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Some days were better than others. Usually by the time you woke up in the morning, you could tell if it was going to be a good day, where you actually felt human and alive. Then there were the other days. The days that you just tried to survive. Pasting on a smile, pretending that you weren't breaking on the inside.
You had hoped today would be a good day. You had already promised Dean that you would go to the diner with him, binging on pie and ice cream. But you could the helplessness sinking in, the numbness and the loathing that you couldn't seem to control. So instead of having to paste on another smile, pretending to Sam and Dean that you were okay, you locked yourself in your bedroom. Not even attempting to turn on your radio, you just sank down to the floor, resting your back against it as you placed your head on your knees.
Not sure how long you sat there, you let the tears fall. Not knowing exactly what they were falling for, you couldn't control them, or the emotions running rampant through you.
"Y/N, you okay? You're worrying me sweetheart." Dean's voice was muffled through the heavy door, but you could still hear the concern lacing his words.
"Dean, I just don't feel like going to the diner tonight." You muttered, hoping he would go away and leave you to your misery. But you also hoped that he wouldn't give up, because truthfully, you wanted someone to see you weren't okay. That your smile was usually fake.
You could hear shuffling on the other side of the door, and you could feel the tears start falling harder as you thought Dean was walking away. Of course, he wouldn't realize how much you were hurting. How much you hated yourself. How you didn't even feel like a part of this world anymore. How could he when you kept it all locked inside, away from anyone who would just pity you, telling you that it was all in your head.
"Hey Jude, don't make it bad Take a sad song and make it better Remember to let her into your heart Then you can start to make it better"
You could hear the song being sung on the other side of the door, Dean's deep voice carrying a tune for once. Singing loud enough to travel through the door, but not loud enough that his brother could hear him in the library.
Singing another couple of lines, he stopped, and you wondered what his next move would be. So caught up in his singing, your tears had stopped falling, your heart rate slowly down, just a little bit. You were caught up in Dean, and what he would do next.
"Please don't make me sing anymore." He pleaded. "Just open up the door. Please sweetheart."
Sighing deeply, you stood up, your body protesting the movement. Unlocking the door, you opened it, immediately engulfed in Dean's strong arms. Guiding you back into your room, he shut the door behind him. "I'm here Y/N. I'll always be here." He kept assuring you, over and over.
Letting go of you for a moment, he sat down on your bed, before pulling you down next to him. Pressed up against his side, you snuggled in, keeping your tear stained face away from his view. With his hand rubbing up and down your back, you matched your breaths to the rhythm, calming down. "Y/N, you have tried to hide this for so long. It's killed me, waiting for the moment you would decide to confide in me."
"You've known?" You sniffled. "I didn't want you to think less of me, or pity me. I do a good enough job of that myself."
"Of course I've known. You mean so much to me, I'm going to notice what's a real smile, and a mask. I didn't know what to do, how to help. But my Mom used to sing that to me, and it always made me feel better."
"It was nice. You did well." You told him, glancing up at him. Reaching over, he brushed his knuckles under your eyes, wiping away the tears.
"Anything for you sweetheart. I just want you to realize you are not in this alone. You've got me, whether you want it or not." He insisted.
"It's just so hard. There are days that I don't want to feel. That everything seems wrong, that it feels like I don't even belong in this life." You admitted, never imagining you would say these words out loud. "There are days I hate myself so much. Days it's hard to get out of bed, to do anything."
"Then you and I will lay here. Watch a movie, just cuddle." He answered. "I know what it's like to hate yourself. To beat yourself up over every little thing. But I also know it's nice having someone there for you, even when you don't know what to say, or do."
"Can we just cuddle here? For a while?" You asked him, exhausted from your emotional day.
"Of course. I've already forced Sam to go get food from our diner. We'll have a nice evening in. You can talk, if you want. Or we can just sit here. Sure, these feelings won't go away this easily, but at least you won't have to deal with them alone."
Feeling slightly better, you cuddled deeper into his side, relieved to have him by your side.
