We went to the movie theater tonight, and we saw that new movie that came out. I don't remember the name anymore, I don't even remember much of the movie. We were the only two in the theater, me and Cas, and we sat at the very top tucked beneath the projector window. We talked about a lot of things, but mostly we talked about you. It's almost been a year now, a year since you've been gone. I keep thinking it's just like when I went away to Stanford, keep thinking that I'll see you again.
I still feel you in the house, on the couch, sitting on the closed toilet lid while I sing and cuss and cry in the shower. You've always hated seeing me cry, but I'm really tired Dean. I'm tired of not crying, I'm tired of apologizing. I'm tired of lying curled up in the dark while everyone goes about their days without incident, without second thought, without thinking "Dean would've liked this."
My old girlfriend from college came over. You remember Jess, don't you, Dean? She taught me how to bake pie, apple pie, and when she left I ate the entire thing in one sitting. But if you're here, you know that. Know it like my tears in the empty pie container, like the prongs of the fork I dug into the back of my hand until I bled, infecting the cuts with apple filling and crumbs.
Know it like the crestfallen look on Castiel's face when he came home from work, dropped his briefcase on the ground and hurried to cleanse the shallow wounds, wrapping them tightly in bandages.
I'm tired, Dean.
