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Castiel tapped his foot nervously as he scrolled through Tumblr on his phone. He was sitting in the waiting room of his school's Student Health and Wellness Center. He looked around discreetly as he heard the door opening and closing. Each time a smiling man or woman would call out a name or group name softly and usher those students in. His heart was thudding arrhythmically in his ears and he had to take deep breaths, consciously trying to disguise them as yawns, even though no one seemed to be paying him any attention.
He wondered if he was the only one there who was completely new at this, and what pushed these composed looking adults to come seek out the same help he, a fucked up mess, sought out. Finally, a familiar face emerged from behind the door. "Mosely C group."
He stared at the long list of questions and selected his answers accordingly. Yes, he had been raped. No, it hadn't happened in the last 6 months. No, it was not his primary reason for seeing an appointment. Yes, he identified as a member of the lgbtqia+ community. No, he never experienced feelings of physical hostility towards others. Yes, he has harmed himself. No, he did not feel he had problems with alcohol consumption. No, he had not experienced significant death in the family in the last 3 years. The list went on and on, asking for everything under the sun. He was quite impressed with how thorough the survey was. He had high hopes for his experience, while also feeling a gnawing feeling of dread and shame trying to eat its way out of him. But he made the decision to do this after years of toying with the idea, months of planning, weeks of building his confidence, and days of encouragement from his best friend, Meg, after he told her of his decision.
He followed the therapist, or counselor, as they preferred to be referred to at his school. She led him and his small group into a room the size of a very small classroom. The walls were painted pistachio and had oaky baseboards meeting a mahogany colored laminate wood flooring. There were pictures of minimalist outlines of waterfalls, different leaves, comets, and mountains arranged geometrically on one wall. On another wall was an eye level oval mirror with a chestnut trim. On either side of the mirror were two large bronze feathers. There was a round olive colored rug in the center, surrounded by a few chairs with cushions of all different shades of green.
He took a seat at a chair with a soft jade colored cushion and averted his eyes from his group members subconsciously.
"Hello again," Missouri Mosley broke the silence with her voice that resonated a quiet but unmistakable strength. "You all know me because we see one another individually for your one on one sessions but I'd like you to get to know one another. So, I'd like you to introduce yourself. Tell us your name, your favorite time of day, if you prefer soft or firm mattresses, and if you are comfortable enough today, why you decided to be here today. I'd like you all to be able to share that by the time we're a few meetings in, but it is up to when that is. I'll start."
The woman who introduced herself as Missouri was kind and straight forward. She had a way about her that made even Castiel, who did not prefer prolonged social interaction, want to maintain eye contact. She was firm in what she said and absolutely invested when she listened. Cas found himself having no uncomfortable inhibitions when he spoke to her. And when he had trouble verbalizing his thoughts, she didn't try to supply him with words to help him out. She would retract the conversation with him until he was able to communicate clearly, as if she could read his mind as to exactly what he needed.
"How much sleep did you get this week on average, hun?"
"About three, every other night."
"Well good, that's one extra night in between that You're able to get some shut eye." He noted the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.
"I guess. Though you are right, it is certainly better than three hours of sleep once every three days." He said unenthusiastically.
It was as though she could send that today was one of his lower days. "Did you go to the gym?"
"Yeah five times this week."
"How many practice fights did you win?"
He curled in on himself a little and darted his eyes to the left. "I... I let them win every day except Thursday. Thursday, I won every time." The corner of his mouth pulled upwards slightly.
"Could we walk through what was going on all those other days?"
Mixed Martial Arts used to be his passion, when he was still capable of enjoying things. Now it was reduced to even less than an outlet. On really bad days he would go to a gym farther away than his normal one where people didn't really know him, and he would challenge people who seemed to be skilled. He would put on a show of trying but he really just let his opponent land hit after hit. He didn't recognize it as self-harm until the first time he revealed this habit to Missouri.
One by one the group made their introductions. He was open about his depression, anxiety, insomnia and suicidal thoughts. Today he didn't care who knew. He was third to last anyway, he might as well show solidarity with those who were brave enough to speak before him. The last person, who he had somehow failed to notice before, instantly piqued his interest. He was leaned back in his chair, broad shoulders rolled back comfortably. His chin was up and his angular jaw dusted in ginger stubble was set without tension. One of his hands was in the pocket of his heather gray joggers and the other lay limp on his thigh. His body language was completely out of place among the circle of either ram rod straight backs, hunched shoulders, and curled arms and legs. The only thing that told Castiel that this man had reason to be here, apart from his words, were his eyes. They were the same shade as the cushion Cas was sitting on. But that was it. The color was flat. Something he recognized from staring angrily at his own reflection for so long.
"My name's Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius, my favorite time of day is breakfast, I like frisky men and women, I like a soft memory foam mattress that will never forget me, and I like long walks on the beach." His smile was directed at everybody and his charm earned him laughter and flitting glances from one or two of his group mates. But there were no creases at the corners of his eyes. The light in his irises didn't move. Castiel did not laugh along.
"Thank you, Dean. As always there’s no such thing as oversharing, is there, dear?" Missouri smiled indulgently at him but Castiel noticed how her gaze seemed to scan his face, calculating, as if she were reading a book written in her second language.
"Group sessions start next week. I would like to recommend that you attend those as well as our personal sessions."
"Why?" He said almost in a challenging tone. He caught himself, but that only made him appreciate how comfortable he had gotten with her.
"Because you want to, or rather seem to need to help people. You are overflowing with empathy and I want you to be able to recognize that on your bad days, not just your good. I don't want you to try and compare struggles. I just want you to share. Because Castiel. You, my dear, are not alone."
"It was just lovely to see you all in one place and I hope you have the kind of week that you wish for. See you next Thursday."
Castiel walked back out into the lobby after being dismissed. He was done for the day with classes, but he had a bit of reading to do and a few lectures worth of notes to rewrite, so he started down the stairs to exit with the intent of going home. His head was down, looking at his phone at the missed text from his brother when he noticed another pair of shoes in step with his. He looked up and was met with jade gemstones.
"Hey. So you want to kill yourself, too, huh?"
Castiel nearly tripped down the steps but caught himself on the handrail. "Umm. Yeah. Sneak up on me again and you might get that done for me." He deadpanned.
Dean drew his head back a little and huffed out a surprised chuckle. Cas looked at him and didn't expect to see the way his eyes slightly squinted with amusement, a reflection of the flourescent lights above casting a shine over his irises in a way they hadnt before.
"Keep looking at me like that and I might jump into Hell chasing after you." He winked.
"Why do you assume I'm going to Hell when I die?" He was completely unprepared for this man. He was unaccustomed to people being so upfront and uninhibited with strangers.
"Because you clearly don't do well with stairs. Doubt you'd take the trouble to climb the stairway all the way up."
"You're right. A highway is a much more appealing route to the afterlife." Castiel retorted, wondering why he had even struck up a conversation with him. No one else from the group seemed to have any desire to talk to each other.
"Classic rock fan, too, huh?" Dean's smile was crooked, different from the upturned curve and pout he gave earlier at the group meeting.
"How did you know?"
"Because you picked up on Stairway to Heaven and answered in kind with Highway to Hell. A man after my own heart." His wink was accompanied by the slightest twitch of his plush pink lips.
"Is that a flirtation?"
"If it was, are you into dudes?"
"Gender makes no difference to me."
Deans brows furrowed slightly and he put a hair more distance between them. "Like, you're into people regardless of gender? Or you just don't dig people in general?" There was subtle hesitation in his voice. "Because if you're like ace or aro I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, but I thought maybe you were...umm kinda flirting back...maybe."
Castiel allowed himself to smile. "I'm demisexual. And panromantic. So it is the former."
Relief washed over Dean's features and his steps resumed Cas' pace. They didn't say anything for a minute and Castiel realized either they just happened to be headed the same direction, or Dean was teying to work up to saying something.
"So you said your favorite time of day is an hour before the sun starts to rise." Dean started.
Castiel was impressed he remembered. "Yes, I did. And you enjoy breakfast." He recollected with amusement. Everyone else had answered with times or things like 'twilight' and 'late morning'.
"Yeah, so maybe you want to wait for the sun to rise together? And then totally ignore it while it actually happens to get some pancakes?" For all his outward bravado, Castiel could see signs of uncertainty. He wasn't sure why he was so enthralled with the minutia of Dean's expressions and body language, but he wanted to learn more. He wanted to listen and watch him speak about the things he cared about, the things he wants to do, where he's been and who he's met. He wanted to know what he looked like when he listened to music and when he was buying groceries. He wanted to see if the opaque jade irises would have light pass through them someday.
"Yes, Dean. I would really enjoy that."
"Awesome. I'll pick you up at the asscrack of morning, Cas."