Window

17.

At the knock at her window, Emma glanced up from her computer. A familiar silhouette loomed behind the curtain, illuminated by the afternoon sun that hung in the blue sky. A sigh slipped through her lips as she closed her computer, setting it down on her nightstand. 

It only took her a moment before she was pushing the white, willowy curtains to the side, and pulling open the heavy pane of glass. A warm breeze filled her room, the fresh scent of spring replacing the scent of lavender that had been released from Emma's candle. 

Dean looked up with soft, guilt ridden eyes, his hands tucked shamefully in his pockets. Nodding, Emma stepped back from the window, giving Dean space to climb inside. She walked over to the bed, laying down on her side of the mattress. 

Her tired eyes fell shut, her ears listening to the soft sound of Dean's feet padding against the floor. The mattress shifted under his weight, his body resigned to laying next to hers. Letting her eyes flutter open, Emma looked to the side where she met Dean's gaze. 

The pools of green held words that he couldn't say, messages that he wished he could convey. But his lips wouldn't move, his throat refusing to create the sounds that would illuminate exactly what it was that he'd been hiding. 

So instead, he reached out and took her hand in his. Her small hand was delicate in his, her skin soft against his which was so worn. He squeezed softly as his eyebrows arched in apology, guilt seeping from him. 

"I know" Emma nodded softly, squeezing his hand back. Her thumb ran over his tattered knuckles, the soft smile on her face a token of forgiveness. "I just- I wish I could understand. I just want to help" she spoke softly, afraid that the sheer mention of the topic would scare him away. 

Dean stifled a wince, a trembling breath slipping from between his lips. Opening his eyes once again, he let his trust for her over power the doubt that clouded his mind. "I know you want to help. But just-just being here is helping enough" Dean said, his cheeks hot with embarrassment as he waited to be laughed at for his sentimental words. 

But Emma only smiled softly, squeezing his hand again. "I'm worried about you" Emma added, the worry evident in the way she gripped his hand tightly, like she was afraid that if she let go, he'd be gone to her forever. 

"Don't be. I'll get by" Dean responded with a worn, fond smile that pulled at his lips. 

A melancholy chuckle escaped Emma before she said, "Just because you tell me not to worry, doesn't mean I can just. When I care about someone, it's automatic. I can't switch it off." 

His heart jumped at her words, a fluttering feeling in his stomach. That warm, light feeling began to seep across his chest once again. As much as he had been denying it, Dean was beginning to understand what that feeling was. 

It was the feeling that made the pain easier. It was the feeling that made the dark days a little bit brighter. It was the feeling that helped to carry the weight that sat on his shoulders. It was the feeling that people wrote songs about, the feeling of all feelings. And Dean had thought he'd never feel it. But there he was, gazing into her eyes, letting the feeling swell within. 

His hand slipped from hers before moving to her face. Heart thumping against his ribs, Dean took her face into his hands, letting his thumbs run over the soft skin of her temples. 

Emma tensed at the touch, her heart climbing up her throat as butterflies fluttered in her stomach. But after a moment, she melted into the sturdy warmth of his hands, leaning into him. She placed her hands over his, offering a soft smile. 

Dean tried to think of something to say, words that would express the foreign feeling. But he couldn't find the right words; the vocabulary that would accurately describe the immense feeling that drove his actions; the immense feeling that he had been depending on to get by.