“And you’re sure it was Y/N?” Dean asked, his voice coming out in no more than a whisper.
“Sure as we could be. We recovered what we could from the site. Found that old protective amulet you’d given her. That was from you, right? Thought I remembered that, back when you two were still a thing,” Dean’s contact replied.
“Yeah. Yeah, that was from me.”
“I could send it to you in the mail if you want,” he continued, waiting but receiving no reply. “Dean? You still there?”
Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out. The question seemed strange. With this new knowledge, the year that had passed since he’d last drunk in your face was nothing. Time was nothing. And with you no longer there, Dean found that he wasn’t sure if he really was either.
at the end of the world, i never thought much about dying.
and maybe it’s foolish to refuse to contemplate oblivion when the world is crumbling down around you. maybe it’s foolish to contemplate only whether you’d get the chance to kiss some girl before it was all over and maybe it’s foolish that all i had been thinking was that your lips have always been so pretty.
but i’ve never been a fan of sad endings.
so when we flung ourselves from the edge of those cliffs and your hand was clutched tight in mine, i remembered only that the sky was blue and your lips were so pretty and that death doesn’t seem as scary when you forget to contemplate it at all.
if i had to jump, i’d jump face up every time // S.M.