The bike skidded to a stop for the tenth time at the familiar street, but this time a different reaction hit when he heard the voice. It sounded...sad. Broken, almost screaming. Immediately, Castiel followed the sound of the voice. He didn't care if it'd technically be trespassing on someone else's property, the singer that brightened his day was having a bad day.
Approaching the house felt surreal, but he saw the only opened window quickly. The teen wanted to climb up the wall and hug the sad singer, but couldn't. It felt maddening, listening to the other sing with obvious pain in their tone. But a different idea, that still involved climbing, popped into the punk's head; he could leave a note. Maybe leave his number too?
Would that be stalkerish? He didn't really have time to consider that, already writing down his number on a scrap of overdue math homework.
He waited for the song to end, a stab piercing his heart everytime a choked sob broke the lyrics. Was this torture? To hear someone so innocent sound in so much pain? This had to be torture. A nightmare stuck in real life. It hurt to listen to the screamed "don't let me be gone!" and all lyrics following it. But Castiel waited for the barely visible figure of whoever was singing to leave the window before dropping his bookbag and carefully trying to find footholds and handholds.
He slipped a couple times but was able to slip his note into the room, making sure not to peek inside. He hoped the scrap of paper would still be seen, carefully making his way down the wall, slipping a lot more on the way down. At least he remained mostly unscathed.
"Hey, I heard your singing and you sounded sad...I got a phone number if you wanna talk! -Angel"