that big lump of pain, anger and fear under control so it wouldn’t leak out of his eyes. “I’ve seen the same fuck you did. I… I s-s-saw it as well. I was there, Jay! I was fucking right next to you! I saw him point a gun at your head and I saw him point one on my own - and I swear, I can’t tell what’s worse! And that’s so me-messed up! So fucked up! It was … I- I still dream of it - of Sa-Sa-Sally. Of Mrs. Jenkins and … all the-these others. Sometimes it’s so bad I need those shitty drugs, just to get some sleep - and I hate them, they make me feel flubby and rubbery the whole next day! I know exactly…”
“You know shit!” Jared roared, and if Jens hadn’t been so angry, he’d been delighted by the outburst, by the emotion that surfaced after five weeks of nothing. “You know absolutely shit about me! Yeah, you’ve been there. And… I -I - I’m… But you don’t know. It’s no-not your fault! You… you’re not the one… You heard they wanna give me some award? For bravery, or moral courage, or somethin’! Those fuckers! It’s my fault in the first place, a-a-and they wa-wa-wanna…”
Ah, fuck. That was his problem?
“It’s not your fault, you stupid oaf! Man, Mark was so fucked up, it wasn’t your fault! You… “
“I thought it was you!” Jay jumped from the bed, prowling the room and eventually crowding in on his friend. “I thought it was you - I knew it was gonna happen, and instead of going to the police, of… of telling an-anyone, I th-thought I could do it on my own. I wanted to be a hero, and I wanted to be … wanted to… I…“ Tears ran over his face and he wiped them away angrily. Jensen knew that feeling well - too often those fuckers came unbidden and ruined a perfectly reasonable argument. Mack was so scared of making him cry, she stopped fighting with him altogether, and that was just wrong. So he ignored that Jay was crying and pushed him away from him.
“So what? Huh? It wasn’t me! You were wrong. Yes, you shoulda told someone. Hey, you might’ve told me! But you didn’t, and it happened - and it’s still not your fault! Not... not only yours, anyway. Mark had… problems. Many, many problems. And nobody'd listened. His parents weren’t there half his life. His friends… man, Jay! You’re sixteen! I’m sixteen! Kevin didn’t listen either, or Sally or… Jenkins. It’s a mistake, but if ya feel so terrible about it, go and tell someone! Go, tell your uncle, or your mom, or your dad! Don’t sit there and go all starving hero on my ass, because I swear to god, I will not watch you die too! I’ll stuff a tube down your throat and feed you m-myself if I haveta!”
“What, you gonna chew it for me before?”
“I just might!”
They stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard and glaring at each other. Certainly Jensen’s mom had heard them, they’d been screaming like AC/DC. Ten seconds went by. Twenty.
Jay gave a coughing scoff. A tiny grin tugged at his mouth and Jensens’s lips started to answer. Shortly after, they were grinning at each other.
“You’re an ass.”
“Back atcha.” Nearly in coordination, they ran their hands through their hair.
“So… what about that pie?”
“You wanna?”
Jay shrugged. “Might as well start with somethin’ tasty, right?” He didn’t wait for his friend, stepped around him and out the door, so he didn’t see the beaming smile on his Jens’ face. Didn’t matter anyway - Jens’ mom’s made his pale in comparison when Jay dug into the still warm pie with gusto.
-*-
It had been a mess of jumbled emotions, of tears that’d come unbidden and unwanted, questions asked over and over. ‘Where was Mark, did he go straight to the cafeteria? Did you actually see him shoot Coach Johansson, could it have been someone else? Did Mark have a partner, did he seem different the days before.’ All this shit and how the hell did they expect Jensen or Jay to answer all that? It was all a big blur, blood and screaming and shots over and over and sometimes Jens had to think hard which event happened when. The only thing he was sure of was that he’d always been with Jay during the time, so the only thing he could tell them was that Jared certainly wasn’t an accomplice. Not that anyone ever thought that, so it didn’t help one bit.
He’d told the detectives about what Mark had said to Mrs. Jenkins. Nearly word-for-word. But strangely enough, nothing more was ever asked about what he thought Mark might have meant. He had his doubts that anyone even bothered to look into it.
Sure, Jenkins was dead. But fact was, apart from who accidentally got into his way, Mark’d had two targets that day. Coach Johansson and Counselor Jenkins. That nobody seemed to investigate that connection seemed wrong in Jensen’s eyes.
“I-I-I… I was wa-w-w-walking right next to her. I w-w-was askin’ ‘bout h-h-h-her dress, of all things. A-a-a-an---“ a loud sob, heartwrenching, tore out of the girl’s throat, making her shudder. Tears streamed over her pretty face which didn’t look so good all clenched up and soggy and swollen now. Miriam, or Miranda, Jensen’d forgotten her name again.
“It’s ok, honey. You can stop, it’s ok. We all understand, don’t we?” Counselor Troy, Jay had called her. Handsome, aloof and oh-so-patient. Jensen had to grit his teeth whenever she opened her mouth. This caring, schmoopy, affected attitude grated on his nerves.
“Does anyone else want to tell us something about that day? Anyone who needs to share the load?” Her big brown eyes swept over the assembled teenagers; ten, including Jay and Jensen.
They’d been more or less forced to attend this group-counseling, on top of their personal shrinking-sessions they had to go to every week. Apparently, it’d ‘help them to talk with someone their own age’. His mom had asked him if he wanted and he’d’ve loved to refuse. Just… stay at home, draw stuff. Listen to Metalica or Kings of Leon (so what? Jay was right, they did rock!) and go beat some sandbags every Friday, right before aikido.
His trainer, Samjy, had practically ordered him to go decompress before training, since aikido was a strictly defensive martial art and Jens’ mood on Fridays was far too aggressive to get into the right mindset. He’d threatened to kick him out after Jensen’d gone on fighting, nearly getting seriously hurt after his Nage - the defensive partner in the training-groups of two - had him already incapacitated. He’d just not given up, gone on and on and on until Samjy had grabbed him and dragged him into the bathroom, under a cold shower. He’d sent him home and given him the ultimatum: get his head straight or get out.
So he went there half an hour earlier each week to kick the shit out of some bags, observed by kickboxing-trainer Morris, the polar opposite of smallish, gentle Samjy. Huge, black and imposing. Interestingly enough, Jens had the suspicion that Morris and Samjy were not just partners in business.
He’d have loved to stay at home instead of sitting here with all the other teens, but Jared hadn’t had the luxury to choose. His parents and even his uncle said he had to go, it would be good for him and they’d even wept a bit when Jay’d said it was just stupid and he didn’t want to.
Ah, good old parental blackmail.
Jay’d begged him to come with him and well, Jared’s puppy-eyes were kinda epic. And now they sat here the second time. First session had been three weeks after Mark’d snapped and apparently, they planned to make it a regular three-weekly-event. Yak.
Jensen scoffed. How would talking to these kids here help him? Maybe Jared, but him? Nobody here had been even close to a friend for him these last years, Jared notwithstanding. They didn’t know shit, didn’t know what he knew. Whenever someone sobbed how she - it was usually a she who sobbed, apart from Peter who never said anything but just cried silently in his corner - couldn’t comprehend how anyone would do that, his gaze flittered to Jared and Jared met his at once.
They knew. They might be the only ones here in the circle of fucked-up teenagers who had even an inkling of what might have gone through Mark’s head.
Jay‘d talked to Jensen, once or twice, about the chat and about not wanting him in prison or in a mental-hospital. After their screaming-match in his room, Jens had gotten more and more insight to Jared’s guilt and his role in all that. And yeah. He did blame him a bit. Not for wanting to protect him - God, no! - but for not saying anything. If Jay’d asked him, outright, somewhere where even if he’d been a raving madman he couldn’t have drawn a gun or whatever, asked Jensen if he was the guy who talked on the internet about ‘making them listen’, it coulda all been avoided. They would’ve teamed up and done something. But Jay had taken it all on himself. It was a mistake, and it still hurt that their reunion had been instigated because Jared thought Jensen was a killer.
But he couldn’t blame Jay for everything. He’d played his own role in that drama, one nobody was aware of. And since he hadn’t talked, he was just as guilty as Jared and couldn’t really put all fault on his friend. They’d both messed up royally.
Yet, so had Mrs. Jenkins, and if she weren’t dead, Jensen would’ve been furious with her. She was the real guilty party, but she’d already paid a price. Not the right one, mind. But a final one.
“I know what you feel, Milinda.” Ah. Not Miriam, then. “I was, like, joking with Ben when this, this… maniac-” the black-haired, overdressed girl - Christina-Ann Corelli, stupid bitch - spat the word “-strolled past, all cool, shooting at someone in his path. Freaky weirdo!”
Jensen still flinched at those words. It’d been usually him who’d been called that. Still was, often enough. Never Mark. In a way, Jens felt sorry for the dead classmate. Mark hadn’t ever bothered him before nearly blowing his brains out, and he’d been well-liked. Now, when it was apparent that nobody really knew anything about him, when it’d become clear that Mark’d been fucked up and that nobody’d cared about that, now everyone found ways to paint him as the bad guy. The weirdo. The one who’d always ‘had such a darkness in him’ - Jens’ favorite lie. Nobody’d known anything about Mark Parker! They had no right to say this stuff about him.
Instead of wondering what could make someone as apparently well-adjusted, well-liked, handsome and intelligent as Mark go all cablooie, they rather invented crap about him. Because right, if he was just a normal person, that could mean they themselves could blow like that, one day. And that was just not the American Way. Ergo - it wasn’t possible, ergo - Mark had been a weirdo.
Poor Mark.
“Shut up, you arrogant bitch!” Jared hissed at Christina. “You have no idea who Mark was. He wasn’t a weirdo!”
“Now, Jared. If you want to say something, you can raise your hand like anyone else” Troy reprimanded. Jensen felt the urgent desire to kick her so she’d stop using that patient voice. They weren’t little babies!
“Well, sorry!” Jay scoffed and raised his arm in mockery, still glaring at Christina.
“You’re just defending your friend! We all know he was your friend, Jared. You’re probably one of the reasons he flipped!” she hissed back
“Christina!”
“You bitch! You have been slobbering after him all last year and now you pretend like you’ve always known he was capable of that! If that were true, why didn’t you do somethin’, huh! Arrogant, brainless cow!”
“Jared!”
“You - you- what are you even doing here! You shoulda stayed home, with Mommy, cry-baby! Big, bubbly, crying Jared Padafucki!”
“Chris-“
“Right! Maybe he was in on it, got off, or somethin’. Jay and Mark’d been all together all the time…” Milinda butted in.
“Oh, now you need a chaperone, Chrissi? Not enough words in your brain?”
“Shut up! Milli, you too, I…”
“No, you shut up, you…”
“Kids, kids, please. Be quiet. Kids, come on, Christina, Milinda. Jared - no, Erin, don’t…”
Jensen leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest and watched the mayhem that unfolded in the artfully decorated, touchy-feely-Feng-Shui-room they were sitting in - on floor-cushions, no less. He could’ve kissed Jay for interrupting Pissy-Chrissi and her entourage of brainless Barbies. This was the most fun he’d had in weeks!
Counselor Troy - she might be called Miller, or Meyer, or whatever - couldn’t get another word in, some girls had started to cry and sob into their hands and tissues while others screeched in support of either Christina or Milinda or someone else. It was loud an close to Jensen’s tolerance-level of noise, but dammit, it was a beauty to watch. Jay stood in the center, facing off with the much-smaller Chrissi-Prissy-Pissy and looked magnificent in his ire, only a tick away from throttling her; yelling into her face what he thought of her while she kept insulting him, his parents and, for whatever reasons, Kevin.
It was awesome.
“I w-wanna go home…” A quite voice whispered somewhere left of Jensen. Peter.
The boy didn’t belong here. He might be fifteen, so around the same age they were, but he was so much gentler and quieter, so much more of a child, really. Whoever thought he’d be right here, with all the puberty-hazy teenagers musta been a whacko.
The kid looked shit-scared.
“Jay. Stop it.” Jensen interrupted the screaming. “You’re scaring Peter.”
To anyone watching, it would’ve been shocking to see how fast Jared unwound, stopped the growling, snarling attitude and transformed back to the kind-eyed, overgrown puppy he was.
But Jensen didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard by his friend. Ever since that day, Jay and him were hotwired into each other, knowing, hearing and more importantly, listening to what the other wanted or needed or said.
“Aww, shucks.” Jared murmured and Jensen grinned. Who said ‘shucks’ these days? ”Sorry, Pete. I just… come on, let’s getcha home, ok?”
The boy with the tear-streaked face nodded and Jensen rose from his cross-legged seat into standing in one smooth motion and placed himself between Jay, who extended a hand to help Peter up, and the rest of the room. Which was still boiling with emotion, since now that Jared had dropped out of the fight, Milinda and Christina-fucking-Ann were screaming at each other, both with loud supporters behind them.
Jensen didn’t know he’d done it, placing himself between Jay and possible danger. He didn’t realize how often he did that, these days, and he didn’t notice that Jared did the same if the circumstances were reversed. He just followed Jared and Pete out the door, only turning around to give a mock-salute and a huge grin to the bug-eyed, overstrained counselor.
Maybe this group- counseling- shit wasn’t so bad, after all.
Chapter Two