Work Text:
Dean,
There are things I must tell you; things you don’t know, and of which I’m not sure you should know. But I need you to know. For my own sake.
Humans… your feelings are so complex, with so much nuance and complicated exceptions. God, Dean… how do you do this all the time? There’s nothing tangible to these things I feel; nothing to grasp onto in order to understand.
My intentions with this letter are not to avoid telling you these things in person, but to try to arrange my thoughts in a way that makes sense. Even still, I’m not sure I will succeed. But I will try, nonetheless, in the only way I do understand this world.
Colour. The only stable thing in all of time and space.
Here it goes:
Your friendship feels like warmth incarnate. Yellow like the sun, the source of all life, touching my borrowed skin. Burning, sometimes, too much, too intense. Your friendship is sunshine, yellow like daffodils, like honey.
Green is how I feel when you talk about other people. Green is that twist in my stomach, sick and sour. All those girls you bring around, all those nights you talk about, thinking I don’t understand. Thinking I don’t care. Green are your eyes, the way I feel when I look into them, the way I feel when they are not looking at me.
Red like burning. Like that look on your face when I lie, when I disappear and come back. Red like the aching in my heart when you look at me with all that red. Red like clenched fists and jaws and blood dripping down your freckled face. Like your cheeks when I smile at you, when you catch me watching over you. Loving you is red, being hated by you is more so.
But missing you…
Oh God, Dean, missing you is dark grey, all alone.
Missing you is like the light snuffed out, the all-day dark, the black hole in the middle of my wicked white life. Missing you is the empty in the nothing. When you send me away, banishing me to heaven, to hell, to the ends of the earth for your fools errands, because of course I will do anything you ask. Of course, I will put up with all that grey for just a glimpse of all that shining yellow.
That sunshine smile.
I don’t know if you will read this, or if you will understand any of it, but if there is something to be said to help you comprehend even a fraction of how I feel, it is this, in feeble, human words: I love you.
It’s not enough, I know, but it is all I have. All, I fear, I will ever have.
I am sorry.
Sincerely and eternally yours,
Castiel.