When morning came, a note crumpled on the floor in front of my door told me that dad would be gone for the better part of the week and if the house wasn't spotless by the time he got back on Thursday I would not like the consequences. I assumed I wouldn't. At 12:37 p.m. I was pulling on a pair of jeans and a black Pierce The Veil long sleeve with a gray scarf. I suppose I could be called gay for it, but really, of all the things I worry about, that is not one of them. And besides, it was damn cold outside. I didn't plan on freezing today. I tugged on my worn black biker boots- worn from time, mostly, because I wear them every day and have had them for three years, having bought them too big because I knew my dad wouldn't be buying me any others any time soon. They've got steel buckles laddering the sides and they're heavy duty-real leather- and made for all weather, including Washington weather. With my jeans precariously tucked into my boots, I made my way to the kitchen, pulling on a red beanie as I went. I had, what people typically described, as 'emo hair'. First off, it wasn't my fault it was black and second off, it also wasn't my fault that it was really the only hair cut I could pull off. I stuffed half a granola bar in my mouth, waiting impatiently for my new friend to get here.
At exactly one o'clock, just as I was shoving the rest of my granola bar into my mouth, the door bell rang. I smiled to myself, stuffing my wallet in my pocket before heading over, pulling open the door. Castiel stood there, also wearing a beanie- his was dark blue, and he also had the 'emo hair', though his was chocolate brown- and he was wearing a gray Fall Out Boy long sleeve, dark jeans, and black boots that looked just as worn as mine did. But, on the bright side, he wasn't wearing a scarf, so we didn't look like two best friends trying to match outfits.
At least he had good taste in music.
"Nice outfit." We both said it at the same time. He grinned and I smiled a small, half smile, before I stepped outside, locking the door behind me and putting the key back in the very suspicious and lonely rock right next to the Welcome mat. He led us to his car, and I jumped quickly in the passenger seat. He had the car running still, so it was actually warm. I smiled and turned the vents towards me as he pushed in a Fall Out Boy CD. He kept the music low so we could still talk.
"Lovely day, isn't it?" Castiel said, waving a hand at the heavy gray clouds and the trees bending in the wind. I chuckled.
"Beautiful," I replied, looking out the window, humming along to 'Sugar, We're Goin Down'.
We got to the Starbucks in ten minutes. It was empty again, and this was probably because it was much smaller than most, and on a corner hidden behind a building where it wouldn't be seen by passing cars. It was nice, actually, not having to worry about other people.
"Same as last time, doll?" Alex asked, looking between us, and we both nodded. I handed her two fives, and she once again gave me my change.
"Thank you, ma'am,' Castiel said politely to the older woman.
"No problem, sweetie," she said, smiling. We sat down on the couch again.
"So, if you could be anything, what would you be?" Castiel asked after a beat of silence spent listening to the oldies Elvis station that was on. Luckily, the soft music droned out our conversation so Alex couldn't hear.
"Poet," I said without a seconds pause. One side of his mouth tipped up.
"Really?" he asked.
"Really," I replied. "What about you?"
"Author," he said, smile widening a bit. One made its way to my own lips, too.
"That's awesome. Why?" I asked.
"I guess I just like creating the characters, and their back stories and their problems. It makes real world problems seem...not as bad, I guess. And, it kind of, ya know..." he trailed off, as if unsure whether he should continue.
"It takes you out of reality," I said matter-of-factly. He nodded.
"Yeah. It's much better to be in a reality that I create than here. But...here isn't so bad right now." He smiled a warm smile and sipped his coffee. I nodded. I understood that completely because that was exactly how it was for me. Getting lost in an ecstasy of words was much better than getting lost in an ecstasy of world problems.
This time I told him about the oven, and how I never turned it off. I told him how the fire had been my fault. I'd already accepted this. I already knew that what I had done was irreversible. And the acceptance meant it no longer brought tears to my eyes. He frowned at me but listened patiently, his eyes sad as I continued talking.
After, I'd finished, he'd proceeded to tell me how depressed his father had been, how Castiel had sometimes caught his father with a gun in his hand, and how he'd always shove it away in the nightstand drawer, before Castiel could really debate it. He'd been too young to really understand his father's mindset, but he told me he understood it now. He understood the feeling of worthlessness, the pain of waking up another day, the breathlessness of a steel blade slicing through his skin. That was something we both understood far too well.
I knew now why I'd been drawn to this boy. It's because we both had that gray cloud hovering above us. It's because we both accepted it. It's because we both accepted imminent death and knew it would come sooner for us than later. It was because we were both dying. Not physically, maybe, but mentally and emotionally. We were falling apart. And, it seems, the dying call to each other.
We stayed until it got dark, but this time, we didn't just talk. We wrote. We started to write stories.
But we were more than writers; we were creators. And we created worlds together.
When I went home that night, he came too. He'd told his mother he was staying with a friend. And I guess, that's when it became true.
