Chapter Text
Author's notes: I hope you enjoy it, it's a little out there compared to what I usually write. A little darker and some more controversial issues. Very Sarah Mclachlan inspired (and the title comes from the song "Fallen" by her.)
My boyfriend has been very ill for a while and I haven't been able to do a lot of writing. So this is my resurgence from my pseudo-hiatus. Once again hope you enjoy.
What's it like to be fallen? It's the bitter taste of losing everything you've held dear.
Scattered amongst the tin foil, burnt spoons and un-sterilized needles. Under the bruises, blood shot eyes and shaggy straw hair. Somewhere between the floor boards, ripped curtains, and over-turned tables. A boy no more than 18 fell between the cracks. From the suburbs to skid row, the rise and fall of a boy that lost it all.
“I just need another hit,” He said into the crackling receiver.
“You still haven’t paid me back from last time Jared, Michael wants his money.”
“He’ll get it,” Jared snapped, hanging up the phone. His mind wandered, the thoughts of how he was going to make the money swarming his mind. This was his life, the bottom rung of society, the people left behind, forgotten and alone.
Jared stared at the ceiling, his dilated pupils tracing a line down the center. The phone rang and Jared refused to answer it. What did it matter if he answered it anyway? He was doomed to a life of drugs, abuse and empty promises made by his clients of a life he would never see.
He sighed as he heard the recording that he knew all too well. When he heard the happy-go-lucky-everything-is-perfect-in-my-life voice asking to leave a message he nearly threw up.
Hey it’s Jared, I’m not in leave a message.
“Hey Jay, it’s me Chad, I found a place where you can make some cash tonight. I bet you can make a lot too. Meet me by the bridge in 2 hours.”
He got up made his way to the small washroom on the opposite side of the room. Staring at his slimmed, sunken face he forced a smile. Applied at bit of eye liner and shakily walked to his bed. Shimmying his long legs into a pair of tight jeans and a piece of cloth not even allowed to be called a shirt over his broad frame.
If the shirt cannot be called a shirt, should the boy be called a boy? He's barely a person, rather a walking skeleton. A bag of bones, walking around with sunken in eyes and cheeks. Just another face you pass by quickly as you scurry off from a club late at night. The same face that comes to sit beside you on the bus and you move to the opposite side. Is he really a person? Or Just another face? His eyes as hollow as a dead tree, and his heart barely being able to keep the beat. Yep he's just another face.
He got up straightened his floppy hair, slipped his feet into his shoes and walked out the front door. Sitting at the bus stop, from the corner of his eye a group of young boys passed him by. Laughing and shoving each other. Parading around with their iPods and sport jackets. Un-phased by the world surrounded by them, consumed by the ‘white-picket-fence’ reality they had grown accustomed to. That's when it struck him.
Not too long ago, maybe a summer or so he had his arm linked with guys just like that; those boys were him. It's hard to imagine now. Pasty skin, dark eyes and floppy hair. That’s when the feeling sunk in. Dejected, depressed, spiritless, sad , melancholy, downhearted and dull could never even begin to describe the feeling eating away at his stomach. The pain of realizing what he had become slowly eroded his emotionless face, he broke down and cried. Head buried in hands, boney elbows upon boney pasty knees, he just sat there. Tears streaming down his cheeks.
The bus finally arrived, he paid his fare and sat down at the back. No one seemed to care about the boy who looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. It seemed that Jared’s life was full of two-faced, backstabbing lowlifes. Except for the only person he could count on, Chad.
The bus stopped at the bridge and Jared with his head held low, stepped off the bus to a waiting Chad.
“What took you so long?” Chad asked.
Jared would never let him know about the little breakdown he had at the bus stop. Chad was a good friend, but sometimes he could be a real jerk. Jared shrugged off Chad’s question, in some ways afraid to give him an answer.
~*~
They arrived at the bar soon after meeting up at the bridge.
It was late by now. The usual people were crowded into the hot, stuffy room. Music was blaring, people where drinking, yelling, cussing and dancing. He looked around; there were new faces, old faces, young faces. Here for different reasons, from different places, but yet all had something in common.
Jared got up on shaky legs and walked over to the back room. From the empty bottles of alcohol, discarded condom wrappers and used needles it’s pretty obvious what goes on around there, but the police don't come around here any more. It seems this small place was forgotten completely by society.
The bar owner notices Jared immediately and comes over to him.
“My name’s Chris,” He says, eying Jared up and down pleased by what he sees before him.
“I’m Jared,” he replies and he can feel Chris’ eyes piercing his soul. He knows that just by looking at him Chris knows Jared’s story. He knows everything. He knows the boy behind the face.
Jared knows what he’s here for and gets down to business, asking Chris to show him to his room. Chris does so without hesitation and Jared knows in a few minutes a part of his innocence will be lost forever. He’s done it before, but this time things are different. This time he’s fallen deeper and further than he ever has. He’s sunk so low, but that’s just how it has to be.
A few minutes pass and the lights begin to dim. The sound of the music fills the bar and Jared takes his place on the stage. He plays his part and as each piece of clothing is shed he feels wounded. He’s writhing in pain in front of a sea of faces laughing and cheering. Chris motions for him to get closer to the crowd and he does. Hands are everywhere grabbing him, creating more wounds. Wounds that will never heal.
He tried his best, done all that he could. But this is his life now, this is who he is. An older man, probably married with 2.5 children stuffs dollar bills into his underwear and gropes him uncomfortably.
The music won’t stop, and the drugs and alcohol are making him dizzy. Everyone sees the bar as a place to have fun and drop your inhibitions, but Jared sees it as a plantation, forcing him to work in chains.
By the time it’s finally over the bright lights have blinded him and the music has deafened him. He heads back to his room with the lingering knowledge of what he’s just done. He’s done it so many times before, but he knows after this one there’s a black mark on his soul that he can’t wipe clean.
The worst part is, this is only the beginning. For him the night has just begun.
He heads to the backrooms once more and Chris is there waiting with his arm around a strange man.
“This is Jason.” Chris says with a smile and a wink to Jared.
Jared mumbles a “hey,” and keeps quiet.
“He’s going to show you the ropes tonight,” Chris says, patting Jason on the back.
Jason takes Jared into one of the secluded rooms and locks the door behind him. He lays 300 dollars out onto the table and nods at Jared.
Jason pushes Jared onto the small bed in the room and unbuckles his belt, pulling his jeans down just low enough so he can get his cock out before sliding Jared’s jeans and underwear off and begins teasing his hole.
Jason positions his dick at the base of Jared’s tight heat and growls into Jared’s ear. Jared cringes, he never wanted his first time to be like this. Never would he have wanted to lose his virginity in the backroom of a strip club. He doesn’t know how he allowed himself to slip and fall so far.
Jared has second thoughts. He pushes at Jason and tells him he can’t go through with this. Jason has other ideas and tightens his grip around Jared’s neck. The fear wells up in Jared’s eyes as he realizes what is happening to him. He remembers giving Jason a condom but he sees it on the floor tossed aside as Jason makes a forceful intrusion.
Jason slaps and punches Jared as he takes what he wants. There’s a rush of blood, sweat and labored breath and before he knows it the ordeal is over. Jason is zipping up his pants, throwing his t-shirt on and heading out the door.
Jared lies in the bed, bleeding, battered and broken. This is his life now. This is what he has become. There isn’t a way to be redeemed, he’s sunk so low.
Once more dilated pupils traced the ceiling as Jared lost himself before he covered his face, unable to face the world.
The door opened once more and a tall young man entered. He was shorter than Jared, and no older than 21. His eyes were the perfect shade of green, his short hair framed his handsome face perfectly. This man was different from the rest who were there that night, Jared could feel it.
"Are you okay?" The man asked sweetly.
He continued to stare at the man. This was the first time in a long time anyone paid attention to him, maybe he was human. Maybe he wasn’t just another face after all. It was obvious by now he did have emotions, he did have feelings. The young man wiped away at Jared’s blood and tear-stained cheeks, paying special attention as to not hurt him.
“ ‘m Jared,” He managed to say taken aback by the strangers kindness. The stranger had shown him more love and affection than anyone ever had in his short 18 years of life.
“My name’s Jensen,” the man replied.
Jared smiled at him and he smiled back, wiping his bruises.
Jared tried to speak but found it difficult to. Jensen just told him to relax as he helped Jared into his tight jeans and a piece of cloth that could barely be called a shirt.
Jensen reached out and touched Jared’s cheek and in that moment Jared knew everything was alright.
“Did he…?” Jensen started before Jared gave a nod.
“Did he use a condom?” Jensen asked.
Tears welled up in Jared’s eyes at the possibility of what might have happened. Jason didn’t use a condom and if he frequented places like the bar…
The worst possible thoughts flooded Jared’s mind. Who knows what Jason could have had, and worst of all there was now a possibility he could be HIV positive.
Figures Jared thought, I have sex once and already I could be HIV positive.
Jensen helped Jared up onto his feet and placed an arm behind his neck helping him to walk.
“Lets get you to the hospital,” Jensen said.
Jared nodded and limped through the door and out of the bar with Jensen’s help. Jensen’s truck was parked nearby and they both got in. The moment was awkward before Jensen started the car. It was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced before.
They sat and stared like it was only them in the world. Jared stared at the only person who saw behind his face and noticed him, while Jensen stared at the remarkable 18 year old boy who somehow slipped through the cracks of society and whom everyone had forgotten about.