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Castiel stood at the mirror and pulled at his clothes. They... fit different now. He hadn't changed, not in the psychical sense. He just felt different. He curled his toes into the rough carpet and shrugged an oversized hoodie over his head. Nothing changed. He looked the same, and he could feel the same.
Nothing changed.
Nothing changed.
Nothing changed.
Something changed.
It wasn't like a brick wall that had hit him, he couldn't mark down the day like he could when he realized he was gay. It was slow, a steady change and several late nights wondering exactly who he was.
Castiel couldn't breathe. He felt different. The entire day, everytime someone called him he, he wanted to cry, but he couldn't bring himself to correct them. How would he even correct them? He didn't even know what he was.
It wasn't like he couldn't talk to his mom or his friends, they were all accepting but the corner of his mind wondered of they'd think he was just vying for attention. And maybe he was. If this was real, wouldn't he have known a long time ago? They would think he was faking or that it was a phase.
It was easier to deal with the wrong pronoun than it was to correct it.
No matter how much it hurt.