Chapter 9: Choose

There you were. You were sitting on one of the chairs at one of the neatly arranged, dark wooden tables, with the little lamps on them, inside the bunker you call your home. And you were reading in a thick, old book. I liked watching you. Your eyes were moving across the pages and it was quiet around us. I was the silent observer of the things you achieve. I felt the presence of your realization in the air and it was as if I had it, too. And I still loved it. But something had changed. I was only that now, only the observer, nothing else.

It felt as if I had been sitting there forever. My forever in your presence. But it was not our togethership anymore. It was apartship. I felt how it bothered you, how you noticed my looks on you and every moment you would cut them off. You wouldn't let me continue. You didn't understand it. Still. And it was, as if you didn't even want to understand it anymore.

I waited for a rough "Cas" to stop me, maybe even hoped for it, because it didn't matter what you would say, at least your would talk to me at all. But instead you lifted your head and stared me down, with a look full of accusation and maybe something like disrespect. Your eyes bore into mine and it didn't take forever, until I couldn't bear it any longer. I looked away, ashamed and defeated. But I still cared about you and I wanted to have a part in you. And so I tried to see without using my eyes. I heard your breathing and watched your heartbeat. Felt your presence, sensed your scent in the air around me. And it was almost enough.

I would have given anything for your smile. Your smile that could end wars and cure cancer. The unique artifact, the treasure in the depths of the ocean. Your smile that was all I seemed to be, because it was all that had a meaning. And could I do anything to see that smile every day and every minute, I would do it. And could I do anything to ever make you smile at me again, I would do it. But for the moment I couldn't. I had to wait. Practice patience and let you go, with the hope you would come back.

And all my hope was built by only and alone the fact that you let me sit here. I wasn't allowed to stare at you or watch you, but I was allowed to sit here. In your field of vision. It had taken me days to even dare to, but here I was. You could see me. And even when you didn't want to, you let me. It was just a small win, tiny really, but it was a step in the right direction. Because each step is followed by further, and at the end of the road you would have forgiven me.

I know, it was my fault we had reached this point, but it still felt like an eternal reminder of my failure. It hurt, your rejection. The way you looked at me, if you even payed attention to me at all. I was Nothing and I had to become Something again. And even when it hurt me, I was still sure you're the only one I want to be hurt by.

"You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world (…), but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices."

(John Green, "The Fault in our Stars")

You closed your book and stood up. I wanted to be part of your realization, but you wouldn't talk to me. You went away, I didn't know where. I wanted to come with you, but you wouldn't let me. So I waited, until you disappeared in the hallways, and decided to follow you, invisibly. I'm not proud of it, but I had to be with you. And wouldn't you accept me by your side, I would have to do it behind your back.

You went to the kitchen, which held all the memories of our routine in it, but no longer vivid and actual, but dead and buried. Sam was sitting in front of his laptop and seemed to do some research. He looked up and seemed almost surprised to see you.

"Hey," he threw into the room and got a nod.

After you had been wandering around the room for a bit, like I still do it from time to time in the hallways, he cleared his throat and closed his computer. His hands folding in front of him on the table, as if he prayed for getting anything out of you this time. Because you're a pit with a false bottom, you talk and say, but one never really seems to find out everything.

"So," Sam began anew, "how's things with Cas?"

You threw him a meaningful look and snort went out of you, as if to let go some of the tension.

"What you think…," you answered.

"You know," your brother gave, with a dramatic pause, which told everyone, who knew him, that he was about to say something important, "I know he made a mistake"

"One hell of a mistake," you interrupted him.

"Yeah, one hell of a mistake. But…"

"He killed someone, Sam"

"I know, I know. But, Dean… it's Cas we're talking about"

"So?" you said, as if my name didn't mean anything. My heart was burning and my soul crying. I am Cas and you are Dean, we're meant to be together. Everyone knows that. Your brother knew. Why didn't you know?

"So… come on, Dean, you know you can't stay mad at him forever"

"Why not?" and I had a thousand reasons why not, minimum. The urge to storm in and shout each and every one of them into your eyes became so big, I was barely able to withstand it. But I had to stay calm. Unseen and undisappointing. Because you didn't want me to follow you, and couldn't I fulfill that wish directly, I still had to fulfill it inside your knowledge.

"Because it's Cas, Dean," your brother said, as if it was the only reason ever needed, "Cas and you, you're… you're so close. You can't just lock him out like that. You need him, you know that"

And you were thinking about it and for a moment it seemed like you would understand. But then you said, "I don't need him," and my guts began to spin painfully by this colossal lie you dared to say out loud just like that, "He needs me"

"I didn't need you, you idiot. I picked you. And then you picked me back."

(John Green, "Papertowns")