The Diary One

A Hit and... Not So Much Of A Miss

(alright before you yell at me hear me out. i know that its been ages since i updated this story so please if youre reading this know that what i have written so far is NOT DONE and most like will not be completed. this should be treated as an abandoned fic!!! ill explain a little more at the bottom but for now enjoy! ill update wattpad next week and everything i have written so far is at this link. http://archiveofourown.org/works/2347625?view_full_work=true)

After picking up his bag, Castiel looked into Dean's green eyes, his own eyes almost glazed over. After shaking his head, Castiel looked back at Dean, "Thank you again for getting my notebook."

Dean shrugged, "Not a big deal." He pulled the strap on his backpack up a bit. Looking down at Castiel. He had never thought of it before but Castiel was kind of attractive. Especially now, with his dark, black hair swept aside, perfectly framing his pale face, a perfect comparison with his bright blue eyes. He spaced out looking into Castiel's eyes, not realizing he was staring.

Castiel smiled, nervously, "Dean? Are you okay?"

Dean widened his eyes before shaking his head in realization, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine, don't worry." Dean swallowed, dryly, "I-uh, gotta go, I'll see you later, okay?"

Castiel laughed a bit, "Goodbye, Dean."

Dean nodded his head awkwardly before shuffling away. He grimaced to himself as he briskly walked through a crowd.

You stared at him. You fucking stared at him. Great job, Dean.

Dean squandered the rest of his day by dwelling on his own embarrassment. He pulled out his sketchbook by 5th period, World History, pulling out a single charcoal pencil and began sketching away. Dean usually drew anything he could. He would draw landscapes and self-portraits but his favorite thing to draw were other people. It gave him a chance to actually observe a person, and capture a moment in time that he could make himself. His notebook was packed with drawings of his friends, strangers he caught a glimpse of on the street, and sadly enough, multiple drawings of Ms. Bradbury. It wasn't much of an attraction thing, Dean knew that she favored women over men, but she was one of the closest things he had to a mother. Everyday, Dean would ignore whatever classwork he had to deal with for the day and sit himself down in the front of his art elective, with Charlie smiling down at the rest of the class. Charlie and Dean had almost everything in common, they enjoyed the same movies, read the same comics, and watched the same tv shows. Everything that Dean drew or painted in that class were basically cherished by Charlie, maybe because she realized that Dean needed some sort of positive energy in his life, but Dean didn't care what it was. He just needed that sense of satisfaction that he could grasp from a simple 'good job, Dean' or 'it's amazing'.

And then within a fraction of a second, it was all gone. It was over, she wasn't there anymore. The crash that ended not only Charlie's life but what felt like Dean's. His world crashed down around him in one night of bad decisions and a bastard who decided to get behind the wheel after a long night at the bar.

After about an hour of mindless drawing, the bell rang for Dean to make his way to sixth period. Dean sighed with discontent as he smudged a bit of his drawing, adding a bit of shade to the portrait. He didn't realize before, but after taking a moment to look at his drawing, he recognized the traits. The dark hair, sharp jawline, and deep eyes belonged to no one other than Castiel. Dean immediately felt his face burn just looking at the drawing.

What the fuck? Was I really...

Dean snapped his journal closed, shoving it back into his open backpack. He received a strange look for Jo Harvelle, a blonde girl who sat near Dean in most of his classes. He, along with the rest of the seniors, knew that she had a strange fascination with Dean, one that Dean couldn't possibly fathom. He cracked an awkward smile before quickly walking out of the room. Dean felt like he was driving down an infinite road of embarrassment that just had no end. Shuffling through the hallway it hit Dean that he had completely blown off Castiel for lunch. An image of Castiel standing alone by the locked door flashed into Dean's mind for a second before he flicked the idea away. He pulled out his phone, planning on shooting a quick text to Castiel, apologizing for leaving the boy in the dark, but quickly decided against the idea, avoiding any sort of confrontation where Dean would have to counter his own embarrassment. He scowled at himself as he walked through the hallway, quickly making his way to his sixth period and waiting for the day to end.

Dean left school at the end of the day with a sort of regret.

You should have apologized, you fucking idiot. Why are so embarrassed, you just spaced out, not a big deal!

Fuck, I messed up, I messed up, I just made this weird for myself. Goddamnit. AND I TOTALLY RUINED MY CHANCES OF GETTING THE NOTEBOOK BACK.

Dean stopped in place for a moment as he was walking his parked bike. He slapped his forehead as if shocking him back into reality.

Shut up, Dean, just shut up.

He walked around the school to pull his bike out of the small parking garage it was tied in. As he hopped onto the bike, he took a sharp turn out of the garage, pulling onto the bike lane. His eyes were focused on the road but his mind wouldn't leave the idea of Castiel alone. He could see everything in his way, he stopped wherever he had to, but his mind was too busy thinking of Castiel's definable features to devote his full attention to the street ahead of him. By now, most of the street was cleared, leading Dean to let his guard down and put away the thought that he really should be paying more attention. He took a turn to the right, when Castiel's smile flashed into his mind, his bright blue eyes gleaming with laughter, and his pale skin slightly pink.

That was when it happened. Dean didn't remember much.

A scream.

A screech.

He remembered falling.

And then light. He definitely remembered light.

A bright light, it was white. A blinding white.

But his eyes were closed.

He remembered noise, but not anything he'd heard before. It was a clash of metal and there was cracking of...something.

And then there was...

Darkness.

(hi! its me again! i know its been over a year but people have still been asking where to find the rest of the story so i decided just to post it here! enjoy)