![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yonkyuJensen stays quiet for a minute, at a total loss while Jared manipulates his fingers and hands, then moves on to his forearms, and up his elbows, rubbing and kneading at the sore muscles.
“Biceps,” Jared mutters, like he’s talking to himself. “Triceps. Rotator cuffs.”
He pushes his fingers against each muscle he names, making Jensen gasp when he gets to his traps.
“Relax, Jensen.”
It feels good, it does, but Jensen can’t relax. Not with Jared giving him a full-body rub-down. It’s just. No.
“Can’t.”
Jared sits back. “Ah, there’s your favorite word again.”
It’s awful. Jensen really didn’t want Jared touching him, but now that he’s stopped, it’s even worse. He struggles into a sitting position, crossing his legs in front of him. He hunches forward as much as he can with his belly rolls in the way.
“Want to tell me what you’re so afraid of, Jensen?”
Jared’s behind him now, not touching him. But the not-touching is so palpable he may as well be. Jensen’s skin is hot and flushed from the workout, and he keeps imagining Jared’s hands on him when they’re not.
“I’m not afraid,” Jensen argues. “I just don’t like to be touched. I told you already.”
“Yeah, you told me that already. You just haven’t told me why.”
The rest of the trainers and their cattle have left the gym to go shower up for dinner. Jensen’s not hungry, but he’s dying to get out of there just the same. But Jared keeps pushing him and it’s not cool. It’s not right.
“Why can’t you back off, man?”
He’s surprised to hear how angry he sounds, his voice echoing through the empty gym. It’s somehow easier to yell at Jared when he can’t see him. Jared doesn’t answer.
“I mean, what if there’s some really fucked up reason why I don’t like being touched? What if I had some traumatic childhood experience? Got bad-touched by someone or something?”
“Then I’d feel like a humongous asshole, and I’d still want to talk about it with you,” Jared says. “But I don’t think that’s the case.”
Jensen snorts. “Okay, well, you’re so smart. You figure it out.”
All of a sudden Jared’s pressed up against his back, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s shoulders and letting his hands travel down Jensen’s arms.
“I think I have,” Jared says, low and serious, right against Jensen’s ear. “Wanna hear my theory?”
Jensen freezes. Much as he tries, he can’t stop himself from stiffening up. “Not particularly,” he answers. “But I’m betting you’re not gonna give me a choice.”
Jared’s hand is suddenly splayed across Jensen’s stomach. There’s no way to shrink back, because Jared’s pressed up behind him, legs surrounding Jensen on both sides. He’s completely trapped and this fucking crazy person is all over him. Jensen did not sign up for this.
Jared squeezes his hand, grabbing hold of Jensen’s stomach flab. “This,” he says, sounding kind of angry and very intense. “You don’t want me to feel this.” He gives Jensen’s stomach a shake.
Jensen struggles against Jared, shoving at his hand and sputtering. “Get the fuck off me!”
“No!” Jared’s yelling now too, and it’s crazy. This whole thing is nuts and Jensen just wants to get the fuck out. “No, I’m not going to let go! You have to fucking deal with this, Jensen!”
He tries to wrap his arm across Jensen’s chest and get a hold on him but Jensen is panicking and bucking like a fish on a boat deck. They end up wrestling, Jared trying to hold Jensen down and Jensen fighting like hell to get away.
“You deal with it!” Jensen shouts. “Like it’s so fucking easy!” He throws all of his weight back against Jared, knocking him to the mat and rolling away from Jared’s grasping arms.
Jared jumps to his feet. His cheeks are blotchy red and his eyes are fierce. “I’m trying, you asshole! I’m doing everything I can! And I know you’re trying, too. I know you are, dude. But it’s got to be more than the exercise. More than the diet. You’ve got to deal with yourself, Jensen! You’ve got to face these issues head on, and I’m just trying to show you that, don’t you get it? You’ll jog and bike and lift with me, but when it comes to accepting your body you’re such a fucking coward, you won’t even try—”
Jensen rears back. He’s never wanted to hit anyone so much in his life, and Jared can read him like a book.
“You gonna punch me?” Jared clenches his jaw, eyes blazing. “Go ahead, I’ll give you one. Punch me, you chickenshit. I wanna see you do it. Punch me all you want, yell and scream and bitch at me all you want, ‘cause when you’re done? You’ll still have that gut. And I’ll still be here. We’ll be right where we are now.”
The truth of that statement just sucks all the fight out of Jensen, and he slumps forward, panting and cursing under his breath.
“This sucks,” he chokes.
Jared seems to lose some of his fight too. “Yeah, it sucks. But it’s not going to be like this forever. You’ve gotta trust me on that.”
He steps closer to where Jensen’s collapsed against the mirrored wall. “You gotta trust me, Jensen. I promise you that this can only work if you—”
“I do trust you,” Jensen interrupts. “I do.”
And the weird part is that he does trust Jared. He knows Jared’s doing the best thing for him. He believes in Jared. He just doesn’t believe in himself, and that part is so much harder to change.
Jared purses his lips and shakes his head. His whole body is exuding frustration.
“Let me ask you something.” He takes another step closer to Jensen. “Do you think I can’t see what you look like?”
Jensen doesn’t answer, just exhales loudly and slumps further against the wall.
“Do you think that the average person, random person on the street, might be fooled into thinking you’re hiding a set of washboard abs under that triple XL t-shirt?”
Jensen shakes his head, feeling miserable.
“No? Okay, well then do you think that I, a fitness professional, someone who performs physical assessments for a living, would somehow miss the fact that you’re seriously overweight? Do you think I’m gonna be shocked when I touch you? Think it’ll be an eye-opening experience for me?”
Jensen shakes his head again, covering his face with both hands.
“Dude,” Jared says, sounding oddly hurt. “I’m not trying to be a dick about this. I’m trying to tell you that you are wasting your energy worrying about how you look. Especially to me.”
“I know.” Jensen mouths the words but barely any noise comes out.
“You don’t know, you jackass.” Jared pulls at Jensen’s hands. “C’mon, look at me.”
When Jensen does, he’s surprised to see that Jared’s eyes are watery and red. Jared looks kind of—wrecked, really.
“You’re,” Jared starts, but stops, looking pained. “Turn around.” He nudges Jensen until Jensen’s facing the mirror, with Jared at his back, looking over his shoulder.
“Look at yourself. You’re amazing, Jensen. Smart, talented, funny. And yet when you look at yourself all you see is the weight.”
Jensen nods mutely. It fucking sucks but it’s true.
“And when I look at you, I see everything else. Because this?” Jared grabs a handful of flab on Jensen’s belly and this time, amazingly, Jensen doesn’t flinch. He’s exhausted and overwhelmed and it’s just not worth it. “This is temporary. It’s like,” Jared opens his eyes wide. “It’s like you’re wearing a weird shirt or something. A horrendous shirt, like polyester with a not-at-all-ironic disco collar and like, embroidery or fringe or something. And sure, maybe it’s not perfect, maybe it’s awful, but if I can just get it off you, you’ll be so—”
He trails off, staring at Jensen in the mirror, earnest eyes willing him to understand. And the crazy part is that Jensen is starting to think that maybe he does understand. That, for the first time, Jared is making sense.
Jared sees people change their bodies all the time. Even Jared himself went from being built like a blade of grass to being built like a fucking truck. Given his experience, his perspective is totally skewed to look past the physical and see what else is there. It’s— Jensen doesn’t know anyone else like Jared.
“And the shirt, it’s—it’s more than ugly, it’s killing you! It’s like, poisoned or something. Or strangling you!” Jared’s full-on flailing now, arms flying through the air near Jensen’s head. “But it’s not like,superglued on or anything. It’s got buttons! Snaps! All you need is some help getting it undone and then it will slip right off and—” Jared pauses, blinks, and takes a breath, “—and I might be taking the ugly poisonous shirt analogy a bit too far.”
It’s unfair, really, that Jared is so fucking cute.
This scene from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mediaville story - Lost and Found - is so powerful and has a wonderful message inside. Please read this story if you ever get the chance. The scene above always gets to my heart. I have been dealing with weight loss and self-esteem issues myself. It makes me cry - in a good way - and I wish I had a trainer like Jared in this story to help me along to losing weight. It's about believing in yourself when you are in a deep, hard whole that you can't get yourself out of. I deal with the same issues Jensen goes through in this story. When I'm feeling down this story bring me up to high spirits. Thank you for writing a wonderful, fantastic, and empowering story!!!!!
Thank you!!!
“Biceps,” Jared mutters, like he’s talking to himself. “Triceps. Rotator cuffs.”
He pushes his fingers against each muscle he names, making Jensen gasp when he gets to his traps.
“Relax, Jensen.”
It feels good, it does, but Jensen can’t relax. Not with Jared giving him a full-body rub-down. It’s just. No.
“Can’t.”
Jared sits back. “Ah, there’s your favorite word again.”
It’s awful. Jensen really didn’t want Jared touching him, but now that he’s stopped, it’s even worse. He struggles into a sitting position, crossing his legs in front of him. He hunches forward as much as he can with his belly rolls in the way.
“Want to tell me what you’re so afraid of, Jensen?”
Jared’s behind him now, not touching him. But the not-touching is so palpable he may as well be. Jensen’s skin is hot and flushed from the workout, and he keeps imagining Jared’s hands on him when they’re not.
“I’m not afraid,” Jensen argues. “I just don’t like to be touched. I told you already.”
“Yeah, you told me that already. You just haven’t told me why.”
The rest of the trainers and their cattle have left the gym to go shower up for dinner. Jensen’s not hungry, but he’s dying to get out of there just the same. But Jared keeps pushing him and it’s not cool. It’s not right.
“Why can’t you back off, man?”
He’s surprised to hear how angry he sounds, his voice echoing through the empty gym. It’s somehow easier to yell at Jared when he can’t see him. Jared doesn’t answer.
“I mean, what if there’s some really fucked up reason why I don’t like being touched? What if I had some traumatic childhood experience? Got bad-touched by someone or something?”
“Then I’d feel like a humongous asshole, and I’d still want to talk about it with you,” Jared says. “But I don’t think that’s the case.”
Jensen snorts. “Okay, well, you’re so smart. You figure it out.”
All of a sudden Jared’s pressed up against his back, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s shoulders and letting his hands travel down Jensen’s arms.
“I think I have,” Jared says, low and serious, right against Jensen’s ear. “Wanna hear my theory?”
Jensen freezes. Much as he tries, he can’t stop himself from stiffening up. “Not particularly,” he answers. “But I’m betting you’re not gonna give me a choice.”
Jared’s hand is suddenly splayed across Jensen’s stomach. There’s no way to shrink back, because Jared’s pressed up behind him, legs surrounding Jensen on both sides. He’s completely trapped and this fucking crazy person is all over him. Jensen did not sign up for this.
Jared squeezes his hand, grabbing hold of Jensen’s stomach flab. “This,” he says, sounding kind of angry and very intense. “You don’t want me to feel this.” He gives Jensen’s stomach a shake.
Jensen struggles against Jared, shoving at his hand and sputtering. “Get the fuck off me!”
“No!” Jared’s yelling now too, and it’s crazy. This whole thing is nuts and Jensen just wants to get the fuck out. “No, I’m not going to let go! You have to fucking deal with this, Jensen!”
He tries to wrap his arm across Jensen’s chest and get a hold on him but Jensen is panicking and bucking like a fish on a boat deck. They end up wrestling, Jared trying to hold Jensen down and Jensen fighting like hell to get away.
“You deal with it!” Jensen shouts. “Like it’s so fucking easy!” He throws all of his weight back against Jared, knocking him to the mat and rolling away from Jared’s grasping arms.
Jared jumps to his feet. His cheeks are blotchy red and his eyes are fierce. “I’m trying, you asshole! I’m doing everything I can! And I know you’re trying, too. I know you are, dude. But it’s got to be more than the exercise. More than the diet. You’ve got to deal with yourself, Jensen! You’ve got to face these issues head on, and I’m just trying to show you that, don’t you get it? You’ll jog and bike and lift with me, but when it comes to accepting your body you’re such a fucking coward, you won’t even try—”
Jensen rears back. He’s never wanted to hit anyone so much in his life, and Jared can read him like a book.
“You gonna punch me?” Jared clenches his jaw, eyes blazing. “Go ahead, I’ll give you one. Punch me, you chickenshit. I wanna see you do it. Punch me all you want, yell and scream and bitch at me all you want, ‘cause when you’re done? You’ll still have that gut. And I’ll still be here. We’ll be right where we are now.”
The truth of that statement just sucks all the fight out of Jensen, and he slumps forward, panting and cursing under his breath.
“This sucks,” he chokes.
Jared seems to lose some of his fight too. “Yeah, it sucks. But it’s not going to be like this forever. You’ve gotta trust me on that.”
He steps closer to where Jensen’s collapsed against the mirrored wall. “You gotta trust me, Jensen. I promise you that this can only work if you—”
“I do trust you,” Jensen interrupts. “I do.”
And the weird part is that he does trust Jared. He knows Jared’s doing the best thing for him. He believes in Jared. He just doesn’t believe in himself, and that part is so much harder to change.
Jared purses his lips and shakes his head. His whole body is exuding frustration.
“Let me ask you something.” He takes another step closer to Jensen. “Do you think I can’t see what you look like?”
Jensen doesn’t answer, just exhales loudly and slumps further against the wall.
“Do you think that the average person, random person on the street, might be fooled into thinking you’re hiding a set of washboard abs under that triple XL t-shirt?”
Jensen shakes his head, feeling miserable.
“No? Okay, well then do you think that I, a fitness professional, someone who performs physical assessments for a living, would somehow miss the fact that you’re seriously overweight? Do you think I’m gonna be shocked when I touch you? Think it’ll be an eye-opening experience for me?”
Jensen shakes his head again, covering his face with both hands.
“Dude,” Jared says, sounding oddly hurt. “I’m not trying to be a dick about this. I’m trying to tell you that you are wasting your energy worrying about how you look. Especially to me.”
“I know.” Jensen mouths the words but barely any noise comes out.
“You don’t know, you jackass.” Jared pulls at Jensen’s hands. “C’mon, look at me.”
When Jensen does, he’s surprised to see that Jared’s eyes are watery and red. Jared looks kind of—wrecked, really.
“You’re,” Jared starts, but stops, looking pained. “Turn around.” He nudges Jensen until Jensen’s facing the mirror, with Jared at his back, looking over his shoulder.
“Look at yourself. You’re amazing, Jensen. Smart, talented, funny. And yet when you look at yourself all you see is the weight.”
Jensen nods mutely. It fucking sucks but it’s true.
“And when I look at you, I see everything else. Because this?” Jared grabs a handful of flab on Jensen’s belly and this time, amazingly, Jensen doesn’t flinch. He’s exhausted and overwhelmed and it’s just not worth it. “This is temporary. It’s like,” Jared opens his eyes wide. “It’s like you’re wearing a weird shirt or something. A horrendous shirt, like polyester with a not-at-all-ironic disco collar and like, embroidery or fringe or something. And sure, maybe it’s not perfect, maybe it’s awful, but if I can just get it off you, you’ll be so—”
He trails off, staring at Jensen in the mirror, earnest eyes willing him to understand. And the crazy part is that Jensen is starting to think that maybe he does understand. That, for the first time, Jared is making sense.
Jared sees people change their bodies all the time. Even Jared himself went from being built like a blade of grass to being built like a fucking truck. Given his experience, his perspective is totally skewed to look past the physical and see what else is there. It’s— Jensen doesn’t know anyone else like Jared.
“And the shirt, it’s—it’s more than ugly, it’s killing you! It’s like, poisoned or something. Or strangling you!” Jared’s full-on flailing now, arms flying through the air near Jensen’s head. “But it’s not like,superglued on or anything. It’s got buttons! Snaps! All you need is some help getting it undone and then it will slip right off and—” Jared pauses, blinks, and takes a breath, “—and I might be taking the ugly poisonous shirt analogy a bit too far.”
It’s unfair, really, that Jared is so fucking cute.
This scene from
mediaville story - Lost and Found - is so powerful and has a wonderful message inside. Please read this story if you ever get the chance. The scene above always gets to my heart. I have been dealing with weight loss and self-esteem issues myself. It makes me cry - in a good way - and I wish I had a trainer like Jared in this story to help me along to losing weight. It's about believing in yourself when you are in a deep, hard whole that you can't get yourself out of. I deal with the same issues Jensen goes through in this story. When I'm feeling down this story bring me up to high spirits. Thank you for writing a wonderful, fantastic, and empowering story!!!!!Thank you!!!