Chapter Text
Fic title: Missing Jared
Author name: Rankwriter
Artist name: Catrinalia
Genre: RPS
Pairing: Jeff/Jensen (past Jared/Jensen)
Rating: NC17
Word count: 46k +
Warnings: (skip) Attempted suicide, mental health issues, underage, disturbing and unresolved character status.
Summary: Jensen is trying to get his life back on track. The last few years have been traumatic. Now he’s finally off to college, he’s made a new friend and has a crush on his professor. But there are things in his past that are unresolved and Jensen isn’t as strong as he’d hoped and everything comes crashing down. Now he’s learning to live without his first love and trying to sort out what he wants to do with his life. He’s had to accept that he’ll probably never stop missing Jared, but six years is a long time to keep hoping. So maybe it’s time to move on. Perhaps there’s even the chance of a new romance. It’s all very confusing.
Sometimes I dream of him.
Of course, at the time I don’t realize that it’s a dream. But that’s neither here nor there. It’s always hazy, like everything is just out of focus, not misty or foggy just...off. It’s night time, which is odd because he disappeared in broad daylight, the street lights are old-fashioned, like the gas ones you see in old movies. The street is wide and there are railings surrounding the townhouses, tall and spiky. I can see Jared up ahead; he is moving away from me, quickly. Although he’s not running, I am, but I can’t keep up. I’m calling his name over and over again, but he doesn’t turn; he just moves further into the distance. I’m crying, I can feel the tears wet on my face. He becomes smaller, lost in the haze. I know then that I’ll never see him again and I wake with a jolt, feeling melancholy and alone.
I’m leaving for college today. I’m twenty-four and finally, just going. I’m going to be the odd one out: too old to be cool , not clever enough for the geeks. People will wonder why I didn’t go to college straight from school. I considered lying, saying I took time off to travel, but where have I been? A few no-name towns that I visited because of tips that Jared had been seen there. Of course, nothing came of any of them.
I hear my mother fussing around downstairs. She’s not saying anything, but I know she’s not happy I’m leaving. Six years ago, she would’ve been happy. In fact, it was all planned. I had a scholarship, a place at Cornell, but then....Well, it doesn’t matter now. She’s just worried that I’m not stable enough, and some days I think she’s right. However, I need to get out of this town, away from my memories and the sympathetic looks, and worse still, the accusing glances that even now, six years later, still cut me to the quick.
Surveying the room, I see my life reduced to a few boxes and a couple of suitcases, and I smile. It makes me feel good that I can pack everything away. It’s like a fresh start and it’s exactly what I need. I wish it was so easy to pack the bad memories away, lock them up and lose the key.
In the car, my mom talks. I hear the words she’s saying, but I don’t bother trying to comprehend them. I turn and smile at her, and that’s enough. She smiles back, satisfied that I’m okay, and I turn away to look out at the ever-changing landscape as she drives me to the airport. There’s the field Jared and I played in as boys, my stomach lurches and I turn my head to keep it in view as long as possible. I almost ask my mom to stop so I can get out of the car and run through the field. Would it smell the same, the sweet grassy aroma underlaid by wild flowers. The tree we used to climb looks smaller, surely it should be taller. The rope swing that hung there is long gone, we would while away the hours seeing who could swing highest. Daring each other to do crazier stunts. Would I feel closer to Jared there or would I feel his loss more keenly. I guess I’ll never know now as the field disappears behind me, much like Jared. I’m leaving behind both the good memories and the bad. I close my eyes for a moment almost in prayer although I’m not communing with God, maybe I’m whispering a belated goodbye to Jared.
My mom wanted to drive me all the way to California, but I put my foot down, she meant well but it’s time for me to stand on my own two feet now. I have to learn to look after myself. I know it’s hard for her to let go, she’s been taking care of me for so long now. I can see her reflection in the window and watch her discreetly. Her image is distorted but even so I can see the lines on her face, lines that weren’t there a few years ago. She looks careworn and I can’t help but think that I did that to her.
“I love you mom” she starts at my voice but the smile that breaks over her face chases the years and stress away. She looks girlish as she takes my hand.
“I love you too”
At the airport, she hands me the ticket as she throws her arms around me. I can tell she’s trying not to cry, so I hug her back. Her love got me through dark times. I kiss her on the cheek then I make my way to the departure lounge. I give her a backward glance and a wave, and she smiles at me. Her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, I wonder whether mine are too.
I don’t remember much of the flight, I couldn’t describe the plane to you, or the person who sat next to me. I don’t think I slept but maybe I did, that would explain why it is such a blur. The cab ride to the university passes in a similar fashion. Classes start tomorrow and I’m arriving late. I expect most students are already moved in. I didn’t want to arrive too early I didn’t want too much time to think. I was worried that my negative thoughts would taint this new place if I let them. This is my fresh start, new town, new people and a new me.
I managed to get a single dorm room, I suspect it was because of my history, but I’m not going to complain. I like my privacy. I’m organized and tidy and I just know that a roommate would upset my equilibrium.
Jared was untidy. In fact, he gloried in his mess and havoc. I loved him, but we had never lived together, and I’ve wondered whether our differences would have caused problems had we roomed together. I know I had idealized our relationship after he had gone, but I suspect there would have been friction between us, and not the good kind.
With a smile, I start to put up photos on the pin board. There are several of Jared and me. I smile at Jared’s picture; he looks so young, only sixteen when they were taken. There’s the one of us down by the lake, where I’m trying to hide my scrawny chest while Jared does his strongman pose. That one always makes me laugh. It’s tinged with sadness too though, because that was the night we first made love. Down there on the sand, the waves lapping the shore, the breeze rustling the reeds Jared and I came together for the first time.
My mom says I should put them away now, that I shouldn’t have a shrine to him, but it’s not a shrine! It’s not. Jared isn’t dead. And until someone shows me his body, I won’t believe otherwise.
There are only five photos of him and me now, I’ve put the others away., I look again at the two of us at the beach. It was perfect. We were perfect.
I don’t remember meeting Jared. It was like we were always friends—always JaredandJensen. It could have been a cliché: childhood friends becoming teenage boyfriends, and then lovers. It didn’t feel cliché. He was everything to me, and we had that intensity that people say only first love creates. We spent so much time together, exploring our friendship and then each other’s bodies, and even today I don’t know which made me happier.
Since Jared disappeared, I’ve often wondered whether that intensity would have burnt itself out? Would it have flared and died if the relationship had been able to run it’s course, or would it have lasted, stayed perfect, like it is now in my memory. Of course, now I’ll never know. It will always be the perfect partnership, passionate and fierce and wonderful for all it’s brevity.
Sighing I turn away. Maybe my mom was right: maybe it isn’t healthy to hold on after all this time.
I had only been on campus once, at my interview, so I decide to take a walk. Being stuck on the plane for five hours then lugging my suitcases to the dorms, stiffened me up. The weather seems typically Californian, warm with a slight breeze. Some other day, I may take the CalTrain to San Francisco and do some sight-seeing, but for now I just wander near the campus aimlessly, stopping at a little café for a salad and some juice. I easily recognize my fellow students, but I don’t make conversation. I’ll save that for later.
I have decided to study Law, even though when I was first offered a place at college it was to study English. That was before, and now things have changed. Jared and I were going to go together. He had a football scholarship and was going to study physical education. We’d hoped to room together. We were in love, and it was going to be the start of our lives together. Of course it never happened. On an unseasonably cool day in July, less than a week after his eighteenth birthday, Jared went to get some soda and snacks from the market and he never came back. The police looked for him, local residents got together a search party--we even hired a private eye--but in the end, the leads and the sightings came to nothing.
The police are supposedly still looking for him, but I suspect his file is growing mould in some rusty filing cabinet. Six years is a long time. I know, because I’ve felt every long minute like a razor cut across my skin.
I’m angry at myself now for letting my thoughts go down that road. My doctor says it’s alright to think of the good times, but not to dwell on how things ended-- if that’s the right word. I can’t help it though. Every good memory leads me to that dreadful day, and the harrowing days that followed it. I know that it’s time to move on, but I still hope--with every molecule of my body--that he’ll walk through the door, smiling his all-consuming smile, as if the last six years never happened. That’s what I hope for, but as time passes, I know it’s never going to happen.
I head back to my dorm as the sun moves lower in the sky, I smile and nod at a few of my neighbors as I pass them in the halls, but don’t stop to chat. It’s only just turned nine o’clock, but I fall into bed anyway. I sleep soundly until morning. If I dream, I don’t remember it
I’m “up with the lark”, as my mom would say. Showered and dressed and walking to the cafe I found yesterday. I want to delay meeting my fellow students and this will do that. However, I can’t afford to eat out all the time, but just once, just for today, I’m going to treat myself. The morning is warm already although it’s not eight am yet. There is a subtle haze to the air, it appears almost yellow. Gentle like the weather is on the cusp of changing from summer to autumn.
I take a table outside the cafe the tables and chairs are iron painted white. They give the cafe an almost European look. I order a decaf coffee and a Danish pastry from the waiter, a young man with a winning smile that I try to return. I mustn’t have managed very well because he flinches. I root in my pocket and extract my Xanax. I’ve been managing okay without them but today is a big day and I don’t want a panic attack to spoil everything. Apart from the potential for embarrassment, an attack leaves me out of sorts for days. Shaky but exhausted and my mind racing so just in case I pop the pill into my mouth and swallow.
The pastry I choose is delicious: apple Danish, sweet and delicate. It probably contains a million calories. But as I’ve lost so much weight since Jared disappeared then this will probably do me good. So I just eat it and enjoy. By the time I’m halfway through, I’m already full and feeling slightly sick. Since I stopped taking the anti-depressants I can actually taste my food and can actually enjoy eating again, even though my appetite is still repressed.
My first lecture is at ten and I have to make my way across campus to the Boalt Hall; I finish up my coffee and leave a tip, smiling at the waiter as I leave. I think he buys that smile, I’m getting better at fitting in. I consult my map and without too much difficulty find the building which is bustling with activity, students and staff milling around with no apparent reason.
It takes me more time to find the lecture room, negotiating my way past an eclectic mix of students of all ages and types. When I do, I sit at the back in a corner, hoping to escape notice here. I’ve got about ten minutes to spare, so I get my MacBook out and boot her up . I don’t look at my wallpaper, because I still expect to see Jared smiling at me. I chose some bland thing from the default menu the night before my flight because coming here is supposed to be my fresh start. But if I close my eyes I still see it, I still see him. It’s both a comfort and a curse.
I feel the curl of low level panic move through my body, either the Xanax hasn’t kicked in yet or all this new stimuli is too much. I concentrate on loading up Pages, word processing program, because distraction always helps in these circumstances.
I hear a cough, and when I look up I see another student taking the seat next to mine. He looks even older than me, early thirties, maybe. He has long, dirty-blond hair, and soft blue eyes. He’s shorter than me, but of a much stockier build. He smiles and his blue eyes twinkle. Maybe he singled me out because he knew we’d be two misfits together.
“Chris” he offers
”Jensen,” I reply, smiling.
“So, you and me,” he says. ”Looks like we’re the mature contingent.”
I can’t help but smile. ”Are you calling me old?”
He coughs and smirks. ”Well, if the label fits.”
I try to look aggrieved, but can’t manage it. This is the first time since… then, that someone hasn’t treated me as fragile , and I like it. In fact I don’t remember the last time someone joked with me. Maybe it was out of respect for Jared, or for my feelings for Jared. That doesn’t make sense though, somedays Jared and I were all about the banter. God I miss that, the gentle teasing, the back and forth of quick repartee and the silly verbal dueling that took up so much of our time together. I’m about to make a clever comeback when the professor comes in. The buzz of conversation dies as we all look up.
The professor is a good looking, older man, probably in his thirties, with dark hair, greying around the sideburns. His face is lined, but they’re the lines that come from smiling and enjoying life., He looks friendly, and I’m surprised to feel my stomach lurch with attraction. It’s so disconcerting I nearly get up and walk out. I’m suddenly aware of my heartbeat and I can feel a flush crawl up my face
In the last six years, I have felt no sexual stirrings what so ever, and now… now I have an instant crush on my professor? How clichéd. When Jared left he took that part of me with him. I lost my desire, I didn’t want to touch myself, I became almost asexual. Some mornings I awake with an erection but that’s just a physical response and I have no interest in pleasuring myself. Yet suddenly I feel the stirrings of arousal, faint but certain. I really don’t know what to make of this, I feel off balance. I truly expected to live out my life celibate. Why wouldn’t I? I almost laugh out loud but temper myself to a slight snort. Chris looks at me strangely but I just smile and listen to Professor Morgan introduce Contracts.
The lecture flies by, I’m enthralled by Professor Morgan’s voice. The subject matter is dry, but he makes it interesting. His lecture is full of funny asides as he illustrates the material with stories of some of the sillier codicils he had found. I’m hanging on his every word, watching as he moves about the hall. He walks like a man and he owns the floor. I’m watching him as he makes eye contact with the students, those at the front and those, like myself, hiding at the back.
“I can see you guys back there” he grins “I hope you’re paying attention” he catches my eye and he oozes confidence and charisma and I feel drawn to him. I would normally look away when someone makes eye contact, but I feel unaccountably comfortable with him and meet his gaze directly. He seems to look at me for a moment longer than anyone else, but maybe I imagined that, or was it wishful thinking?
Then the lesson is over and the other students are leaving. Chris asks me if I want to go for a coffee, We don’t have another lecture for a couple of hours so we pack up. As we’re leaving, through the main door Professor Morgan waylays us.
“Hi guys.” His voice is deep and gravelly “Hope you don’t mind me saying, but it’s nice to see a couple more mature students in the class. A bit of life experience can certainly help when it comes to the law.” Up close I can see the crinkles around his eyes, eyes that are a deep chocolate brown and sparkling with mischief. He looks both younger and older, his eyes are sharp and intelligent but his rugged face exhibits his years of experience. It’s a kind, open face that makes me want to trust him, I’m drawn to him. Not just in a sexual way, although there’s no denying he’s an attractive man, but I find that I want to befriend him. I’m shocked, it’s been such a long time since I’ve felt a connection to another human being that I find myself staring at the man. I try to lock those thoughts away. because they make me feel like I am being unfaithful to Jared.
I gather my wits together and smiling back at Professor Morgan, Chris and I say almost together,”Are you calling us old, professor?” Then we catch each other’s eye, snort, and high five each other.
I see realization cross his face and he’s about to backtrack on what he said when he sees the joke in my eyes.
“Jeff,” he says. “Call me Jeff.” With his warm smile, sparkling eyes, and easy manner, I feel the stone I’ve been carrying in the pit of my stomach get lighter somehow.
“Jeff,” I agree with my own smile. Am I flirting? It’s been such a long time, I’m not sure. I don’t think I am. But Jeff is looking at me with such intensity and when he smiles back it seems like the smile is only for me. I glance at Chris. His eyes are flicking from me to Jeff and back again as if he’s watching tennis. With a sigh, I realize that maybe I am flirting.
“I’m Jensen and this is Chris,” I say, I don’t know where I’m getting this confidence from, I would normally let someone else do all the talking. We both shake Jeff’s hand. He manages to finagle an invite to have coffee with us. We walk to Caffe Strada and take a table outside under the trees. The place is buzzing with students but the trees and hedges give us the illusion of privacy. We order our coffees and over it Jeff tells us he isn’t the full time law professor; he is just standing in for the tenured professor who is on maternity leave and due back in a matter of weeks. He previously was a full-time lecturer but wanted to spend some time doing pro bono work for an LGBT law clinic and this job has given him the opportunity to do this. Chris tells us that he spent some time traveling around Europe. It was only meant to be for a couple of years, but he met a girl and stayed in Ireland for a decade. Then the relationship ended, and he came back to follow his dreams of becoming a lawyer, ten years late. Then it’s my turn.
When they look at me expectantly, I can barely think, and my tongue trips over the words. All I can manage is, “Things got away from me.”
They both give me an understanding look. I wonder just how understanding they would be if they knew that I had spent five years looking for my boyfriend... full time; obsessively tracking every sighting however improbable. Tracing and retracing Jared’s last known route. Never crying for fear that once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. Until the fifth anniversary of Jared’s disappearance, when Detective Johns rang and said there was still no news. Then I cried. I cried until I was dehydrated, and then I cried some more. Cried because I was finally admitting that Jared was never coming home, and because of all the nights I had lain awake wondering where he was, what he was doing, was he alive or lying dead. I cried because I had given up.
Looking up at the two men I knew it was a story that I would probably never tell, but looking into Jeff’s eyes maybe, just maybe.
Jeff, Chris and I talk for what seems like for hours. Well, if I’m honest, they talk and I interject and agree occasionally, but by the time we’ve had our third coffee, we are so at ease with each other it’s like we’ve known each other for years. Jeff is relaxed and open, it seems like no subject is taboo with him and Chris is fearless, some of his stories make my hair stand on end. I haven’t had time to make friends in recent years, maybe I didn’t want to, but I feel a connection with these two disparate characters, and I’m looking forward to spending more time with them. When we leave to make our way to the next lecture, Jeff waves goodbye and I feel an unexpected twinge of sadness. I don’t want to explore my feelings for this man now, it’s all too confusing.