Strings Attached

Chapter 1

TRIGGER WARNING: If you can be triggered by anything, this probably isn't the book for you.

Castiel runs out of the cafeteria in tears. High school is hell as it is. Do the other kids really have to add on to the misery?

Most kids would run to the bathroom, where they could cry in the privacy of the stalls or receive the comfort of a friend, and have a chance to clean up the mess that is their faces afterwards.

But Castiel knows the bathroom won't be much better for him. Without a single friend in the school that isn't related to him, he doesn't have a chance to get away from the torment.

Instead, Castiel goes to his second home. The band room has always been his safe haven, since day one of freshman year. He's not in band; he's too unpopular for even the band geeks to hang out with. But the band teacher doesn't mind him. He's seen what those other kids do to him, the trouble he's been in because others won't leave him alone. The band teacher wouldn't kick him out, though Castiel usually shows up when he's not around — and now is no exception.

Castiel finds a guitar, the one thing that comforts him in times like this. He takes a seat in a chair facing away from the door, his guitar in his lap as his fingers find their way to to the strings. He closes his eyes and begins strumming, allowing his fingers to move freely to whatever chords they want. He's not playing a song, exactly, but a feeling. Its tone is sad, matching his mood exactly.

He plays for what could be a few seconds, or a couple hours. He gets lost in the music, unable to feel the passage of time with the distraction of the sounds he's creating.

This is what Castiel loves about the guitar. It's as if he's in his own little world as he plays, creating and shaping everything to his liking. Its sounds never disappoint him.

Suddenly, Castiel is aware of a new sound, one that, while it comes from a guitar, doesn't come from his. He stops playing, resting his hand on the strings to quiet them, and looks around. To his surprise, there's another boy standing behind him now, one Castiel recognizes, much to his dismay. Castiel looks down at the guitar to avoid meeting the boy's gaze.

"Don't mind me," he says. "Just playing along." When Castiel doesn't do anything, the boy says, "Not one for duo acts, huh?"

Cas hears the boy's guitar touch the ground, the slight impact sending vibrations through the wood and creating a small hum from the strings.

"I'm Dean," the boy introduces himself. "Dean Winchester."

Castiel just nods. He knows Dean's type. The jocks, the boys who think they rule the school and, as a result, have complete control over everyone. Castiel has been subject to their torturous whims on many occasions; he has to deal with them on a daily basis, and he's not too keen to jump into another run in like this.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks, walking in front of Castiel. Unable to see the boy's face that he carefully keeps hidden, Dean crouches down next to him. "Oh. Castiel Novak." He says it in a monotone voice, any sense of caring that he may have exhibited completely erased from his tone. Castiel is used to that; people generally don't like him when they realize who he is. But usually, they're much more venomous than Dean is being now.

Castiel bites his lip and braces himself for whatever verbal attacks he's about to receive. He's never spoken to Dean before, but he can't be much different than the other jocks at the school.

Dean just says, "I didn't know you could play guitar."

Castiel nods slightly, because he knows that the bullies don't like to be ignored.

"You're good," he adds, much to Castiel's surprise. No one compliments him. Ever.

Castiel keeps his gaze on the guitar, seeing Dean stand up out of the corner of his eyes. Is he leaving? Please say he's leaving. Wait, but what if he brings his friends? No, don't do that. Please just leave and don't come back, Castiel begs silently.

"You're not in the band," Dean observes. "I would have noticed if you were at our games. You tend to make a scene wherever you go, huh?"

Not that it's Castiel's fault. He would rather just be left alone.

"What song were you playing?"

Castiel shrugs.

"You don't know?"

Castiel shakes his head slightly.

"Did you write it?" Dean asks.

Castiel shrugs again. He didn't technically write it; it jut sort of came to him, and he played it. He doesn't know what it was, and he wouldn't be able to play it again if he wanted to.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Dean observes.

"What do you want from me?" Castiel stammers, his voice weak and showing his fear.

"Nothing, really," Dean replies. "I heard a guitar. Figured I'd check it out."

"That's it?"

"Yeah..." Dean says cautiously. "Why? What did you think I wanted?"

Castiel shakes his head. "Nothing. Sorry."

"Okay...? Well, don't my me stop you from playing. It's great, really."

"No, I — I'm done."

"Aw, really?" Dean says, sounding genuinely disappointed. "Why stop now?"

"My fingers hurt," Castiel lies. He's played until his fingers were raw and, in many cases, bleeding, back when they weren't calloused to protect them from the movement against the strings.

"Oh," is Dean's only response. "No point in waiting in here if you won't play. You coming?"

Castiel shakes his head. "I'm waiting for the band teacher," he lies, hoping it's not as obvious as he thinks it is that it's not true at all.

"Oh," Dean replies. "Well, have fun with that, I guess."

Castiel waits a few moments, wanting to make sure Dean's gone before he can enjoy his alone time again. He hears the guitar being put back before he begins to play again, enjoying his time alone to just get lost in the music. He closes his eyes again and just lets the sounds surround him.

This is the one thing Castiel likes about school. He has a guitar at home, but he never has the solitude, the chance to play without worrying about judgmental siblings or parents, and as a result, rarely gets the chance to play like this.

Castiel is brought back to reality when the bell rings. He sighs, knowing he has to face another class now, he turns around to put the guitar away, only to see Dean still standing in the doorway. He takes a step back almost involuntarily when he sees the boy.

"You seem to play through the pain extraordinarily well," he observes, making his skepticism about Castiel's excuse clear.

Castiel just shrugs before quickly putting his guitar in the guitar rack. He heads to the door, but Dean puts his arm in the way, blocking the boy's exit. He debates making a run for it, ducking under his arm, but he knows the punishment for not doing exactly as for popular boys wish is never pretty. Instead, Castiel takes a few steps away, his eyes wide with fear of what's to come.

"Are you okay, kid?" Dean asks.

Castiel nods, a silent lie.

"Are you sure?"

Castiel nods again.

"Alright..." Dean says hesitantly, watching Castiel with curious eyes before shrugging, apparently deciding this isn't worth it.

He walks away, Castiel waits a few moments before he follows, making sure he can get to class without having to see the other boy again. He knows class won't be much better than lunch, but at least there are fewer people around to make fun of him. That's always a plus.

He sighs to himself. Two more years of this, and he's out of here. Two more years. He can do it.