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Remember Me.

Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance.

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In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

Another nurse came in to do bed stretches with Cas and Dean excused himself, walking into the hall.

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She was extremely beautiful, he thought. Even if she was tired she never showed it — and her smile always made her glow.

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You hear about these boys dying and they live a certain way and people get scared. It could be anything and at this point. Any more in-depth testing could seriously stress his system.

Now more than ever. Ether asked him what the last thing he remembered was, and he said he had dropped you off at the base.

Dean, you have to be able to handle it.

She talked about the anxiety his breathing placed on him, about how important it was to keep him from overexciting himself.

By the end of it Dean felt like if anything, he could do something. He could help Cas. He could do the right thing. Something had just told him that he should.

He sat up, watching as Tessa placed his glasses gently on his face, laughing when he blinked blearily in confusion.

A friend was watching the baby, they said, when Cas asked, patiently answering the question over and over as Cas asked it again and again. He glanced at Cas as Tessa took her place by the wall, turning the lights off.

The shadows played over his face, gleaming off his glasses, and his eyes were wide and childlike as he watched the scene unfold.

Jess gasped when Cas came into view on the wall, his hair thick and shiny, his whole body glowing in the sun under his windbreaker. The camera panned down the empty beach, looking at the water, and then up to look at the gulls.

The scenes changed. They wandered over the beach, sat down on the blanket, and Cas read a paperback, trying to shove Dean away when he bothered him.

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Dean recorded Cas taking pictures with his Polaroid, the sun and the cliffs. Dean held the camera out as he kissed him and Jessica covered her mouth with her hands.

Dean stared at Cas, watching the tears roll down his face, his chest rising and falling, his eyes fixed on the water. On Dean. On the beach.

His face was full of some strange, beautiful expression, eyes darting around, eating everything up. The reel ended and Dean fed in the next one, and it was much the same for a while.

Just the two of them joking around, but then the scene became far more familiar. Cas stood and walked a little ways from the camera before turning around.

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He smiled, and it was so clear what he was saying. Cas marveled, his whole body tingling. He knew that. He had been there. He remembered the feeling, the way it had felt to look at Dean and say it.

Like a secret he would always carry. A heart within his heart. He was looking at Dean, not the camera.

I love you. It was him.

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That was him. He felt Dean squeeze his hand. The waves silently slid in and out, and when Dean looked at them he could almost hear the sound they made every time Cas took another breath.

Cas tossed a shell to the sea and the tide carried it away. Three days later he was unable to form complete sentences. Whether it was his mind or his capacity to breathe, Dean would never know.

Dean talked to him the whole day; told him about a house on an island. A white picket fence. Two old people bickering on a front porch.

Filled the endless silences with his own voice, recounting stories, telling him about anything he could think of.

Cas looked at him for a long time, breathing slowly, his skeletal arms awkwardly resting against his sides. He stared out at Dean and smiled, his eyes blue and twinkling.

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Dean had to wonder how much he could actually see at the time. Anything was always going to be better than nothing. Dean covered the chilled fingers with his own.

It was supposed to keep me who I was. The time leading up was quiet. His glassy eyes sat sunken in his head, half open, his body limp on the bed.

He made sound sometimes, or raised a hand to rake at his gown, over his chest.

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At some point during that night Tessa had come in to check his IV. Tessa nodded, still pretending to read something.

Dean pushed the chair back and pulled the rail down. He eased himself into the bed, pulling Cas onto his shoulder.

Cas breathed, like waves crashing.

Tessa ducked her head, touching the end of the bed, her white hands blending into the sheets in the dark. Tessa stood at the end of the bed for a long time, and she wiped her eye with her fingertips.

The professional edge had long since gone. In the emptiness that followed, Dean found his mouth open but no words would come out.

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His fingers shook where they rested on his skin. Another wave broke when Cas breathed.

Cas choked and Dean shifted him, and it seemed like something fluttered in Cas, some recognition that had been lost for hours. You know I love you.

Tessa had said that hearing was the last thing to go. Just keep talking to him. He could be anxious, or scared.

Dean never lost track of his eyes, even when Cas looked at his own hand, shy.

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He practically shone; his soul glittered with something blue and white and Dean wanted to wrap himself in it. He had wanted him to fall more in love, because nothing was going to hurt anymore if that happened.

He had convinced himself, young, and stupid.

This boy was going to make this world turn and stars would fall like rain. On the radio. Somewhere before, but at that moment Cas was looking at him and Dean had never loved him like he did sitting across the table, watching him drift away, listening.