Hearts don't break. They burn, and that is what mine is doing now. Every second, every waking moment, my heart ablaze, burning, burning, burning forever, never stopping, destined to continue for eternity. This is what I get for rebelling, I suppose, but it's not as if I regret it. Every moment I get to see him is worth it. Every time I see him smile is worth it. Every single second spent with him is worth every single second spent with the crushing agony of the fire in my heart. Sometimes I wonder if he knows how I feel. He certainly doesn't feel the same way; he's as straight as a board, and anyways, he would've charged in and taken me if he wanted me. But he doesn't. I fell from Heaven for him; I pulled him from Hell with my bare hands. It was ordered, but getting to know him, he's just so… beautiful. Beautiful in the way he moves, the way he sleeps, the way he talks. Every exhalation an expellance of beauty. I first discovered I loved him when he tortured Alastair. It sounds horrible, it sounds sadistic, but he was willing to go against every fiber of his being for me. That kind of devotion… he doesn't love me, but he doesn't know the half of it. He doesn't know what he does for me every single day. I'm not gay. I'm not straight, either, or any other term you humans have for love. I only love one person, and it's him. I suppose that that is my downfall. You humans, you fall in and out of love like your world changes from day to night, not me, no, there's only one for me.
I talked to Becky. She said the fans had a name for us. They call us Destiel, she said, and didn't question me as she gave me the link to the fanfictions. Her and I, we're the same, on a basic level. Both love- obsessed for a person we can't have. I read them all. I read everything anyone had written about us, the good and the bad, the sweet and the smutty. These people, they're amazing, but they don't realize one thing: Dean will never love me. He could never love me, not in all of eternity. I understand, though. I overturned his belief system with one touch. I told him he was wrong. I told him there was a God. He bared himself before me and he could never love me because of that. One thing I've learned from humans: you lie to those you love. You keep yourself secret so they can love you. But he knows everything about me and I know everything about him. I could tell you anything about him, the quirks and oddities, the fears and insecurities, the good and the bad and everything in-between. But soon my heart will be ash, angel's ash, and there will be nothing left for me with which to love him. Maybe then I'll be okay. Maybe then the pain will stop. Maybe then I can survive this pain, and only then can I do anything right. And angel-I- must live a loveless live. Only then can we-I- return to heaven. But then I see him alive because of me, and I don't want to go back to that emotionless hell they call Heaven. The angels- for now I realize I am no longer one of them, and I do not want to be- cast me out, and for what? For falling, yes, they call it falling for a reason, for falling in love with our father's creation? I no longer serve any god, nor a devil, no, I serve only myself.
And him.
Always him.
Everything, for him.