Two Weeks in Europe ✓

25

TW: suicide

Cas found himself wondering, as he lay in Jamie's arms after their escapade, about what might've happened, had Jamie not walked away. Or what might've happened if he hadn't let Jamie go. If he had run after Jamie, tugging on his arm, begging Jamie to let Cas stay the night, work this out. Everything would be okay. They were soulmates, right? Jamie would be resistant at first, but eventually he'd let Cas wind their fingers together and walk him home. Cas would endure that grueling lunch with Elle and Luc, and then he'd be off. Maybe he'd sneak in through Jamie's window, or even use the front door for once. Perhaps they'd kiss, or even just talk. Talk it out, talk it through. Cas would explain everything, explain why they couldn't be public about whatever they were. Whatever we are? Jamie would repeat, looking skeptical, and Cas would put a label on it. Boyfriends. Jamie would be happy with that. Cas wouldn't have accidentally suggested the move. He would've stayed in that house, pretending to date Elle, but never kissing her again. He would've taken Jamie out to dinners, celebrated birthdays.

He'd missed Jamie's birthday, Cas vaguely thought. He remembered one such birthday well. It was chilly, and yet somehow warm, in the way that only early March mornings could be. He'd stepped out of the house for a breath of fresh air (something that Cas had gotten all too little of in the cold winter months) and it had hit him in the face like a club. It was Jamie's birthday. And Cas wasn't with him. Cas had contemplated sending something in the weeks leading up to the day, but it would've been terribly awkward for a package to randomly show up at Jamie's house from a boy he'd probably forgotten, or at the very least hated.

But he'd sent something anyway, though not in the way you'd expect. Of all the people in the Douglas house that Cas knew, only one had not changed their phone number in the year following Cas's move (they had all switched onto a new plan, or something of the sort). Lina.

"Hello?" asked the voice of a girl on the other end of the phone.

"Hi," Cas replied. "It's Cas. Caspian. Cas Roux, from next door." He ran a hand through his hair. "Jamie's old friend?"

"Oh," Lina said, sounding surprised. "This is Lina."

"Yeah, I know," Cas said, almost rolling his eyes. "Where are you?"

"Um, I'm at home, why?" Line answered. He could hear the eyebrow raise in her tone.

"I need a favor," Cas said simply.

"Why the fuck would I do a favor for you?" Lina demanded (she had never been especially tactful). "I don't even know you. All I know is that you used to live next door."

"I was Jamie's best friend," Cas offered.

"You were?" Lina asked. "He never talks about you."

Cas ignored the spark of pain in his gut, though he shouldn't have been shocked by this revelation. "Oh. Well I was."

"What do you want me to do?" Lina asked with a sigh, evidently feeling bad about her bluntness.

"There's a bookstore," Cas explained, "right by the grocery store. It's super tiny. You wouldn't see it if you weren't looking."

"I know that bookstore," Lina said, sounding exasperated.

"You do?" Cas asked, taken aback. Not many people visited that particular book store, nor knew about it.

"Yeah. I work there during the summers," Lina replied.

"No way," Cas said, a smile rising to his lips. "I love that place!"

"Me too," Lina said. "It's pretty awesome."

Cas grinned. "Yep. Can you pick up a book for me from there?"