dean thoughts hm. you are not you because you do not know you. you have never been you. you are a figurehead, a title. a concept of a concept. delicate, at best. a little boy in a big jacket. punished when you’re in control and punished when you’re not. a burden burdened by obligation. you are not seen, you are not known. and you are tired. the fragmented pieces of a you that could be slips through the cracks. it is your job to fix it. but how do you fix what you do not know?
you are a figurehead to others just as they are a figurehead to you. the father is the god you worship in practice and fear in silence. fearing the acceptance of a false you, fearing more the rejection. the mother is the beacon. the mourning of a life you thought you knew. the ache for a you that you cannot reach. the brother is the job that was never meant to be yours. you do not blame him, and you love him, but you do not know him. and he doesn't know you. the job stole you. it has become you, and you are tired.
you meet the angels. you are their project-- except, you are not. not to this angel anyway. he says your name, and it sounds safe in his voice. when you speak, he hears you. there is an unfamiliar understanding in his tone. when you are drained of hope, he finds you. there is empathy in the warmth of his touch. he recognizes your pain. he has known it too, you see it echoed in the depth of his gaze. because oh, of course. he doesn't know who he is either. you don't know you and he doesn't know him, but you look at him and he is watching you. you see him and he sees you.
he becomes your friend, you've never had one before. it's all so new. it startles you how fast he finds a place in your heart. it's something you have been starved of for far too long. it leaves you exposed, and vulnerable. and it is terrifying. the fear of being known, the fear of not. the fear of being left behind. and sometimes you push him harder than you mean to. but you try again. you want to try, and so does he. forgiveness is automatic before you've understood it. there is a certain peace in his presence. a steadiness without contingency. holding him feels good. feels like breathing. and you couldn't remember the last time your head was above water.
more than a decade passes. you have experienced the unfathomable, and he is still at your side. you can't imagine him being anywhere else. he is your friend. he is... your heart. in spite of it all, he sees you, scars and smiles. he knows you. he has seen you at your lowest and he is not afraid of you. instead, he has the audacity to love you. and when he finally dares to tell you, you dare to believe him.
the words that have hung between you have been given a voice. it's his. yours is a voice you never knew you had. and before you can speak, he's gone. taken. you were stolen from you and he was stolen from you, too.
but you will see him again, anything else is unthinkable. because he sees you and you see him. and maybe, for the first time, you know yourself after all.
