We Carved Our Love In Oak: Part 9

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The club they end up at isn’t so much a club as it is a bar with a dance floor, and it doesn’t take anything more than the person at the door to look up at Jared with bored eyes to get waved through.

Jared gives him a thumbs up once they’re in and Jensen gives him a disbelieving look, although it’s spoilt by the smile he can’t keep off his face. How anyone thought Jared was old enough to drink with floppy hair and dimples is beyond him.

They grab a table near the back and slip down into the booth, Jared getting his wallet out of his pocket and a crumpled twenty to buy them drinks.

A few girls glance over and turn away, and Jensen feels a warmth flood through him at the idea that perhaps people see them as a couple, that maybe Jared would like the idea, too.

Jared goes to the bar and comes back with two beers that they quickly get through, conversation stilled by the thumping of the music.

Jared shouts to him, asks if he's having a good time.

Then there's a girl leaning up against the table, with dark hair and dark eyes, and Jensen's lost Jared's attention.

"Hi," he says, all smiles and dimples, and Jensen feels something stir sour and acidic in his gut.

"Hey," she shouts over the music, leaning forward. The lights flash over her face, making her look distorted, all angles and shadows. Jensen takes a few mouthfuls of his drink.

"I'm Genevieve," she says, as if that's supposed to mean something to them. "I was wondering, if you're not in the middle of something... if you wanted to dance?"

Jared's eyes immediately find Jensen's and a wave of relief surges through him, calming the electric sparks that are hot beneath his skin.

"I'd love to."

It takes a moment for Jensen to realize that Jared isn't talking to him, isn't even looking at him anymore. Jared stands up, gives Jensen a quick grin and follows her into the mass of hot, writhing bodies.

Fuck. Jensen feels like crawling out of his skin, anger warring with some new emotion, something that tells him he shouldn't have been so foolish. Shouldn't have expected what he was never going to get, shouldn't have allowed the touches and the brushes of skin and electricity between them to mean anything. It didn’t mean anything.

Except, it does. It means everything.

He's standing up and making his way through the crowds before he can process what he's doing, and the cool air from outside hits him like a brick, hot tears sticking to the corners of his eyes. He wipes at them, angrily, and turns in a random direction. He doesn't care where he goes, where he ends up, just that he's outside of the club and away.

Jared’s not going to know where he’s gone, or where he’s going, and maybe even why he’s taken off. Neither of them have got cellphones on them. They haven't needed them in the weeks they've been beneath the sun together. He runs a hand over the side of his face and picks up his speed.

Jensen reaches the truck and gets the keys out of his pocket, unlocking it and grabbing his bag and phone from the glove box. Jared’s phone is sitting there and ignores it, turning his own on for the first time since they left Texas before slipping it into his jeans pocket.

Once he’s got his bag slung over his shoulder he locks the truck and puts the keys on top of the front tire on the driver’s side, ignoring the stinging in his eyes and tight constriction of his throat, the stabbing in his chest each time he takes a breath.

He walks. He leaves the nightlife behind him and heads towards the road, hoping someone will see him and decide to offer a ride. Jensen sticks his thumb out and the cars fly on past.

Jensen’s not sure how long it’s been, maybe a quarter of an hour later, when a truck rolls to a slow stop beside him and a girl and a guy smile down at him.

“You need a lift?” the guy asks. “Where you going, man?”

“Texas,” Jensen says. “If you can get me anywhere close I’d be grateful.”

“Hop in,” the guy says. "You’re in a bit of luck. We're going to New Mexico."

The girl smiles at him and shuffles over, giving him some room.

“What’s your name, kid?” the guy asks as they start off again along the road.

“Jensen,” he says.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Robbie. This is Maggie.”

“Hey,” Maggie says. “How come you’re so far away from home?”

Home. There’s that word again.

“Texas is just where I need to be,” Jensen settles with.

They share a look but don't ask any more questions. Jensen tries to break the awkward silence by asking his own.

"So why are you two heading to New Mexico?"

“We’re getting married,” Maggie says, and the two share a soft look. "Robbie's parents are there and we're staying for a week to finalize the arrangements."

"Hey, that's awesome," Jensen says. "Good luck to you both."

“What about you, Jensen?” Maggie asks. “Do you have a girl back home - or, wherever? Maybe in Texas?”

Jensen looks down at his folded hands, wishes he had a cigarette on him. “No, uh. No, I don’t.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” she says, softly.

Jensen smiles. “Not a very good one, I’m afraid.”

Robbie saves him from any more questions by putting the radio on, and Jensen relaxes back in his seat, watching the city lights disappear behind him.

Jensen knows when he gets back to Texas there’s nowhere for him to go. There’s no one place with the word home written on it, and over the last couple of weeks he’d learnt to associate it with a person instead.

He dreads the way he’ll have to go crawling back to his parents, beg their forgiveness and pretend to be the person he knows he isn't.

They stay at a rest-stop that night and Jensen tries to sleep in the front with the chair rolled back as far as it will go, Robbie and Maggie in the back.

He pulls out his phone and sees there are seven missed calls, three voicemails and five texts.

He hovers his thumb over the answer button before finally relenting and holding it up to his ear.

“Hi,” he manages to force out, his voice raspy. He clears his throat and hears Jared breathe, low and relieved, on the other end. He quietly gets out of the truck and walks a little way off to not wake the other two.

“Jen,” Jared says. “You’re okay. I’ve been worried, man. Where are you? Are you -- are you leaving? The truck keys, I don’t…”

“I’m sorry, Jay. But I can’t -- I can’t do this anymore. I’m going back to Texas.”

“Jen, wait. What’s wrong? Did I do something? If I--”

“Jared, stop.” There’s a steady thumping in his head and the words are crumbling in his mouth. “I’m just going home. I’m sorry.”

Jensen hangs up and shuts his eyes, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Thinks that, maybe, this wasn't the right thing to do. He doesn't want to punish Jared but it's too painful to be beside him and feel so intangible like air, like smoke and dust. To feel like there's some sort of connection there but it's the fact he's a guy, in the wrong body, for Jared to feel anything like that towards him. Wonders why he had to fall for his best friend.

He walks back to the truck and gets into the front, shutting his eyes and willing sleep to come.

***

Robbie and Maggie are early risers and they're driving again the next morning, already stopping at a gas station before Jensen feels he's properly woken up.

Jensen uses the toilet and then rests against the side of the building, watching traffic fly past and tired people wandering into the gas station and leaving with coffee.

“Hey, kid, we’re gonna… Hey, are you okay?”

Robbie is staring at him with concern on his face. Jensen straightens up and nods.

“Yeah,” Jensen says, trying for a smile. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Robbie walks up beside him and leans against the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares out over the gas station.

“I’m guessing it’s either family or love."

Jensen laughs. “Maybe a bit of both.”

“Yeah,” Robbie says. “It always is.”

Jensen’s used to not sharing anything with anyone. Jared’s the only one who’s ever been able to pry, who’s been able to knock down Jensen’s walls and get him talking. He wonders if, maybe, he shouldn’t have been so closed off this time. If, maybe, things would be different if he’d been more open about his feelings with Jared.

“How did you know?” Jensen asks, nodding towards the car, where Maggie is sat, reading a magazine. “That you wanted to marry her? That she was, you know. The one.”

“Can I give you some advice? I mean, I know we’re practically strangers, but you’re a good kid, and I wish someone had told me this when I was your age.”

Jensen gives a small nod.

“Be who you are, do what you want, and fuck everything else. Love the people you love, love yourself, and keep the ones you love close. That’s it.”

Jensen mulls the over the words. Wonders how that fits into loving someone who doesn’t love you back, or loving someone who won’t accept you for who you are.

“You make it sound simple,” he says. “And super fucking hard all at the same time.”

“If nothing else, forgive yourself, accept yourself and love yourself. That’s gotta be most important, right?”

Jensen bites back on a smile. “Are you a hippy?”

Robbie laughs. “Get in the damn car or you’ll have to find someone else to get you to Texas.”

***

Once they reach New Mexico, Jensen knows that his ride is up.

“This is as far as we’re going,” Robbie says. He looks apologetic, and Jensen thinks he’s going to miss him, miss the both of them.

"You keep safe, Jensen," Maggie says. "I hope everything works out for you."

“Thanks,” Jensen says. “Really. Thank you both.”

“Oh, and Jensen? To answer your question from earlier? I’ve been thinking about it, and the answer is that I just knew. It felt right, and everyone else would have felt wrong. Like flimsy replacements.”

He pauses where he’s standing and then offers a smile before jumping out of the truck and turning back to look at them both. They pull away while Maggie waves, back onto the road, and Jensen stands there, watching until it disappears into nothing.

Everyone else would have felt wrong.

He takes a deep breath and he turns around.

***

Jensen blows the rest of his money on a train that goes from New Mexico to Texas for $45. It feels like a long, long journey, even if it’s only around 7 hours, and he’s travelled a lot longer than that before.

He sleeps for most of the journey and wakes up in a daze at the other end, ready to see his home town but feeling anxious at the same time.

It feels like nothing has changed, like his sleepy town has been stuck on pause for the short time he's been away. He feels different, coming back, feels like maybe he's outgrown their hometown, too.

It's not a long walk to his neighborhood, but it feels like going to war.

The front yard is neat, flowers in perfect lines, and hanging baskets full of begonias.

He takes a deep steadying breath and knocks on the door.

The door opens and Jensen’s mom stands there, a hand against her chest and her eyes wide and glassy.

“Jensen,” she whispers, and then peers around the neighborhood as if checking to see if he’s alone, to see if the neighbors have noticed the return of the prodigal son. She steps aside and he walks into the house, into the hallway he hasn’t seen in weeks.

It smells of sadness. It smells empty and bare, like cardboard and brick. His mom presses a cool hand to his cheek and he closes his eyes, doesn’t want to see the look in her eyes.

“You came home,” she says. He tilts his head to the side away from her hand and she drops it. He swallows hard and opens his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left.” The words taste awful and heavy in his mouth.

To his own ears he doesn’t sound apologetic at all, but she wraps her arms around him, bringing him close for a hug. He wraps his own arms around her, stiff and controlled like a wooden puppet, and they stand there awkwardly without saying anything.

“Your father will be glad to see you’ve changed your mind,” she says, once they’ve pulled away and they’re back to staring at each other.

Jensen swallows hard.

“Where’s Mack?”

“At a friend’s for the night.”

Jensen's glad she's not here to see the potential fall out, but misses her all the same.

Jensen and his mom are awkward around each other, and Jensen chickens out before his dad gets home and heads up to his room to sleep. He looks down at his phone and wonders if more texts and missed calls would come through if he turned it on.

He leaves it off and lies down in bed, relaxing at the feeling of the soft mattress beneath him and the comforter wrapped tight around him, slipping into sleep.

***

Jensen's dad does little to acknowledge Jensen's presence the next morning, and after that Jensen makes an effort to avoid him. It's easy enough with both his parents at work, and Mack still at her friend’s, Josh in another state.

He allows himself to indulge in small luxuries with the house to himself, and tries everything to not think about Jared.

He has a long bath and reads favorite parts of his favorite novels, and cooks himself the first healthy meal in what feels like forever.

Mack gets home around lunchtime and is glad to spend some time with him and they wish a film together, before another awkward, silent family mea. Afterwards, Jensen disappears into his room again, already feeling like he's suffocating.

***

The next day, around noon, there's a knock on the door.

Jensen answers without thinking much about it, and feels himself freeze up at the person he sees standing there. He looks tired, worn out, unshaven and with dark bags beneath his eyes.

“Can I come in?”

There are a thousand answers to that and they all boil down to two different decisions. He hates himself for how easily it’s made. He steps back and drops his eyes as Jared brushes past him into the hallway.

He goes straight towards the back room and Jensen watches him in confusion, feels the anger and the hurt sting like a fresh wound with the stitches torn out.

Jared is bending down in front of the record player and Jensen stops just in the entrance of the room, unsure what to do or to say.

He wants to ask why Jared’s back. He wants to ask how he could push Jensen away like he did and come back into his life like he belongs there and Jensen knows it will always be like that because he’ll never be able to say no. And it hurts.

The needle hits the vinyl and Jared stands up and turns to Jensen. His eyes are wide and glassy and Jensen’s breath nearly leaves him at the sight. He looks small and vulnerable and walks towards Jensen until he's only a few steps away.

Jensen doesn’t recognize the song. Not at first.

And then everything falls into place. The seconds stop and everything settles down to this moment between them, and Jared half-smiles, but the tears are already forming at the edges of his eyes.

Jared has put This Guy’s In Love With You by Herb Alpert on the record player and Jensen is feeling his throat constrict and his own eyes start to get wet. Jared once said that with every meaningful moment in life there’s a song to go with it and Jensen finally, finally, understands what that means.

"I stopped searching," Jared says suddenly. With anyone else it would be out of the blue, but to Jensen it makes perfect sense.

“Did you find it?” he asks, his voice shaking.

“It’s you I was looking for, Jensen. It was always you.”

Jensen bites hard on his lip and Jared steps closer, reaches his hands out slowly, circling his fingers around Jensen’s wrists.

They’re breathing each other’s air, and all it takes is Jensen moving that tiny distance further and their lips are pressing together. It’s only a soft brush at first, sweet and chaste, and then his hands are fisting in the front of Jared’s shirt and Jared’s arms are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Jensen, I am so sorry,” he mumbles against Jensen’s lips. “I am such a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have gone off with her, I--”

“Don’t,” Jensen says, looking down and gripping tighter at the front of Jared’s shirt, scared this is just his imagination, that with the wrong words Jared will slip away. “It happened and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Nothing happened, Jensen,” Jared says softly. “We danced for a song, and then I realized you had gone. I left to look for you. We didn’t even kiss.”

Jensen’s taking careful, measured breaths, trying to understand Jared’s words.

“Did you hear me, Jensen?” Jared says, brushing the pad of his thumb across Jensen’s cheek. “We didn’t even kiss.”

Jensen looks up, feeling raw and self-conscious and vulnerable, and feels as a hot tear rolls down his cheek.

“Oh, Jensen,” Jared says, frowning down at him. “I never meant to hurt you. Never.”

Jensen answers with another kiss, and they go up to Jensen's bedroom, their fingers interlinked as they walk.

Jared keeps touching him, just small brushes of skin against skin, and Jensen leans into them, feeling like he's carefully being held together.

“I thought you hated Holden Caulfield?” Jared asks, eyeing the open copy of The Catcher In The Rye that’s face down on the bed. When Jensen doesn’t answer, he smiles.

Jared takes a look around Jensen's bedroom, the walls bare and only a few books on his shelf, and his smile falls.

“Come home with me,” Jared says, suddenly, taking Jensen’s hands in his. “Sleep in my bed. Eat breakfast with me. Be there with me.”

Jensen stares into Jared’s eyes and feels consumed by the love that’s shining there. He thinks of the silent dinners, the way everyone is tip-toeing around him, the way Mack can't stand to be in the house and Jensen can't blame her.

“Let me pack a bag.”

***

Jensen’s in the hallway, getting ready to leave, when the door opens.

Jensen’s mom walks into the house, smiles when she sees him and then freezes when her eyes land on Jared.

Her entire demeanor changes and she straightens up, lips pressing into a thin line, and she looks older, angular, carved out of stone.

Their eyes meet and Jensen doesn’t say anything. Beside him, Jared takes his hand, and Jensen laces their fingers together.

He leads them both down the hallway, past her, and out of the house. Once they’re outside Jensen lets out a shaky breath and Jared pulls him close, presses a kiss to the top of his head.

Neither of them say anything for a long while. Finally, Jensen pulls back and takes Jared’s hand in his, and they start walking together to Jared’s.

***

As soon as Jared’s mom sees him, she pulls him into a tight hug.

“Jensen,” she says, squeezing him. “It is so good to see you.”

She pulls back and holds him at arm’s length, looking him over. “You boys get taller every day. And look at you both - so tanned, and your freckles! Are you going to be staying with us again?”

Jensen stands there for a moment, a little stunned, trying to absorb all the questions and Jared stares at him from the other side of the room, biting his lip to stop himself smiling.

“Uh, yes, yeah. If that’s okay, I mean.”

“Of course it is,” she assures. “You know that, Jensen. This is your home for as long as you want it to be.”

“Thank you,” Jensen says sincerely.

He finally, finally, feels like he’s home.

***

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