[ His gentleness is worse than a punch to the face.

It gives Castiel something to hope for, something to cling to. His breath is almost harsh when he feels the weight of those fingers against his face, like he cares and isn't ripping his heart out. Like they're trying to make amends. He doesn't want to feel anything except some cool detachment, but that had always been the problem with him--too much heart, caring too much. Being needy and so, so wrong. He wants to be angry at him because it's not fair. ]


All I understand is the stupidity of what it is you're trying to do. [ don't touch him, don't touch him ] I'm fine with giving you whatever it is you, but I can't give you this.

I won't.

[ And he drops his hand away only to push himself close, ignoring the sting of his eyes when he shuts them and presses his mouth to Dean's. It's uncoordinated, and he misses the first time, catching the edge of his lip. But he tries again, sliding an arm around his shoulders to drag himself closer like he's whispering please please don't leave me. It's desperate, and it hurts, the memory of the pain settling smoothly over him like it's fresh and new. This is real, and-- And Dean doesn't need him. ]

Please. [ please want me ]