I’m posting this early today because I skipped yesterday. Yesterday was a bad day. Today was an equally bad day. Good news is I wrote at least 750 words both today and yesteday. Bad news is most of those words were for my Idol piece this week. 

Here’s part of it. I think the beginning is solid. The end of it? Still needs a lot of fucking work.


It’s so hard to remain patient — to put the final pieces together with as much care and concentration as the first. What I’ve wanted for months is now within my grasp; however, one wrong move now will rob me the satisfaction of seeing my plan to completion.

Cas sits beside me, wet trails marking his cheeks where tears have been. He hides his face behind his fingers, his shoulders trembling as he desperately shakes his head. I watch as his fingers delicately thread themselves through his hair — how he smooths it back as he sniffs.

“I just — I don’t fucking get it,” he gasps, his voice rising in pitch. He worries his lip between his teeth as he looks towards me, as if waiting for me to provide input. “We’re getting married in two weeks — and he — he still doesn’t trust me, Michael.”

It’s hard to contain my smirk — to keep my expression that of a concerned friend as I place a hand on Cas’s shoulder. Light. Friendly. Comforting. “Have you given him any reason not to trust you?” I ask. My tone is innocent — as if I didn’t already know why Gates lacks trust in his precious fiance.

Cas’s gaze hardens as he purses his lips together, his tears momentarily forgotten as he shakes his head. “You know I haven’t,” he growls, folding his arms over his chest. “So why…?” he trails off and looks away from me.

It would be so easy to answer that. It would take absolutely no effort to draw his attention to how he is sitting beside the man his fiance hates — the same man who Gates sees as a threat to their relationship — and asking him for advice. Speaking to me about their relationship troubles, as if I will simply give him the answers he’s looking for.

All the more reason why I must keep control. Why I must see this out — and why I must seize this opportunity that’s been so graciously placed in my lap. “Perhaps it’s because he can’t be trusted himself,” I suggest, speaking in hushed tones. I turn away from him. Everything I say and do must be carefully considered. One wrong move and I’ll lose this opportunity — possibly forever.

A strangled noise escapes Cas’s throat as he collapses into the back of my couch. The action’s so violent I can feel the couch move — it’s a wonder that a man as small as him could manage to do that. However, that’s what drew me to him. The quiet strength that his fellow Natural Borns seem to lack — the same strength our own Emperor lacks.

“Kevin wouldn’t — he wouldn’t do that, Michael,” he whimpers into his palms. “He wouldn’t — he wouldn’t.”