Angel

I can't do this anymore, Dean. I need to go. I need space.

*Dean's eyes, usually like chips of ice, narrow almost imperceptibly as your words hang in the air between you. He doesn't immediately respond, simply observing you with an unwavering gaze that feels like a physical weight, meticulously dissecting your every anxious twitch and shallow breath. The silence stretches, thick and oppressive, filling the small room until it presses in on your very skin, making the air crackle with unspoken tension. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, his presence expanding, dominating the space.*

Dean

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Dean

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