Chapter Text
Chapter One.
It had been a long, tiresome day. Jensen had spent hours filming the same scenes over and over, mostly due to Jared’s fooling around. At first, he had found it amusing, he had even laughed a little until the early morning shoot rolled into the late afternoon. He wanted the day to be over. He’d admitted to himself that Jared was not the only one at fault. Jensen had had trouble focusing which resulted in missed marks and forgotten lines. The day had passed by achingly slowly, and Jensen found himself increasingly distracted, immersed in his own thoughts. He just wanted to go home. He felt relief wash over him when the Director finally yelled "It's a wrap", signalling that the day was at last over. He’d left set almost instantly with a quick wave of his hand, bidding goodnight to the cast and crew.
Now, in his apartment, it is impossibly quiet. The daylight had slipped away without notice and the room has fallen dark with the exception of the streetlights, which illuminates the room ever so slightly through a nearby window. He leans heavily against the cushions of his couch, his body exhausted and his mind, drained. Despite the almost overwhelming fatigue, Jensen is unable to rest. His thoughts constantly plagued by unanswered questions and doubt.
Something has changed.
Misha seemed to be putting distance between them lately. Their time spent together had become less frequent and the nights they were in one another’s arms, seemed different. It was clear to Jensen that Misha was unlike his usual self and… distracted. Jensen had voiced his concerns around two weeks prior.
Flashback.
It was late morning and Jensen stood in the kitchen with his back against the counter nursing a fresh cup of coffee. as he watched Misha closely. Misha was sitting with his elbows perched on the kitchen table, his shoulders slumped forwards and his attention buried into his phone. Jensen’s eyes moved over him, admiring each of Misha’s features. He wore a simple t-shirt, which was creased from its night spent on the bedroom floor. The shirt, slightly too big for his frame, gaped slightly, exposing his collar bone. His morning stubble was dark in comparison to the color of his eyes which were, Jensen noted, unusually reddened and tired. Jensen’s brow furrowed as Misha’s teeth began worrying his lips.
What’s changed Mish? Why has everything changed? What has happened? Have I…
“Take a photo, it’d last longer” Misha had quipped with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was then, that Jensen realised he must have been staring whilst lost in thought.
“I might just do that” Jensen had replied, flirting with a big grin, as he joined Misha at the table. His reply had earned him a subtle eye roll from Misha before he turned his attention back to his phone, sipping at his coffee. Not too long ago, Misha would’ve given him his bright smile and maybe even laughed before leaning over the table to offer him a kiss. Then again, not too long ago they wouldn’t be sat in the kitchen at all. They’d still be wrapped in one another, tangled around the sheets. They’d be sharing coffee in bed with no phones in sight. Jensen looked down, his fingers fiddling with his coffee cup. The doubts were running wild and beginning to weigh heavy on his heart.
Something is off. I should just ask him.
“Erm, M-Mish, everything alright?” He’d asked, his voice faltering slightly. Nervousness seeping through in anticipation for his answer. Misha looked up from his phone again, his eyebrows raised ever so slightly. His eyes bore into Jensen’s, which immediately caused Jensen’s throat to go dry. All too quickly, Misha looked away, avoiding Jensen’s gaze.
“Fine.” Misha had retorted with an unconvincingly half smile before he began fidgeting in his chair. Misha cleared his throat, put his phone on the table and took a long sip from his cup as he stood and turned to look out of the window. Jensen’s eyes followed Misha with a squint as his mind screamed his insecurities at him.
He’s lying.
Jensen sighed. He knew Misha too well, well enough to know that that was the end of the conversation.
End of Flashback.
Jensen flinched at the memory as his heart constricted.
He's never lied before.
They’d always been open with one another, able to tell each other anything. Jensen leans his head back, closing his eyes as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. His thoughts sing the same tune that they had been weeks now.
Something must have happened that Misha wasn’t telling him. Something had changed everything.
However, no matter how much time he spent obsessing on the matter, he never seemed able to pinpoint what that something might be. He unsuccessfully tries not to dwell as he stares at the dimly lit ceiling, willing for his phone to chime in indication of a message.
Jensen had hoped that Misha would come by tonight. There was no schedule for shooting tomorrow which gave them the rare opportunity to spend the entire day together. Jensen hasn’t invited him; usually he doesn’t have to. They had become accustomed to spending almost every night together, it was an unwritten understanding between them.
Yeah, before.
His mind taunts him, he sighs. During the past two weeks, their time spent together had become less frequent with only inadequate excuses muttered by Misha as to why he hadn’t showed. The touches they shared were light and border line friendly. Their kisses were at best fleeting, almost non-existent.
I miss him. I miss us.
Jensen’s heart practically shouts with an ache. Jensen had speculated to himself after only a few days that something was on Misha’s mind. Something that he was not ready to talk about. Something that was slowly but surely taking Misha away from him.
Jensen checks his watch. 21:06. The night is closing in rapidly and Misha still hasn’t shown.
You should have expected it.
His mind sneers at him. Jensen reaches for his phone from the nearby coffee table, checking once again for notification of a text or missed call. There’s nothing, except a delivered and read message from Jensen earlier that day which remained without a reply. Jensen scrolls through their earlier conversation, a deep pain gripping him tightly as he rereads the texts from earlier that day.
Flashback.
Misha hadn’t been shooting today and desperate to hear his voice and calm his growing anxiety surrounding their relationship, Jensen had tried calling him mid-morning in between takes. He had hoped it would settle him, that Misha’s voice would ground him and reassure him that all would be okay. Jensen stomach had fluttered with nerves as the phone rang and just as Jensen feared, he was met with Misha’s voicemail. This had been occurring more frequently during the past week. The not-so-subtle changes in Misha’s behaviour had grown and grown until Jensen was unable to simply excuse or dismiss them. Jensen’s concerns were growing.
I just need to know that Misha is okay. I need to know that we will be okay.
He hoped with every fiber in his body that this was not the beginning of the end. That Misha was not distancing himself from him in order to make a breakup easier. This notion had made Jensen’s stomach turn and head spin. He immediately squashed it and sent a text before being called back to the scene. Misha had replied and Jensen had tried to engage in conversation in between takes, but Misha’s texts were long in coming and brief, which only added weight to the irrational fear creeping up Jensen’s spine.
End of Flashback.
Jensen carelessly discards his phone onto the couch and rubs his hands over his aching eyes. He sighs, It was getting late. He resigns himself to the fact that Misha is not coming. That he will spend another night without him, but this time, with no attempt of an explanation from Misha. Jensen’s mind wanders and his thoughts turn to what Misha might be doing right now.
Maybe he’s just tired and fell asleep? Maybe he’s lost track of time reading and doesn’t want to risk waking Jensen? Or maybe he’s sat in his apartment, alone, losing himself in whatever he is refusing discuss.
This is the thought that is more plaguing than most, that Misha is suffering alone, when he doesn’t have to be.
I wish you’d talk to me Mish.
Jensen shakes his head, attempting to clear his thoughts. He pulls himself from the couch, phone in hand and slowly moves through his apartment. His body feels tense and his mind foggy from the emotional weight of the past few weeks. He steps into the bathroom and turns on the shower, carelessly throwing his removed clothing onto the floor. He glances quickly in the mirror, the growing dark circles under his eyes cause him to groan slightly at his reflection. Sleep hasn’t come easy lately, not with the dip in the mattress beside him unusually empty. He steps into the hot shower, and he immediately feels the heaviness lifting from his body as the water cascades over his back. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling for a moment before realising that the steady stream of water can do nothing to calm his mind.
Jensen quickly dries himself hoping that tonight his mind will calm itself long enough for him to drift off into a somewhat peaceful slumber. He delves under the cold sheets of his bed grateful that he decided to wear pajamas's tonight. Jensen stares up at the ceiling, his hand unconsciously resting on Misha’s side of the bed. He allows his hand to remain there for a moment before quickly removing it, eager to distract himself from dwelling on the empty space beside him. Jensen closes his eyes with a sigh and throws his arm over his face as his mind replays nights spent wrapped in Misha’s embrace.
Jensen is startled and pulled from bittersweet memories when his phone begins to vibrate. His heart skips a beat and his stomach flutters.
Misha.
Jensen darts for his phone quickly, squinting against the bright light that emits from it. He is overwhelmed by the sting of disappointment as he sees Jared’s name on the screen. A fleeting thought tells him to ignore it, Jensen groans with an eye roll and accepts the call.
Music blares loudly through the phone, accompanied by what sounds like crowds of people. Eventually he hears muffled talking, he assumes Jared is trying to speak to him, but it is impossible to hear even a word.
“I can’t hear you.” “You good?” Jensen says, his ears straining to decipher any words over the noise. A bleep comes shortly after and then silence, indicating that the call has ended. Jensen glances at his phone. 22:35. A text message appears.
Jared: Come for a drink?
Jensen contemplates whether he should join his friend. Another text comes almost immediately after.
Jared: Just a few?
Jensen stares at the message for a moment, considering his options. He knows what club Jared is in, there had been talk among the cast earlier in the week to go out and he had politely declined, thinking that tonight would be spent with Misha and Misha alone. Jensen’s head hits the pillow. His hands outstretch in front of him holding his phone.
Well Misha isn’t coming. Sleep isn’t happening. Good company with some drinks might just be the distraction I need.
He quickly texts a reply.
Jensen: See you in 30.
Jared’s response is a line of emoticons, signalling that Jared is likely more than tipsy. A ghost of a smile graces his lips, and he rolls his eyes before throwing back the sheets and jumping out of bed with haste. He strides into the kitchen to pour himself a whiskey, eager to catch up with his friend at least somewhat whilst he readies himself. He downs the first glass in one gulp, enjoying the burn it leaves down his throat a little too much. He pours himself another and carries it back towards the bedroom.