lovefromthehero:

                    Yeah. But it’s not ours.

          [ his and sammy’s, he means. his and sammy’s and dad and mom and jess, for chrissake. he wants a real goddamn home with a fireplace and a kitchen table and a big tall refrigerator. he wants a cluttered garage and wants to listen to his mom yell at his dad to clean his crap out of it before she does it herself. he wants. ]

          [ dean falls silent, lets the heavy weight between them sit on his chest, but not once does it turn painful or uncomfortable, not once does it cut off his breathing. it’s just there, almost tangible, just out of reach. ]

          [ wrong place, wrong time. ]

          [ he wonders if he could go get a beer right now, or if that’ll ruin it. the stars, the air, the sky. he wonders what it’d be like, to see things like this ever morning, this beautiful. to wake up and see something beautiful every single day. something stunning, something so unreal. ]

❝— offer still stands.❞

she knows what he wants, and knows
just as well as he does that he can’t
have it. it's normal to want a home,
it’s not normal not to have one. and
she wants that for him and sam—
    normality.

wants it for herself, too. and for her
mother. wants her father to be alive,
wants her mother to smile like she
used to. no monsters. no ghosts.

she chews on the skin of her bottom
lip, eyes finding her hands. she
wonders if they might’ve still met,
had it all been different. some sick
joke of the cosmos, twist of that old
bitch Fate.

would it be different?
would it be easy, like this? 

❝how old were you?
when it started, i mean.❞