Dean didn’t know what to do when his father said the words ”We’re moving.” Again. It’s almost the end of his senior year and it’d be nice if he could spend it with the first person he’s ever been in a relationship with longer than two weeks. He storms out of the motel in a blur of frustration, knowing he’ll only come back crawling, begging his dad to forgive him. Like a good son would.

He just walks. Walks and walks and keeps on walking. It’s dead silent that night, you get a soft buzz on your phone from Dean that only said ‘Door’. You creep quietly downstairs to get it, not wanting to wake your family and open the door.

“…Hey.” He whispers, breath fanning out in the cold night air. It breaks his heart to see you. He doesn’t want this to end, he’s gonna miss you like hell. “…Just found out my dad’s movin’ my brother and I…again.” Before you can get out any kind of consolation or pointless apology he continues, “Don’t- Just don’t say anything…I…I don’t want this to be like our ‘final goodbye’.” He mutters

“Can we just…pretend like none of this is happening?” He whispers and slowly takes your hands in his, “Go for a walk or something? Anything. You can wear my jacket.” His eyes search yours, he needs this with you. To pretend it’s all fine before the inevitable skipping town.