AN: Man, I took a killer Chemistry test today ;-; Welp, on to more writing.
Chapter 3
Castiel walked into his 4th period art class the next day to find Dean already sitting at his desk. His sketchbook was out in front of him, and he was doodling absentmindedly on a blank page. Dean glanced up as Cas sat down, turning away with a scowl when Castiel smiled at him. Cas sighed as Ms. Tate walked to the front of the room. Clearly, he'd made no progress since yesterday.
"Alright, class. Today, we'll be working on a comic strip. You will work in partners. One of you will do the first four boxes, and the other will do the last four." As she had the day before, Ms. Tate turned and wrote the instructions on the board. Castiel wondered why she wrote everything down before it hit him; it was for Dean's benefit. Castiel didn't know why, but the thought made him want to just reach out and hug Dean. However, from what he'd seen of the boy's behavior, doing so would get him a fist to the face. "I want this turned in at the end of the hour, so it doesn't have to be very detailed. You may begin."
Immediately, everyone around Castiel began scrambling to grab a friend as a partner. Cas sighed, aware that he'd probably end up by himself, as usual. Then he looked over and saw Dean still sitting at his table, scribbling in his sketchbook. Cas's face lit up with the proverbial light bulb over his head. He pulled out a sheet of lined paper, writing on it quickly.
Partners?
Cas dropped it on Dean's desk with a hopeful smile. Dean glanced at the note, then at the board, his body language screaming "annoyed" when he saw they had to work together. He gave Castiel a curt nod, refusing to make eye contact with him. Castiel pulled the sheet of paper back to himself, scrawling down another note.
Do you mind if I do the first part?
Dean ripped out a sheet of paper from his sketchbook and pushed it towards Castiel, still glaring down at his desk. Cas separated the sheet into 8 equal sections and began to draw. In the first box, he drew a stick figure, sitting alone on the ground looking very sad. In the next box, he drew a second stick figure coming in, trying to comfort the first figure. In the third box, the first figure rejected the help, leaving the second one sad and hurt. In the fourth box, the first figure returned and allowed the second figure to befriend him, leaving them both extremely happy. Cas slid the page back to Dean, satisfied with his work.
Dean barely glanced at the half-comic before looking back at Castiel with an incredulous look on his face. Cas raised his eyebrows questioningly, as if to ask if something was wrong. Dean narrowed his eyes, resenting the challenge. Cas grinned as Dean picked up his pencil and began sketching quickly on the paper. He realized that much of his interaction with Dean would consist of over exaggerated body language, something Dean was no doubt a master of, having used it to communicate for about 17 years.
Within minutes, Dean was done sketching. He handed the paper back to Cas with an expression somewhere between a cocky smirk and the angry mask one uses to cover up pain or sadness. Cas took the art from him delicately. As soon as the exchange was over, Dean returned to glaring at his desk.
The artwork Dean had completed so hastily was remarkable. Where Cas had begun a story of friendship, Dean had finished with one of a harsh reality. He showed the same two figures from before, surrounded by dark shadows but smiling confidently, back-to-back, clearly ready to take on the world together. Then, the first figure turned, morphing into the wall of shadows, becoming one of them. The darkness closed in on the second figure, alone and helpless. In the last box, the figure lay on the ground, battered and bruised, and as completely friendless as before.
Castiel looked up sadly at Dean, who stared resolutely ahead, looking anywhere but at Castiel. Cas reached out hesitantly, laying a hand gently on Dean's shoulder. The other boy instantly jerked away from the touch, causing Castiel to withdraw his hand hastily. Castiel reached out cautiously again, this time moving towards their note paper.
This story. It's happened to you before, hasn't it? That's why you keep being rude to me.
Dean picked up the paper voluntarily this time, raising an eyebrow and releasing a breath of air, a single humorless and silent laugh.
I'm not exactly the friendly type, if you haven't noticed.
Dean handed back the paper with a sarcastic smirk, looking pleased with himself.
No. Instead, you hide behind your sarcasm and your bad-boy façade. But none of it's real. Really, you've just been left behind and hurt by too many people to allow anyone else in. Castiel returned the paper to Dean. Dean read it, jaw clenched, and then crumpled the sheet and threw it towards the trash can with a snarl. Castiel pulled another sheet of paper from his notebook sheepishly.
Sorry, Cas wrote. That was a bit forward, wasn't it? I don't have a lot human interaction. Other than Meg, anyways, and she's just about as abrasive as you are. I'm not very good at making friends. Castiel wasn't sure why he was telling Dean all this, but he was. For some reason, reaching out to this boy seemed incredibly important to him.
After a moment's consideration, Dean accepted the note. He looked up at Castiel when he was done reading, biting his lip. He sat there, fiddling with his pencil, clearly having an internal debate with himself. Finally, he pushed the paper back at Cas, not responding, but at least signifying he would let Castiel keep talking to him.
It's not… offending you, is it? My writing to you? I just couldn't think of any other way to communicate with you, Castiel scribbled down, glad he hadn't pushed too far with his previous comment.
At first, it bothered me. It seemed rude and insensitive. But, honestly, at least you're trying. That's more than anyone else at this dump can say, Dean responded. Cas was about to write a response when Dean suddenly snatched the paper back from him. Why do you care so much, anyways? Dean added.
I don't know, Cas answered simply. Dean read the short note and pushed the piece of paper back at Cas, shaking his head, not satisfied with the reply. Cas sighed to himself.
I suppose it's because I've been friendless before. I know how much it sucks, and I've seen what a difference having even one friend can make.
Dean's eyes scanned over the note. After reading it, he sat for a moment, pencil lying untouched on the table. Suddenly, he picked up the paper and folded it, slipping it into his pocket. Cas opened his mouth to protest, forgetting Dean wouldn't be able to hear him anyways, but the bell rang loudly, cutting him off. Instantly, Dean was on his feet and out the door, turning in their comic as he went. Cas shut his mouth and picked up his own belongings, brow furrowed in thought. This Dean Winchester kid was going to be tough to crack.
