tebtosca

Title: These Days That We Have Lived
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R
Word Count: ~1300

Prompt: Some things are worth fighting for. It takes Jensen a while to realize what they are

Author's Notes: Written for

sonofabiscuit77's established relationship prompt over at my Commentfic Meme. Thanks to

fiercelynormal for the speedy beta

Jared and Jensen break up on a Wednesday.

“I love you,” Jensen replies after Jared asks him to finally marry him. He knows it’s not enough, sees it all over Jared’s face.

“I know,” Jared says, simple and sad. He stands up from his seat at their favorite restaurant, folding the napkin and laying it neatly on the table before he walks out the door and out of their life.

It’s Jensen’s thirtieth birthday. It feels like a death instead.

**

It would be easy to say that their relationship had been golden up until that point, because of the way they make each other laugh or the way their bodies fit together or the way they exist in each other’s space. But Jensen knows that it’s never been as simple as that. They push and they give and they regret, even when they also pull and take in and love. Something had to break, he supposes, but he can’t help feeling like it’s his own fault.

Jared stays with Chad until Saturday, when he flies home to Texas. Jensen hopes that Mama Padalecki takes care of Jared like he can’t, even if for the immediate moment of grief.

Jensen can’t go home, not over this. It’s not like he would even know what to say to his family that wouldn’t require him to be braver than he feels, than he is.

“Hey, Mama, Jared broke up with me because I couldn’t bring myself to marry him and finally announce to you and the world that we’ve been in love since we were fifteen.”

“Jared? Isn’t he that boy that was dating that nice Sandy girl? The McCoys are such lovely folks, they helped me with the bake sale down at the church last weekend,” his Mama would reply, ignoring the words that Jensen will never really be able to say to her.

**

Jared and Jensen kiss for the first time on a Tuesday.

Jared has a treehouse in his backyard. His dad built it for him when he was seven, and it’s his pride and joy. Even now, after shooting up six inches over the last year and not fitting in it as well as can be, Jared loves that damn piece of rotten wood like a church.

It’s their church, Jared and Jensen. Fifteen years old, all knees and hair and hormones. A pocket of space just for them, growing from the ground like a life force, and keeping them safe from wandering eyes and fear.

It’s Jared’s birthday, and his mama bakes him chocolate cupcakes with strawberry icing. They eat four of them apiece and groan as they lay back against the floor of the treehouse.

Jared takes his hand first, sliding their fingers together like it’s normal. It probably is to Jared, because Jared is the brave one.

Jensen shivers all over when Jared gets up on one gawky elbow and leans down to press their lips together. Jared tastes like strawberry icing, and when Jensen licks his own lips, he realizes he does, too.

It’s the first time they taste like each other, but not the last.

**

Jared and Jensen break up the first time on a Monday.

It’s winter, so Jared manages to hide the tattoo on his forearm behind long sleeves for a few days. That doesn’t last long, however, and Jensen holds Jared’s arm in his clenched fist as he takes in the still slightly-swollen rainbow in bright, perfect ink.

They’re sophomores in college now, in New York City. Over a thousand miles away from stolen kisses and the wrath of God and the fear of hate in his father’s eyes.

A thousand miles away and yet it burns clear up Jensen’s esophagus as he stares at Jared with betrayed eyes.

“Everybody’s gonna know,” Jensen says, willing Jared to get it.

“Everybody already does,” Jared replies, pulling his arm back out of Jensen’s grip and walking out the door.

The words devastate Jensen worse than the leaving.

They last four days apart. Jensen skips class and plays videogames and doesn’t eat. His roommate Matt tells him that he smells and should really take a shower.

Jensen does, finally, on the fourth day. He showers and combs his hair and puts on his best shirt for reasons that he can’t even begin to understand. His Sunday best.

He knocks on Jared’s dorm room door and hopes to God that Chad doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t. Jared does. Jensen reaches out to him and Jared lets him and they fall into each other like they always do. Jensen says “I’m sorry” for the first of an infinite number of times to come, and at the moment it’s okay, they’re okay.

Jensen pushes into Jared and kisses the puffy rainbow on his arm. Jared comes harder than Jensen’s ever seen him come before, and Jensen closes wet lashes against his skin and loves him.

**

Jared and Jensen realize what they gave up on a Sunday.

It’s been six weeks, three days, and twelve hours since Jared broke up with him on his thirtieth birthday.

Jensen doesn’t comb his hair or put on his best shirt because his Sunday best is a lie.

He knocks on Chad’s door, and tries not to let the feeling of déjà vu ruin the moment. Chad answers this time, however, and gives him a look that would slice him dead if eyes could be razor blades.

“He doesn’t need any more of your shit, Jensen,” Chad says, and Jensen is relieved that Jared has a friend like this, one that cares enough about him to be angry.

Jensen doesn’t say anything. Words have never been his strong suit, and maybe that’s the real problem in all this, but there’s only so much a man can change at one time.

He holds up his arm instead, pushing back his sleeve and jutting his chin in a defiance that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Jensen knows this is it for him, for them, for their life together. Jensen’s spent six weeks, three days, twelve hours without the guy who fills in the cracks of his existence, and he’s so fucking tired of being scared.

The look on Chad’s face is one of surprise, and possibly resignation. He calls for Jared and then, as soon as he appears, heads back into the house to leave them alone.

Jared looks good, and Jensen realizes with a pain in his gut how that affects him. Maybe Chad’s right, maybe Jared doesn’t need this shit from him. Maybe Jared can learn to be happy without him.

But Jensen is selfish, and he loves Jared with the deep sort of ache that doesn’t go away that easily.

Jensen holds up his arm, fist curled like a revolutionary. There, in meticulous lines drawn with various fine-tipped Sharpies, is a rainbow. It’s not permanent, no etching underneath skin. But it’s what Jensen can give right now, as a sign, as a promise. A declaration of love written in Jensen’s own hand.

Jared’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t go anywhere, and that's a good sign.

“Life isn’t a romantic comedy, Jensen,” Jared says to him, and Jensen nods. He knows. Life is better than that, because it’s harder, and it means more.

“I just want a chance to love you.” It’s not what Jensen meant to say, but it’s what he feels, and for once, he goes with his instinct instead of his intellect.

Jared asks him if he’s eaten dinner already. Jensen says he hasn’t, and eats pizza with Jared and Chad while watching DVR’ed episodes of Homeland.

It’s a start.

**

Jared and Jensen get married on a Saturday.

Jensen’s parents never respond to the invitation. Jensen tells himself that, with Jared’s help, he’ll one day be okay with it.

Most of the time he believes it.