Chapter 2
The next few evenings, the same thing happened. Dean trained alone in the room and every now and then he let his eyes wander secretly to the windows. And indeed, on the second evening the boy appeared again. He stood just as motionless as the first time at the railing and looked into the room. Dean let him, but also made no move to open the windows and say anything or invite the boy inside. He let him watch and just like the first night, just left the room and went home. Secretly, he had to admit to himself that he didn't even find the boy unattractive. Despite all the piercings, the makeup and the daredevil look.
Then one night, a few weeks after the first time, Dean tried his hand at a figure called Penché. He was dressed only in underpants and had been trying for hours to get this figure. The young punk stood again in front of the window and this time Dean had chosen the place directly in front of the window. If the punk was going to keep coming here, he should get to see something good. Towards the end, Dean even finally managed the figure and completely exhausted, he turned to leave. On his way to the door, he turned around and smiled at the boy. Then he disappeared and went to shower and locker room.
Freshly showered and wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt that was already a little older, he made his way out a little later. He was tired and just wanted to go home. Tomorrow was going to be a big day and he didn't want to disappoint his coach. Tomorrow not only his teacher, but also another teacher and the ballet master would personally watch the training. It would then depend on whether he would actually be accepted into the soloists. Dean had worked very hard for it and hoped that everything went well.
Once outside, he stopped, looked up at the sky, and took a deep breath. Then he heard footsteps approaching. He lowered his head and turned in the direction from which the footsteps were heard. There stood the punk. Directly opposite him and with his hand outstretched. Dean eyed him. Blue eyes hidden behind black eyeliner, a pale, narrow face, and piercings on his ear. Dean grasped the offered hand and the boy squeezed firmly but not uncomfortably.
"Hi," the boy said. "I'm Castiel."
"Hi, Cas," Dean replied. "I'm Dean."
Dean eyed the boy again before slowly withdrawing his hand.
"Dean, I just want to tell you that it looks so beautiful when you dance. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been watching you for a while now. I wanted to finally tell you that after you smiled at me earlier."
"Yes, I noticed you. And thank you. Why are you here?"
"I drive this way from time to time, but since I happened to see you here, well I drove this way more often. To be honest, I don't like ballet at all, but you-" Dean smiled awkwardly.
"Thank you, Cas." Then he cleared his throat. "Would you like to come to practice sometime?"
"No," came Castiel's prompt reply.
"Okay," Dean said, slightly unsettled. "Don't have to, just thought you'd like to watch me sometime when you're inside."
"I would, but not with everyone else around. You know what I mean? I want to spare us both weird looks."
"Cas, please don't ever be ashamed of who you are! And I meant for you to come watch when I'm training alone like I did tonight." Castiel laughed softly.
"Oh well, maybe I'd like to then."
"Okay, now I have to get home."
"See you, Dean." Castiel roared off on his skateboard. Dean watched him go until he was out of sight. Then he walked to the car, got in, and drove away.
Almost as if Castiel had known, he didn't show up the next day. Dean was also so busy with his training and proving that he had what it took to be a soloist that he hadn't given it a second thought anyway. It had been very exhausting hours and Dean was super happy when he was sitting at home again that evening. Sam had once again stayed with friends and even if Dean would never have admitted it out loud, in such moments he felt very alone. He really only had his brother, there was no real friendship to be made in the company. The other dancers were potential competitors.
So now he was sitting on the sofa, watching something he couldn't follow anyway, and stretching his feet on the side. It couldn't hurt to be able to bend them a little bit more. Only a small salad had been his supper, he had not had much appetite after such an exhausting day anyway. He had to pay attention to so many things. How many calories he ate, what clothes he wore, what shoes he could wear... Some days he wished he would just give up dancing. But then he imagined the astonished faces of his acquaintances when he actually danced in a performance.
He turned off the TV and went over to the bedroom. After lying down, he reviewed the day. The smile of his trainer, the teacher who had shown no emotion at all (she had only been there to watch his movements) and then the ballet master. He was especially proud of the small nod Dean had received from him at the end. The ballet master was considered gruff and aloof, but he had noticed Dean.
Now that he was finally settling down a bit, he thought about Castiel again. Or Cas, as the nickname had immediately crossed his lips. He had gotten time off from class for tomorrow, but he still wanted to go to practice in the evening. Maybe this fascinating boy would be there again. And maybe they could talk some more, and maybe they could meet outside of it sometime. With that thought, he fell asleep.
They had been meeting for weeks now. Either Castiel would drop by at practice or Dean would drive him around the streets a bit after practice to where Castiel was getting off. Meanwhile they talked about all kinds of topics, their worries or sometimes they said nothing at all. They had become inseparable during the whole time. Dean had gotten his solo role and Castiel had started making music with a few people. It wasn't Dean's style of music at all, but he had always emphasized that he came along for Castiel anyway.
He had already taken Castiel home with him. At the beginning he had been a bit unsure, especially because he was afraid of Sam's reaction. Sam hadn't been there the first few times, but when he did meet Castiel at some point, he had smiled, hugged him and said that he was glad to finally meet some of Dean's friends. Dean had not understood why Castiel had been so emotional afterwards. He had sought physical contact with Dean more often than usual and Dean had granted it to him. Exactly how it had come about or why neither of them had interrupted it, neither knew, but that night they had kissed for the first time. What had started out light and insecure had ended with Dean on the couch, Castiel on top of him, and them both not wanting to break away from each other at all. Eventually, though, Castiel had pulled away and stood up. After the brief conversation that it didn't mean anything after all, they had said goodbye and Castiel had left. Since then, they had never mentioned it again, but Dean couldn't forget it.
Then came the moment Dean had hoped for so long. The Nutcracker was to be performed and Dean was one of the soloists. He had less and less time and could no longer meet with Castiel often. Castiel understood this and watched Dean as he used to, peering through the windows. Then came the inevitable. They got into an argument.
Dean had been training all day, then in the evening he had met up with his dance partner again and practiced the pas de deux again. The day before Castiel had had birthday and Dean had taken him home in the evening, Sam he had sent away as a precaution. He had baked Castiel a cake and when they had sat on the sofa later, they had come closer again. This time, however, it hadn't just been heated kisses. It had been Dean's gift to Castiel for his coming of age. Again, they had agreed that it had been a one-time thing. Dean had let Castiel spend the night at his place, but by the time he had woken up in the morning, Castiel was gone.
Now Castiel was waiting at the side entrance for Dean to come and talk to him, drive around, whatever would happen then. Castiel heard footsteps, then the voice he would have recognized anywhere, and then a soft female laugh. Castiel stood so that Dean (and his companion) couldn't see him right away. Then the two came out and the young woman spotted him immediately. Not exactly quietly, she informed Dean that there was that punk again whom she had seen here so often lately. Dean didn't even turn around, just told his companion that he was probably just a voyeur who wanted to watch the lightly clad bodies of the dancers. Then they got into Dean's car and drove away. For Castiel, a world collapsed. He never expected this from Dean. Sad and more than disappointed, he drove away. He could start crying at home, but not here. Once again he had trusted someone, had given him his body and soul, and once again it had been destroyed.
As he drove now to the place where Dean always dropped him off when they met outside, he noticed a car following him. He turned around and instead of being pleased when he recognized the black Chevrolet, anger boiled up inside him. Dean actually still dared to face him? Castiel stopped, although he really would have liked to drive on. Okay, and he also remembered his grandma's words, from when he was too little to understand them. 'Never leave without a last word' she had always said. 'You can't know if it's the last time you'll see that person.' Even though he was sad, hurt and angry, Castiel would talk to Dean one last time. Then he would leave.
The car had stopped and Dean had gotten out and walked toward him. They stood facing each other and looked at each other. About an arm's length apart they were.
"You heard us, didn't you?" asked Dean, looking ruefully at Castiel.
"Save it," Castiel replied matter-of-factly, then cleared his throat. "Dean, this is where we've been meeting for a very long time. You either pick me up here when I'm not at ballet school and you bring me here so I can go home from here. This place means a lot to me. There would be so much more I would have liked to tell you, but I can't now. And after what I had to listen to today, I don't know if I could tell you anymore. It's been so many months now, and I really thought I knew you, but-"
"Cas, please. This isn't fair. I didn't have any other choice, did I? What was I supposed to tell her, huh? 'Yeah, the punk stands here so often because he watches me dance and because we're friends and maybe more than friends?' Oh yeah, I like boys too by the way.' Should I have told her that? You can't imagine what would have happened at school if I had." Dean had interrupted him. Castiel had moved a little closer and now you could see that all anger was gone from his eyes. He just looked deeply sad.
"You told me at the very beginning when we first spoke that I should never be ashamed of who I am. I'd like to tell you the same thing, but I'm afraid it wouldn't even resonate with you. You only want to meet with me when we're alone. I don't even know if you would have introduced me to your brother if he hadn't happened to be there back then, and I can't do that anymore. I fell in love with you, Dean. That was never supposed to happen, but it did. I'd love to be seen in public with you, to show people that appearance alone doesn't matter, but well..." Castiel swallowed and noticed how Dean came even closer and finally put his arms around him. Castiel literally fell into the embrace and noticed tears welling up in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Cas," Dean murmured. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Please don't think I don't care about you, because I certainly do, but I can't." Castiel clutched at Dean's jacket and closed his eyes. Deeply, he inhaled Dean's scent, knowing it would be the last time. Then he moved away a bit and looked Dean in the eye.
"What we did was wrong, wasn't it? We never should have let it get this far, right?" asked Castiel, smiling tiredly. Dean shook his head vehemently and now he too had tears in his eyes.
"No, Cas. There was nothing wrong with that. It was very good, and I'll never forget it, but I can't-"
"Yes, you said that already," Castiel replied flatly. "Can we at least kiss one last time?"
Without giving an answer to this question, Dean leaned forward and kissed him. It were slow movements filled with unspoken words. Castiel tried to deepen this kiss a little more and was actually briefly happy when Dean allowed his tongue to enter. For a few moments they kissed so very intimately, but then a sob rose in Castiel and he broke away from Dean. Dean held his head tightly and at the same time stroked away the black marks under Castiel's eyes with his thumbs. Then he gave him another light kiss.
"I'm sorry, Cas."
"Just don't, okay!?" said Cas, his voice choked with tears. He pulled away from Dean's arms, and as he walked backwards putting more and more distance between them, he said something else. "I hope, Dean, that you find someone to show yourself with. I hope so." Then he drove off and Dean was left behind. He didn't even notice the tears that were now streaming down his face. He loved Castiel too after all, the feelings had grown over time, but he couldn't.
Dean and Castiel did not speak to each other again, nor did they see each other.
Often when Dean was alone in the training room, he would stand at the window for minutes, waiting to see if Castiel might come back to watch. But of course that wouldn't happen anymore. Dean had deleted Castiel's number and had also blocked his social media accounts. He wanted to be done with this, even though he secretly knew it would never work. He had even started dating his dance partner after she kissed him backstage after their first big performance. They had tumbled into bed together that night and had been dating ever since. Things were going well between them, and when Dean didn't close his eyes, they were going even better.
Castiel disappeared more and more from his thoughts. And even when he sat on the sofa with his girlfriend in the evening and they watched some music program with video clips of new songs, he didn't notice that one of the singers looked very much like Castiel. How could he, he had meanwhile been hanging on his partner's lips and she had taken a seat on his lap.
Castiel had often come late at night to the place, not far from the ballet school where Dean and he had spent so much time together. One night he was sitting there and the lines 'I am a punk, he did ballet' came to him and a few days later he and his friends had finished writing a song, recorded it and uploaded it. The song immediately went viral. And Dean and his memories became more and more forgotten. Castiel knew he could never forget him completely, but it didn't do any good to cling to the sadness.
A few months later, they gave a concert in Central Park with their first album. On the way there, Castiel could have sworn he saw a black Chevrolet drive by. But he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. He didn't want to think about it either, he was about to perform with his band and sing and play in front of a lot of people.
Then the big event began and Castiel tuned out everything around him. He was so wrapped up in the music and the lyrics that it looked to the audience as if he was in another world. When they started the song that would now bring back memories of Dean after all, Castiel began to shake slightly. 'Sk8ter Boi' was just full of his feelings for a ballet dancer who would never have committed to him. Someone he, Castiel, had sincerely loved though. During the last repeats of the chorus, Castiel had taken out his headphones and encouraged the audience to sing along. When he started to sing the chorus for the last time, he heard a lot of sirens. His voice failed him, a slight nausea overcame him and he lowered the microphone. He didn't understand what was wrong with him. The audience, however, did not mind. They assumed it was part of the show.
Dean didn't know what had happened. Just now he had been in the car on his way home, driving past Central Park. He had had the windows down and had noticed that again someone had given a concert in the park. Now he could not move, he was aware of many people around him, but what exactly was happening he could not say. His field of vision narrowed. He started to say something, but his voice failed him. A slight nausea overcame him, but before he could have vomited, everything went black.
When he regained consciousness, he heard a regular beeping sound, and when he finally managed to get a reasonably clear thought, it was blue eyes rimmed with black eyeliner that he saw.
"Cas," he croaked, then everything went black again.
