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They felt that world simply dissapointed them. It was full of relatives who didn't care, false friend stabbing in the back and envy spreading around garden of their dreams. Even Demon gave up and died. Lysander's parents were gone even longer, they left him alone with cold wind blowing through empty house.
This world disgusted them both, Castiel and Lysander, so why couldn't they show it middle finger? Their last day was going down, snowing with stars, and they both were excited like children on Christmas Eve. They shared snow white pills, mixed with sweet wine.
"For a good journey, Lys" Castiel raised his glass in playfull toast.
Glass ringed silvery like a bell.
"It sounds like the bell in Leigh's butique" noticed Lysander. "Like we're leaving it."
They laughted to tears - those were only salty drops that situation could bring.
Cherry sweetness didn't obscure the bitterness, but there was no big deal. Their kisses were bitter and ardent, their lust dark like a deepening shadow, shadow black and velvet like Lysander's vest. Fading breaths dissolved in the last sighs like an etheral mist. Both men kept their eyes closed. Their fingers froze entangled in scarlett and alabastrine hair.
Their lips met for the last time and there they were resting, when their conciousness flied away like a black, velvet butterflies...