Work Text:
The sound of the music was so loud that the speakers thrummed, the crowd’s roars were deafening, and the beat of the drums kept perfect time with the songs. It was a good night for Crowstorm.
The fans belted out their songs with passion, screaming with excitement whenever an unreleased track was introduced. Both the audience and the band were shouting and jumping in a frenzy; the atmosphere was incredible. It might have been just any ordinary bar, but to the band, it felt as significant as a stadium.
The concert pressed on, shifting from loud, thrilling anthems to quieter, more emotional tracks. Regardless of the tempo or genre, what truly connected the audience to the band were the relatable lyrics and the raw emotion with which they were performed—especially by the lead singer, Castiel.
And as for Castiel... what could be said? He had always been passionate about music, ever since he was a young boy and first fell in love with the guitar. He had gone from learning nursery rhymes at his parents' house to playing in front of hundreds of people. Life couldn’t be better for him. He was living his dreams, the ones he had worked so hard for. But they say humans can never be one hundred percent satisfied, don't they?
Castiel was satisfied with his life, of course. Everything was fine. Everything was in order. Nothing could make him lose his cool. Not even that woman in the crowd who wouldn't stop staring at him.
Oh, she must have thought he wouldn't recognize her, right? She had changed so much, yet at the same time, her face remained so familiar. There were new details in her—like that eyebrow piercing or her heavier makeup—but it was still her.
His muse.
His executioner.
His ex-girlfriend.
For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating. She had left the city four years ago; they had lost contact when she broke up with him, but she had told him she was settling in another city. Why would she come back here?
He couldn't help but tighten his grip on the microphone, struggling to maintain his composure. He couldn't show that it affected him, let alone falter in front of all the people looking at him with admiration and excitement. But when his eyes locked with hers, it was as if a movie of their history started playing in his head, and he was powerless to stop it.
So many memories...
Their first encounter, where they started off on the wrong foot and couldn't stand each other for months, until slowly, things took a turn and they fell in love. Then came their first kiss after a disastrous date... the day they started dating, when they told their friends... their first time, when they were skin to skin that night and he felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He had been so in love. He loved her; he adored her.
And what did she do? She broke his heart into a thousand pieces.
"My parents finally decided, I’m leaving the city. Let’s break up." She had said that fateful night in his apartment, after making love on the sofa.
Castiel had been so confused, yet so hurt at the same time, that he chose not to protest. She hadn't even considered the possibility of trying long-distance. She had given up before even trying.
He swallowed his words and accepted it, pretending it didn't affect him, as he always did. Although a few days after she moved, he had gotten so drunk that he ended up calling her, desperate and broken, begging her to try again, saying they still had so much to live for. He had been devastated; she was his everything, and he didn't want to give up.
But once again, she let him drown alone. While Castiel poured out all sorts of incoherence and pleas over the phone, she just stayed silent. She didn't say a single word until Castiel couldn't take it anymore and hung up.
After that, he never heard from her again.
Until now.
She was there, in the audience, drinking and chatting with a friend as if she didn't have a care in the world, while Castiel, once again, was the one losing his balance. Even if he tried to avoid it, it was impossible.
He had tried to move on, pouring his feelings into his lyrics and music. How many songs had he already written about her? From the love songs he wrote during their romance to the heartbreak anthems after they split. It seems that even though they were no longer in contact, she remained his muse, didn't she? Even if she now inspired him to write songs entirely different from the ones before.
He had been broken; he thought he wouldn't be able to go on. Fortunately, he found refuge in music. And even then, he couldn't push her out of his thoughts completely. No matter how hard he tried, or how much he reminded himself that she had moved on, he couldn't.He had a few casual flings, desperate to replace his bitter memories with new ones, but no one was like her; no one made him feel as alive as she did. She was like a ghost that returned to haunt him constantly.
And once again, here she was. Only this time, she wasn't just a bitter memory.
He couldn’t help but wonder when she had returned to the city. Had it been days? Months? She hadn’t reached out to him, yet next to her, he managed to identify a few old high school classmates, and they were chatting with complete ease. So, she had kept in touch with them, but not with him.
Castiel shook his head while he continued to sing. He couldn't let himself be carried away by his emotions again. She wasn’t important anymore; she was no longer a part of his life, and there was no point in obsessing over the past.
The concert proceeded as usual until the final song arrived. It was one of the many he had written for her after they broke up. There were so many references to her that it was impossible for her not to notice. But at that moment, he didn’t care; on the contrary, he sang it with even more fervor.
He still felt resentful. He’d had to force himself to accept that she no longer cared about what they had; he’d had to learn to cope with the pain of losing her. Four fucking years had passed, and he was still bitter. And she had the nerve to come back as if it were nothing, to show up at his concert looking so unbothered?
Oh, how he wanted to hate her.
She was so unfair.
The final notes of the song faded out, bringing the concert to an end, and the crowd erupted in applause and screams of excitement. Everything had gone well.
She clapped along with the rest, a proud expression on her face. How dared she?
Castiel stormed off the stage with frustrated strides, heading backstage while ignoring the confused looks from his bandmates. He needed a cigarette urgently—and he needed to get out of there.
He hurries to put his guitar away and shrugs off his jacket, suddenly feeling suffocated. He leaves everything in the dressing room and heads toward the back exit of the bar. He pushes the door open abruptly and steps into the side alley, feeling the cold night air hit his face.
He lets out a deep sigh as he leans against the wall, fumbling through his pockets to pull out his pack of cigarettes and his lighter.
He hasn't even finished lighting the cigarette when the door opens again. He turns toward the person stepping out of the bar, and the cigarette slips from his lips.
There she was.
"Ah, I knew you’d be here," she says, approaching him with a smile. "Wow, what a night, huh? You were amazing up there."
Oh, boy.
Castiel blinks in confusion before letting out a scoff of amusement. Was this girl being serious?
"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me," he can’t help but snap.
She stops in her tracks. The smile on her face fades, and Castiel can see her expression shift into something more nervous.
"I’m sorry, I..." she clears her throat. "I just wanted to talk to you."
"Oh, now you do?" Castiel snorts, crossing his arms. "Four years. Four goddamn years of silence and now you want to talk?"
She lowers her head, pressing her lips together. She looks conflicted, perhaps guilty. But Castiel didn't care about any of that right now. He was furious.
"I know... I have no right to talk to you, and you probably hate me right now, but..." she swallows hard before continuing. "I really want to clear things up. You can throw me out afterward and pretend I don't exist; I’ll leave you alone, I promise. But... could you just let me explain?"
Oh, she actually dared to look at him with those guilt-ridden eyes. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, and Castiel could feel all his resolve waver for a split second.
God, he was such a fool.
"Is there even any point in listening to you now?" he responds, looking away. "It’s over. Nothing you say now is going to change what already happened. And if you only want to explain yourself because guilt is eating you alive, then I’m not interested. I’ve already moved on."
What a liar.
She bites her lower lip, swallowing the lump in her throat and nodding slightly.
"I understand," she says quietly. "It’s not like I expected you to stay stuck, I just... I wanted to clear things up because everything ended so badly and... and we had something incredible. I didn't want it to remain a bitter memory because of me."
"Well, I’m not interested," Castiel rolls his eyes as he pulls another cigarette from the pack and lights it. "I’ve moved on and I’m doing pretty damn well, as you might have noticed. I don’t need your overdue explanations to close a chapter I already closed on my own."
She is about to answer, but he cuts her off to continue.
"Besides, what’s all this for? You dumped me like it was nothing four years ago; did the remorse just now kick in? I mean, you seemed like you couldn't care less back then. Why do you want to explain yourself now?" He takes a drag of his cigarette.
"Do you really think I felt nothing?" She frowns with frustration. "I’m not denying my fault—the way I handled things was horrible—but by no means did I take it lightly. You don't know anything."
"Of course I don't know anything! You never bothered to communicate!" Castiel explodes.
"That’s why I’m asking you to let me explain!" she snaps back, her voice rising in frustration. "But you’re as stubborn as ever!"
Castiel lets out a bitter laugh, taking another drag of his cigarette to try and stay calm. This girl always knew exactly how to rattle him.
"What do you want to tell me?" He stares at her, trying to ignore how his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the tears welling up in her eyes.
"I didn't push you away because I wanted to," she says, her voice breaking. "I didn't want... I didn't want to leave you, but there was nothing I could do at the time. I was living with my parents, they decided to move, I couldn't stay on my own and we were going so far away... I didn't want to keep you tied down to me."
"Tied down?" Castiel scoffs. "Is that how you saw us? You didn't think I had a right to a say in it?"
"It's not that!" She sighs before continuing. "You were just starting with the band... things were beginning to take off for you, and then there was university... I was only going to be a distraction. I wasn't even going to be there to support you in person, and you were going to be busier and busier. Things weren't going well for me back then; I didn't want to drag you down to the bottom with me..."
Castiel looks at her in silence for a few seconds, noticing the trembling of her hands and her broken voice. She seemed sincere.
He lets out a deep sigh before heading toward the door. Before going inside, he shoots her one last look, responding in a low voice.
"I would’ve rather drowned with you than stayed afloat without you."
Castiel didn’t stick around for an answer. He slammed the door shut with unnecessary force, letting the heavy metallic clang muffle the sound of his own ragged breathing. He stood there, leaning against the cold metal, pressing his forehead against the door.
His hands were shaking. He tried to clench his fists to hide it, but the trembling started deep within his chest.
He’d won, hadn't he? He’d said everything he had rehearsed in his mind for four years. He’d made her feel as small as he had felt that night on the sofa. But there was no triumph in his chest, only a suffocating pressure that kept him from filling his lungs.
Through the door, he thought he heard a muffled sob—or perhaps it was just the wind whistling through the cracks of the alleyway. He stood motionless, torn between opening the door to beg her to stay, or bolting in the opposite direction.
But ultimately, he decided to ignore her. He had to be strong and hold onto his resolve so he wouldn't fall for her all over again. She had already hurt him once; if he let his guard down, she would do it again.
He let out a shaky sigh as he pulled away from the door and headed toward the dressing rooms. It was getting late, and the rest of the band was likely waiting for him so they could go home.
When he entered the dressing room, he found the others watching him cautiously, as if he were a time bomb about to explode.
"Shall we go?" he said under his breath, without looking at them, as he picked up his guitar.
The rest of that night passed by in a blur. He didn't remember what his bandmates talked about during the ride, nor what time he made it back to his apartment. He didn't even change his clothes. Once he got home, he headed straight to his bedroom, where he just collapsed onto the bed and soon fell into a deep sleep.
The following days were more of the same, carrying out his routine on autopilot. He went from his apartment to the studio, from the studio to the rehearsal room, and from there back home, where he took a few online classes before going to sleep. The nightmares were more constant now, and they all revolved around her. In his nightmares, she looked broken, desperate, begging him for another chance, but whenever Castiel agreed, she would abandon him all over again.
On a cloudy Friday afternoon, Castiel walked out of the recording studio with weary steps. The stress was eating him alive, and he felt more irritable with each passing day. His bandmates had been kind enough to point out that he was being even more unbearable than usual.
He walked along, paying little attention to his surroundings, his guitar slung over his back, occasionally nodding back to someone who recognized him.
Castiel clicked his tongue in annoyance as he felt the first drops of rain fall from the sky. He hadn't brought an umbrella, and he wasn't in the mood to run home for cover, either.
As the rain gradually began to set in, he headed toward the bus stop. He didn't have the slightest intention of catching a bus, but the stop was covered; he would take shelter there until the storm let up, seeking a moment of peace amidst the sound of water drumming against the metal. However, as he closed the distance, the air seemed to grow heavier, charged with a strange electricity that made his skin crawl.
When he was finally just a few steps away from the structure, he stopped dead in his tracks. His heart gave a violent thud against his ribs when he spotted a familiar figure standing right there, taking refuge under the very same roof, so close that he could make out the dampness on her clothes.
Once again, she reappeared like a ghost, haunting him.
She was struggling with her umbrella, which seemed to be stuck; her hair was damp, and a look of impatience clouded her face. She kept trying to force the umbrella open until a sharp crack made her stop, letting out a small shriek of frustration.
She didn't seem to be in any better shape than he was.
Castiel approached in silence, taking a seat and letting out a soft sigh. She was so caught up in her battle with the umbrella that she didn't even notice his presence.
"Stupid... piece of junk," she huffed in annoyance, finally giving up as she slumped down onto the bench.
He watched her with a raised eyebrow, slightly amused by the scene.
"Did the umbrella pick a fight with you?" Castiel said, a slight touch of mockery in his voice.
The girl practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. She whipped her head around so fast she felt a twinge in her neck, her eyes widening in shock as they landed on Castiel, sitting right there beside her. For a few seconds, the frustration on her face was replaced by sheer surprise.
"Castiel...?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper, nearly drowned out by the rain.
"What’s up?" he replied, leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms. He fixed his gaze on her; a few damp strands of hair were clinging to her cheeks, and he had to fight a sudden urge to reach out, brush them away, and tuck them behind her ear. He cleared his throat, looking away from her. "You look like a drowned rat."
She opened her mouth to retort, but she pressed her lips together as she remembered their conversation from the other day. He had seemed so determined never to speak to her again, acting so cold and distant. And yet, there he was, striking up a conversation and teasing her.
She didn't know how to act around him anymore.
"You don't look any better..." she said quietly, noticing the heavy dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.
Castiel looked at her with a frown, almost offended. How did she dare to look worried about him?
"Give me that." He snatched the umbrella out of her hands roughly, attempting to fix it. Though more than that, it was an excuse to keep his hands busy so she wouldn't notice the way they were trembling.
She watched him tinker with the umbrella, trying to fix it somehow. And even though he tried to act as if he were calm, she could see the tension in him.
"It’s not necessary, you know?" she said softly, but she made no move to stop him. Instead, she leaned back against the bench and looked away.
It was... an awkward moment.
The only sound besides the rain was the metallic clinking of the umbrella as Castiel continued to struggle with it.
After a few minutes of silence, she let out a deep sigh and turned her gaze toward him again.
"You look tired..." she said cautiously. She didn't want to make him angry.
"So what?" Castiel snapped back, without looking up from the umbrella.
"It was just a comment," she said, rolling her eyes, though there was a hint of sadness in the gesture. "But I guess now everything I say is going to feel like an attack to you."
Castiel finally managed to snap one of the umbrella’s ribs back into place with a sharp click. He stared at it for a second before speaking, his voice a bit lower, less aggressive.
"It’s hard not to see it that way when you show up out of nowhere after four years just to confuse me," he responded, handing the umbrella back to her. Their fingers brushed for an instant, and Castiel felt a jolt of electricity that forced him to pull his hand away immediately. "As if you didn't know perfectly well why I can't sleep."
She took the umbrella but didn't open it. She just sat there, staring at it in her lap.
"I haven't slept much either, Castiel," she admitted in a whisper. "Since that night in the alley... your words haven't stopped looping in my head."
Castiel tensed up, internally cursing himself for having been so honest that night. He shouldn't have said anything.
"I was angry. I said a lot of things," he lied, though his expression gave him away.
"But you weren't lying," she said, turning to look him in the eye with an intensity that took his breath away.
"Stop acting like you know me perfectly!" he snapped. "Four years have passed. Things aren't the way they used to be."
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. They weren't going to get anywhere if they both just started shouting at each other.
"I know that," she grumbled. "That's not my intention."
"Then what are you playing at?" He crossed his arms.
She looked at him with a frown. She wanted so badly to grab him by the hair and shake him until he saw reason, but she had to control herself if she didn't want him to run away again.
"I just... I'd like us to be honest," she responded. "You’ve already made it clear that our history doesn't interest you anymore, and I respect that. But... I don’t know, I feel like we should still talk regardless."
Castiel turned his gaze toward the road while the rain continued to pour, muffling the sounds of the street and the passing cars, giving them a sense of privacy.
"You already told me what you wanted to tell me the other day, didn't you?" he said under his breath.
She shook her head slightly.
"You only heard my reasons, but you didn't let me apologize."
Castiel didn't answer. He kept his gaze fixed on the asphalt. The word "apologize" echoed in his mind, hitting him harder than any of the insults they had traded earlier.
He didn't want a sorry. Or maybe he did, and that was exactly what terrified him. If he accepted her apology, he’d have to admit that he still cared. He’d have to tear down the wall he had spent four years building, brick by painful brick.
Beside him, he could feel her trembling—not just from the cold, but from the sheer effort of staying there, facing his hostility. For the first time, he forced himself not to interrupt, not to hide behind a sarcastic remark. He just listened to the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the plastic roof of the bus stop, waiting for her to find the words.
He felt a familiar ache in his chest, a hollow space that only she had ever known how to fill. He hated her for being there. He hated her for looking so small. But most of all, he hated himself because, despite everything, he didn't want her to stop talking.
"I know an apology won't change what happened," she began. "But I behaved terribly toward you. I handled things so poorly, and even if it wasn't my intention, I ended up hurting you. It’s not like I didn't imagine you’d feel bad, but I tried to convince myself every day that you’d just move on and forget about me in no time... though the more the months passed, the worse I felt. I tried to call you, but you had changed your number. And... well, I thought about calling Lysander to ask for it, but I chickened out. I didn't dare speak to him after what I did to you, and time just kept passing so... uh, I decided to stop trying because I figured you hated me and wouldn't listen to me anyway."
Castiel let out a sharp, breathy laugh, but there was no humor in it. He finally looked at her, and his eyes were dark, a mix of anger and something that looked like grief in his gaze.
"You chickened out," he repeated, the words tasting like poison. "You decided to stop trying. That’s great. While you were 'convincing yourself' that I was doing just fine, I was staring at my phone until my eyes burned, waiting for a single word that never came. I changed my number because I couldn't stand the silence anymore. I had to kill the hope before it killed me."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper.
"Do you have any idea how it feels? To be convinced that you’re so easily replaceable that the person you'd follow to the end of the world didn't even think you were worth a goodbye? And now you're telling me you tried? That just makes it worse. It means you knew I was hurting, and you still chose to leave me there."
"I know," she said quietly, feeling the knot in her throat begin to tighten. "There’s no excuse for it. I just wanted to get away from everything related to this city, to cut it all off at the roots so I wouldn't get depressed when I moved. Though clearly, that didn't work. I only hurt you, and I hurt myself too."
She took another deep breath before continuing. She didn't want to cry in front of him.
"Like I told you the other day, it was all so sudden. My father got a job opportunity in another city; we had to leave, and I had no say in the matter. For a moment, I had this crazy idea of running away and staying with you," she let out a soft, dry laugh. "But my parents would have searched for me until they found me, and things would have gotten even worse than they already were. Besides, I didn't want to drag you into it. So, I wanted to cut ties completely. And then everything went wrong. I was never good at making decisions, was I?"
Castiel watched her from the corner of his eye. He saw the way her shoulders shook as she fought back tears, and despite the years of resentment, that familiar protective instinct—the one he thought he’d successfully buried—flared up in his chest.
He let out a long, heavy sigh, the kind that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words. He didn't say that he would have followed her anyway. He didn't say that he would have helped her run away. Instead, he reached out.
His hand hesitated for a fraction of a second before he placed it on her head, his fingers tangling slightly in her damp hair. It wasn't a hug, but it was the first piece of solid ground they had shared in years.
"Stop it," he muttered, his voice losing its sharp edge.
He felt her breath hitch at his touch. He didn't pull away.
And that was when she finally broke. The tension and the anxiety finally overwhelmed her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, uncontrollable, and her breathing became shallow and shaky.
She hadn’t wanted to cry, but feeling his touch—the way he had rested his hand on her head with such gentleness—was more than she could take.
"God, I’ve missed you so much, Castiel..." she said in a low, broken voice.
Castiel watched her break down in front of him, and before he could overthink it, he pulled her toward him and wrapped her in his arms. He remained silent, letting her cry without interference.
He knew that if he opened his mouth right then, he would end up saying too much. He might confess how much he had missed her too—how he had yearned to see her, and how alive he felt again now that he held her in his arms.
With something as simple as a hug, his mind was already a mess.
She was dangerous.
Her scent, so familiar, washed over him all at once, bringing back memories of the countless times he had held her in his arms. He could feel her heart racing against his chest, or perhaps it was his own; he couldn't tell the difference.
She fit so perfectly in his arms, as if she had never left, as if everything were still the same.
Castiel tightened his grip for a moment, burying his face in her wet hair, allowing himself a moment of weakness. He was a fool. He knew that the second he let her in, he was handing her the power to destroy him all over again.
She was dangerous because she was the only person who could make him feel alive, but also make him feel miserable.
Gradually, the downpour turned into a light drizzle. The heavy silence of the street returned, broken only by the distant hum of an approaching engine. Castiel pulled back enough to look at her, his hands still resting on her shoulders.
"The bus is here," he said, his voice rough and low.
She wiped her eyes, nodding slowly. No more words were needed. The air between them had changed; the wall hadn't collapsed entirely, but a door had been left ajar.
The rain finally stopped. Castiel had let her go, knowing there was no turning back now: she had completely disarmed him.
(...)
The echo of the rain still seemed to ring in Castiel’s ears as he absentmindedly tuned his guitar in the studio. The air conditioning hummed with a monotony that drove him restless, an irritating contrast to the emotional chaos he had experienced on that bench. He stopped, letting a single string vibrate until it died into silence.
They hadn’t spoken since the bus had arrived and pulled them apart. A couple of weeks had passed, but Castiel could still feel the ghost of that hug—of her wrapped in his arms and her breath against his neck.
He stared at the ceiling, letting out a heavy sigh. He was confused, yet less stressed or anxious than he had been in the past few days. It seemed that conversation had actually worked a little. Hearing her reasons... and seeing her cry in his arms had stirred something deep inside him.
Yeah, maybe he was a fool for letting himself be dragged back in by her once again, but what did it even matter anymore?
He sighed one last time before standing up, leaving his guitar on the sofa and heading for the door.
"I'll be back," he said before walking out, not waiting for a response from his bandmates.
He left the studio, letting out a yawn and squinting at the harsh sunlight.
He nodded back at a group of girls who seemed to recognize him.
Castiel walked, seeking some fresh air, and stopped at a traffic light. Across the street, he spotted a girl with a coffee cup in her hand, wearing an outfit that suited her perfectly. It was her. This time, there was no rain, no drama—just the noise of the traffic and her in front of him once again. Castiel hesitated, but his feet moved before his pride could stop him.
"Am I just going to keep bumping into you forever, or...?" he said, stopping in front of her.
She looked up when she heard his voice, staring at him in surprise for a few seconds, but she couldn't help but let out a slight smile afterward.
"Well, it’s a small city," she replied. "It’s only normal, don’t you think?"
Castiel watched her intently, his gaze lingering on the freckles across her cheeks before he quickly looked away.
"Yeah, I guess," he cleared his throat. "Are you heading to campus?"
She shook her head slightly
"I was going downtown. It’s a friend's birthday tomorrow, and I wanted to buy her something."
"I see..." Castiel cleared his throat again. "Well, good luck with that, then. See ya."
"Wait!" She caught him by the sleeve before he could walk away. "Don't you want to... come with me? My friend is a huge fan of bands I don't really know, and I think you could help me with that."
Castiel observed her closely, doubtful. On one hand, he didn't think it was a good idea to spend more time with his ex. On the other hand, he really didn't think it was a good idea to spend more time with his ex! It was a terrible idea, actually. Things weren't exactly "fine" enough for them to be hanging out. You couldn't even say they "remained friends"; things were still way too tense. It wasn't a good idea at all.
"Fine," he agreed.
Idiot.
They started walking toward the downtown area, keeping distance between them. Castiel stuffed his hands into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the sidewalk as if he were counting every crack in the cement.
He felt like a complete moron. He should be at the studio, finishing the bridge for their new song, or at least at the store buying the damn coffee he’d gone out for in the first place. Instead, he was following her. Again. Just like he used to do years ago, when his world started and ended wherever she stood.
The silence between them wasn't as sharp as it had been at the bus stop, but it was a little tense. He could hear the rhythm of her footsteps matching his, and for a second, the muscle memory of his hand reaching for hers almost betrayed him. He tightened his grip on the fabric inside his pockets.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She looked different under the sunlight. Besides, she also looked to be in better shape. It seems like the talk of the other day did her good too. He wondered if she could hear his heart thumping, or if she was just as terrified as he was of the fact that, despite the four years, being next to her still felt like the most natural thing in the world.
He sent a quick text to Lysander as they reached the mall, asking him to look after his guitar and letting him know he’d be taking a detour for a while.
"Ah, there’s the shop," she said, spotting the music store near the entrance. "Thanks again. I won't take up too much of your time."
Both of them headed toward the shop. The chime above the glass door rang as they stepped inside.
"Wow... I haven't been here in years, and it’s exactly how I remembered it," she said, looking around. "It’s like it’s been stuck in time."
The shop was filled with shelves along the walls and racks holding hundreds of albums. They also had vinyl records and a wide variety of instruments. The lighting was somewhat dim, and the décor was very urban, with graffiti on the walls and posters of many different bands. She managed to spot a Crowstorm poster on the wall, near the counter.
"So... what are you looking for?" Castiel asked.
She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard his voice.
"Ah, right. I was thinking about a vinyl record..." she turned her gaze toward where the vinyls were kept.
"And what bands does your friend like?" he asked, following her.
She began to leaf through the vinyl records, focused and curious.
"There's one she really likes. It’s... Dim... Dimmo...?" She scratched her temple, trying to remember. Then, it clicked. "Dimmo Morgar!"
"Dimmu Borgir," Castiel corrected her. "It’s a metal band. I know them. They’re good."
Castiel headed toward a specific section and began to search with determination. He clearly knew exactly where to look.
"At this point, I thought you’d have cultured yourself a little," he said with a hint of amusement, teasing her. "You don’t know Dimmu Borgir, seriously? They’re pretty popular."
"Well, no. It’s not really my preferred genre," she said, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall.
"And yet, you used to like listening to my music while we studied together or did homework back in high school," he said quietly, without thinking.
Perhaps it was their proximity, or perhaps it was the familiarity of a place where they held so many memories, but he suddenly began to feel nostalgic.
"Well, I didn't say I hated that kind of music; I just said it’s not my preference," she shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "Besides, back then, I only did it so you'd like me."
Castiel scoffed, giving her a surprised look.
"What are you talking about?" He shook his head slightly. "I remember you being really excited to listen to music with me."
"Duh, because I wanted to have something to talk to you about and for you to think I was cool," she rolled her eyes, amused. "I didn't know most of the bands you talked about, but whenever I mentioned I liked some of their songs, you’d automatically get in a good mood."
"You mean you were faking your personality just to get me to like you?" he said with mock indignation, making her let out a playful giggle.
"A little bit, yeah. You were very difficult, you know? When you were in a bad mood, you’d always take it out on me! And when you’d talk to me about something I didn't understand, I knew that if I told you I was lost, you’d just mock me even more and treat me like I was stupid. That’s why I lied about some things," she shrugged again, without a hint of regret on her face. "But over time, you became a bit more... docile, so it wasn't necessary anymore. Although I can't believe you didn't notice. It was so obvious that I had no clue what was going on! Even Lysander teased me about it once. It was a bit pathetic, honestly..."
Castiel stared at her, a mix of amusement and disbelief crossing his face. On one hand, what she was saying actually made sense now, but on the other, he found it a little hard to believe.
"Mmm... I guess that explains, in part, why you followed me everywhere like a lost puppy," he said with a smirk.
"Yeah, well..." she huffed, looking away with a small pout. "I didn't get along very well with the others... and even though you were a pain, I didn't actually dislike you. We had a very similar sense of humor and a similar way of thinking. Between you and... let’s say, Nathaniel, it was obvious who I was going to pick."
Castiel shook his head, sighing lightly as he finally found the vinyl they were looking for. He handed it to her, that amused expression still lingering on his face.
"Well, you weren't very smart, were you?" He crossed his arms. "If you’d chosen that idiot, it would’ve brought you more advantages, don't you think?"
She looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Would you have preferred it if I’d chosen Nathaniel?"
And that was enough to strike Castiel silent for a few moments.
Of course not—he’d love to shout it at her. How could he possibly like the idea of her choosing that idiot Nathaniel? Just thinking about the possibility of her getting fed up with his bad temper and leaving him to go after that other idiot... ugh. He didn't even want to go there.
Castiel cleared his throat, looking away.
"Well, whatever. You should pay for that, shouldn't you? I can't stay any longer," he said, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.
She nodded slightly, heading toward the counter in silence.
He let out a deep breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. Suddenly, he had felt suffocated. She truly knew how to throw him off balance.
He watched her approach the counter and speak with the clerk; meanwhile, he scanned the record racks, trying to distract himself. His gaze fell upon an album by one of his favorite bands, The Last Souls. They were also a metal band, and he’d been following them for a long time. Without a second thought, he grabbed their most recent record and headed toward the counter as well.
It would be his good deed for the day.
When they stepped out of the shop, he offered her the record.
"Here. Culturize yourself," he said, staring at her as his mocking expression returned. "So you can stop faking it."
"Are you serious?" she huffed, accepting the album.
"Yeah, dead serious. And you’d better like it," Castiel waved goodbye as he finally walked away. "See ya."
She watched him walk away until he disappeared from her line of sight, and then her gaze returned to the album in her hands. She smiled faintly, feeling a warmth in her chest as her heart skipped a beat.
She let out a deep sigh as she turned around and walked away from the shop as well, unable to wipe the smile off her face.
(...)
The following days continued as usual for Castiel. Well, except for the moment he had to hold himself back when Lysander mentioned he had spoken to her again and that they had exchanged numbers. He had been on the verge of running over to demand her number, but he managed to stop himself.
He didn’t want to look desperate.
That evening, they finished a gig at a bar near campus—the same bar where they had first run into each other again. It would be a lie to say Castiel hadn't been scanning the crowd with almost obsessive attention, hoping to find her there. But this time, she didn't show up.
After convincing himself that he didn't care at all that she hadn't attended their show, it was time to head home.
He felt the temptation to take a detour and pass by the university "casually," just to maybe run into her. By chance, of course. But Lysander convinced him it was a terrible idea, since the place was crawling with groupies and they’d be lucky to even reach the van to get away.
Fortunately, they managed to leave the venue with the help of the bar’s security and finally climbed into the van. Castiel collapsed into his seat as the doors closed and they moved slowly through the crowd. It was flattering to have so many crazy fans, he couldn't deny that. But sometimes... well.
Castiel leaned his head against the windowpane, watching as they slowly pulled away from the bar and moved onto the roads, which were almost completely clear due to the hour. He was exhausted.
He was about to drift off to sleep while the van stopped at a red light, but then, Lysander nudged him lightly with his elbow.
Castiel turned to look at him, scowling and ready to snap at him, but he stopped when Lysander pointed toward the window behind him.
"Look over there," he said.
Castiel looked back toward the window, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out what Lys meant. It was dark already, so he couldn't see much. But then, he spotted two figures coming out of an alleyway.
His eyes widened in surprise when he managed to identify them. That idiot Nathaniel, and right beside him... her. They were walking close together, chatting with total familiarity, like lifelong friends. And while they had known each other since high school, they had never actually gotten along. Since when were they this close?
Castiel stared fixedly through the glass, scowling and clenching his fists at the sight before him. The blonde idiot had given her his jacket, and she was wearing it over her shoulders.
"We should pull over and give her a ride," he said, turning to Lysander.
"Ah, aren't you being quite charitable?" Lysander let out a small chuckle.
"Well, it’s late, and she clearly looks cold," Castiel grumbled. "Besides, that moron is definitely trying something with her, he shouldn't—"
But before he could finish, the light turned green, and the van began to move again.
"No!" Castiel growled in frustration, hurriedly rolling down the window and sticking his head out to keep them in sight. Then, he barked at the driver, "Turn back! Dammit..."
"It’s a one-way street, give it up," Lysander said, shaking his head slightly, amused. "And get your head back inside, it’s dangerous."
"But that idiot must be up to something! He must be trying to make a move on her!" Castiel grumbled in frustration as Lysander yanked him by the jacket to get him back into his seat.
"Well, and it’ll be her decision if she plays along," Lysander replied. "And if she doesn't want anything to do with it, she’ll know how to set boundaries. She doesn't need you to 'rescue' her."
Castiel huffed, settling back into his seat and crossing his arms.
"I wouldn't mind if that moron was still the same old stuck-up prude," he muttered under his breath. "But he... he’s changed a lot."
"Ah, right. Now he gets into trouble and has a more rebellious style," Lysander nodded slightly. "And she’s always had that 'I can fix him' complex, hasn't she? Is that what’s worrying you?"
"Pfft. Worrying me?" Castiel scoffed. "Not at all. That idiot could steal my personality if he wanted to, and she still wouldn't look twice at him. Deep down, he’ll always be that boring Student Rep."
Lysander looked at him with one eyebrow raised, noting the frantic, repetitive bouncing of Castiel's leg.
"Then why do you look so anxious?"
"I’m not!"
"Besides, it’s not like she’s that naive," Lysander continued, enjoying his friend’s irritation. "She'll be fine. There's no need to get so worked up."
Castiel grit his teeth. Silence filled the van once more, broken only by the engine and the incessant bouncing of his leg against the floor. Two minutes passed that felt like hours until Castiel let out a growl and pulled his phone from his pocket.
"Dammit, Lysander. Just shut up," he said, not meeting his friend’s eyes. "Give me her number."
"What for? I thought you weren't worried."
"I’m not. But I still want to make sure she gets to campus safely. I don't care if that jerk tries anything with her, but we both know he's involved in shady stuff."
Lysander said nothing, but the small smile on his face was enough to make Castiel want to jump out of the moving van. Nevertheless, a few seconds later, Castiel’s phone vibrated with a newly received contact.
"There you go." Lysander said.
"I'm not going to thank you for this," Castiel grumbled as he settled into his seat and quickly focused on his phone.
He opened the messaging app, and after saving her contact, he opened their chat. Her profile picture was a selfie, and before he could overthink it, he took a screenshot of it. Then, without hesitation, he sent a message.
"I just saw you. What are you doing with Nathaniel?"
He watched the screen intently, waiting for her reply. He didn't care if he sounded too nosy; he couldn't think straight at that moment.
The response didn't take long. He opened the chat again, only to see that she had replied with three question marks.
"???"
Of course.
"It's Castiel," he texted back.
Again, she replied almost immediately.
"How did you get my number?"
Castiel grit his teeth, annoyed. Was she playing dumb? It didn't help his foul mood. He replied again.
"Why are you dodging my question? Do you know that idiot is involved in shady stuff? You shouldn't be alone with him, especially at this hour."
This time, she took longer to answer. He bit his thumb nail while waiting for her response, staring fixedly at the screen, barely blinking. Minutes later, her reply arrived.
"I've heard something about that, yes. But I prefer to form my own opinion instead of getting carried away by rumors."
Oh, this girl is so frustrating.
Castiel huffed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. Why wasn't he surprised that she was still just as reckless?
"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" he replied."Stay away from that moron before he drags you into his mess or tries to make a move on you. He’s a complete jerk."
She didn't take long to text back.
"That’s my business. I’d appreciate it if you didn't give me advice I didn't ask for."
"What the hell is wrong with her?!" Castiel huffed with annoyance, locking his phone and slamming it onto the seat. "Why is she getting so defensive over that prick now?!"
Lysander watched him closely, then shook his head.
"Maybe it’s not about him, but about you," he said, turning his attention back to his own phone. "Did you talk to her like a normal person, or like a resentful ex-boyfriend?"
Castiel looked at him with indignation.
"What are you talking about?! Obviously, I talked to her normally," he said, crossing his arms and looking away. "I just suggested she stay away from that idiot because he’s up to no good and he'll end up getting her into trouble or making a move on her."
"Oh, sure, because that doesn't sound like a resentful ex-boyfriend at all..." Lysander scoffed.
Castiel didn't reply again. He shoved his phone into his pocket with frustration. For the rest of the ride, he spent his time glaring at the back of the driver’s seat, ignoring Lysander’s sidelong glances.
If that idiot had turned around when he asked him to...
When he finally reached his apartment, the silence greeted him like a bucket of cold water. He shrugged off his jacket, tossed it onto the sofa, and collapsed onto his bed without even turning on the light.
He pulled his phone out once more. The screen illuminated his tired face, showing the photo he had swiped from her profile. She looked so different yet so familiar; in this photo, she had a spark in her eyes that he remembered all too well.
"Dammit," he whispered to no one, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the light. "Why does she always have to be so stubborn?"
Just then, his phone vibrated. A message notification. Castiel nearly fell off the bed in his rush to open it, his heart hammering against his ribs, hoping it was her admitting he was right. But it wasn't her. It was a group text from the band about tomorrow's rehearsal.
Castiel locked his phone with a growl and tossed it to the other side of the mattress. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
He didn't sleep much that night. He spent the entire time tossing and turning in bed, feeling suffocated and frustrated. To make matters worse, the little sleep he did manage to get was plagued by nightmares. In one of them, she appeared kissing Nathaniel right in front of him. And when Castiel confronted her, she confessed that, in reality, she had always preferred Nathaniel.
Bullshit.
In the morning, he got out of bed begrudgingly. He had no desire to go out, much less to rehearse, but the album release was approaching and they had many performances lined up after that—he couldn't afford the luxury of skipping rehearsals.
He took a cold shower, changed into something comfortable, and prepared a simple breakfast, eating while scrolling through his phone.
A sudden notification snapped him out of his thoughts. It was from Lysander.
"I forgot to tell you that she got back to campus safely last night. Nathaniel only walked her to the university entrance and then left."
Hmm...
Ignoring the annoyance that she had preferred to let Lysander know instead of him, he texted back.
"I don't care. I'd already forgotten about it. But thanks."
Good.
He got up from the breakfast bar to take his dishes to the dishwasher and then headed to the bathroom to do his hair. He was just going to dry and brush his hair.
He stood there, staring at the comb in his hand and then at his own face in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were a dead giveaway of his terrible night. He let out an irritated sigh and set the comb down on the sink with a bit too much force.
"Get over it already," he told himself, though his voice sounded unconvincing in the silence of the bathroom.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket one last time. No new messages from her. Not a single word. That suffocating feeling from the night before began to crawl back up his throat. He couldn't go to rehearsal and pretend everything was fine when it felt like Nathaniel was stealing something that, technically, wasn't even his anymore.
He huffed in frustration, biting his thumb nail as he paused to think for a few minutes.
Why was he getting so worked up? She wasn't his anymore. He had no claim over her; things had changed. They had both moved on... or not.
He had no desire to go through the same thing all over again.
But once more, the image of her with Nathaniel in that alleyway flooded his mind, followed by her appearance in his nightmares like a ghost seeking to haunt and drain him.
He felt lost. Confused. He didn't want to talk to Lysander because he could already imagine what he’d say, and besides him, there was no one else he’d dare talk to about her—or about how she was slowly chipping away at his sanity.
Just as he was about to make an impulsive decision, a new notification startled him.
He unlocked his phone and went to the messaging app, expecting a text from Lysander, but he was in for a huge surprise when he realized it was from her.
He opened the chat to find a photograph. The photo showed what he imagined was her room, but the main focus was a record player.
"It was such a pain to find one of these! I could only find ones that were super expensive, so I had to ask all my friends until one of them lent me his dad's, lol. But I finally got to listen to the album you gave me. It’s not bad, a solid 7/10."
Castiel huffed in disbelief.
Seven out of ten?!
He typed his reply immediately, unable to help the foolish grin forming on his lips.
"Did I read that right, or did you just give a 7/10 to a The Last Souls album? Correction: to the best album of their entire career? You really are a lost cause."
He shook his head slightly. He was about to lock his phone when her reply came in quickly.
"Well... I’ve heard better."
Castiel let out a laugh as he typed his response.
"Now you’re just trying to mess with me. What have you heard that's better than The Last Souls, huh?"
He watched the screen intently, waiting for her answer, ready to mock her. She’d surely mention some overrated band or some boring pop artist.
But then, when her reply arrived, his heart skipped a beat in his chest.
"Have you heard of Crowstorm?"
Castiel shook his head slightly again, his smile widening despite himself. She still had that power to put him in a good mood without even trying.
"Idiot," he texted back.
He locked his phone and focused on finishing getting ready. His motivation for rehearsal had suddenly reappeared, and all thanks to a couple of messages from her.
He was a goner.
Later, during rehearsals, he found himself completely focused. Despite having barely slept the night before, he felt entirely refreshed. And that scared him a little.
How could he feel this good just because of a brief exchange of messages with her?
She was dangerous. Very dangerous.
But in those moments, he was somewhat grateful for it, as rehearsal went better than he had expected—smoothly, with minimal mistakes that on any other day might have made him snap, but not today. Nothing could ruin his mood. Of course, he wasn’t being discreet at all, and all his bandmates noticed. Castiel had to endure their teasing and comments throughout the entire session.
"Wait, so you're telling us the same girl you wrote all those spiteful songs about is the one who has you smiling like an idiot now?" one of them said. "Have some pride!"
And it wasn't as if Castiel hadn't been repeating those same words to himself since he’d run into her again. But once more, he was falling, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
And lately, he didn't exactly have much motivation to put a stop to it, either.
Yeah, well, he wasn't exactly great at making decisions either.
Later, when he returned home, Castiel had that foolish grin painted on his face again; he’d been texting her throughout the commute. The familiar way they used to treat each other had returned. He’d told her about the rehearsal and the new album they were releasing soon, while she told him about her day at the university—the classes she’d liked and the ones that bored her. She also mentioned that she’d gone out with some friends after class.
However, his smile vanished when he read the latest text from her.
"I ran into Nath and Amber at the bar. It still surprises me how much Amber has changed, you know? She actually seems nice now... it’s like I’ve traveled to a parallel universe."
Again.
Castiel frowned, immediately feeling that annoying pressure in his chest at the mention of Nathaniel’s name. Was that idiot following her? Well, the bar she was at was pretty popular; anyone could go, obviously, but still...
He replied immediately.
"I told you that you should stay away from him."
He flopped onto his bed after shucking off his jacket, feeling exhaustion flood his body. It had been a long day. When a few minutes passed without a reply, he sent another message.
"Hey, you still there? Answer me or I’m calling you."
Subtle.
Her response didn't take long this time.
"No, wait. There was a problem."
Castiel sat up on the bed, staring at the screen with a furrowed brow. Instantly, a thousand possible scenarios flashed through his mind, and in every single one, she ended up getting hurt in some way.
He texted her again.
"What happened? Are you okay? Tell me."
He bit his thumb nail, waiting for her reply and feeling his body tense up. He felt the blood drain from his face when she finally answered.
"No. Nath caused a scene; it was a disaster. There was a fight. We’ll talk tomorrow."
Like hell they would.
If she thought he was going to sit quietly at home and forget about the whole thing for the rest of the night, she was dead wrong.
He sprang out of bed and grabbed his jacket again, heading out of the room to find his keys.
He debated internally for a few seconds after leaving the apartment whether he should let Lysander know or not, but he finally decided not to involve him.
The cold night air hit him in the face as he stepped out and began to walk hurriedly through the streets, almost running, with only one goal in mind: to get to that stupid bar as quickly as possible. It wasn't far.
Every step he took on the cold pavement felt like an eternity. Castiel rounded the corner of his street, dodging a couple of passersby who looked at him strangely because of his frantic pace, but he didn't care at all.
He pulled his phone out again while crossing an avenue, hoping to see the "typing..." bubble in their chat. Nothing. Her silence was deafening.
His mind was a mess. He imagined Nathaniel losing his cool, maybe dragging her into some legal trouble, or even worse, her getting hurt while trying to break them up. He knew that "hero" instinct she’d always had—that need to mediate when things got ugly. And in a bar full of drunk people, and a Nathaniel who was always looking for trouble, anything could happen.
The freezing air burned his lungs, but the heat of the rage in his chest was much stronger. He felt like an idiot for not insisting more that she stay away from that blonde moron.
In the distance, the bar's neon lights began to flicker through the night mist, and his heart leaps when he manages to hear the sound of police sirens in the distance, so he quickens his pace.
When he finally approached the bar, he found a swarm of people outside, shouting and looking agitated while the venue's security tried to calm them down. Castiel scanned the crowd, trying to find her, and when he did, his breath hitched.
She was sitting on a step by the entrance, and a paramedic was with her, treating a cut on her lip and her eyebrow.
Castiel approached her without a second thought, feeling rage flood his system at the sight of the wounds on her face, completely ignoring everything happening around him.
"What the hell happened?" was the first thing out of his mouth when he stood before her.
She looked up, her eyes widening in surprise to find him there.
"Castiel?" she said in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
"Don't dodge the question," he said. "What happened?"
She shook her head slightly.
"It was just a stupid fight, but it escalated because more people got involved and it turned into a mess," she let out a heavy sigh. "Drunk people stuff, you know how it is."
Castiel snorted with annoyance, incredulous.
"And that blonde idiot started it all, didn't he? He’s always getting into trouble; everyone’s talking about it. And now he’s dragged you into it!" His voice began to rise.
"What are you even talking about?" She looked at him with a furrowed brow. "You don't even know what happened. Calm down."
"I warned you," Castiel interrupted. "I told you that moron was going to get you into trouble, and look at you now!"
She thanked the paramedic once he finished tending to her wounds, then stood up to face him.
"Can you calm down for a second?" She crossed her arms. "I appreciate your concern, but you don't understand anything. Nath was just defending me."
"And there you go, defending him too," he growled in frustration. "Don't you get it? You need to stay away from that jerk!"
"Well, I'm not," she said firmly. "In fact, I'm going to talk to him right now. I have something to tell him."
She turned around, ready to walk away from him, feeling just as frustrated. But before she could take another step, Castiel grabbed her arm firmly and pulled her toward him.
"You're not going to him," he muttered gruffly, staring deep into her eyes. "I'm not going to let you."
She wrenched her arm away from his grip with a sharp movement, her eyes flashing with a mix of pain and pure indignation.
"Who the hell do you think you are, Castiel?!" she shouted, her voice trembling but firm. "You don't get to tell me where I can or can't go. You lost that right a long time ago!"
Castiel took a half-step back, stunned by the venom in her voice, but his jaw remained clenched.
"I’m trying to keep you from making another mistake!" he barked back. "Look at your face! He was supposed to be 'defending' you, and yet you're the one bleeding!"
"He helped me!" she spat, stepping closer until she was inches from his chest. "A guy was harassing me, Castiel. He wouldn't leave me alone, and Nath was the only one who stepped in to stop him. It turned into a brawl because that creep’s friends jumped in too and one of them took advantage of the disturbance to attack me."
Castiel watched her in silence, processing the information she’d just dropped. It didn't seem like she was lying, but he still found it hard to believe.
"How do I know you’re not lying just to cover for him?" he asked, crossing his arms and looking down at her.
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "Who do you think I am? Why would I cover for him?"
"Because you two seem so close now!" Castiel snapped. "You don't call him a 'boring moron' anymore; now it’s just 'Nath.' You’re real tight now, aren’t you?"
She looked at him as if he were an idiot, massaging the bridge of her nose before answering.
"Are you serious?" She huffed. "You can't be this much of an idiot..."
"Are you going to give me a straight answer for once or what?!" he growled in frustration, grabbing her arm once more, though with less force this time.
"And are you going to stop making up stories in your head?!" she shot back with equal frustration. "Yes, I get along better with him, but it’s not that big of a deal!"
Castiel yanked her toward him roughly, frustration evident in both his face and his voice.
"You say I’m making up stories? And yet, you’re getting awfully defensive," he said bitterly. "Does it bother you that much when I go after your precious Nathaniel?"
She rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"You’re an idiot," she sighed. "I’m done with this conversation."
She tried to wrench herself free from his grip, but this time he wouldn’t let her, tightening his hold.
"You’re not leaving. We’re not finished," he said, his jaw tight. "It's a bit too soon for you to go running back into that moron’s arms."
"Let go of me, Castiel!" she shouted, struggling harder against his grip. "You have no right to keep me here, and even less to question who I spend my time with!"
"I'm just trying to stop you from doing something stupid!" he roared, bringing his face close to hers, his eyes flashing with rage. "Look at you, for God's sake! A few minutes with him and this is how you end up!"
"I already explained how everything happened, but you're not listening to me!" she blurts out in frustration.
Castiel grit his teeth, feeling the rage burning in his throat. His grip on her arm tightened, though his fingers were trembling.
"Because it makes me sick to see you with him after everything!" he snapped, his voice cracking for a split second.
She looked at him in surprise and was about to respond, but he interrupted her, dragging her along with him.
"It makes my blood boil to see you getting along with that moron now," he said, pulling her away from the chaos of the bar. "It had to be him, didn't it? It’s like you’re doing it on purpose just to piss me off!"
"Get over yourself, Castiel!" she interrupted this time. "You aren't the center of the universe. If I get along with Nath, it has nothing to do with you."
Castiel snorted in frustration, clenching his jaw.
"Nath this, Nath that. Nath, Nath, Nath!" he spat angrily. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to hear you constantly bringing up another man’s name?"
"I’ll remind you that you started this interrogation!" She glared at him, scowling. She couldn't believe he was acting like such a complete jerk.
"All you had to do was tell me the truth and we’d be done with this!" he growled, raising his voice once more.
"I already told you the truth!" she shouted.
"Well, that’s not enough for me!" he shouted back.
"Then what the hell do you want to hear right now?!" She tried to stay calm, but with him, it was impossible. She had to ball her fists to keep herself from lunging at him, grabbing him by the hair, and shaking him until he came to his senses.
"I want you to tell me that moron doesn't matter to you!" he blurted out in frustration, his voice trembling with rage. "I want to hear that you don't like him, that you’ll go back to treating him like an idiot, and tell me you can't stand him!"
"Why does it even affect you so much?!" She tried to wrench herself free from his grip again. Things were escalating far too quickly. "I’m not going to lie to you just to satisfy your ego or whatever. I get along with him; I like him now. We’re friends, and there is absolutely nothing that’s going to make me change my mind. Not even your stupid temper tantrums! I’m sick of it! You haven't changed at all! You’re still an immature, annoying, egocentric jerk! Leave me alone and let’s just end this nonsense! I don't want—"
She didn't get to finish her sentence.
Castiel’s grip on her arm shifted, sliding up to the back of her neck with a sudden, forceful urgency. Before she could take another breath to keep shouting at him, he pulled her toward him and crashed his lips against hers.
It wasn't a sweet or romantic kiss; it was a collision of years of resentment, unspoken words, and a frantic need to silence the truth she was throwing in his face. It tasted like adrenaline and salt, a desperate attempt to reclaim a territory he felt he was losing to his greatest rival.
For a second, the world around them—the sirens, the shouting at the bar, the cold night air—simply ceased to exist. There was only the heat of the moment and the dissonant rhythm of two hearts that refused to beat in sync, yet couldn't stay apart.
The shock lasted only for a split second.
She began to struggle with rage, letting out a groan of frustration against his lips as her hands clenched into fists against Castiel’s chest, pushing him away with all her might.
In one swift motion, she managed to free a hand and, without a second thought, she slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing in the secluded alleyway.
Castiel froze, his face turned to the side by the force of the blow, the mark of her fingers beginning to redden his cheek. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by both of their ragged breathing. He slowly looked back at her, with a mix of pain, surprise, and a challenging spark in his eyes.
"You think you can just fix everything with a damn kiss?" she hissed, trembling from the adrenaline and rage. "You’re an immature, possessive idiot, and..."
She looked deep into his eyes, furious, but also desperate. She wasn't thinking things through either; she was letting herself be carried away by the adrenaline and the rush of her emotions. She was no better than him.
She didn't get to finish her insult.
Instead, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them once more, and this time, it was she who grabbed him roughly by his jacket. She rose onto her tiptoes and crashed her lips against his with the same violence she had hit him with a second earlier.
Castiel wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him, wanting to erase every inch of distance as he melted into the kiss. His mind clouded over at the shared intensity and passion; he couldn't think of anything but the taste and texture of her lips, and how much he had missed them.
She threw her arms around his neck, sliding her fingers into his hair and burying them in the strands as she returned the kiss, mirroring his desperation. She felt frustrated, yet at the same time, so relieved to be back in his arms, tasting his lips once more. She had missed that mixture of passion and desperation he always kissed her with—as if he felt she might disappear at any second. He held her tight against him, roughly biting her lips between every kiss, making her shiver and leaving her breath hitching in her throat.
Castiel pushed her lightly against the brick wall, the rough surface a sharp contrast to the heat radiating between them. He pinned her there with the full weight of his body. His hands remained locked around her waist, his grip bruisingly firm, as if he were trying to anchor her to him forever. He continued to kiss her with a frantic, raw desperation that bordered on hunger. He couldn't tell if this fire was fueled by the lingering adrenaline of the fight or the agonizing years he’d spent trying to convince himself he’d moved on. In that moment, the logic didn't matter; he couldn't—and he damn well didn't want to—stop.
She clung to him desperately. Her fingers tangled deeper into the crimson strands of his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel the sting of his lips to know this was real. A soft, broken moan escaped her, lost against his mouth as he cornered her further, intensifying the kiss, their tongues entwined and their ragged breaths mingling until her lungs burned for air. She felt dizzy, completely overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne and the familiar, intoxicating rhythm of his heartbeat against her own. She knew she should probably pull away, but she couldn't. She felt with a terrifying certainty that if she let go now, if she broke this fragile, violent peace, everything would have been in vain.
They remained like that for a few moments longer, locked inside their own bubble, ignoring everything happening around them and focusing only on the passion that enveloped them.
It wasn’t a sweet or romantic moment. Instead, it was heavy—charged with lingering anger, desperation, and a thousand unspoken doubts. Every touch was a question, every breath a challenge.
They finally broke the kiss, gasping for air, but neither of them moved an inch. Castiel kept her pinned against the wall, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes closed as he tried to steady his erratic breathing. His hands were still firmly planted on her waist, as if letting go would mean losing her all over again.
The adrenaline was slowly fading, replaced by a heavy, suffocating realization of everything they had just said—and everything they hadn't.
"Don't you ever..." Castiel began, his voice barely a raspy whisper, thick with a mix of leftover rage and raw vulnerability. He paused, swallowing hard before opening his eyes to look at her, his gaze intense and dark. "Don't you ever scare me like that again. Do you hear me?"
She looked back at him, her lips swollen from the kiss and her own breath still shaky. The anger was gone, leaving behind only the exhaustion of the night and the undeniable truth that, no matter how much they fought it, they were still each other's greatest weakness.
"I'm sorry," she whispered back, her voice cracking slightly as she rested her hands on his chest, feeling the frantic thumping of his heart beneath his leather jacket.
For a moment, the chaos of the bar, the fight, and the years of silence didn't matter. There was only the cold night air, the sting of the slap on his cheek, and the lingering taste of a kiss that had changed everything.
Castiel let out a shaky, incredulous laugh, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he held her tight.
"God... I’m such a jerk," he whispered against her skin. He planted a quick kiss on her neck before lifting his head again. "I’m the one who’s sorry. I was acting like a caveman a second ago."
His voice had softened, turning almost sweet as he took her face in his hands, thumbing her cheekbones, his gaze drifting toward her freckles.
"Well, you’ve always been a bit of one..." she murmured, feeling overwhelmed and not quite knowing how to act, yet unable to resist leaning into his touch.
Castiel smiled at her words, looking at her with tenderness as she leaned in. He pressed a kiss to the cut on her eyebrow and another to her lip.
"Maybe so... I just can't help losing my cool when it comes to you. You make me act like a brute. It’s your fault," he said playfully, teasing her.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, clicking her tongue at his words.
"You can’t manage to be nice for more than ten seconds, can you?" She tilted her face up to look him straight in the eyes.
"No," he gave her a quick peck on the lips. "I have to annoy you constantly or I’ll explode."
She let out a stray chuckle, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling herself even closer to him.
"You’re a nuisance... unbearable and immature," she said softly, tracing a line of kisses along his jawline.
"And you’re a pain, a troublemaker, and a total airhead," he said with a smirk, drawing her face back in to kiss her again, this time with a lingering calm.
They continued kissing for a while longer, whispering nonsense between breaths and sharing carefree laughs, until they finally broke apart again, gasping for air.
"Alright..." Castiel looked at her intently. "Go say goodbye to your friends or whatever. We’re leaving."
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"We?"
Castiel smirked playfully, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.
"Of course, we. I’m planning on stealing you away tonight."
She let out a stray chuckle.
"Cheesy..." she said, rolling her eyes.
He planted another kiss on her cheek before pulling back.
"Maybe, but I’m not lying. Tonight, you’re coming with me," he said firmly.
"Hmm... sounds tempting," she teased, pretending to be deep in thought. "Do you want to continue the argument from earlier?"
"Maybe," Castiel smirked mischievously. "You look sexier when you’re mad and screaming at me."
"And you’re a masochist," she mocked him.
"A bit..." He took her hand, kissing the back of it before interlacing their fingers. "So, are we going?"
She nodded slightly, her smile widening in spite of herself.
"Alright."