Castiel stared out the window in sombre silence, his gaze fixated on the blurred and darting shrubbery outside.
"Why must life be so problematic?" he pondered.
"Somethin' not going your way, kid?" came a gruff reply.
Castiel jumped at the taxi driver's words, unaware that he had vocalised his thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, reluctant to share his life story with this irrelevant stranger.
"You could say that." he replied, slightly taken aback at the low tone and gravelly nature of his own voice. Although Castiel was just 18 years of age, his voice was often compared to that of a 50 year old and he had not yet grown accustomed to it's post-puberty sound.
An awkward silence filled the cab once again, the driver taking this as an opportunity to view the young man occupying the backseat. He pivoted his head, stealing a glance at the alluring passenger. A gasp escaped his lips as his own discoloured eyes were met with a pair of startling blue. Never in his 54 years had he observed such intriguing eyes as these. He found himself wondering what they had seen. Then quickly, and to prevent further embarrassment, he returned his gaze to the road.
Ten minutes past before, to Castiel's disappointment, the seemingly uncomfortable driver attempted once again to make conversation.
"Want to talk about it son? If there's one thing I'm good at it's listening to people's problems. Hell, my mamma used to call me the-"
"That won't be necessary." Castiel cut-in. His expression was solemn, his words heavy.
"Oh" The driver replied, surprised.
"I see."
Castiel was never one for empathising with others. However, even he was aware that the driver's feelings had been hurt. But what could he do? Tell the man that his life had been filled with torment and heartache? Tell him that his countless years in orphanages had caused him nothing but pain? That he'd watched his mother being killed before his very eyes? That he'd never felt at home, always like an outsider, always alone, always…different? Castiel sighed, running fingers through his dark, scruffy hair. He preferred not to think about his past.
"Son?" Castiel felt his shoulders being shaken by a pair of strong hands. He warily opened his eyes to reveal the driver.
"That'll be 50". A note of agitation could be recognised in the man's voice, prompting Castiel to find the necessary payment in his trench coat as swiftly as possible. He retrieved a crumpled note and handed it over before gathering his near-empty suitcase and stepping out of the cab. Castiel glanced around him sheepishly, his dark blue eyes reflecting off a nearby streetlight's glare. He turned his attention back to the driver.
"Thank you. Your service has been most convenient." Castiel tackled an awkward smile.
"No problem son." The driver glanced uneasily towards Castiel's destination.
"You sure this is the place?"
Castiel nodded.
"Well you take care then" The driver raised his hand in a hasty goodbye and ducked into the grubby cab. Its engine turned on, sounding worn and in need of a service. Then the car took off, leaving a track of dust behind.
Before long Castiel was left with nothing but the sound of his own heavy breathing. This was his cue to face what was in front of him. Castiel slowy turned, revealing a run-down bungalo. He felt his heart surge in his chest as his eyes met with what had once been his beloved childhood home. It was but a shadow of its former self.
"How pleasant" Castiel murmured, trying his hand at sarcasm (a technique which he only seemed to succeed at when he was alone). He let out a heavy sigh and began the trek to the graffiti-ridden building. Castiel's long, determined strides meant that he reached the front door in a matter of minutes.
Up-close the house looked even worse. Mould covered its outer walls, rubbish littered the front porch and the garden was far from kept. Nevertheless as Castiel opened the door he couldn't help but feel nostalgic. This was, after all, his home, and he'd finally returned.
Castiel let out a sigh of relief as he undid the ever-present tie that hung loosely from his neck. He threw it to the ground before proceeding to remove the rest of the clothes that clung to his sweaty body. He felt horny. Excessively horny. The rising feelings of frustration and a need for release grew as he lay down on the bed he had fashioned from dirty blankets and his tan trench coat. He rested his head on the coat and looked up at the ceiling of his late mother's room, his thoughts focusing on the day ahead. Now was not the time for masturbation he realised. Now was the time for rest. After all, in 5 hours time he would have no choice but to embark on a dangerous and emotional journey.
Castiel was to begin his final term of high school.