God help him he's fallen for someone he can't have yet again. It was only supposed to be a casual thing, a friends with benefits situation. He knew that right from the offset but he let himself get sucked in. He's too much of a sentimentalist and a romantic to expect his feelings would remain unchanged; he's not a no strings attached kind of guy. Lysander's in love and for Castiel it's still just lust.
He keeps it quiet, he doesn't talk about his feelings. They never talk about anything too real, nothing that would mess with the status quo. Why should Castiel need to say a word when he's perfectly happy with the way things are ? And why should Lysander risk what little he has ? There may not be tender words or "I love yous" but to be held, to wanted, to be desired in any way at all is better than being alone.
So he bottles it up. He's always been a private soul; he can keep a secret. Push it down, keep it to yourself. It simmers. He can't let it rest. It bubbles inside of him, threatening to come to the surface. He suppresses it. He can keep his feelings hidden.
Until he can't.
They're in Castiel's bedroom after a Friday night spent gigging down in Moondance. The crowd was especially receptive to their sound and free drink was included in their booking, so they're particularly merry tonight. And when they're in a good humour, it always leads to the same place.
Light kisses trail down Castiel's neck, hands encircle his waist. Lysander nips harder at Cas' neck; leave a mark, let the fans know he's taken.
Castiel cranes his neck, leaving Lysander more room. "Eager are we ?"
Lysander's reply is lost under Castiel's flesh and his own breathlessness. His hands roam beneath Castiel's t-shirt, wandering upwards, his nails digging deep. It hurts. It may draw blood, but Castiel says nothing, enjoying the intensity of it all.
Shoes are kicked off in a hurry, without any care as to where they land. With a clink, Castiel's belt falls to the foot of the bed and Lysander's jacket is flung away with wild abandon.
Neither of them smell fresh as daisies after a night of performance and partying, but neither of them care. If anything it feels nice to be a little messy.
Castiel moves to take Lysander's face in his hands, and with a palm on each of Lys' cheek, he sees the tears streaming from Lysander's eyes.
Before Castiel can begin to question him, Lysander speaks first. "Nobody loves you like I do."
It's become too much and he can't hold it in. The passion he has for Castiel is bursting out of him, he can't deny his feelings any longer. Even if it's the wrong choice, he has to be honest about what's going on inside his head.
Castiel sits down on the edge of his bed an lets out a deep sigh. He rummages in his jacket pocket for his carton of cigarettes. He places one between his lips before realising he's mislaid his lighter. With a lack of distractions to turn to, he has to speak. "Where's this coming from?"
Lysander stands with his back against the windowsill to give Castiel his space. "I care about you," he begins, "I don't want this just to be physical."
Castiel bites the inside of his lip, struggling for words. He can't look Lysander in the eye, he keeps his gaze fixed on his feet. "I don't know what you want me to say." His hands ball tight in frustration. "Fuck Lys, you already know I don't feel the same right?"
Lysander can hardly bring himself to say it. Yes he's sees Castiel doesn't feel anything near what he feels. Nobody feels what he feels, not the fans, not anyone. He sees who men and women alike stare at Castiel when they perform, he sees how Castiel enjoys the attention, and it eats away at him. Time and again he falls for someone, only to have his heart crushed. He should be used to it by now, but he isn't.
"Say something," Castiel says, finally looking at him.
Lysander shrugs, what is there for him to say. He's made his feelings clear and it hasn't exactly worked out well for him.
"It's fine," Lysander says, sounding a bit quieter than usual, "I expected as much. I couldn't hide how I felt any longer."
Castiel nods. Not agreeing per say, he simply needed to react somehow and he has no idea how to talk this over.
Not wanting to hang around in this sort of atmosphere, Lysander retrieves his jacket from the floor and goes looking for his shoes. He's said his piece, he has no more reason to stay.
"Wait," Castiel rises from the bed, and rests a hand on Lysander's shoulder. "I don't want to fall out over this, okay? Friends ?"
Lysander smiles without managing to make it look happy. "Of course we're still friends."
Just friends.