Seamus's head jerked up at the sound of Dean's voice, nearly dropping the book in his hands in surprise. He'd been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even heard Dean come in.
"Yeah," Seamus breathed out. "Yeah, I'm good." He tried to smile, but it didn't stick, and he went back to staring at the book in his hands. "No, Dean, I have to-no, need to give this to you." He ran a hand over the cracked and scarred leather cover. There were a lot of demons on those worn pages, and just as much love. There was a lot of Seamus himself in that book - his blood, sweat, and tears on almost every page - and he didn't know what he'd do if Dean didn't understand. But he couldn't understand at all if Seamus didn't just give it to him.
Swallowing hard, Seamus slowly handed the worn journal to Dean, not meeting his gaze. "I don't know know how you feel about it as a birthday present, but...It's a journal. A bit used, I'm afraid. I found it that last year, started writing in it - Writing to you. I only stopped when you finally came back to me."