Strings Attached

Chapter 3

"What's wrong?" Dean asks again.

"Nothing."

"Your face says otherwise," Dean replies. It sounds insulting, but Dean doesn't care because it's just Castiel Novak, and Castiel doesn't care because it's just himself. "Come on, let's go get you cleaned up so you look somewhat presentable."

"No, thank you," Castiel stammers. He leaned the hard way that just saying "no" to someone like Dean doesn't fly, but this can't be something the boy honestly wants to do, so maybe Dean won't hurt him for it.

"Are you sure?" Dean asks.

Castiel nods. "Mm-hmm. Just leave me alone."

"Sure thing," Dean replies. "But now that I know this room isn't just for band geeks, I think I'm gonna start coming here and playing myself."

He walks over and picks up a guitar, sitting down near Castiel but not directly next to him. He begins playing chords, a huge step up from the notes he was playing yesterday and at a much fast pace, which leads Castiel to believe he's been playing guitar for a long time. Castiel never would have guessed that any of the jocks would take the time to learn and instrument at all, never mind master it like Dean clearly has.

Castiel watches Dean play, amazed at the sound. The other boy's eyes are on his fingers, but that doesn't surprise Castiel. It took him a long time to memorize where his fingers go without looking.

He doesn't recognize the song Dean is playing, though it's probably because an acoustic guitar isn't meant to play rock songs like this. Only when he finishes does he see Castiel watching him, but the boy looks away quickly when Dean sees him looking.

"You like it?" Dean asks. "It's 'Heat of the Moment' by Asia. I learned it a long time ago and now my brother hates it from hearing it so much."

Castiel just nods silently.

"Well, now that I've had an audience, I'd love to be one, too," Dean says.
"How 'bout you play a song?"

Castiel shakes his head.

"Come on," Dean says. "One song, any song."

"I don't know a song off the top of my head," Castiel admits. He generally likes to figure them out instead of memorize them.

"Well, what were you playing yesterday?" Dean asks.

"Random chords."

"Oh. I didn't realize you wrote music, too."

"I don't," Castiel lies. He writes songs, but none he'd sing at school, or even at home, where anyone he knows could hear them. They're too personal for that. "That was just improv."

"Well, it sounds great," Dean tells him. "You should do it again."

"I'd rather not..." Castiel says, showing a combination of his social anxiety and stage fright.

"Please?" Dean says, the first time anyone outside his family has said that to him. It sounds strange, coming from Dean's lips.

"Why?" Castiel asks cautiously.

"Because you're good," Dean tells him.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Dean replies. "Come on, stop arguing and play something before we run out of time."

Hearing that gets his hopes up that maybe he can stall until lunch ends, but a glance at his watch reveals there are still ten minutes left, and there's no way he can stall for ten minutes. He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

He begins playing, closing his eyes to pretend he's alone and that Dean isn't standing in front of him, watching his every move.

He has to admit that, as conceited as it sounds, he does enjoy his own music. He always thought it was because it's his, but maybe not. Maybe it actually is good. He finds himself wondering how others hear it. Do they like it, too?

When the bell rings, Castiel is snapped back into reality. He opens his eyes only to be reminded that he's not alone. Immediately, Castiel looks away from the boy that's watching him, putting his guitar away instead.

"You made that up on the spot?" Dean sounds impressed, but Castiel doesn't know if it's a good thing or not.

Castiel nods silently.

"That's really good," Dean tells him.

"I -- I have to get to class," Castiel mumbles, hurrying past the boy as quickly as possible. He doesn't want to talk to Dean. He doesn't want to talk to anyone. He just wants to be alone. At least then he doesn't have to worry about people judging him.