Secret Valentine

A crowded sidewalk on a busy afternoon. Crowds of people made their way down the stretch of concrete, all going in the same direction, though not all headed for the same destination. Even so, they walked in the same direction.

Save one.

One man was walking in the opposite direction from the rest of the crowd members. He walked swiftly, and directly through the center of the swarm of bodies, much to the dismay of the crowd members he bumped against.

He didn’t look up as he made his way through the throng, even when someone he bumped swore in his direction. He stared down at his outstretched hands, his dark brows furrowing over his bright, blue eyes. His thin, pale lips formed a thin line as he focused, not on his hands themselves, but on what he carried in them.

A small, pale, creased piece of paper. The edges were torn and the face of the page was creased many times, as if it were constantly being folded and re-folded. The creases made a rough, criss-crossed pattern over the inked markings that adorned the page. AS another stranger’s shoulder connected with his collarbone, the man removed one hand from beneath the paper, reaching out with his index finger and running it over the markings gently. His eyes clouded over as he read them once more. Though he understood their meaning, he was unsure of how they applied to him in anyway. Or what they could mean for him.

Castiel,

This will be my last note. I only hope that you will try to find me. I feel such a connection to you.

In fact, I feel as though I may love you.

Please, if you feel the same at all, let me know. Someway. Somehow.

As always, if you would like to find me:

134576 East Ave. APT. 496
New York

I hope that you do wish to visit me, Cas. Because I have the deepest want to meet you.

Love always,

Lydia

Castiel finished reading the short note and ran his free hand through his short, dark hair. Confusion was evident in his face as he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, inspiring groans of annoyance from those around him. He paid them no mind.

Instead, he reached into the deep pocket of his tan trench-coat, feeling around slowly until his fingertips brushed against what felt unmistakably like small pieces of paper. He grasped one between his thumb and index finger and pulled it out of his pocket slowly. He brought it out and placed it over the note he had just finished. As the grumbling crowd members parted to get around him, he placed a finger over this older, more worn note and began to read the marks upon the page, turning the words over in his head as he did.

Castiel,

A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.
~ Stendhal

Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.
~ Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Many would try to discredit these quotes or speak against them. But I believe they are true.
They are true for me, at least.
For I love someone whom I have never met face to face.
I feel my heartstrings tugged toward someone who is out of my reach.
I do not know why this is, or how this happened.
But I hope that, in time, all will be revealed to both you and me.
And I hope that you do not find me too terribly strange.
I hope that you can come to love me, as I love you.

Lydia

He was as puzzled now as he had been then, when he had received the first note a month ago. He thought back to that moment. When he had received the first of these strange notes. When everything had started.