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Hold on to him.
It will take a while before he says ‘I love you’. The first time, you’ll be fighting. He can only say these words when he thinks that everything has already fallen apart, when he thinks you’re leaving anyway. He can only utter these words when he thinks he won’t be burdening you with them. When he screams them, don’t flinch. Don’t turn away. When he screams them, look at his eyes, feel his hands gripping your wrists, begging you to stay. When he screams those words, don’t prove him right. Don’t remind him of me.
It will take a while before he says ‘I love you’. But if you let him, he will show you, every minute that you are together. He will bend and twist to let you in, and you won’t even notice it. He will leave no inch of your body unkissed. He will memorize every sound that you make when he touches you. He will let you play your favorite songs in the car, even as he mumbles about “that emo shit giving him headaches.” He will have more faith in you than you’ve ever had in yourself. Don’t break it. Don’t break him.
When you’re about to leave a hotel room, always check after him. He’ll leave at least one thing behind, usually an iPad charger.
When you spend a night together, make him breakfast for dinner. Watch how his face will light up as he shovels bacon into his mouth.
There will be nights when sleep eludes him. He will lie on his back beside you and you’ll know that he’s awake from the lack of movement. Dean is perpetually buzzing, whether awake or asleep, and he knows it. So when he can’t sleep, he will force himself to keep still out of fear of waking you. If you notice that he’s awake, get up with him. Don’t let his thoughts be his only company. They get vicious at night. Let him rest his head on your stomach. Play with his hair. He likes it even though he’ll probably grumble about it at first. Turn on the TV. Play something mindless that’ll make him laugh. But not Bob’s Burgers. I ruined that for him.
He’ll get nightmares sometimes. You’ll know because he’ll curl up and start to twitch. You’ll know from the tears that’ll stain his cheeks. Talk him through it. Don’t touch him at first, he will jolt and start to thrash. Then a flailing hand may catch you in the chin, and he will beat himself up over it for days. Talk to him. Tell him who you are. Tell him where he is. Remind him that he’s safe. Remind him that he’s loved.
When he wakes up he won’t want to talk about it. Don’t push. Just hold him till he steadies his breathing. There will come a day when he’ll tell you. You’ll wish you never knew.
When he gets locked up in his head, bring him back. Hold his hand. Kiss his forehead.
Roman’s the only family he’s got on the road. He may seem nice right now, but come near Dean and you’ll know the true meaning of “if looks could kill.” He’s become even more protective nowadays. Blame me for that. Roman was the one who had to pick up the pieces after what I did. He doesn’t think that Dean can handle being broken again. That’s the only thing Roman and I can agree on.
I see the way you make Dean smile, though. I see how his eyes light up around you, how he’s standing a bit taller. I see that he’s quit smoking again. You are a balm that’s putting him together in ways Roman never could. Roman will see that eventually, and he’ll let you in with open arms. As long as you don’t hurt Dean.
Don’t hurt him. Don’t remind him of me.
When he’s done with a match, ice his left shoulder. He’ll never admit that it’s bugging him.
Sit with him as he watches his wrestling DVDs. Don’t look at the screen. Watch him as he sits cross-legged on the floor, hunched over in front of the TV. Memorize the child-like sparkle in his eyes, the looseness of his shoulders, the easy smile on his face. Listen for his excited hollering. Make sure he has a notebook and pen nearby; he’ll definitely want to jot down some notes.
Hold his hand on long drives.
Kiss the scar on his left arm, right beneath his elbow. I left that there when I did what I did.
Make sure he’s covered up at night. He has a tendency of pushing the covers away and waking up a shivering mess the next morning.
Listen to him. Sometimes it’ll take a while before he gets his point across. Sometimes he’ll spin long convoluted tales. Don’t rush. He’s a master storyteller. It will be worth it in the end.
Tell him stupid puns. Watch as he tries not to laugh.
Laugh at his jokes. He’ll always be scrambling to make you smile.
Tell him you love him as often as you can. He needs to hear it. It’s so easy for him to convince himself that you don’t, that no one does.
Hold on to him.
And whatever you do, don’t hurt him. Don’t remind him of me.