Disingenuous

6. Filthy

TW: Graphic violence against a minor +
homophobic slurs
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2003

By the time the new year came around Jackson was pretty sure he'd never leave Hollywood. As far as he was concerned, he was now a permanent fixture.

The last time, he'd always figured that eventually he'd get caught. He hadn't been surprised at all when the police came and took him home, but that had been different. This time, he'd told his mother he was leaving, and she hadn't stopped him. She'd almost seemed relieved to see him walk away.

He didn't believe anybody was coming for him, and as the months passed and the new year welcomed him into 2003, he felt settled.

His time staying at Carvers looked a lot different this time around. One of the first differences that Jackson discovered was that Carver didn't live alone anymore. His new house was bigger and busier. He had roommates and guests that seemed to cycle in an out so consistently that Jackson wasn't actually sure who belonged. There were three bedrooms all occupied by at least two people at a time. Carver shared his bedroom now with a very tall man that didn't talk much and scared Jackson with his size and stature alone. His name was Forrest.

Before it had seemed as though Carver made a point of isolating his social life into the Los Angeles queer scene, but Jackson realized that had changed a bit between his last visit and now. Carver seemed to have a new group of friends, courtesy of Forrest, and it was definitely more diverse in life and love. Jackson only knew that because he could hear it coming out of one of the bedrooms a little too frequently. They seemed like a permanent fixture. He learned their names were Andy and Willow.

So the house was busier and the people were a little more diverse in opinion, but that wasn't the biggest deal for Jackson. He still had a place to sleep on the sofa even though sleeping was a bit harder with the activity levels in the home. People stayed up later in the new house, and honestly Jackson wasn't much for sleeping on a schedule anymore anyways. He slept better on mornings where he'd slip into Carvers room after his boyfriend left for work. Carver would get up and cook breakfast while Jackson slept in his bed for an hour or two trying to catch up the sleep he'd missed while overhearing a midnight argument between two guests he didn't actually know.

The biggest change was noticed about two days after he'd arrived in Los Angeles.

Carver spent those two days doting after Jackson and trying to put him back together after he'd arrived so broken and fragile. His condition was obviously poor after having spent several weeks sleeping on the streets before he'd made it back to Hollywood. The events of that year had pulled him apart in a lot of aggressive ways. Carver could see it, and he made a point to try and help Jackson feel safe again even if Jackson wouldn't tell him anything at all about how he'd gotten so low.

At the end of those two days, after an evening out to dinner at a restaurant that had served them what Carver called comfort food, they'd walked into the house to find the living room bustling and busy with people as usual. What was unusual was the lines of white powder littering the coffee table. Jackson had been shocked, but Carver had just sighed like he was deeply annoyed before taking Jackson by the arm back towards the kitchen instead.

"Carver, were they doing drugs?" He'd asked.

He'd seen plenty of people doing drugs, especially at night when he'd wandered the cities. He'd never seen Carver or his friends do it though. Carver was only prone to smoking the skunky stuff. The inquiry had been genuine, innocent and curious.