He sits alone. That's nothing new. Lately it seems as if he is always alone. The warmth spreads slowly through his body, a transference from the wall heater that makes up one side of his little cove. His numb hand turns over the cold metal and the sudden light shocks his retinas, causing him to blink a few times before he can register the small white numbers. 3:09. The illumination from his cell phone is the only light in his world; nothing exists outside of his little corner. The music drifts in from the darkness, disembodied and ethereal. The tune is slow and mournful, an echo of his thoughts. "Where have you been, where did you go…" His eyes slide shut and the darkness is gone, immediately replaced with memory.
The first thing he recalls is the boy's smile: wide and infectious, the smile that brightens his day, the smile that makes him feel not quite so alone. The rest of the scene quickly follows: hazel-green eyes behind black-rimmed glasses, golden-brown hair and freckles. His arms loose and relaxed as he leans against the adjacent locker. The boy's laugh at something stupid Cas said but he can't remember what. His skin burns where the boy touched his wrist, still laughing. "All I want is to find somebody like you…"
The scene changes. This time he's sitting on the desk in a classroom, surrounded by his friends. The boy slides onto the desk next to him, throwing an arm around him, and Cas wants nothing more than to turn and wrap his arms around the boy's shoulders, to tuck his face into the space by the boy's collarbone and never let go. But he doesn't. He doesn't. A few painful moments pass but they feel as if they are eternity. Then the boy moves, and the temptation is gone. "Let's love now, 'cause soon enough we'll die…"
Next it's the boy's hands in his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead, only because he thought Cas was asleep and the backs of the bus seats were high enough to hide them. Too soon, they arrived home; too soon, the boy moved away; and too soon, the emptiness returned. Not completely, though, and not as brutally as usual. A smile, small, but true, crept its way on to his face and stayed for the rest of the night. "Oh, I'll wait for you…"
His eyes snap open of their own accord and he wrenches himself out of the memories. She groans inwardly and reprimands himself for reminiscing. He knows it's wrong. Love is….well, that's kind of the problem. He doesn't know what love is. But he knows that it doesn't last, so what is the point in hoping that the boy might feel the same way; might feel the exhilaration, the lightness he feels when he sees the boy walking down the hallway towards him, the way the world gets brighter when the boy smiles. But hope is just a flirtation with an idea. It's pointless. And empty. Just like him. He doesn't bother checking the time again.