|11:42 P.M.| ~Almost everything you've been waiting for~
The hallways of the hotel are ominously empty and silent. Despite what the outside and lobby of the hotels look like, this is the complete opposite. Long, old pathways that could lead me into oblivion. The walls are bare and uninviting, a place where nightmares bunk for summer camp.
I'd be completely opposed to spending even another moment here if it weren't for Dean quickly trudging through the pale lighted halls. His own bags take the space of both his hands, stealing the place that mine had accompanied just hours ago. I've never been so jealous of an inanimate object.
"Here we go," Dean says stopping in front of a brown, wooden door marked with the numbers 1967. They are suspiciously familiar however I cannot place where I have seen them before. Most likely just a random detail that I have pulled from my subconscious.
He places the plastic key card to the door scanner and waits for the light to flash green. The change in color is followed by a small, reminding chorus of beeps that notifies us of our home for the next two nights.
Dean steps precautiously inside and I follow closely behind. Once inside, I inspect the room. White walls with black trim. Framed photos of flowers hang upon the walls, attempting to seem inviting despite the yellowing lights that cast an eerie glow throughout the room. There is a dresser that houses enough room for a single pair of pants and the Holy Bible. The spare room is consumed by a mini-fridge that is about as cold as a Florida swimming pool mid-May.
"Well, this is homey!" Dean states with a sarcastic tone edging into his voice as he tosses his bag of clothes onto the single queen-sized bed. 'Wait... single queen-sized bed. SINGLE?'
"There's only one bed! What the hell! We booked a room with two!" I complain, which could be passed off as a whine since I'm extremely tired.
"Fuck. I bet the receptionist just gave us one since she was a fan," he grumbles. "I'll call down and ask for an exchange."
A pit finds it's way into my stomach as I realize that won't end well. "You can't do that."
"Why not? I'll just ask for another room if you wanna take this one," he offers, reaching for the phone to call down.
There are two reasons that won't work and if I agree there's no saying how long it will take me to work up the nerve to tell him again. "If you call down, she'll know something's up," I argue setting my own bag onto the table on the other side of the bed.
Dean grumbles and takes his belongings from the bed. "I'll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed."
"No. I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor! You take the bed and I'll sleep on the chair," I retort. He paid for the room so I'm not going to take the bed for myself.
He rolls his eyes, but they glisten with an idea. "We'll just share. It's not like we haven't slept on the couch together." The motion sends an electric feeling through my chest making a shiver shoot over me. I have a bad feeling that this won't be a good idea, but there's no way he's sleeping on the floor and he's not going to let me sleep on the chair.
"Fine," I compromise. I'm not in the right state of mind to deal with an argument. I still have to decide how I'm going to tell Dean the truth. 'Do I just tell him fast or explain everything? God, I'm such a mess. How am I supposed to tell him that I'm the reason my last girlfriend is six feet under?'
"Okay. I'm gonna hop in the shower quick," he cuts into my thoughts holding a pair of flannel pants and a black cut-off. He pauses at the end of the bed as if he's waiting for me to reply.
"I- okay. Can we talk when you're done?" I ask carefully which earns a questioning look from him, but he doesn't ask. He replies with a nod and disappears behind the bathroom door. 'Please don't screw everything up Castiel.'
~~~
|Dean's POV|
His words run circles in my head. "Can we talk when you're done?" All I can think about is every possible moment that led up to this one. It had to have been my fault. He's never said anything like that before. It can't be a coincidence.
'What did I do?
Did I push him too far?
Was he uncomfortable and I didn't notice?
What if I went too far?
Maybe I shouldn't have kissed his forehead?
Were my hands too close?
Did I say something wrong?
It's always my fault.
I shouldn't push my luck like that.
He doesn't think of me the same way.
I couldn't have hurt him again, could I?
What the fuck did I do wrong this time?'
My mind won't calm itself and I can only think the worst of this situation.
'Does he want to move out?
What if I never get to see him again?
How am I supposed to tell him?'
Before I lose myself completely to my thoughts, I strip my clothes from my body and fold them neatly into the corner. From the mirror, I see the paint brushed neatly onto my face and think of the paint Cas had washed from his face after the meet and greets were over. A hollow feeling sits in my chest knowing that a piece of us had been washed down the drain with the color.
I hate the way he makes me feel, but I love it too much to stop it. Just his smile is enough to send longing through my chest. I feel like a cliche teenage girl from a rom-com, but there's no other way to explain how I feel. It's so stupid. Feelings are dumb, but I'm dumber for ever letting it go this far.
I'm not supposed to feel like this. I'm a guy. We aren't supposed to feel so helpless or hopelessly at the mercy of another being. I've always been told I'm supposed to be strong. I don't need other people. I'm not supposed to feel so strongly about another man and I never have. Such there were plenty of secrets during high school and college, but none of them were him. I hate it. I'm not supposed to be like this.
But I am. I was made this way. And I don't care what others think. I love him.
I'm just not brave enough to say it.
~~~
Once I'm out of the shower, it's easier to focus. My mind has somewhat calmed, although my heart-rate is still not eased completely. There are still particles of glitter spread throughout my hair, but I've given up all hope that they will ever totally disappear. And Cas seemed to love them anyway.
My black cut-off houses the Velvet Underground's logo and my red flannels fit comfortably around my waist, leaving enough room to move. My hair is spiked up from my intense shower reminding me of the time Sammy called me a hedgehog when he was little.
I've never felt so uneasy being in the same room as Cas. He usually calms me but now, I'm terrified of the words that could spill out of his mouth. How just one sentence could end everything that I've been too scared to say. I should tell him.
I stand facing the bathroom door, unaware of Castiel losing his mind on the other side.
I whisper to myself, "This is it. This is the end of everything."
~~~
Stepping out from the safety of the bathroom, I find myself completely at the mercy of Castiel. I promised myself that I wouldn't fight his decision, after all, I knew that it wouldn't work out anyways. He's going to be a doctor and I'll be making videos in an empty house.
"Hey..." he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. He's changed out of the shirt I chose for him into a pair of light gray sweatpants and a Sherlock tee shirt. His hair is perfectly tousled to the point where I think he styles it that way.
"You wanted to talk?" I answer taking a seat at the head of the bed, my legs spread out across while he sits with his legs crossed. He's obviously nervous about whatever he's going to say, which makes me feel even more uncomfortable. He's usually nervous, but this time it's not cute. This time, it makes me anxious.
He gives me another one of his weak smiles. Something that warms my chest usually, but saddens me in this moment. "Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you, but it never seemed like the right time until now."
I prepare myself for the words that I always knew would come, but selfishly hoped never would. "Go ahead. I'm ready." But I'm not ready. I don't want to give him up yet, but I'm not going to force him to feel the same way. I had my shot and I never took it, it's not fair to keep him from his own life. I'm not my father.
"I-uh. I'm going to be honest with you. I've replayed this conversation thousands of times, but none of them have ever... turned out right," he admits. His cheeks flood to the perfect shade of red and I almost forget why we're here.
"Don't worry, Cas. I understand." I really do, I just wish that this wasn't how it ended. So close, but out of my reach. Our future is dependent on his words.
He pauses, taking time to find them. "I should've told you forever ago, but I didn't want to mess things up."
It's at this moment that I get the suspicion that Cas isn't talking about the same thing I'm thinking about. My heart starts to beat faster and at an uneasy pace. "It's fine. I'm here for you. No matter what."
He takes a deep breath in and starts to speak, "I really don't even know how to start..."
"The beginning. Just take your time and tell me everything."
Like a scene out of any cheesy romance movie, he begins to mess with his fingers, avoiding looking at me. "I was in high school. My junior year I was dating a girl named Meg, who despite all the warnings from my family, I went to prom with. Back then, I wasn't the most rebellious type, but when I was with her, everything was different. I was on top of the world, nothing could break me. It was the typical teenage infatuation."
He stops to find his words again and I have the strong feeling I know where this is going. Sadness practically radiates off of him and it hurts me just knowing that this is the reason he is the way he is. That he has fallen so far because of one mistake.
"Anyway. Prom was the turning point. She hung out with the kind of people you'd expect to make meth in the science labs and draw dicks on store windows for fun. I never really fit in, but I didn't want to lose the one person I thought loved me. I understood that my brothers did, but they were expected to. She was the first person that supposedly loved me because she could. I felt alone before that point and I didn't want to lose that."
I hate the fact that I wasn't there for him or that his family didn't try hard enough. I've seen how bad he was hurt and it's the fault of a girl who doesn't even seem like she cared. She used him and now he's paying for it.
"Her friends spiked the punch. I'd had a few drinks under their pressure and I knew that she was going to try and drive home. I didn't want her to get in trouble, so I offered to drive. I didn't think that I had drank that much. It was- it was only a few beers. I- I didn't know- I couldn't- I shouldn't have-" Tears begin to flow down his face in streams that pool on his shirt. His breathing becomes raspy and quick gasps as he hiccups through messy tears. "I shouldn't have gone that fast. I should have known what was going to happen."
The pieces slowly start to come together. Slotting themselves into my memories and fitting into the explanations that make Cas, my Cas, the way he is. "Oh... Cas it's not-"
His head shoots up faster than I've ever seen him move. Red, blotchy eyes stare into my own as ugly sobs break through his voice. "Don't. Don't you dare tell me it's not my fault. Don't tell me that it's okay. Because it's not. I killed her. I'm a murderer. I am a killer." I watch helplessly as he trembles in front of me. All of those websites on panic attacks never prepared me for this.
"Cas... It was a mistake. They happen... It's going to be-"
"Just STOP. I told you. I'm the reason a girl is dead. She's never going to get to take another breath. She'll never get married or have kids. Her friends grieve her and her family is devastated. She's gone and I'm the reason why. Stop telling me everything is okay. It's not and I can live with that. I'm just tired of being treated like I'm fragile! So just stop." He shudders, tears falling faster and harder. His hands have balled into fists that angrily thud against the soft mattress.
"Cas... come here," I say softly to which he just looks at me with huge, puffy blue eyes. He gives me a confused look and I instantly feel like I crossed a line. Friends don't hold other friends. I about try to brush it off before he slowly crawls up the bed sits in front of me.
Before I can stop myself, I pull him to my chest without a complaint from him. The sound of crying calms slightly as I drag the covers of the bed up to his shoulders. I feel a dreary arm wrap around my back and his head rests on my chest as I sit upright in the single bed. His weight comforts me and I can only hope that my presence does the same for him. My own arms find their way to his waist, resting gently on the bare skin his slightly lifted shirt has exposed. I can feel his scars through the fabric.
His crying has reduced to small hiccups and occasional tears. I'm almost convinced that I've fixed the problem until I hear his small, raspy voice. "It should have been me."
That sentence is enough for my entire chest to ache in pain. My jaw clenches and my grip around him tightens. "Please don't say that, Cas. I don't know what I'd do if it had been you."
He doesn't say anything, but I know he's still awake by the way his fingers grip at my shirt. I do the only thing I know how to and continue to talk. "Castiel Novak, you are the strongest person I've ever met. I've never once thought of you as fragile. It hurts me to hear you think you'd wish yourself dead because I know you're going to amount to wonderfully, great things one day." I pause to move one of my hands to his back, lightly rubbing in hopes of comforting him. Just from the slight movement, I feel the scars that run from his mid-shoulder blade to his bottom of his rib cage.
"When you graduate, you'll find a man who loves you with his whole being and you'll save lives, Cas. You'll make up for every mistake by saving the lives of hundreds of people. I believe whole-heartedly that you are going to make a difference. One day you'll look back on tonight and think of nothing but how strong you are," I smile at the thought of Cas having a great future but the thought of losing him one day scares me.
"Until then, I'll take care of you. No matter what, I'll always be here for you Cas," I whisper, turning off the bedside lamp to leave us in only the light of the city. His soft breaths and the hum of the air conditioner are the only things making the slightest of noise. Now is the only time I'm vulnerable enough to tell him. If only he would have been awake to hear my last three words, it would have saved me a lot of trouble.
"Goodnight Castiel. I love you."
~~~
A/N:
Uh... so this is awkward... umm sorry... not really though...
I told you that I'd give you a Dean POV worth waiting for and here it is! I hope it's (almost) everything that you've been waiting for. *Disclaimer* I don't believe everything that Dean said about himself throughout the chapter. It was just for (drama) *ahem* "Oh I'm a guy... I shouldn't feel like this" ...
Anyways we're 31 parts in and you're still with me? Chuck, don't we all need a life? I really hope you guys liked this chapter because it was extremely hard to write and I'm still not 100% pleased with how it turned out... but whatever as long as y'all enjoyed it. Please tell me you did...
What do you think so far? Dislikes or likes about the writing or characters? I'd really love to hear from all of you!
Well, tickety-boo <3