Dinner at 3 (Destiel AU)

VI

      That Saturday I couldn't sleep.  I didn't get to see Dean Friday 'cause my Mother didn't go to Ralph's. I was worried.  100's of thoughts bursting through my mind, a mile a minute, beginning to give me a head ache on the side of my skull.  I was usually a stressed person, but this was different.  I imagined thousands of words hitting the insides of my head at a million miles an hour, cracking the fragile bone.  I closed my eyes and curled up in the sheets of my bed, pulling up other thick, heavy blankets too.  I shoved my face in the side of the mattress where he'd slept many times before, trying to waft even a small smell of his cologne in.  But there wasn't a scent, and no matter how much I tried to focus my mind on something, anything else, it always floated back to Dean, obsessing and pulling apart every second I'd spent with him.  Picking every detail apart, and analyzing each one a thousand times over.   I got up, ripping apart my room.  I searched and searched but found nothing, maybe because I wasn't looking for anything.  Just picking, and picking.  I flipped my chair, ripped the blankets and books and games and pictures all down from their places.  I couldn't get my head straight.  I sat down at my desk picking at a scab just above my ankle, until it ripped off and red blood poured out.  I just watched it slowly drip out, big, fat, drops of crimson.  Then I looked at my face in the mirror hanging above my computer on my desk.  I sighed, touching the little crevasse under my eye.  Wow, I wasn't that attractive.  I thought back to the last time I thought that.  Maybe a week ago?  I don’t know.  I'd had a lot of bigger things on my mind that distracted and blurred the occasional harsh thoughts that slipped from my brain.  I'd been transitioning from single to not single, from hating life to kinda enjoying it, and from coffee to tea. 

Big transitions for someone so young.  

I huffed and picked at the seat more, finding a loose thread and looping it around my fingers until they turned blue.  I unwrapped and re-wrapped them until I’d grown tired of doing so.  I turned on a play list and slid tiredly off the chair and onto the floor.  I rolled on my side and lay there for a good 40 or so minutes, thinking about how tired I was.  I immersed my self in the song that was playing.  It was a song I hadn't listened too since 8th grade.  It brought up feelings that I hadn't felt since then. Sadness, shame, and absolute depression were the strongest of them.  It made me think about how far I'd come, how much better I'd gotten with time.  I was so lost then, so sad, so angry.  And if I’d ended it then, if I’d given up I would've missed so much.  I felt angry at my self, but sad too.  I'd spent so long being that way, un happy.  I wasn't going to waste any more time.  I was going to force my self to breath.  Force my self to make my life better.  To have fun.  I didn't want to go back there.  No, I wanted to be happy and to get better.  I wonder what Sam and Dean were doing right then.  They'd become a better family, a better support than any one that was actually blood to me.  It hurt in the worst way that they were gone, my mom, and my family.  It was so wrong.  So fucking wrong.  She didn't love me.  But it felt good in the best way that my replacement was so much better.   So much more loving and caring.  I may not have had a biological family, but I had a family, and they were better than anything I could wish for. 

I spent the next hour listening to those songs that I didn't dare listen too because of those memories.  And I sang along.  And I was happy, and proud and not ashamed any more.  I’d come so far, accomplished so much, and I knew I’d still have days were I would get bad again, but I had Dean and Sam to pull me up when I fell down.  They could save me from my self when I couldn’t.  When I couldn’t get up in the morning, they were there.

A sharp sound came from my window.  I climbed up on my bed and looked out, the sound came again and I now knew the source.  Small pebbles hitting my window softly.  I opened up the window and yelled out down to the blonde idiot sitting on his impala on my front lawn.  He was wearing something semi nice for once, a black v-neck and a leather jacket with jeans that didn't have rips in them, I didn't even know he had a pair like that.