One day, Castiel thought. One day until he started his senior year of high school, and all he had to show for the last three years was a failed relationship. There was no doubt about it, Castiel had loved Michael more than he had ever loved another person before. And he was lying if he said it didn't hurt when Michael had left him for the other boy, Lucifer.

It had left Cas shattered. After Michael had broken it off in early July, Castiel didn't get out of bed for weeks. Those weeks had been the worst time of Cas's entire life, filled with anger and hurt, depression and self-deprecation, and his self worth had fallen to an all time low. And then, at the end of July, the thing had happened.

Castiel hadn't meant for it to happen. Really, it just, sort of, did. He had rolled over, eyes red rimmed from his constant crying, and spotted the manual pencil sharpener laying on his desk, next to his jar of sharply pointed pencils, used for school work. Suddenly, something in Castiel had sparked and caught fire. He tore the comforter off of his boxer and tee shirt clad body, and lurched toward the medium sized desk.

Cas ripped open the drawer and began to rummage around, knowing exactly what he was looking for. Finally, he found the small tool, a tiny Phillips headed screwdriver. Castiel grabbed the sharpener off of his desktop and unscrewed one blade from its holdings. Picking up the small blade from where it had fallen on the carpet, Castiel turned it over in his hand a couple of times, working up his nerve. He rucked his shirt up at his hip, deciding that it was a fairly inconspicuous place, out of the way of prying eyes. Cas thumbed over the place where his hipbone barely jutted out, before recklessly tearing into the skin. Once he had started, it was like Castiel had opened a floodgate. He sat on his floor for what felt like years, shredding skin.

It's all your fault, Cas thought, your fault Michael left. You made him leave, just like you made Dad leave. You're such a worthless piece of shit, Castiel. You're garbage. His slashes became deeper with every thought. Everyone leaves you, no one wants you. You're trash. Too fat, too ugly, too stupid. Cas was bawling now, upwards of twenty slashes on his hip. What made you think you could ever be good enough for him, Castiel? You're not good enough for anyone. You're not good enough to live, you don't deserve to live, you deserve to die. A horrible, long, painful death. You should just kill yourself, Castiel.

Startled by his own thoughts, the blade slipped out of Castiel's hand. He looked down at his hip, the skin looking like it had been send through a paper shredder, and blood oozing from the lacerations. Abruptly, Castiel let out an animalistic scream, glad that no one was home to hear his wailing, his mother off to work, leaving her only son alone. Cas screamed and wailed and sobbed until his voice was so wrecked it hurt to breathe.

Castiel had become accustomed to that feeling over the past weeks, though. Since Michael left him, everything hurt. That had been what tore Michael from him in the first place. Castiel depended on his boyfriend for everything. He had expected Michael to spend time with him, foolishly thinking that the other boy enjoyed Castiel's company as much as Cas basked in Michael presence. When Michael had broken up with Castiel over the phone, he had said that Cas was too "needy", too "dependent" upon Michael. And he was right; Castiel had never been much of an independent person. His neediness drove everyone away.

Castiel made a pact with himself then and there. He would be independent. He would rely on himself. He would stay alone. He had to handle the world on his own. And now here he was, the day before high school resumed one final time. Castiel could make it through this year. And he would do it on his own, by himself.

*BE MY ESCAPE *

The first thing Castiel thought when he ran into the new boy, Dean Winchester he recalled, was, "He's beautiful".

"Hey, watch where you're" the boy looked up and stopped speaking as he saw Castiel's face, and Castiel felt instant shame. The boy was so repulsed by him that he had stopped speaking.

"Please excuse me, I was not paying appropriate attention to my movement," Castiel spoke, hoping that he could redeem himself to this gorgeous boy, and perhaps at least befriend him. He cast his face downwards to hide the hideousness of it from the boy, hoping to convince him that Castiel's wit could be worth putting up with everything wrong with him. However, he had to look back up and gauge the beauty's reaction to him.

"It-It's fine," the boy, Dean, Castiel knew, as he was the only person in the high school that Castiel didn't already know. "I, um, I'm Dean Winchester," the boy continued, not quite grossed out enough to leave Castiel without a proper introduction.

"I am well aware," Castiel regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth, knowing that he had now come off as not only clingy and needy, but also creepy and stalker like. "You are new. I am Castiel Novak, and am pleased to meet you, Dean Winchester," the blue-eyed senior hoped that the polite words could remedy his previous statement.

"Yeah, um, me too. I mean, you too. I mean, uh, it's nice to meet you. Castiel," Dean gave Castiel, and praise the Lord; if that stuttering wasn't the single most attractive thing that Castiel had heard in his lifetime. Castiel noticed the other boy's gaze directed at his features, and flushed as he imagined what could be running through Dean's head. Among Castiel's imagination of the Winchester's thoughts were the words "pig", "garbage", and "repulsive".

He was so engrossed in his thoughts of the boy that he hardly noted the bell until Dean spoke. "Crap," the latter exhaled, "I've gotta go. I'll-I'll see you around?" the boy sounding, almost, nervous? Was he nervous to see Castiel again, afraid that he couldn't keep up the polite charade and his reputation would be tarnished? Laughing mentally, Castiel thought, if only he knew that no such thing would happen from denying one as ugly as Castiel to witness the glory that was Dean Winchester. However, if Dean was willing to look at him, put up with him, then Castiel would gladly oblige.

"Until next time, Dean Winchester," Castiel uttered softly, slowly walking past Dean, but keeping his eyes on the boy, not wanting to take him eyes off of the glorious sight of him. Castiel reluctantly headed to him first period Calculus class, knowing that he would be reprimanded for being late, but also knowing that it was worth it, to be able to gaze upon that boy.