Jensen had been staring at his phone intermittently for the past couple of hours, the screwed up piece of paper that had the number of the dealer on it clutched in his fist. He scrolled through the phonebook, landing on Jared’s name, his thumb hovering over the ‘call’ button.
But then memories flashed into his mind, Jared grinning at him, Jared crying after they’d practised a particularly emotional scene, Jared playing with his dogs, Jared kissing Sandy, Jared asleep, his face peaceful; JaredJaredJaredJared. And Jensen felt like his heart was going to burst with the amount of love he was keeping shut in.
A choked cry escaped his lips, and he let his head fall back down onto the sofa, dropping the phone onto the floor by his hand. He couldn’t see Jared anymore. It was pathetic, he knew that, but it hurt. The knowledge that he could never have what was right in front of him broke him a little more every day.
He’d been hiding for so long, on the set of Supernatural, in their private lives; he could never be who he truly was. And it was taking its’ toll.
Even as his head said no, he was already picking up his phone and dialling the number Steve had given him, hoping that this guy was…nicer than the last one. He knew he was risking so much but, for once in his life, he shoved all those feelings aside and focused on himself. He needed to forget…to be lost in the peaceful oblivion.
“Hello,” This voice was softer, still sharp, but not dangerous.
“I’m a friend of Steve’s,” He said his voice steady, not betraying the whirlwind of feelings that battered around inside of him.
There was a silence, and then, “Oh? That’s…interesting. So, you’d be wanting anything in particular?”
Jensen was silent for a few seconds. His throat seemed to constrict, and then he squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could block out the world, saying, “Yeah…I want…heroin.” He’d never said the word out loud before, never admitted to it. Now he almost laughed at how ridiculous he sounded.
“You know where Crimson is?”
Jensen did know. It was just another one of the many ‘glamour’ clubs in LA where people went to lose themselves in the scene, and try to have fun in a world where the idea of fun had burned out years ago.
“Yeah, I know it,” He replied, wondering if this guy catered to the sort of clientele who would do anything to fit in. He swallowed the thought that flickered through his brain, you’re no better than them.
“Be there at 9, back room, what’s your name, kid?”
“Uh…Tom,” He replied, saying the first name that came to mind, wincing as he realised he’d just used the name of one of his friends.
“Alright…Tom,” This guy clearly knew he was lying, seemed to expect it, “See you later.”
The dial tone alerted Jensen to the fact that he’d hung up, and he placed the phone slowly back down on the table. So he was really doing this, going it alone.
Steve and Chris would be skipping town soon enough and then…then he’d no longer have excuse that it was ‘peer pressure’, or a thing to do among friends, a comfort. Then he’d have to face the truth; that he was in deeper than he thought.
His dismal thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing, and he jumped at the shrill noise echoing around the room. One look at the caller ID, and his stomach was clenching again.
“Hey man,” Jared sounded tired, burnt out.
“Jared…is everything alright?” Jensen asked, his problem immediately forgotten, worry for Jared overwhelming him.
“Yeah,” Jared sounded hesitant, nervous almost, “I just…need to talk to you…about, well…I’d prefer to do this face to face.”
A bolt of fear jolted right through him, leaving him breathless, and he bit his lip so hard he drew blood. Shit, he can’t know, how could he know?
“Wha…” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat self-consciously, “What about?”
“Jensen, I’d really rather prefer to talk about this in person,” And what was up with Jared, using his full name like that? “Can you come over tonight?”
Jensen spoke without thinking, all thoughts of his own worries beaten beneath curiosity, fear, and worry for Jared, “Yeah sure.”
And it was only after the phone call that he remembered what else he had scheduled for that night. No problem, I’ll just go see Jared before then…I’m not gonna let him down.
~**~
Jared looked at his watch for the hundredth time. He slumped down on the sofa, and dropped his head into his hands. He had told Jensen to stop by any time between eight and ten, which was when Sandy would be out. He didn’t want her hearing what he was going to be accusing…no, talking to Jensen about…in case he was wrong.
The face of his watch shone in the moonlight pouring in through the window. It showed it to be just after eleven. Sandy had gotten home from whatever friend’s house she had been at and had gone straight to bed. She’d been giggling and giddy from too much champagne, but had become serious and sober on seeing him waiting. She knew who he was waiting for.
Jensen wasn’t coming.
There had been doubts niggling at the back of his mind, thoughts that this might happen, but he’d refused to acknowledge them, preferring to think the best of his friend.
But he’d been desperate, had known that Jensen could hear it in his voice on the phone, and had used that to his advantage, sure that Jensen would understand, that he would come.
But he hadn’t. And now Jared was angry, because something was going on, and Jensen wasn’t telling him. And he was going to find out what the hell was happening, because he wasn’t going to let Jensen ruin their friendship, not without an explanation.
~**~
Jensen had planned on going to see Jared, he really had. But then the chills had started, the sweating and the shaking, and he’d curled up in the corner of his bathroom, tears slipping down his cheeks, and occasionally lunging to retch into the toilet.
He hadn’t known that this could happen so suddenly, he’d always thought that it took a lot longer to get so deep in that the withdrawal symptoms started. He’d been naïve.
His watch read half past eight, and he’d desperately shucked on his jacket, grabbed a bundle of bills from his wallet, and practically fallen out of his front door. He gasped the whole way to his car, trying to get his breathing under control.
He drove without thinking, straight down to the strip of night clubs in downtown LA, watching in a sweaty daze as drunken revellers stumbled around on the sidewalk, and women in sky high heels wobbled down the street, giggling and flirting.
The bright red exterior alerted him to the presence of the club and he pulled over, thanking whoever was listening that there was a small parking lot behind the club. He’d never have found anywhere to park his car otherwise.
He lurched into the club, trying to keep the shaking under control, otherwise he knew he’d stick out as a junkie. God, a junkie. He’d never thought of himself like that before. The sinking feeling of guilt in his stomach didn’t stop the chills though. He knew there was only one thing that would do that.
The inside of the club was thrumming with the loud bass of the music, the crowds of people grinding and twisting in time to the beat. The air smelled like smoke, perfume and sweat. Jensen quickly spied whatever was passing as the ‘back room’, and squeezed past people, mumbling apologies under his breath.
He nearly had a heart attack when a woman turned around, only to shriek in delight. She swayed tipsily over to him and hugged him tightly.
“Oh my god! I love you!” She’d crowed in drunken delight, her friends laughing at her ridiculous behaviour. But Jensen just wanted her to get off him, right then.
“Sorry, do I know you?” He asked, trying to prise her arms from around his neck.
“No silly!” She giggled and poked his nose, adding in a slur, “But you’re on that show!”
Jensen ducked his eyes, forgetting momentarily that he did tend to get recognised now and again, “Uh…no sorry, you’re getting me confused with someone else.”
She drew away and stared at him, her eyes unfocused, before she smiled brightly and continued, “I don’t care, you’re still hot.”
Before she could come up with anything else, he’d offered her a muttered thanks, and quickly immersed himself back into the crowd, aiming for the room at the back, which was roped off and had a bouncer keeping watch.
Said bouncer looked him up and down once he reached the doorway, and asked, “Invitation?”
Jensen was really starting to lose it, his legs were shaking, and his head was pounding and threatening to explode right then and there, “Yeah uh…” He trailed off, as he realised he had no idea what the name of this dealer was.
“You can’t go in if you weren’t invited.” Was the blunt response.
“Look, my name’s Tom. I was invited but…”
“Tommy boy!” Came a call from inside the room, and a surprisingly ordinary looking man appeared in the doorway, saying, “No worries, he’s with me.”
Jensen followed him in, not really sure what he’d expected. But this guy leading him through a room crowded with people, into the back alleyway behind the club, was not it. This seemed like too nice a place for such sordid dealings.
“So, you wanna buy?” The guy asked knowingly, already feeling in his bag.
Jensen nodded, clutching the wad of bills in his pocket, the track marks on his arm itching in anticipation.
“How much?”
He hesitated, unsure as to how much he really needed, “Enough for a week.” He hoped the packages the guy pulled out of his bag would be enough.
“$300”
Jensen nearly dropped the money, and his surprise must have shown, because the guy fixed him with a steely glare, and said, “Look kid, you’re not gonna find it any cheaper in LA. I’d take what you can get.”
Jensen tried to focus, but the steady pounding behind his eyes was enough to make him feel close to passing out, and the guy could see it, “You need this man, you know it.”
And yeah, he did know it. Which was why, five minutes later, he was pulling the needle out of his arm, a smile spreading over his face as he wiped away the sweat pouring down his temples. He breathed out a sigh of relief.
It didn’t take long at all for the foggy bliss to spread through him, and he stumbled back into the club, grinning inanely at anything that moved.
He woke up the next morning with a mouth that felt like it was full of cotton wool, and a very naked man lying next to him.
‘The child is grown
The dream is gone
And I have become
Comfortably numb.’
Pink Floyd ‘Comfortably Numb’
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credulesque) wrote,
bouncy
