If you were to ask someone in Sioux High about Castiel, most people wouldn't know who he was. Those who did recognise him would say he was mysterious. Shy. He kept to himself. He had always been a studious child. He topped most of his classes. He was an obsessive reader, so much so that even during lunch, he would sit in a corner of the canteen reading. He was never seen without a book. Some people were in awe of the amount he read. They didn't even want to read what was necessary, but here he was doing it out of choice. But books were his only companions. And he didn't mind that an awful lot.
He was a much more complex creature than what people saw. He had no interest in mathematics or computers, like the rest of the smart kids. Being brilliant as he was, they came to him easily. They were repetitive. They had rules that couldn't be crossed. They didn't make him wonder. They held no charm. He was a dreamer. He longed for the mystery that his world lacked. So he opened a book and started reading. He read until he no longer saw the words of the pages of the book. The words melded to form the worlds that he craved. For as long as he read, he didn't have to worry about his own life. He didn't have to be the lonely boy who always followed rules, always listened to the teachers and always did what was expected of him. He wanted to be a hero whom everyone worshipped, he wanted to be a rebel whom everyone wanted to be friends with. He felt that he wasn't the kind of person whom people wrote books about, no matter how much he wanted to be. His life was a maze of mediocrity. "How will I get out of this labyrinth?" was his constant worry. So he let himself get lost in the beauty of the words he read.
Just like every day, Castiel came to school well before time and sat down at at his desk. He opened the perks of being a wallflower and continued reading where he had left off. He was beginning to love the book. He had always had a fascination with letters. He hardly ever received any, so they had a strange allure to them. Sending letters to a total stranger as Charlie does seemed like a great vent. But Castiel knew he probably never would do this. He had a love hate relationship with writing. He loved it. Paper was most often his only confidant. It was compassionate. Never talking back but always understanding. And he could at least trust it to never tell anyone or never make fun of his thoughts.
When he was lost in thought, the class had filled up and was now buzzing with Monday morning sluggish conversations. Some of the regulars in his class were there. On the other side of the class were Crowley, Meg, Ruby, Lilith, Naomi and Marv. Castiel did his best to keep away from them. They were nasty bullies. Initially, when he came to Sioux High a year ago, they had taken an interest in bothering him. But once they realised that it was no fun to make the life of friendless nerd more miserable than it already was, they gave up and ignored him. In another corner were Charlie and Becky. It often seemed to Castiel that Charlie was annoyed with Becky, but she was the only girl that the other girl could talk to about sci-fi books, ships, otps and whatever else it was that they fangirled over. Charlie seemed to be showing Becky a new deathly hallows pendant. Becky' eyes were dilated and she had the perpetual frenzied smile plastered on her face.
Behind him, by the window seats were Jo, Ash, Benny, Lisa and Dean. Dean Winchester. On the first day in school, Castiel had seen Dean and been drawn to him. There was something about the boy. He was incredibly handsome, was a star wrestler in the school, and had all the girls fawning over him. He did well in academics too. But it wasn't this that attracted Castiel's attention. It was the sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. The vital life that they held. Now HE was the kind of person people wrote books about. Castiel wished he could be like Dean. The most popular guy, surrounded by friends and in love with life. But his people skills were rusty. He would have loved to know Dean. But no. Was Dean even aware of his existence? Why would he care for a person such as himself?
Every time Castiel saw Dean, these were the thoughts that went through his mind. He was one of the few people Castiel had ever wanted to get to know. It was like they shared a profound bond. The only problem was that Dean seemed absolutely unaware of it. Castiel was thus immersed in thought when Mrs. Ellen, the no-nonsense English teacher walked in. He shook himself and started getting his books out. For the rest of the day, he was so engrossed in the lessons that he thought no more of Dean. Or so it would seem.
A/N: If you got till here, Thank you! This is my first ever story. I know that this chapter is pathetically small. I intend to write longer chapters. I wanted to see how this chapter would be taken. Any constructive criticism is welcome. Do tell me if you've suggestions for me to improve. Reviews and PMs are very welcome.