The homeless man was pressed up against the wall on the side of the building. He’d shrunk himself into a half crouch that resembled nothing so much as a cornered animal. Jared approached slowly and stooped to make himself less threatening. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m Jared. What’s your name?”

He looks Jen up and down. Wire rim glasses, worn out t-shirt and broken-in jeans, Jensen does look good. He still hasn’t regained the weight he lost in the hospital, so he’s swimming in his hoodie. Wait – make that Jared’s hoodie, and wow, lizard brain likes that a lot.


There’s a boy sitting on Jensen’s bed.
Or, something that looks like a boy. Jensen would have no problem calling him a regular guy if he weren’t completely transparent, a weird gray tint to every inch of him, from the nondescript t-shirt he wears to the skin of his face as he looks at Jensen with wide shining eyes.