Chocolates and Flowers

Fallen Angels

Marley jumped in her seat, then turned to face him. "Hey, you scared me!" She smiled up at him. He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose.

 

"I brought you flowers." He held the bouquet out to her.

 

"Again? Cas, the flowers always die! You know I can't take care of them." She took them and removed the dead flowers, replacing them with the fresh ones.

 

"But you should see your face every time I get them for you. Your eyes light up. But if you don't like them, I won't get them for you anymore," he said.

 

"No, no, I love them, I just don't want something you give me to be taken care of poorly. I just feel bad that I can't take care of them,"  Marley explained, breathing in the scent of a deep red rose.

 

"I don't mind. I still like to get them for you. But how about next time, I get chocolates. Okay?" Castiel had walked over to Marley and now held her by the waist.

 

"Chocolates sound great."

 

Cas smiled and kissed her quickly before pulling away and asking, "Now who is this handsome gentleman here?"

 

"This gentleman happens to be my boyfriend," Marley teased. She liked how she could be herself completely around Cas, and not feel awkward.

 

"Oh, well, that's extremely unfortunate. I had come here to ask you on a date."

 

"Well, then, I'll just have to not tell him, won't I?" she laughed, pressing a finger to her lips.

 

He smiled and mimicked her, then asked, "Pick you up at seven?"

 

"Sounds great. Where are we going?"

 

"That is for me to know, and you to find out." Cas kissed her quickly and then walked out, winking at her before disappearing behind the door.

Marley began her painting, but today wouldn't be the weather. She painted that for two months. She had decided that she would face her pain today. She couldn't hide from it anymore. She couldn't avoid it even in sleep, and deep down she knew she couldn't keep it choked down for much longer in consciousness. It was time to see Castiel.  

 

She paused for a moment to pull out all of her paintings of him, and set them all up on her side of the dorm. These paintings hadn't seen light in a few months. She hid them under her bed, next to her wooden box she promised not to use. To paint what she needed, everything had to hit her, and she needed it to hurt. This painting needed to capture everything in one. She began again, looking up and around the room to see him, and then returned to her work again.

 

When Becky, her roommate, returned from her classes for the evening, Marley was asleep again, all of her stuff put away. Becky tried to get Marley to open up to her, but Marley never wanted to talk, so she gave Marley the space she needed to grieve while keeping a close eye on her. It wasn't until the next evening that Marley had asked for her help. Becky came home to a distraught Marley, who sat in front of her easel.

"What do you think?" Marley asked, her voice weak from crying. Becky took a second to take it in.

 

It was Castiel, whom she had met quite frequently, always telling him when Marley was in her room, and he seemed to be sweet. She had obviously known who he was before Marley started dating him, but she had always thought he was just a jock, and she found him to be quite the contrary.

 

The image on the canvas made Becky a little queasy. It was the same picture that had been shown in the newspaper and on the local news channel. Cas was sprawled across the ground, surrounded by a lake of his own deep red blood. Instead of his blue T-shirt and dark jeans, he wore gleaming armor and a sword. He had been her knight in shining armor, he saved her from herself. But it had only lasted for a few precious minutes.

 

"I... I don't know," Becky finally responded.

 

"I feel like it's missing something. I just don't know what," Marley said. After about fifteen minutes, she was loaded down with papers, books, and a heavy conscience; the last thing she wanted was to go to her classes and see everyone fake empathy. But her moving on is what Cas would have wanted.

Becky stood there for a moment, studying the painting. From the newspaper articles and pictures she had seen, this painting was almost identical to widely circulated photograph of the dead quarterback. There were a few blurred spots here and there; Marley's hand had probably shaken during the process. Castiel's eyes were such a pale blue, almost completely white. His eyes were an almost peerless blue, it was hard for even Marley to replicate the unique azure. Becky gathered her things and took one last look at the painting as she walked past it to the door, and noticed that there was a brighter red squiggle on the bottom of the canvas. Upon closer inspection, Becky saw what was written: "I promise."