HIS HEART BROKEN
Dean Winchester had never had his heart broken. Jealous eyes watched him strut down the hallway. Girls were swooning. Dean Winchester had never had his heart broken.
Dressed so simple, jeans and t-shirt, but still so distinguished – so advanced – so sexy. Their Ralph Lauren clothes not standing a chance against him. He flashed a confident smile in the girls' direction, his hazel eyes sparkling behind long eyelashes. Dean Winchester had never had his heart broken.
They followed him closely, watching his every move. He stopped at his locker, grabbed his advanced math text book and then went for class. One of them followed. Dean was always sitting in the back. He didn't study. He didn't listen. But he always aced every math test. And the teacher loved him.
PE. Dean wasn't very athletic, but he looked it, and he was always picked first. Guys impressed by his broad shoulders and toned arms and girls drawn to his beauty and charismatic personality. They always picked him first. Dean Winchester had never had his heart broken.
He was in the shower and they watched him. His hair and body wet, soap glistening on a perfectly shaped butt. And they hated him even more. Everyone desired a body like that, be it man or woman. Dean Winchester would never have his heart broken.
Lunch break. He was sitting in the grass surrounded by girls. The sunlight licked his sandy hair and his perfect, tanned skin. They were watching from behind a tree in the shadows. He said something and the girls laughed. He seemed so comfortable with being the centre of their attention. He always knew what to say. Dean Winchester would never have his heart broken.
Walking to class. Guys and girls greeted him in the hallway. High-fives, hugs, kisses, hand shakes. He knew everybody and they all adored him. Dean Winchester was never alone.
He oozed with confidence, raw animal charisma and joy. He was gorgeous, sexy and beautiful. He was perfect. They watched and they waited, biding their time. They were gonna get him some day. Punch his pearly whites in. Dean Winchester shouldn't get away with everything.
But they didn't know.
Dean was dressed in jeans and t-shirt, the simplest of clothes, because his dad couldn't afford anything else. A confident smile could hide the insecurity of not having the 'right' clothes or the good brands.
Dean was good at math because he sucked at everything else; languages, history, science, PE, philosophy, psychology…Everything but math.
Dean wasn't athletic in the true sense of the word, but he was muscular from fighting - fighting for his life. He had to know martial arts, he had to be fast, he had to be strong physically because he was combating evil every night, being chased and attacked daily by the most horrible of creatures. He had to be fit to survive.
Dean had a nice body. He had a nice ass. But what people usually missed staring him down in the shower was his scars. Huge ones. On his arms, his chest, his legs... They were hidden underneath the bubbles of the soap, but still existent. And Dean hated them. He hated his body because of them.
Lunch breaks Dean spent outdoors. He hated the confined space that was the school. His hair was light, his skin was tanned, not from lying on the beach, but because he felt claustrophobic indoors. Dean felt like a freak and an outsider. Talking to girls came easy, because there was no pressure - he didn't expect them to like him. And when they responded, their laughs sounded hollow to his ears because he knew they didn't respond to him – they responded to his appearance.
As Dean walked down the school hallway he experienced the same thing. Hugs, kisses, high-fives, hand shakes. People responding to his looks. They all wanted a piece of him and he'd never felt so alone in his life. There was a huge difference between being desired by a gang of shallow people and desiring that one, special person who had no interest in him.
It was easy to build an exterior of confidence – of showing the world what it wanted to see. Dean laughed, because if he didn't, he would cry and not be able to stop. He was scared. He was scared of everything. Scared of losing his family, of dying, scared of living the life he never wanted. He never noticed their looks of jealousy because he never thought anyone could ever envy him. He was nothing special. If he was, his dad wouldn't drag him along on hunts, putting his son in the line of danger every day. All it did was teach Dean that he wasn't worth to protect, not worth to keep safe. And he never questioned it.
So he accepted it all, put on a brave face for everyone and smiled. And people liked it and responded to it. So the kids were right; Dean would never have his heart broken by a girl.
But his life was breaking his heart.