Beneath the Spotlight. A Destiel Story

The Drummer

Castiel wipes his paintbrush clean before dipping it into the lightened raw umber acrylic paint and brushing it onto the canvas. He wets his brush and brings it back into the paint to thin it out, and moves his brush elegantly, connecting the lines. He grabs a palette knife and adds titanium white, mixing the two colours together and adds a dollop of violet until he is satisfied with the taupe colour he’s created. He grabs a round tipped brush and starts to create the base colour of his lilacs, when his phone rings.

He lets out a short sigh and a tight eye roll as he places his brush back into his water, and wipes his hands on his apron before pulling out is phone, frowning at the small thumbprint of paint residue on the bottom corner of his phone. He swipes the call open.

“Inias,” he greets his best friend. He grabs a clean paintbrush and plays with the dry bristles to keep his hands busy, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

“Hey Cas! What are you doing?”

“You called me during my studio time…what do you think I’m doing?” He says it lightly.

He sits down on his chair and swivels himself around, ignoring the stares of his fellow classmates.

“Oh you’re still there? Shit sorry. I can call back later.”

“No it’s fine,” Castiel pulls back his sleeve and glances at his watch, the paintbrush in his hand nearly knocking his glasses off. “I needed to start packing up soon anyways. Did you need anything?”

He shakes his sleeve down and listens.

 “Yeah, well—I know you probably won’t want to come, but Gabriel texted me earlier today and told me about this band playing at The Backstage Lounge tonight.”

Castiel hums. His brother often goes there, and tries to drag Castiel along every time. Now it seems Gabriel is using Inias to make him want to go out more than he never does. He rubs his the bridge of his nose with his free hand and suppresses a sigh.  

“These guys are supposed to be pretty good,” Inias continues. “I can’t remember what their name is but they’ve been doing lots of shows around town lately.”

Castiel drops his hand to his side and stands up to grab his paint water.

“I don’t know Inias,” he says as he walks over to the sink and dumps his water. He begins washing his brushes, squeezing out any excess paint and watching it travel towards the drain before drying them on his apron and walking back to his easel to pack up the rest of his things.

“Come on, Cas. You never come out.”

“Yeah and there are reasons for that.” Castiel put his paints and brushes in his drawer and made sure it was locked before taking off his apron.

“Ah, Cas don’t worry—that won’t happen again, okay?” Castiel can tell Inias is getting desperate.  

He stands before his station and sighs again. Anxiety crawls up his throat, but he chokes it down.

“Ugh, fine, Inias. I’ll go out tonight. But if things start to get shady, I’m leaving.”

“The Backstage Lounge is a pretty chill place, Cas. I know you’ll like it.”

“Okay.” Castiel can hear how unconvinced he sounds, and he shakes his head even though he knows Inias can’t see him. “What time are we supposed to be there?”

“Band is going on at eight, so whenever really.”

Castiel grabs his coat from behind his chair and shrugs it on, walking towards the studio doors.