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Castiel Novak walked to his new locker, trying to ignore the snide remarks coming from seemingly every direction as he started putting in the combination. He'd hoped this year would finally be the year they stopped. He opened his locker and let his messenger bag slip off his shoulder so he could get his books for first hour. Sophomore year is going to be a difficult one; even more difficult than freshman year, Castiel thought.
He unpacked his bag and hung it on the hook inside the locker, cringing as the door was slammed roughly into his retracting hand. He clutched his hand, not bothering to look around for his assailant. It could have been any one of the numerous jocks standing nearby. Or it could have been one of the preppy cheerleaders. Who knew? Castiel didn't really care anyway. He'd been bullied since third grade when his only friend, Meg Masters, had moved away and he had no one to defend him. He rubbed his hand a little longer before stooping down to pick up the notebooks he'd left on the floor and checking his new class schedule. He started walking toward the science hallway, setting his face into the stern look of concentration he'd developed in the hopes that people wouldn't bother him. It didn't work.
“Hey Novak!” Castiel cringed slightly, continuing his set pace. A strong hand slapped down on his shoulder and he was spun around roughly and pushed into a row of lockers, his grip tightening reflexively on his books. “I said hey, Novak,” Crowley King, the biggest bully in the school and Castiel's main antagonizer said in a low voice.
“Crowley, please leave me alone...” Castiel said quietly, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
“Oh, but why would I do that?” he replied with a dark laugh.
“Come on,” Castiel tried to shrug Crowley's hand off of his shoulder, not making eye contact. “Aren't we a little old for this..?”
Crowley rolled his eyes and smirked, releasing his grip. He stepped back slightly, “go on then. Do something about it,” his voice and expression suggested sarcasm, but Castiel couldn't quite grasp the concept of sarcasm, so he wasn't sure.
“Just leave me alone...” Castiel turned to try and get past him, only to be shoved harshly back against the lockers again. He grunted as the lock dug into his lower back and turned his head away as Crowley's face was mere inches from his.
“Where do you think you're going?” Crowley spat in his face. Castiel grimaced as his fowl breath filled his nostrils.
“I'm going to class...leave me alone...” he tried to sound confident, but his voice came out rather small. He doubled over in pain with a grunt as a fist slammed into his stomach.
“Don't tell me what to do, Novak,” Crowley spun on his heel and joined the other jocks standing nearby and laughing.
Castiel watched from the ground as the halls cleared of everyone and the bell rang. He picked up his notebooks and stumbled to his feet, still trying to catch his breath as he got to science, only to find the door locked and the teacher glaring at him through the small window. The door was opened and he swallowed hard as the teacher stepped out.
“Now I know it's only the first day, but I will not tolerate tardiness this year. You know where this class is Mr. Novak. So, what kept you?”
Castiel glanced around him and noticed a few of Crowley's friends snickering inside the classroom and he grimaced. “N-nothing sir... It was my fault. It won't happen again.” He looked down at his shoes, hoping the teacher would just drop it.
“Okay. As long as it's just a one-time thing,” the teacher said and ushered him into the classroom.
Castiel took a set near the back of the room at an empty table. He knew if he'd chosen to sit at a table with another person at it, even if they didn't know him personally, they'd most likely move immediately. No one wanted to be associated with the school loser; the nerdy kid who everyone bullied. No one ever even talked to him without an insult on their lips. He didn't mind it though. The silence gave him time to think. The time that he could have spent with friends he spent doing homework and studying instead. He had a 3.9 GPA and he really owed most of it to the constant bullying he's had to endure since he was eight.
Castiel didn't really pay attention in science. All it consisted of anyway was going over the class syllabus and rules for the semester. He took the time to mentally plan out a route to all of his classes in order to avoid Crowley and his cohorts as much as possible. He really hoped that he wouldn't have too many classes with the jocks, or the cheerleaders, or any of the other popular or athletic people in the school for that matter.
He was brought back to reality by the shrill sound of the bell that dismissed them from class. Castiel scooped up his untouched notebooks and made his way quickly toward the door before the jocks could catch up to him. He opted out of going to his locker since it was pointless and just went straight to English.
Cursing under his breath as he walked into the classroom, Castiel took a seat across the room from Crowley and Alastair: the two biggest ass holes in the school and also the stars of the football team. With those two against him, the rest of the school didn't even question their motives and just followed along with the bullying and hazing. Castiel laid his head atop his folded arms on his desk and prayed for the class to go by quickly. He wouldn't even try to get his schedule changed because no one would understand his reasoning in wanting to change.
He was saved by the shrill sound of the bell again right as he felt yet another spit ball hit the side of his head. He scooped up his books and made a beeline for the door. His efforts were in vain however, as Alastair slammed his books out of his hands upon meeting him at the door.
“Hey Asstiel,” Alastair said in a demeaning tone. Crowley laughed from behind him at the new nickname. “Where you off to in such a hurry?” an evil grin spread across his face.
“I'm just going to class...” Castiel said quietly as he picked up his notebooks from the floor. He didn't wait for an answer and hurried out the door and into the crowded hallway before either of his bullies could do or say anything more.
Out in the hallway, Castiel kept his head down, only glancing up when he arrived at the math room where his next class was. He was in advanced math, so he knew at least most of the jocks wouldn't be in it with him. He said a silent thank you as he took a seat near the front of the room. He enjoyed math mainly because there weren't as many people in his class to torment him. Granted, there were some; like the soccer players and some of the volleyball players, any jocks that had decent grades. And they all bullied him. No one bullied him to the extent of the football players, however, but their words were hurtful nonetheless.
The teacher came in and shut the door to begin discussing the syllabus. Castiel hoped that the rest of his day would go by quickly and he could just go home and lock himself in his bedroom and draw or study. He knew it wouldn't be that easy though, because he never got away unscathed, even on the first day of school.
As the bell rang, Castiel checked his schedule and cursed when he saw that he had third lunch. He'd have to wait another hour. At least his fourth class was one he could stand: concert band.
When he arrived in the band room, Castiel immediately went into the side room where the lockers for the woodwind instruments were. He'd requested for his locker to be kept available for him and Mr. Morrison, the band director, had allowed it. Castiel went straight to his locker: the middle one at the end of the row closest to the percussion room. He put in the combination on the lock and opened it, smiling to himself when his folder was still there after the whole summer. He picked it up and wiped away a thin layer of dust that had accumulated despite the closed locker.
His peaceful thoughts were disrupted by the introduction of a few booming voices pouring in from the door closest to him. Crap. Percussionists... He thought as he hurriedly put his folder and his clarinet case into the locker and slammed it shut. There was laughter from a few of the voices and suddenly the door flew open and three boys came in, the first two pushing and shoving each other.
“Come on, Winchester! I'll show you where we all hang out,” Uriel, last year's percussion section leader said as he shoved past Castiel and went into the percussion storage room.
Castiel tried not to make eye contact as Zachariah followed Uriel in. He only glanced up when the third boy, presumably Winchester, stooped down to pick up Castiel's notebook that had fallen to the floor when Uriel had knocked into him.
“Hey, you okay? Sorry about them... they don't seem to care about anything much,” the boy said, handing Castiel his notebook with a friendly smile.
“They're Neanderthals...” Castiel muttered, taking the notebook and avoiding eye contact still.
The boy's smile faltered but he didn't say anything in argument. “Well, hey, I'm Dean. I just moved here,” he said in a friendly tone, extending his hand for Castiel to shake it.
Castiel stared at Dean's hand for a moment before meeting his eye, “I'm Castiel...only you've probably already heard of me and you should probably just avoid talking to me if you want to maintain any sort of social circle...” he said quickly, trying not to stare at the boy's bright green eyes. At that, he hurried away from Dean and into the main part of the band room.
Castiel hardly felt bad for abandoning the new boy with the other percussionists. After he got the full story on Castiel, he'd probably deny ever having said any sort of kind words to him and go along with the bullying or just plain ignore him for the rest of their years in school together. That's how it always happened. Castiel would meet a new student who hadn't interacted with many of the other students and once they mentioned meeting him to anyone else, the supposed friendship would die and the hazing would recommence. He was used to it.
He took his seat from last year: first chair clarinet, and opened his notebook to a blank page. He wouldn't have to pay attention in here at all so he just decided to draw instead as Mr. Morrison began discussing the rules of the band room.
About halfway through the hour, the quiet murmur of the band room was interrupted by a loud crash from the back of the room. Castiel was brought out of his mind by the one of the crash cymbols slamming into the ground. He looked up from his notebook and turned his attention toward the percussion section.
Standing in the middle of the section, red-faced and completely still, was Dean Winchester. Castiel had to bite back a smile at the utter fear and embarrassment on the boy's face. His green eyes and freckles were highlighted by the shade of crimson red his face had turned.
“S-sorry...” the boy stuttered before stooping down to pick up the cymbol. A few of the girls snickered from the flute section and went back to their conversations. Mr. Morrison just nodded with a look of disapproval and turned back to his computer.
Castiel smiled to himself as he turned to another blank page in his notebook. Seeing Dean's red face, green eyes, and freckles had inspired him and he really wanted to capture it. He'd noticed the boy's eyes the second his met Dean's, but he'd never say anything about them for fear of being ridiculed.
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Dean felt like a complete idiot. Uriel and Zach had been goofing off and messing around with the crash cymbols and he'd just been going right along with them. But when Zach tossed one of them his way, Dean didn't know what to do. He froze as it hit the floor and his eyes snapped up to see the disapproving look on the director's face. “S-sorry...” he'd muttered as he picked up the instrument. Zach and Uriel had fled to the storage room right as the cymbol had crashed to the floor so he'd been left to take the blame. Thankfully, it seemed this director was a lot cooler than his old one, because he wasn't punished.
He noticed a few girls giggling at him as he replaced the cymbol on its stand and his blush deepened. Only when he noticed a smile on Castiel's face did he get really embarrassed, however. Uriel and Zach had told him about the kid. The weird one with no friends who always seemed to be in his own little world. Dean thought to himself, if the weird ones start making fun of me, what then? He watched as Castiel turned to a blank page in his notebook immediately after the whole incident and wondered what he was up to.
He'd never admit, but the whole geeky, blue-eyed, sex-hair thing was pretty cute. And the fact that this kid didn't even seem to care that he had no friends left Dean wanting to know more about him. Who was Castiel? What went on behind that blank, concentrating stare? Dean couldn't wait to find out.
Instead of retreating to the percussion room with Uriel and Zach, Dean went through the side room and to the front row where Castiel was seated. “Hey Cas. Sorry about earlier, got distracted and pulled into the back room.” He took the empty seat next to Castiel and stuck out his hand for a handshake. “Didn't get to properly introduce myself earlier either. Dean Winchester.”
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Castiel flinched at the sudden invasion of personal space, staring at Dean's hand a moment before meeting his eye. “I'm...Castiel Novak...” he didn't shake Dean's hand, his grip tightening on his pencil and notebook instead. He was sure Dean had been sent over to torment him and he didn't want to give him any sort of leverage.
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Dean looked at him confusedly for a moment before retracting his hand. “So whatcha drawing?” He craned his neck slightly to see Castiel's paper and blushed when he realized that it looked like he'd been drawing Dean.
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Castiel covered the paper with his hand quickly, praying Dean hadn't seen it. “N-nothing..!” He studied Dean's face a moment and was suddenly aware of more than just Dean's eyes staring back at him. Almost everyone in the entire band room was watching them. He didn't need this kind of attention. “I-I told you earlier...if you want to maintain any sort of social circle, you shouldn't talk to me...” he looked back down to his notebook but didn't make another move.
Dean noticed the stares but brushed them off. He looked at Castiel confusedly, “What do you mean? People don't even talk to you? I mean I heard you didn't have friends, but that doesn't mean no one talks to you. Right?”
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What was this guy's deal? He locked eyes with Dean. “No. No one ever talks to me without an insult or some sort of derogatory remark,” Castiel snapped, slamming his notebook shut. “Now would you please... just leave me alone..?” His voice ended in a whisper and his eyes trailed down to his hands. He waited for a snide comment or an insult to be thrown his way, but...
“Oh...sorry. I'm sorry for bothering you then...” Dean said quietly. He got up and went back into the side room and back toward the percussion room.