Pretty Boy // Destiel

1. The Boy in Blue

There will be mild language throughout this, just a heads up.

Castiel.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." I mutter as I shift the textbooks in my hands, elbowing my way through the crowded hallway. I'm accidentally bumped into and a book falls from my grasp.

I mutter and roll my eyes, adjusting my glasses and ignoring the rushed "sorry" that was thrown in my direction and pick the book back up, picking up my pace as I begin to become late to History.

Immediately, I'm run into by another person. This one clad in leather and combat boots.

I tried to sidestep him, not making any eye contact as I was done with the crowded hall and all the people in it.

As I step to the right, so does the boy.

As I step to the left, following suit, the boy does too.

"Excuse me," I growl. "I need to get to my class."

"Yeah, right, Castiel. You nerd." He smirks at his group and they all start to laugh.

"Whatever-" I look up and finally realize it's Dean. Dean Winchester. I regain my composure, hatred burning in my eyes. I plaster on a smile, on the spot thinking of a wrong name to call him. "Daniel Wilmington."

Dean looks a bit offended, but quickly masks his face with his stupid famous grin. "What's wrong with you, blue boy? Nice choice of it matching your eyes." He grabs the collar of my over-sized baby blue sweatshirt. "Not going to be a teacher's pet because you're late to your first class?"

I've had enough.

I ram my shoulder into his arm, rushing past him and all his little friends, almost running down the hall to get to class.

The bell rings just as I step inside, relief rushing over me as I was almost late but wasn't.

~*~

I didn't always hate Dean. We were actually kinda close in elementary. He didn't care for my difference, helped me cope with other people bullying me, in fact.
See, I'm more "feminine" than most guys. I'm also the gayest you'll ever come across and I knew from a young age. Do I hate it? No, it's absolutely awesome. But is everyone else okay with it? No.

I don't know what happened to make Dean the dick he is today, probably the friends he started to fall in line with, but it's like we weren't even friends at all.

I don't hate him for not being friends anymore. No, that's his choice and I respect it.
I hate him for becoming one of those bullies.
Whether he did it because of his friends or because he really does not like me is why.

I can't believe I used to have such a stupid little cr-

The bell rings and my thoughts are interrupted. I quickly grab my bag and books and leave my history class, going to my next one. My favorite one. Art.

I love art. I love everything about it, but my favorite is painting.

All the vibrant colors and paint stains on my hands and clothes and the end result... it's just breathtaking.