shaking snow out of his hair, jensen walked into his apartment, shutting the door behind him and ducking under one of the hanging lines of photos. he set his camera on the table, pulling off his fingerless gloves and scarf soon after. he’d been out all afternoon shooting pictures during the snowfall, and he’d stopped feeling his fingertips over an hour ago.
sniffing as his nose warmed back up, jensen walked into his room and shrugged out of his coat. when he tossed his coat onto his armchair in the corner, he noticed his phone, blinking madly on his night stand. groaning, he realized he’d left it there all day and snatched it up. he brought up the screen as he walked back into his open kitchen, furrowing his eyebrows at the seven missed calls from his mother. that was odd. sure, his mother called him fairly regularly, but never during the day, never seven times, and never without leaving a voicemail.
pressing her name, he waited for her to pick up. she answered on the first ring.
he felt his heart start pounding at the sound of her voice. she sounded like she’d been crying. “ma? what’s wrong? he stopped in his tracks, his eyes losing focus as they landed at a spot on his floor.
“it’s your father.. he..”
“what did he do? ma, what happened? i swear, if he did something…” jensen let that hang in the air, waiting for his mother to answer. “i need you to come home, jensen elias.”
“what is it?” jensen’s eyebrows came closer together as he started pacing back and forth. nothing about this conversation felt right to him, from the sound of his mother’s voice to the fact that she wasn’t coming right out to tell him what happened to the seven missed calls.
“your father… he’s gone.”
“what do you mean, ‘he’s gone’?” jensen asked, accusation growing in his tone.
“he’s… he had a heart attack. he’s… he’s gone, honey.”
jensen, he couldn’t… he couldn’t think. that couldn’t be right. his father couldn’t be dead. his father was too stubborn to just die. he blinked rapidly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “w-w-what?” he stuttered, picking up his pace. “he can’t j-j-just be dead. are you— are you s-sure?”
“i’m so sorry i had to tell you this way, baby. just, you need to come home. tomorrow.”
“i…” jensen open and shut his mouth, walking into his room and turning to sit on his bed. “okay, ma. i’ll-i’ll see you tomorrow. i’ll let you know when i leave.”
after his mom hung up, jensen tapped off his phone and tossed it lightly up to his pillow. he couldn’t believe what his mother had told him. his father was gone. dead. sure, he’d never had the best relationship with his father… but now he never had a chance to have one in the future. all that time, wasted. he could have tried to get along with his father more than he had, they might have gotten along better, but now he didn’t even have that opportunity.
jensen opened his mouth, his nose suddenly not doing a good enough job at getting air into his lungs. he looked over to his phone where it sat on his pillow, considering it for a few moments. finally, he reached over and grabbed it, bringing back up the screen and his list of contacts. before he’d even thought of one of his friends to call (what would he call them about, anyway? ‘hey guys, that guy i always described as an ass is dead and i’m actually upset about it. watch my apartment for me?’) his finger rested over top a familiar name. for a minute, he considered tapping it, but that didn’t seem like a good idea either. instead, he scrolled down one name to louis, tapped the screen and then put the phone up to his ear.
he couldn’t talk to her. not tonight. even though, years earlier, she would have been the only one he wanted to talk to.