Dean's POV

"And then you met me…" Cas can't see my face, but I'm smiling. It's not forced, either; this is the reason I came to him. Only Castiel could make me smile without trying, make me feel worth something, whether he thinks I am or not. This is why I chose him, and why every day I'm still here in this typical, American town, I will continue to choose him. "Tell me about that day Cas, that time we came round to dinner. We were so fucking civilised it was ridiculous, because it was meant to be all 'meet the parents', but our parents are either dead, missing, or deserted us." Silence. Utter silence. "I'm sorry Cas, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that. It-"

"It's fine."

"No it's not, look, I'm sorry. Just because of what happened to my parents doesn't mean I can talk shit about yours."

Cas still doesn't reply, not for a few seconds. "...My dad." He stutters. "My mum thinks she found him, and I know she hasn't, because if he was alive he would have come to us by now, but she thinks she has. I don't think I can deal with it again."

"Again?"

"She's done this before, twice, actually. And then there are the countless times she thought she saw him in a crowd and would drag us through a stream of people just to stare bug-eyed at some stranger with a similar hair style."

"So if you're so sure it's not him," I roll onto my back, and stare up at the ceiling. I've stopped crying, and I'm tenacious not to start again. "Why are you helping?"

"Gabriel. He said we should. It's not just that I can't say no to those annoying puppy-dog eyes, but he made a good point. Not a great one actually, but good enough. And I take that back, I really can't say no to him with that face. His argument was pathetic, but there's always a chance and I don't want to be the reason we miss it."

"Makes sense." I answer, because there's not much more to it than that. It's such a mad situation, the kind you watch movies about, or in Cas' case, read in books. "I think you're making the right decision, if it means anything."

"It does."

I blink a couple times. "Thanks, Cas. Thanks for everything."

I wonder if he's scared I'm trying to tell him something. He knows I'm into guys, and he knows I know that he is too. No sane guy comes sobbing to your house, and ends up curled onto you like a child to their second favourite toy: their love in demand of consent. Yet I can't help but also wonder if he's thinking anything else. I know what it's like to have someone resting on you, when you're terrified to even move because you think it will make them feel unwelcome, but in reality you never want them to leave. I've had tongues down my throat and hands on my waist and people inside of me, but I've never felt more loved than those few times when someone's leaning on you like they trust you to help them with the crap that they're going through.

Scratch that - it's too goddamn soppy. It's like they don't give a shit about anyone else, and they're so paranoid about losing you that they tell themselves it's inevitable.

I notice he's stopped playing with my hair, and that's it. I tell myself that that's his way of saying I'm not welcome anymore. I'm so paranoid about losing him, that I've convinced myself it's inevitable. It's comedic, given that I'll be leaving him anyway, and arrogant, given that I never had him in the first place.

So I accept that it's over, and I pull myself up into a sitting position. I don't want it to be over, though. Not yet.

"You know, this is the second time I've come crying round to your house." I mutter, slightly ashamed at my vulnerability.

Cas shrugs. "Well I guess you owe me big now. Maybe next time it will be me."

"No, you're too organised for that shit."

"Well I guess we'll see, we always have the anniversary of the day my dad went missing."

"Wow, dark humour Cas. I've come to realise that that might be your strong point."

He shrugs his shoulders again, but seemingly more relaxed than before.

And then a thought pops into my head. "What do you like about reading?" I ask.

Cocking his head to the side, Cas looks at me, trying to figure out why I asked that particular question. "It's another world." He says it so painfully simply. "No matter what's happening, there's always somewhere else you can go. They're recyclable galaxies, because you read it, and you love it, and then it's over, but once you've finished it, you can give it to someone else, and it will help them, but in a different way to how it helped you. Glass is re-shaped, and stories are retold. No two people interpret a book in the same way. Unless, that is, you believe in soulmates." Cas smiles fondly to himself.

"Do you?" I can't help but ask.

"What?"

"Believe in soulmates."

"No." His answer is abrupt, and I don't push it any further. Just another strange part of a beautiful man. "Why don't you read then, Dean?" He seems merely curious, not judgemental or demanding.

"I…" I don't want to tell him why. It's always been a weak spot for me, and I don't know why. It barely even affects me, I mean, I try, but when you move around as much as I do, schoolwork is pointless. There's no use in getting support for it when you're going to be gone before the second appointment.

"Are you dyslexic?"

I spin my head round to him, and I'm not angry, I just… How did he know?

"Sorry, it's just that you act like you want to read, but can't, and I thought maybe-"

"You're right." I purse my lips.

"I'm sorry…" He says again, guilt framing his words.

"You don't need to be, Cas. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Neither do you, you know."

"Of course I do." Is he mad? Look at all the stuff I'm putting him through, he doesn't deserve any of this, he has enough unfair shit going on in his own life as it is.

"But I want you here, Dean. Why don't you get that? I couldn't just leave you, not on a day like today, not after everything you've been through and everything you've done to help Gabriel."

"I don't deserve you." I whisper, and I pray to God he doesn't hear me.

All these things, my mum, being bi, dyslexia… I've never told anyone before. What is it about Cas? I want to tell him everything about myself, and the part of me that's afraid of judgement dissolves when he's around. Not because I don't care what he thinks, but because I know he won't care. On second thought, that's not completely true. I'm scared of him judging me on how I feel about him. Because I'm not only terrified that he'll find out, but that if he does he'll reject me. It's strange, spending so much of your life surrounded by these popular girls always throwing themselves at you, to the point where that's what you call normal, and then meeting someone who… They screw up your perception of everything. What was real is now fake, what was ordinary seems wrong, and what you wanted before was nothing compared to what you find yourself silently begging for now. It was never my plan to fall for Cas, but at some point I looked at him, and I chose not to look back. I'm still falling, because that's what it is, right? Falling in love. But the fall is the journey and love is the destination, and I wouldn't call this love. Because if it was, wouldn't he show some sort of attachment back? So here I am, falling, just waiting for the crash.

"What's it like?" Cas asks, oblivious to my trance.

I inhale, filling my lungs with the sunlit room's crisp air before I answer, as if a minor learning disability is anything next to the thoughts on my mind.