Blue Eyed Stranger [COMPLETE]

Stranger With The Green Eyes

Castiel Novak rests against a yellow pole on the 6am bus. His eyes fixed on the wall opposite him that displays numerous advertisements. Several headlines are bulging out at him in capitals, but his eyes won't read them as they fog over with a mist of tears and fatigue.

He almost nods off against the pole, his tiredness catching up with him, but he startles and stirs. It's not the first time it's happened today. He didn't sit down in his regular seat at the front of the bus, afraid he'd doze off and not wake up in time for his stop, and has decided standing would be better.

With his hand that's on the pole, he rubs his eyes, to only make himself feel more dizzy and wobbly. He looks to his left and stares to the bus' windscreen that has a digital clock above it. 06:17. His shift begins soon, too soon. Many times he has to run to his work as it is, let alone when the bus itself is late.

Castiel is never the type of person to complain - after all the drivers themselves can't help it. And he likes Bobby, their driver, an older man. His smiles and greetings are always warm and courteous towards Cas, despite how rough and scruffy he looks. Bobby is always nice to him regardless, which is what matters.

He thinks to his work, wishing his manager could be more like Bobby — more understanding, more kind, more soft. Knowing what will be waiting for him as soon as he gets through the doors at work doesn't exactly encourage him make dust to get there right now anyway.

Stopping at a traffic light, Cas looks at the red beads reflecting in the condensate on the window. He can't think straight right now. He looks at the others on the bus, seeing if they're as lifeless and dead as he is. Nobody's looking at him.

He looks to the man who's sat about two thirds down the bus, his arms are folded and he looks slightly irritated. He looks closer. He's always dressed smartly, a blazer covering his broad shoulders, a tie sharply done to the neck. His hair is always combed back, looking professional. Sometimes Cas feels the envy writhe inside of him - if only he could be like that.

Pushing his jealousy to the side, Castiel still stares. He tries to focus on the unavoidable green that stands out of his eyes, his beautiful eyes. Today he's frowning, covering them. He always looks somewhat agitated or stressed, every morning and every night, everyday. Cas doesn't know anything about him, but he wonders.

Maybe the stranger is struggling somehow with his job, like he is. Maybe he's under intense pressure to withhold his position or something like that. Cas doesn't know anything about those kind of jobs. He only works in a coffee shop. He idolises a day that he might be able to wear a suit to work — not that he owns one. Perhaps the stranger wants to provide for a family he has at home, hence the intense hours and forced stressful job life. But Cas didn't know anything about that either, all he has at 'home' is his cat, Mittens.

But hey, if it's job instability or stress he's angry about Cas can certainly relate to the familiar stranger there.

When you're in a set routine, you tend to bump into the same people in the same place everyday. This is what Cas and the stranger with the green eyes did. Cas didn't know his name. He didn't ask for it. He just happened to notice the same man everyday on this number seven bus, with the flashy suits, sheltering his green eyes with a frown. Every morning, every night.

Cas contemplates whether he should ever start a conversation with him. He was never good at small talk, but he liked talking to people. Perhaps too often he overshared about his personal life and annoyed people and would waffle. Something about this stranger makes him want to talk to him - but it's been so long that they've seen each other every day and night that it'd probably be weird.

Would he ever know his name? Will he ever hear his voice outside of the low grumble that escapes his lips when he says 'hi ' and 'thanks' to the driver? He wonders what his voice could be like.

The stranger keeps Cas' attention until it's his stop, if only he was brave enough to speak to him. Knowing his turn of events recently, he would mess that up too. So perhaps it's best for him to keep fantasising and dreaming about the day he will finally converse with the green eyed man and keep it out of reality for now.

Cas watches as the man stands up. He knows this is his stop too and he shuffles back to let the stranger go past him first. The brush of shoulders every time is something physically small, but huge in Castiel's eyes. He watches as the man walks up to him, and for once he stops besides him and looks to him. His eyes lock with his.

Cas always regarded him as the stranger with the green eyes, but looking into them now is totally different. Cas loves poetry and all things words, and in this moment alone he could sing that this man's eyes possess the greens that undertone the Amazon forests, and how vines a streaming through his irises. Green is the prime colour from where loveliness arises - Pedro Calderon once wrote. And boy can Castiel feel all kinds of loveliness blooming inside of him in this moment.

Castiel wonders whether this is what is meant by 'love at first sight'. OK — it isn't the first time he's set eyes on his green eyed stranger, but it's the first time they've ever been so closely together looking at one another.

Castiel can see that the strain in his expression is more evident. The man isn't old, heck, he's probably younger than Cas himself, but it seems like his stress has aged him by about ten years. He has frown lines around his forehead, the dark circles that surround his eyes alone demonstrate how tired he must be. If only Cas was brave enough to ask him how he was.

It's only for a matter of seconds but it feels as though their eyes are locked for years. If it were anyone else, any other random man, Castiel would feel incredibly uncomfortable. But he can't tear his eyes away from the stranger's, the green too captivating, too possessing.

The green eyes soften and form a wince. The harsh crinkles in his skin vanish and his look is laced with sympathy. "Try to ease up on the hours, huh?" Are the words that leave his lips.

Cas is hypnotised by his voice. It's deep, and to hear comforting words coming out of it is a bit weird. A quick head tilt and cocky smile that follow from the stranger feel more fitting to the description Cas has formed in his mind.

He is surprised at the embarrassment that overcomes him. He never imagined their first interaction to be because the stranger felt sorry for him (because face it, Cas had imagined it plenty of times). Sheepish, he drops eye contact and looks at the ground. He doesn't know what to say. He wanted their first talk to be perfect, he expected it to he — not that he had a reason for that, but because his romance novels had convinced him that's how it was supposed to be. For his stranger to feel pity for him puts it all in a different light.

Before Cas can amend his silence, the stranger follows his way and drops his head, looking to the bus' dull floor. He spins on his heel and leaves Cas by the pole, speechless, nods at Bobby and dismounts the bus. All Castiel does is watch him longingly as he passes the windows, keeping his eyes fixated on the path before him.

He ruined it.

He ruined his first talk with the green eyed stranger.

"Cas?" Bobby's quiet voice takes him out of his trance.

"Yes?" Cas answers, looking to Bobby before realising it's his stop too. "Oh." He murmurs awkwardly, shuffling forward. "Thank you, Bobby." He says, before taking small steps off of the bus.

He looks to the right at the suited stranger. Perhaps Cas could chase him like they would in a movie — unlikely that would be received well. If the stranger's commiseration for Cas looking like a wreck on the bus was enough, he'd think he's a right nut job for assaulting him from behind.

He decides to stand there and just stare after him, watching as he turns the corner of the street.

Castiel sighs.