It's No Secret That I'm Selfish[Tag: Dean]

Waycca trudged through the school, fists clenched and eyes stinging. No, no, no, she would not do this in the middle of the hallway, where anyone could just walk up and witness her weakness. She shoved open a door at random, tugging it closed behind her and trying to regulate her breathing.

She slid down the nearest wall, biting her lip so hard she wandered if she might split the skin. Her left hand uncurled, revealing the crudely written letter clenched within. She hadn't spoken to them in years and now she suddenly felt like shooting a letter off their way? And honestly, how was it something to cry about? It was something she'd always dealt with; what made now any different? She was disgusted with herself, how stupidly emotional she was being. The brunette pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to ignore the pounding in her head and the constant tightening of her throat.

Dean wandered through the room, examining the countless golden trophies. Earlier a wave of nostalgia had hit him and he found himself reminiscing about who had won the quiddich cup when he had been in school, only to realize that he had forgotten. So he was looking through the trophy room, trying to find his year.

A small movement caught his eye and he looked over to see Waycca Louise, curled up in a corner. He raised a brow, she looked like she was trying to sink into the wall. He walked over to her and squatted down in front of her.

"Miss Louise..?" he started hesitantly, unsure if intruding on her solitude was really the beat course of action.

Waycca had frozen when he came into the room; of course Dean McCoppin, of all people, would stride on in and see her like this. She nearly flinched when he crouched down before her.

She could feel the tears building up in their ducts, but she knew she couldn't simply make them go away. At the very least she tried to put them off; she really, really didn't want him to see her cry. She tried to speak without totally losing her composure. "Y-yeah?" she tried to snap, but the effect was ruined by the instability of her voice and the trembling of her lip.

"Are you alright?" It was a stupid question, the poor girl was clearly not alright, but Dean was panicking. He was not good at handling tears, or women who were crying, he was raised by a single father for christ's sake!

He mentally prepared himself to be yelled at, that's what usually happened when he encountered crying women.

Waycca stared at him, eyebrows drawn together. He obviously knew the answer to that question. She tried swallowing, but it felt like her throat had been clogged up with all the tears she was trying not to spill. "Oh, yeah, because I totally look oka-" She didn't get to finish her sentence, though, as she felt something wet and warm slide down her cheek.

It was probably extremely juvenile to feel so embarrassed about a simple thing like crying at a time like this but she felt so exposed. She buried her face in her hands, figuring she wouldn't be able to talk without outright sobbing. She tried anyway. "I...I'm sorry," she murmured. This was definitely not something she wanted to drag him into.

Deans eyes widened as the tears slipped down the girl's cheeks, he looked around frantically, desperately wishing for someone who understood teenage girls better than he did to magically appear. He turned back to her as she buried hr face in her hands and mumbled an apology.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he stuttered out, trying to be comforting. He sighed and moved so he was sitting next to her with his back against the wall.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Waycca sucked in a breath of air, slightly surprised that he'd decided to sit beside her. It wasn't really that she'd expected him to run away; she just really hadn't expected anyone to be here. She was even more surprised when he asked if she wanted to talk about. Could she? Was there a way to explain it without stretching it or going into a senseless ramble?

"It's...n-not that important," she muttered. "J-just my parents...d-didn't want me to live with them anymore o-or whatever." She sniffed, wiping her sleeve across her face and keeping her gaze fixed on the opposite wall.

Dean nodded in understanding, abandonment could really mess with people. When he was little he was always waiting for his mother to reappear, he was ten when he realized that she hadn't loved them enough to come back.

He patted her back awkwardly, "That seems like a pretty good reason to be upset."

Waycca let out a short, bitter laugh that was cut off rather abruptly be the threat of more tears. He obviously didn't know how to deal with these situations - not that she was much better. She leaned forward a bit, leaning her chin on her knees and glancing toward him. "You d-don't have to be here if y-you don't want to," she mumbled, wanting to kick herself for her stuttering. "I don't w-want you to sit here just b-because I'm a cr-crying chick."

"I wouldn't be a very good person then would I?" He glanced down at her and sighed, "Look you don't have to talk about it, but sitting alone and crying in the dark isn't going to help much."

He stretched out his legs and leaned his head back against the stone, "So, I'll stay here, that way if you want to talk I'll be here to listen."

Waycca thought on that, a soft sigh escaping through her nose. Had the circumstances been different, she would have pointed out that it wasn't that dark in here. for the moment, all she really felt was grateful. "Oh. Okay...thank you."

She dragged a hand across her eye, hoping the flow would ease up soon. "I live with my aunt now...I think you'd like her. O-obsessed with muggle stuff and all that j-jazz." She didn't really want to be talking, but sitting in silence also probably wouldn't do much good either. She was glad he was here, though, glad not to be sitting alone.

He smiled, "She sounds like my kinda witch," He frowned as he rubbled the cotton of her sleeve across her eyes, he reached over and gently pulled her arm away from her face.

"You're gonna rub your eyes raw doing that, once you're calm just go down to kitchens and get some ice. It'll make your eyes feel better."

"How long have you lived with your aunt?" he asked, trying to distract her from rubbing her eyes again.

Waycca smirked weakly up at him when he pulled her arm away from her face. Wasn't cotton supposed to be one of the softer fabrics? "Yeah, yeah, whatever y-you say," she muttered.

"Almost three years now," she said, thinking back on it all. "Honestly, it's a better situation. My p-parents always thought she was wasting her witchiness on the Muggle world. I was just scared of it back then."

Dean put a hand over his heart dramatically, "You wound me, muggles...scary?" He grinned making sure she knew that he was joking, "I certainly hope that opinion has changed. Though if it hasn't I'll have to wonder why you haven;t run out of my class room screaming."

Waycca snorted softly through her nose, an eyebrow raising in amusement. "Yeah, I reckon it has - well, other than being horrified at certain superheros' live action voices, but that's a whole different kind of scary," she mused.

She blinked, glad to find that the tears had slowed considerably; instead of a steady flow, only a few leftovers that had managed to cling to her eyelashes managed to slip down her cheeks. Good. She relaxed a bit, leaning back and resting her head on the wall.

"Feeling better?" He asked, another redundant question, considering that her shoulders had visibly relaxed and tears had stopped running down her cheeks like a waterfall.

"Nope. I'm just tricking you into thinking that so you'll let your guard down. In a second I'll start sobbing and writing poetry," she conceded, rolling her eyes mockingly at him. Her nose was a bit clearer now, too, fortunately. She felt like she sounded like a two-year-old when she cried.

"You're a horrible little creature," he responded dryly, "I'm glad to see you're back to normal," he continued with a grin.

Waycca smiled a bit wider and shrugged. "'Normal' is a bit of a stretch. You can't go back to something you never were, hm?" she said. "Seems you had a part in that, though, so...thanks or whatever." She bit her lip, eyes drifting to the case trophies. So many winners had been here.

"Don't mention it, " he replied getting to his feet, he looked at the trophy case closest to him and sighed.

"Typical, always the last place I look."

Waycca straightened, cocking her head. "Were you looking for something?" she asked, following suit and standing. Of course, it hadn't occurred to her that he'd been in here for an actual reason. "Like...knitting champion of your grade? I'm betting you hold that title."

"Ha Ha," he rolled his eyes, "I couldnt remember who won the quiddich cup in my last year, I figured this was the best place to check."

Waycca peered at the case, sniffing from a bit of leftover congestion. "Who was it, then?Were you friends with 'em?" She wasn't sure whether to peg him as one of the sporty guys. She'd made assumptions before, and most of them had been wrong.

"Probably not," he shrugged, gazing at the unfamiliar names on the plaque, "Besides it looks like Slytherin won that year."

((sorry for the vanishing act...I dozed off =_=))

((No problem, I've just been quietly obsessing over music.))

"You play Quidditch?" she asked, leaning against the case and peering at him through the relative dimness. "I know you told me some you played, but those were all Muggle sports. Fare well on a broom?"