A/N: SOBS GROSSLY I AM SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE ;A; I've been working on some cosplays/props for Anime Expo in July~ ;w; gsjsjdksosbuueeehhh also I apologize ahead of time for this chapter. Tw: depression, self harm. OTL I was gonna try to keep this fluffy and cute the whole time, but that is just completely impossible for me. Nothing I write or rp is ever angst-less OTL OTL OTL but anyway yes here you go
"Okay, that's it. I'm never gonna believe you again when you say you're not good at something." Dean set down his GameCube controller, pouting.
Cas chuckled silently, lifting his phone.
'I really did not expect to be any good at it. It is my first time playing, after all.'
"Stop rubbing it in!" Dean flopped over onto his stomach, sulking. Castiel crawled over and lay down next to him, trying hard to keep a straight face. Dean stared at him, trying to glare...but he simply couldn't. "Dammit, Cas, I just can't stay mad at you." He reached over and pulled Castiel into his arms, then proceeded to roll around on the floor with him, only stopping when he was laughing so hard he couldn't move.
When he finally managed to catch his breath, Dean glanced at his watch and sighed. "I have an early start at work tomorrow, so I should probably head home soon." Castiel nodded, his lower lip jutting out a little in a slight pout.
Dean chuckled and ruffled the shorter man's hair. "Don't worry, I'll come straight here after work." He stood and gathered his things, then pulled Castiel into a hug, giving him a tender kiss. "See you tomorrow, Cas." With a smile and a wave, Dean left.
Parting with Dean was always terribly difficult for Castiel. When they were together, he felt happier than he ever had since before the accident. But once he was alone, Castiel would end up thinking, generally about things he didn't want to think about. He would think about the accident, about the kids who bullied him in school after he had become mute, about his family... He would start to feel unbearably lonely, and the scars on his arm from the years of depression he had suffered from after the accident would begin to itch and tingle.
No, he would tell himself. You can't do that anymore. You have Dean. You don't need to.
But the tingling would sometimes get unbearable, and Castiel would head for his blade- but each time, a text from Dean would stop him, leaving him with a smile on his face and not a trace of thought of the blade in his mind.
Sometimes, Castiel would wonder why Dean had chosen him. He did not find himself to be attractive or special in any way, especially next to Dean. Dean was perfect. He was beautiful and friendly, kind and funny...
And Castiel couldn't even bring himself to talk. He had tried so many times after meeting Dean to talk, standing in front of a mirror and opening his mouth, only to get frustrated when he could not manage to make a sound.
Oh, how he wished he could speak, to converse normally with Dean...
Out of all of the people Dean could have chosen from- and Castiel was sure there were plenty- why did he choose Castiel..?
What did he see in him?
Castiel would sit for hours and just think about it all, which would generally lead to depression, pushing Castiel towards the blade...
Today was one of those days.
Castiel found himself sitting on his bathroom floor, stripped down to his boxers, the broken razor blade in his hand. The pale white skin of his bared body looked so inviting, especially when he saw the scars that were already there.
Before the accident, Castiel had actually been quite tan. Marching band in middle school and the beginning of high school had kept him fit and out of the house.
But he stopped going to school after that fatal day. Only after months of persuasion from teachers did Castiel return to education, taking the course of independent study to catch up before returning to school. He made it to a good enough college, graduating with a degree in Latin, for honestly no reason at all. A slip of paper pulled from a hat had decided that for him.
After college, Castiel started a habit of buying things in bulk and selling them online. He knew he would not be able to work with others, given his condition, so this became a solid job for him. He left the apartment less and less often, thus growing paler and paler with each passing day.
A sharp prick in Castiel's leg brought him back to the present. As he had fallen deeper and deeper into thought, the hand holding the blade had fallen into his lap. He lifted it again, and pressed it to his shoulder. Castiel avoided cutting in places like his wrist, which could be easily seen if he wore shorter sleeves. He knew it wouldn't be considered weird for him to never wear sleeveless shirts, so his shoulder was an ideal place; as were his chest, stomach, and inner thighs.
As stupid as he thought it was to cut himself, the relief he got from it was indescribable. Slicing through flesh, killing cells-killing part of himself, no matter how small, felt somehow...great.
Some part of Castiel half expected his phone to go off with a message from Dean.
But there was not a sound in the bathroom aside from Castiel's uneven breathing.
The blade came down on flesh and dragged through, quickly drawing blood. Castiel let out a little sigh, then pressed it down again, dragging it slowly...
As always, Castiel lost track of time as the blade sliced through his flesh over and over, as the blood trickled down his arm. He had moved the blade to his chest, when he heard a noise from the apartment. Tensing, he moved a bit closer to the door to listen.
"Cas?!"
It was Dean's voice, frantically calling for him.
"Cas, are you there?!" He was getting closer to the bathroom...
In a panic, Castiel grabbed some toilet paper, quickly unrolling it and tearing off a piece, wiping the blood from his arm. He pressed it to the cuts, hoping to slow the bleeding while he searched for bandages.
But Dean burst in then.
"Cas! You didn't answer my texts, so I tried calling and-" He froze, eyes falling on the bloody toilet paper against Castiel's arm. His mouth opened, then closed again when he saw the blade.
"Oh, no," Dean whispered. "No, no, Cas, no..." His lip quivered, tears welling up in his eyes.
Castiel kept his eyes on the ground. He was so ashamed to have been caught, so ashamed to have been the cause of Dean's tears...
'I'm sorry,' he mouthed, a few tears of his own sliding down his cheek. Now Dean would think he was a freak. Now Dean would hate him. Now Dean would lea-
Dean threw his arms around Castiel, pulling him into a tight hug.
"I-I'm so sorry, Cas," he sobbed quietly. "I sh-should have noticed..."
Castiel stood stock still for the moment it took for everything to register. Dean wasn't...leaving? He relaxed, unable to keep himself from lapsing into sobs.
When Dean finally managed to compose himself enough to speak again, he pulled away, hands resting on Castiel's cheeks. "Please don't do this to yourself anymore," he said quietly. He let go of Castiel, picking up the blade and taking the bloodied toilet paper from him. He threw those away, then rummaged around for the first aid kit.
After he finished tending to Castiel's shoulder, Dean picked the smaller man up and carried him to the couch. He left for a moment, returning with hot tea and blankets; he set down the tea and wrapped the blankets around Castiel before worming his way in and slipping his arms around him.
After a long silence, Dean spoke.
"Cas?"
Castiel raised his eyebrows in response.
"I love you."
'I love you too,' Castiel mouthed.
Dean pulled himself up and pressed a gentle, tender kiss to Castiel's lips.
"I love you so, so much..." He showered the smaller man with tiny little kisses on his lips, his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, his shoulders...
Then he shifted so Castiel could rest comfortably on top of him, and his arms locked around the mute man's waist. "Rest, baby. You must be tired," he murmured.
Castiel had never been so grateful for someone in his entire life. The question of "why me?" floated back into his mind, but he pushed it away. He could ask Dean all of the questions he wanted to later. For now, he would take Dean's advice and rest.