Dean opened his new locker. It was freshman year. Freshman year meant that he had waited long enough before starting a relationship with Cas. He felt like he had been waiting forever.

His friendship with James ended just as quickly as it began. Dean remembered walking into school the first day in sixth grade, bumping into Castiel, looking into his blue eyes, falling in love.

The day after they kissed, James had walked up to Dean.

"What the hell were you thinking dude? No homo! That's the number one rule of being popular! Can't you get that through your thick skull, you dumbass? You're done being popular. I can't believe I was ever friends with a homo freak!"

This comment had sent Dean into a spiral of depression. He remembered going back to the bunker that day to find a note on the table. It read:

Dean, I'll be home in a few days. I'm just on a hunt.
-Sam.

This wasn't unusual. Sam went on hunts all the time, but this time, Dean felt truly alone for the first time in his life. It was as if there was a huge hole where his heart had been. He felt the urge to do something awful, but he fought it off and called Cas instead.

He didn't pick up.

Dean went into the bathroom. He then looked at himself in the mirror. Thoughts of what had happened that day, the breakup with his best friend. The thought of being a freak ran through his head time after time. He clutched the edges of the sink, holding tears back. He heard that voice in his head telling him over and over again that he was a freak. He couldn't stand looking at himself any longer.

He raised his hand and struck it against the mirror as hard as he could. He did it again and again, until the mirror shattered under his clenched fist. He didn't care how much it hurt, he just couldn't stand to look at himself. Shards of glass came crashing to the floor.

His legs gave out from under him, and he sunk to the ground. He drew his hand across the floor, his fingers gliding over the broken glass until one sliced his middle finger. He quickly withdrew his hand and stared at the cut. Blood dripped down his finger. He didn't bother to bandage it. Instead, he did something much worse.