Castiel once asked Dean Winchester what he meant to him. What he really sees in Castiel. Who he is, in his eyes.
Dean could never make himself clear.
Constantly running away from the angel and avoiding every serious conversation about his feelings.
He could never find words that were enough to explain.
But then came a time, when Dean felt so tremendously sorry for always hiding his real desires and denying the fundamental fact, where his heart truly belongs.
Where he wanted it to belong.
So in the darkness of his room, several empty bottles scattered on the floor, he finds himself sitting on the chair, a piece of paper outspread on the desk in front of him, the pen hovering quiveringly over the white surface, as he begins to write.
Who you are
You’re my heart,
My pure excitement
Always longing for your glance to hit me
You’re the blue ocean at the sunrise
My morning star
My brightest light
Still every time you look at me
The world seems to disappear
You’re the fleshly incarnation
Of everything that’s good and shiny
Here on this doomed planet
You’re my savior and my guide
Who led me through hell
And to myself
Heaven, Darkness, Emptiness
Can never harm us
As long as we’re together
You’re my salvation,
And the destination of my reached out hand
You’re my lover and my friend
And you will eternally be
My beloved angel.
To Cas…from Dean
The sheet of paper is blotched with tears, which were permanently dropping from Deans eyes in silent continuity. Ink stains have smudged some words, but who cares anyway.
There was nothing left to say.
He puts the letter in the drawer, next to his bed. Together with some black feathers, a button from a dress-shirt and a mixtape, Dean plans to lock it there.