Day One Hundred and Twenty-three : Where we catch up with our hero some months after the events of our tale.Jared stopped off at the Co-op to pick up bread and bacon. He chatted to Maureen at the till and then was caught by Mr. Gibson who wanted an ear in which to complain about the latest antics of the Porth Hellick twins, then a brief chat with Pascoe, in town on one of his brief shopping trips. Jared listened sympathetically to them both, nodded when expected, and carefully extracted himself when time started pressing. He walked back up the road to Town Beach, where he found Uncle Peter struggling with the ropes for the Ariana, gave him a hand and then threw his bag of provisions into his own row boat.
He had a charter for The Yellow Rose. Uncle Peter had scoffed a little, because winter was beginning to set in, and he was about to beach the Ariana for the winter, whereas Jared was still heading out into choppy waters for a rich man who fancied himself a fisherman. It was a cold day, and Jared knew he wasn’t going to enjoy himself. He had almost decided to cancel the booking, but the lure of a couple of hundred quid this late in the year was proving too enticing. He continued to debate with himself as he rowed out into the harbour, then carried on arguing as he prepped The Yellow Rose. By the time the engine first turned over, he’d argued his internal sloth into submission, and was scanning his eyes across the quay looking for the portly figure of Mr. Brewster.
The day proved to be as dull as he predicted, but Mr. Brewster was a happy customer with a haul to be proud of. Jared was somewhat surprised that the man could catch anything but the fish seemed to be leaping onto his hook. Jared sat back, and watched as the man cried out his delight every time a wriggling, silver fish was hooked up out of the ocean and tossed into the blue bucket by Brewster’s feet.
With nothing to do, Jared had to make an effort not to think on his life. He hadn’t regretted his decision to stay – not really. He’d finally found his place, found himself and knew that the islands were home for him. But he missed Jensen, and Jensen’s absence was like an open wound which he steadfastly tried to ignore but still festered and pained him. He understood that Jensen had his dreams and priorities and bitterly grieved that there didn’t seem to be a way to for them to be together.
He had tried to cut Jensen out of his life completely but Jensen didn’t let him get away with that. A couple of postcards had dropped onto Jared’s door mat. There weren’t any words, just a J and Jared’s address written in Jensen’s scrawl. Each card caused a renewal of the anguish he had felt at the airport. He spent hours, rubbing his fingers across the ink before shaking it off and getting on with his life. Somewhere in amongst all the angst, he started to think about how they might have made it work. Everything had happened so fast and there had been no time to stop and consider if there were ways for both of them to live out their dreams. But, it was too late for that, even if the postcards suggested that Jared was in Jensen’s thoughts too.
Jensen was doing exactly what he wanted to do, what he always said he was going to do, and Jared was sure that their three weeks together were long forgotten or just a pleasant interlude that had barely interrupted Jensen’s life by now. Everything had changed for Jared, however. He couldn’t ever imagine feeling what he felt about Jensen about anyone else. He certainly hadn’t felt the need to find release with anyone else, despite how horny his fantasies of Jensen (super sharp definition in his imagination) made him. In fact the thought of even touching another man was abhorrent to him. He wondered if Jensen had found someone else. There was no reason why he shouldn’t have, and, after all, it was Jensen. The whole world would surely want to get close to him. There was no way he was living a celibate life like Jared and that thought caused Jared further pain too.
So he did his best not to think about it. Tried not to think of him at all. Not even when the next postcard that arrived had a New Zealand stamp on it.
He, of course, failed in every aspect.
Uncle Peter had been great, and he had spent a couple of weeks staying up at the bungalow with him. Auntie Sue had mothered him, and spoiled him. And Uncle Peter had provided silent support as they tinkered about in the boat shed, and kept him busy with additionally scheduled trips on the Ariana as well as working on the gig. He had also encouraged Jared to expand his business with the The Yellow Rose and it was chartered more and more through the busy summer season. The weather, after such a fine start, had turned grey and cold, but the tourists didn’t seem to mind, and Jared did find himself distracted for brief moments of time. But as the numbers of tourists began to lessen, and winter started to set in, Jared knew that he would have very little to keep him busy and keep his own depressing thoughts at bay.
Mr. Brewster, grinning all over his face at his successful day, was finally beaten by the cold, so Jared pointed the bow towards St Marys. This would probably be his last trip out this year. He ought to get the Rose out of the water and clean her up, prepare her for next year’s season. He had a couple of casual jobs for the dark months – mostly trading on his carpentry skills, but helping Uncle Peter with maintenance of the Ariana and taking care of the Yellow Rose should help take his mind off his woes too.
The sky was looking stormy and dark as he rounded the end of the quay, and he immediately felt the absence of the keen wind as he potted along in the shelter of the high quayside. He tied up and helped Brewster onto the steps with his bag of fish, shaking hands once the man was sure and steady on the land. The he turned back to his boat to start the clear up.
“I see I’ve been replaced,” came a very familiar rich, deep voice.
Jared dropped the ropes he’d been winding and whirled round to see Jensen standing on the steps. He was smirking at his own joke but at seeing Jared’s eyes on him, the smile was dropped, his face becoming serious almost instantly.
Jared opened his mouth but no sound came out.
He started to move but found himself rooted to the spot.
Jensen watched him, with perhaps a faintly rueful expression, definitely wary now in the face of Jared’s stillness.
“Jared?”
“Yeah? What are… what… why are you… J…Jen?” Jared spluttered, heart so feeling so huge in his chest.
Jensen looked a little sheepish and scratched the back of his neck.
“Wanted to see you,” he said, a little shyly.
Jared was aware that he standing gaping like a fish gasping for breath in the air but he didn’t seem to be able to get his brain to function. Jensen was the last person he expected to be waiting for him on the quayside, but also the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world. He was just having trouble processing.
“’Cos I missed you,” Jensen continued earnestly.
“Um…” was all the response Jared could make.
“Look, Jay,” Jensen began. “I thought I knew what I wanted – I mean - I do know what I want but it doesn’t have any value if I don’t have you. Thought I could just throw myself into the work, thought the photography would make everything be okay but I miss you, man. So here I am. I want, I need us to find some way of working this out. That’s if that’s what you still want. I’m not going to try to persuade you to leave, and I can’t give up the photography but there has to be a way. Right? Jay?”
The reflections from the town’s electric lights were beginning to ripple in the darkening water. The cold was condensing Jared’s breath but he was frozen to the spot, trying to make sense of what was happening. He heard Jensen’s words, but the mere physical presence of Jensen was causing the synapses in his brain to misfire.
“So what do you say? You and me? I’ve been so fucking miserable without you. Come on, please. Just say that we can give it go. I love you so much and that has to mean something, doesn’t it? And you love me, right? You told me you love me, so everything will be okay – we’ll talk it through, make plans, work out it.”
Jensen was sounding desperate now, the pleading finally starting to break through Jared’s shock.
“I know you said it was just easier to make a clean break but I don’t want to live without you, and, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. So here I am. If I need to make some changes in my life then so what? It’s not the first time I’ve turned my life around. And you… you could… perhaps you could sometimes come with me, not always but sometimes… you do want this, don’t you? Jay?”
There was a long pause between them. Jared’s understanding slowly clearing until he felt the cold cut through even his jacket, and eyes become aware of how dark the afternoon was getting, and how terrified Jensen was now looking, his eyes wide, and dark in the low light.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I should have guessed that you would have moved on by now. I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry,” Jensen turned and started making his way back up the steps, shoulders hunched, head down.
“No! Wait!” Jared practically roared after him leaping out of the boat to follow him. He spun Jensen round by his shoulders.
“You… this… is the last thing I ever expected. But yes, Jensen. Yes. I’ve been thinking about it. I’m sure we can make it work,” and he kissed Jensen, slotting them together so they fit in each other’s space perfectly. Jensen groaned as he deepened the kiss.
“We’ll make it work,” Jared murmured wrapping his arms tightly round Jensen, with no intention whatsoever of letting go.
EPILOGUEIt took three years until Jared and Jensen finally found a balance between what they wanted and needed.
Three years of more angst than Jared ever wanted to feel again, but also three years of the greatest joy and love.
Jared’s roots grew ever deeper into the salty earth of the islands. He built up his business with The Yellow Rose, and helped out with the Ariana whenever he could. When Uncle Peter retired two years later, he took over the Ariana. He would never be rich but he didn’t care about money. He loved the sea, loved the islands and he loved Jensen.
And that was something he had had to hold on to – this amazing, wonderful togetherness – because it wasn’t easy those first years.
Jensen found it harder to compromise with his dreams than he thought – photography was in his blood, and soul – and he chafed at being stuck on the islands. Sure, during the winter Jared would travel with him on his commissions, but Jared hated being away from the islands for too long, and definitely not during the summer when his Uncle, and then his own business, needed him most. There were long weeks when Jensen was absent, working in some far off corner of the world when Jared couldn’t accompany him. Jared hated those weeks. He missed Jensen like he would miss breathing, and Jensen wasn’t any happier. They skyped and phoned but their unhappiness at being apart tended to cause arguments. Jared was also aware that he was watched by the islanders every time that Jensen was gone – every young man he spoke to was sized up as Jared’s next conquest. It made Jared uncomfortable in his own skin, even though there hadn’t been a single temptation. Jensen was exactly what he needed, and if he couldn’t have Jensen, which he couldn’t for weeks at a time sometimes, then he didn’t want anyone.
Ultimately, though, Jared proved more important than photography. Jensen started to turn down some commissions. He opened a small gallery in Hugh Town and began to make a comfortable living selling prints of his stunning photographs to the tourists. He still took up commissions and still spent some time away from the islands but not quite as much as in the first year. If it was summer, then Jared would miss him something dreadful. If it was winter, then Jared travelled with him. But Jensen, already having started to fall in love with Scilly during that first visit as well as with Jared, began to feel the same connection to the islands that Jared did – he loved the clear light, the colours and some of his wanderlust began to fade.
When Jensen eventually also took up painting, the longing of being the most celebrated photographer lessened, and he settled more. He still enjoyed the excitement of capturing those quick moments but he found the long lazy pace of creating his paintings just as exhilarating. He was delighted when he won Landscape Photographer of the Year but found greater satisfaction when his first painting sold. His paintings were like his photographs – a microcosm of the wider view but were infused with the sense of colour that he felt he couldn’t capture through a camera. Still, he was sought after as a photographer, more so because he gained a reputation for being picky with his jobs. He still defined himself as such, but he was also part of JaredandJensen and that gave his life far more purpose than anything else. Jared waited patiently for him, enjoying how the Scillies worked their magic on the man he loved, until Jensen, for all his absences, was as much a part of the islands as Jared himself.
The islanders forgave him for taking their important commission and then stealing one of their own, but it was difficult to resent a man who lived his life with such energy and life and joy as Jensen did. It was difficult to do anything but smile at two people so obviously devoted to each other.
After three years the ups and downs calmed, and the two of them finally settled into a comfortable routine and pattern, and then they were just happy and content. Jensen encouraged Jared to seek out the world a little more, gave him a wider view of life than he might perhaps have had, and Jared proved to be Jensen’s anchor, providing someone to come back to.
Eventually, their travels led them back to Texas. They spent some time in Dallas with the Ackles and paid an awkward visit with Jensen’s grandfather. Jensen’s grandfather was getting frail but still managed to make Jensen unspeakably angry. But arguing with his grandson seem to instil more energy into the old man, and Jared was amused at the proud light behind the old man’s eyes every time he looked at Jensen.
Then, Jensen persuaded Jared to visit his family.
It proved to be nothing in the end. His father had ignored Jensen entirely, and had glared as Jared told him of their lives – the boats, the gallery, their little cottage in Porth Loo overlooking the harbour. He thanked his father for sending him to the Isles of Scilly and then they had left. Jared smiling all the way to the airport. He knew he was never going to see his father again, and it didn’t bother him.
The helicopter had been delayed for a couple of hours because of the mist, but finally he stepped onto the tarmac of St Mary’s airport. Uncle Peter was waving furiously, meeting them as he always did when they had both been away. Jared took a big breath of clean, sea air. Jensen smiled at him and grabbed his hand.
“Come on, Jay. Let’s go home.”
Back to the Masterpost.Please comment - trying to learn how to write better and I like feedback to help me improve.
