Always Cas | ✔

CHAPTER TWELVE; part two

     We stay like that, exchanging oxygen like we're underwater trying to keep each other alive, until Cas makes this unexpected sound, something caught between a sob and a gasp. He slides down my chest, curling into it as he rasps, the sound wet and butchered because he's trying to hold it back. I sit up as best I can, jolted by the suddenness of it, of him, trying to wrap my arms around his back. His face is damp against my sternum.

     Just as suddenly as it comes on, it stops. He pulls away, out of my arms, sliding off of me at an angle that makes me bite against the burst of pain. He takes a loud breath. "I'm sorry," he says as he tries to move away from me, reaching up to press the palms of his hand against his cheeks. His eyes are raw and so is the tip of his nose. I don't think I've ever seen him cry before. Did he cry when I left?

     He's avoiding my gaze. I reach over, grabbing of ahold his face so I can pull him towards me. "It's okay," I say, and he shakes his head like it's not, his hands moving to hang from my wrists. He presses forward, kisses me deep enough that I taste the salt of the tears that had gotten into his mouth. "It's okay," I whisper again.

     He breathes against me, the sound muffled, before he pushes away, rubbing at his face roughly. "I should go," he says as he slides to the edge of the bed.

     "Wait — you don't have to," I say, but stop when he shoots me a look.

     He reiterates, "I'm gonna go."

     I reach out, grabbing his hand. He looks down at it, confused, as if he forgot he has limbs. Or that I have limbs. Or that our limbs have ever touched. "I need to say something."

     This is a horrible time to say this. Have I always had such horrible timing?

     He stares at me, reading the situation, reading me, and then shakes his head. Somehow his expression is even more lethal now that his eyes are bloodshot. "I don't want to hear it. You know that. I told you I don't."

     "Please just let me say this, just this one time and I'll never say it again." Cas stares and when he doesn't respond I don't know if he's giving me the opportunity or not. My stomach has sunk to my feet. "I'm sorry."

     He springs up from the bed, detaching our hands as he searches the floor for his clothes. "Cas," I repeat. "I'm sorry."

     "Stop it," he responds quickly, voice tight.

     "It wasn't — I wasn't right," I say just as quickly. I didn't plan this and going off script could be potentially fatal. "I was wrong to do that to you."

     "Yeah, no shit." He finds his pants, pulls them on so fast he nearly falls over.

     "I never wanted it to be like this for you."

     He turns, then, meeting my gaze. "Like what? Painful? Because I ache all the time, Dres. All the fucking time. And the worst part is—you were here. The whole time you were here. Unbothered, unconcerned. And where was I? I was off sending you letters every freaking day. I kept writing to you, even after I figured out you were never going to send anything back, even when I knew we were absolutely over, even though you broke my damn heart. I never gave up on the idea of us. Even though you so clearly had."

     "I didn't give up on us," I say and my voice has changed. I'm pleading but I don't know what for. "I gave you up, Cas. Because I loved you and wanted what was best for you even if that meant hurting you."

     He's back to pulling on his clothes again, this time with more gusto, like he cannot get into these clothes fast enough. Like he cannot get out of here fast enough.

     Like he cannot get away from me fast enough.

     "I'm sorry that I hurt you," I say finally. "I'm sorry I wasn't honest. I don't know how many ways I can say it, Cas. I thought you would move on. I thought you would have a good life."

     He yanks his sweatshirt over his head, his hair shooting upwards in all directions. "I wanted a good life with you," he screams. "And you took that choice away from me. You didn't even — you didn't even consider what I wanted." He stops at the top of the stairs. "And because why? Because you thought you knew better. Because you thought you could just make decisions for me."

     I sigh, defeated. He's won. He'll always win. He deserves as much. "Can I just explain?"

     He shakes his head. "Nope. No. I really don't want to hear it. I'm leaving now."

     "Cas, wait," but he's already down the stairs. I remain where I am, listening to my breath leave me until I hear the front door slam.