#warbel

[trintysantos]

[pollypocket6890]

Afrojack (feat. Wrabel) - Ten Feet Tall - SoundCloud

Listen to Afrojack (feat. Wrabel) - Ten Feet Tall by Afrojack on #SoundCloud

Afrojack (feat. Wrabel) - Ten Feet Tall

Afrojack feat. Wrabel - Ten Feet Tall. Buy it here: http://smarturl.it/iTenFeetTall US release date: February 3rd International rele

[alfredodesa]

Garand Thumb : "Gunfighter" belt setup / First line gear (2018 ver)

[ariqizra]

warbel

[i36ish]

[lizzieluvemm]

Dedicated to all those colorful birds.

[skamdumpster]

11 Blocks

I recommend listening to 11 Blocks by Warbel when reading this. Enjoy!

Dean woke up that morning and sold the trench coat.

The trench coat that Dean didn’t own was hanging around his house for months. He had passed it everyday on his way out to work and passed it as he came in, craving sleep. It was a painful reminder of three years ago.

He thought that selling the coat would get rid of the presence of the coat’s history. He gave the trench coat to a pawn shop. The encounter with the man behind the counter was a little more awkward than Dean wanted it to be.

“Just the trench coat?” The man asked. Dean nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Any reason why?” He asked, grabbing the coat off the counter and examining it.

Dean swallowed, the memories flooding back but he just shrugged, trying to play it as if it was an old thing lying around. Which it was.

“Alright, I’ll give you fifty bucks for it.” The man put the coat away, in a drawer behind him and pulled out some money from the cash register.

Dean sighed and nodded. There. The weight that that coat brought around with was gone. Dean gratefully took the money and said goodbye.

A few days later, the chair that the coat was sitting on for the months it was present in the household was sold.

His current girlfriend, Lisa, had always asked him why those two items were right by the door. Dean would give her the same response he gave the pawn shop guy. A shrug. She never liked the coat and said it didn’t move from that spot. Dean liked it better when she wasn’t nagging about it.

When Dean came home from selling the chair, Lisa was waiting for him in the kitchen. Dean sat down at the island in the middle of their kitchen, hands folded. His mind was still wandering.

“Thank God you finally sold that coat.” Lisa broke the silence that Dean had no idea was there. He exhaled. She was at the stove, cooking.

“Yeah, it was bothering me.” Lisa scoffed, back turned to him. Lisa’s and Dean’s communication wasn’t the best. Mostly, Dean would be at work so they couldn’t talk or they’d be sharing the same space but there wasn’t much noise filling it.

That night, Lisa went out with her friends again. She usually went out to get out of the emptiness in the house. Dean didn’t mind it when she left because he could be left alone with his thoughts. But they usually lead to the thought he’s been thinking for 3 years.

11 blocks away.

Dean went to get coffee the next morning. He went to the small coffee shop on the corner, 6 blocks away from his doorstep. He sat down with his dark coffee with one spoonful of sugar. Instinctively, he sat down at the regular spot he used to sit at. As soon as he did so, he looked around for the man with bright blue eyes and outrageously crazy sex hair. Dean realized his mistake when he didn’t see the man.

Nothing felt right.

Dean went to Sam’s party that night. He walked from his house, counting the blocks. Sam’s house was 14 blocks away from the sex hair man. He left Lisa at home but Dean was sure she was having someone over. He wish he could just break the relationship since it wasn’t doing anyone any good.

As soon as Dean stepped in and saw Sam, he stepped back out. He was dancing with his girlfriend, Jess, and they looked so happy. Sam had his college buddies there with him and he had invited Dean just to get him out of the house. It had failed.

Dean sat on the doorstep, pulling out a cigarette from it’s container. He lit it and took a drag.

He drew out the map again in his mind. It wasn’t a far walk. 11 blocks wasn’t far. He could go there right now. Well, it was 14 blocks from Sam’s place. Dean took another drag, the nicotine working like magic to relieve some of his thoughts. Then, he got up and started to walk the 3 blocks back to his and Lisa’s house.

He counts the blocks again, smoking a couple more cigarettes.

When he reached his own house, he’s about to open the door until he hears Lisa laughing and another man’s voice. He sighed and turned back around.

11 blocks.

Dean almost starts running he was so excited. He knew this was for the best. He was going mad thinking about those 11 blocks, now 9, over the course of three years. He follows the map he’s ingrained in his mind as he turns a corner. He knows that there is one more right turn.

Just a couple more blocks.

He remembers the memories he had with the man. He remembers sitting at their spot in the coffee shop. He remembers the last night they talked and how he had left his beloved trench coat with Dean. He remembers the first time the man would tell Dean they should stay home on a Friday night. Dean thought that he was crazy but he grew to like staying home with the person he loves.

Loved. He didn’t love that man anymore.

But when Dean reaches the address, he knows he’s completely lying to himself. The familiarity of the exterior was calming, just like his cigarettes. He knew if things worked out, he wouldn’t need them.

Dean stands at the doorstep for a minute. He can’t get the pass fact that it’s been three years.

There was a time the man had left for a week on business. Dean was pretty confident in himself but when the man left, Dean had broke down. The man came home to a crying Dean, laying on the couch. That man only knew truly what Dean was like alone.

The breakdowns could stop if things worked out.

Dean felt the corners of his lips pull up as he walked slowly towards the door. He knocked on it, confidence growing.

More memories were being flooded through the barrier he had kept up for so long. The man stroking his face on a sunday morning, sharing a bed. Dean kissing him breathless. Hungering over each other’s touch. The way his eyes would look at Dean. The man’s morning hair.

When the man opened the door, Dean felt the biggest wave of relief wash over him. He sighed and looked at those bright blue eyes. Those curious eyes. Dean’s seen longing, pain, passion, and love in those eyes. They changed from dead to alive when he saw Dean.

“Dean…” He started.

“Castiel, I…” Dean had blocked out the name. He didn’t want that name coming back to him during his breakdowns but he wanted to shout that name to the world and whisper it in the man’s ear.

Castiel had cut him off and snaked his arms around his neck. Dean put his around his waist, the familiar position hitting him like a rock to the head.

"I missed you." Castiel mumbled into his ear. Dean's heart skipped a beat and he could barely talk. He couldn't bring himself to speak. He couldn't put it into words how much he had miss the sex hair, the scruff that was sprinkled across the man's jaw, the gravely, deep voice that whispered sweet things into his ears. Dean even missed his smell. He just tightened his grip on the man and sighed again.

Soon enough, there wasn't any 11 blocks. It was just one house. He didn't have a Lisa, waiting for him with another man. He had a Castiel, waiting for him with a book.

And damn, he was happy. There were no more cigarettes or lonely thoughts. There was still the trench coat on the chair, which Cas bought back, but it reminded Dean of better thoughts. He knew that his love was home.

His mind used to not stop thinking and breaking down. It still isn't stopping but he's now using it to think about how lucky he was to have his love.

[sergyprian]

Buatlah kenangan di masa sma mu. -apisto • • Niceshot #latepost #warbel #2k18