lost

"what?" you say in playful disbelief. "you still don't remember?" 

"no— i sorry, mama! i sorry!" kyros says, distress-hopping towards you to give you a hug. you laugh at him and nuzzle his nose. "i try again!"

"it's okay, angel, relax." he pouts at your reassurance and hides his face in your chest. his frustration palpable, this is the sixth time you've gone through the script in the past fifteen minutes. 

"mama, is— is kitty?" 

"no, lucian." 

"aww." he harrumphs and climbs sylus's lap. "papa, hepp." 

"come on, angel, you know this." sylus props him up on his chest and mouths out your name. lucian squints at his lips and makes popping sounds like a beached fish. 

"aha!" kyros says again, emerging from his sulking position. "dah-ling!" 

you giggle and pepper him with kisses. "not quite, angel."

"angew?" 

"nope." 

"ahh!" he groans and flops hiself back on your chest. "don't know!" 

"one more, look at papa's mouth." sylus supplies, moving his mouth in exaggerated motions, shapes wrapping around each silent syllable. lucian squeals like he's gotten it. and like some cosmic link, so does kyros. together, they scream— "BEEBOBEB!" 

you fall back in laughter, stomach tearing at the seams as you grant them this win. "okay... we can take a break." 

"yes!" sylus sighs, flopping back on the couch with lucian in his hold, causing the little one to giggle too. "this was successful." 

"sylus." you warn, recognizing the peeping horns of his sarcasm. and as if bass-boosted, your sons scold him too. "sy-woos!"

“too loud?” sylus lifts him up and sandwiches him between the both of you. kyros doesn’t answer, just shoves his face in the crook of his papa’s neck.

“they’ve been singing this verse for hours.” you groan, fingers plugged into your ears as well.

the music halts. enough for you to take a breath and sylus to ask,“why didn’t you tell them to stop?”

sylus flinches as the amp is adjusted and the strings start again.

“i can’t do that, luke is getting better!” you protest. you recall the moment a few weeks ago when he announced to the family that he will be learning a new skill— “i’ve always wanted to learn it, and it’s really important to me. so i’d like your support.” he said.

and so support him, you shall.

sylus gapes at you. “you want me to take the fall?”

“i’m being supportive!”

“and what if i want to be supportive too?”

“YOU never cook me sausage on an open flaaame.”

“sylus!” you exclaim, shoving him forward. kyros yelps and you apologize to him.

“please, please, please.” you beg, peppering his jaw with speckled kisses. “please— i just walked by and told him to keep it up.”

he pinches the bridge of his nose. “sweetie…”

“i know, i know.” you’re going to sob if you hear that riff one more time. “please, for me! for your poor, darling boy…” you caress kyros’s back.

sylus squeezes his eyes shut as loud feedback pierces his ears, the microphone now amplifies lucian’s voice. “A, B, C, D—,”

“yeah, lucian!” cheer the big twins, as they sing along. “E, F, G! H—“

“papa…!” kyros kicks his feet against sylus’s ribs in frustration.

“okay, okay,” he relents. he turns to you, “but you take the next fall.”

“yes! yes,” you lean up on your tip toes to kiss his bottom lip. “now go!”

he hands you kyros and walks into the fray with squared shoulders and a purposeful stride.

waiting with bated breaths, you and your son pray for his success as if it was a war he’d gone off to fight. holding out for hope that a flag may fly to proclaim your win.

“hey, boss— HEY!”

there’s a small commotion. the pop of a mic. the static of a speaker. and then, three voices complaining at the same time.

sylus walks out, dusting off his hands and calling behind him, “i have taken you to Bangladesh.”

and in another stern breath, “lucian, bedtime.”

“okey,” breathes the little one, trailing after his fathers legs and catching a finger to hold.

you catch up to them with a happy kyros in arms as you all ascend the stairs together.

you open your mouth to thank him, but he’s already shaking his head.

“kieran,” he says to you like it’s an assignment. “he’s been talking about getting a wolf-dog.”

“oh, yeah, i remember—“

he stops just at the threshold of your children’s bedroom. when kyros and lucian waddle in, he tells you. “no.”

you pout, because he’s been so excitedly sending you listings of puppies online recently. “but—“

“no,” he says, words final. a heavy sigh is enough to show you how stressed he actually is about it. “i’ve had enough of dealing with dogs.”

you frown, heart aching at the thought of letting kieran down. “sy…”

he kisses you quiet, pressing tenderly and sweetly like the treacherous snake he is. “thank you, sweetie.”

you dont get a chance to bite him before he’s walking into the bedroom to start reading a story.

it was such an easy label when you first agreed to it.

no strings or expectations.

except the strings had tangled themselves deeply around your heart. 

and now, you were entirely and helplessly all in, but you had absolutely no idea where he stood.

the fear of the morning always hit you hardest at this hour. 

you always dreaded the day that you would wake up to a cold empty space on his side of bed, that one day he would sneak out and never come back.

as though sensing you staring, valko stirred, his eyes fluttering open, and a lazy smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"bug," he murmured, his voice rough from sleep. he reached out, his large hand gently cupping your hip, pulling you closer. "go back to sleep."

"valko," you whispered, your throat tight. you could not hold it back anymore. "if... if you ever decide this has run its course. if you wake up one day and realize you don't want this anymore..."

his thumb paused its movement against your hip, the remnants of sleepiness gone from his golden eyes.

"just don't sneak out," you whispered, closing your eyes because you could not bear to look at his face. you took a shaky breath, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. "don't just tiptoe out in the morning and leave me to figure it out on my own. if you don't feel it… if you're not where i am.... give me a warning. please anything but leaving me here, completely in love with you, by myself."

when he didn’t respond, you braced yourself, waiting for his words of rejection, for him to finally reveal that you would never have a place in his heart the way he occupied yours.

but instead you felt his hand slide from your hip up to your cheek, willing you to open your eyes, his thumb brushing over your skin with a reverence that made your breath hitch.

he searched your face, seeing the raw truth in your eyes.

"you’re in love with me?" valko repeated quietly. you could hear the wonder in his voice, as though he couldn't believe what you had said, and then a bittersweet, self-deprecating smile touched his lips. "you think i am the one with one foot out the door?"

he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his grip tightening around you as if you might disappear if he let go.

"i’ve been terrified of the morning sun every single time i'm here," he whispered against your skin, his heart hammering against your own. "i thought i was the only one losing my mind trying to play by the rules. i'm not tiptoeing anywhere, bug. i'm already completely stuck."

ꨄ︎ an: thank you so much for 1,200 follows! 💜

and i'm sorry again for the slow updates. i'm still not feeling great, the writer's block has been coming and going, and my heart is definitely not enjoying papergames' silent treatment. 🥲

sorry for rambling, but i highly recommend listening to the song first before reading and i can't think of a good nickname he'd give us, so i chose bug because... ya know, computer bugs🥲 ugh, i also kind of don't like how i wrote this. idk... writer's block sucks.

but i'm very, very grateful for all of you. hopefully my next fic will finally be an update to one of my current wips or series. love you guys!

-🍏💜🐺🐟

ꨄ︎ taglist: @seraphineash, @loreleis-world, @tinuvieloflemuria, @thehyperfixationgirly, @ellavelysworld

likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! hope you guys enjoyed reading!

You assumed that his silence this afternoon was diligent in nature; now you realize he was mustering the courage to voice his concern. When you don’t respond, he continues, fiddling with the ink well. “Is something the matter?”

“No, of course not,” you blurt out. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment when he immediately sets down his pen with a frown. “I mean it’s nothing, really.”

“First, you say that there is no issue, and then you say that the issue is immaterial. Which is it, I wonder.” You squirm under his gaze. The gears are already turning in his head, picking apart every interaction you’ve had in an attempt to figure out what’s wrong. Whatever you reveal, he’s ready to fix, except—

“Stop that,” you whisper, regretting it as soon as the words leave your mouth. A small, surprised sound escapes him. You force yourself to look up even though you know what you’ll see: the subtle widening of his eyes, the softening of his brows, the guilt despite not having done anything wrong. He’ll overthink himself into oblivion if you don’t set his mind at ease. “I’m sorry. It’s not about you; you didn’t do anything.”

He doesn’t move an inch. “Then…?”

You’ve never been able to lie to Zayne—there’s no reason to think that you can get away with it now. A mumbled half-truth is what you settle on: “Just some nightmares.”

“I won’t insist if you don’t wish to speak on them,” he says softly, “though you may rely on me. You need only say the word.”

It’s everything you want to hear, but he’s not truly offering to fill the hole in your heart that his Linkon self left behind. You forgot what it was like to just be his acquaintance. He doesn’t smile freely with you or share his day—he was about to leave you in an estate too big for your thoughts before you pleaded to join him during his escapades.

“Dreams are the subject of many schools of thought. There are those who think they reveal one’s deepest desires or fears. Others believe that they can be prophetic in nature.” Listening to him is soothing and caustic all at once. Your eyes sting, and you wring your hands in your skirts as you will yourself not to cry. “But no matter their purpose, they always end. The sun will rise on Morley Manor, and a pot of your favourite tea will be waiting on the breakfast table.”

But what about you? “What if I wanted more than that?”

The study lapses into silence—no more than a few seconds—but it stretches like a cavern between you. Was that too far?

“Are you not happy here?”

“That’s not what I meant.” You shake your head, but your conviction falters near the end. His frown deepens. Even when he’s not trying, Zayne finds a way to get the truth out of you.

“Miss L/N…” The hesitation in his voice is all you need to hear.

You can’t get up fast enough, depositing the book back onto the shelf with more force than necessary. If you keep discussing this any further, you just might explode. Zayne’s chair screeches against the floorboards as he rises as well, bewildered at your sudden turn in mood. “I’m speaking nonsense. Ignore me.”

“If there is something I can do—”

“No.” Your response comes out sharper than you intended. He instantly freezes, halfway around the desk.

For a moment, you both just stand there, unmoving as you stare at each other. His expression wavers as he sees the tears gathering on your lash line, but he stays firmly rooted in place. You think—hope—that it’s just propriety keeping him away. Internally, you’re begging him to close the distance.

Instead, he bends at the waist in a respectful bow, the perfect result from countless years in grammar school, probably, and your stomach churns at the unfamiliarity of the sight. You fight the urge to grab his collar and pull him back up—to tell him to stop talking like that and go back to fretting over your health and caffeine intake. You just want your Zayne back.

But then he straightens and breaks the silence, sending you spiraling further and further and further because—“I may no longer be your fiancé, but I will do all I can to ensure your comfort. I will always be here.”

there was no way on this planet earth you two weren't getting caught sneaking away to fuck like rabbits. but at the end of the day, neither of you really cared. if it worked, it worked. nobody was suspicious. yet.

and even if they were, which you highly doubt, you still wouldn't care. not when you're sitting on your superior's lap, grinding against him like your life depended on it.

caleb's large hands squeeze your hips before snaking their way under the thin fabric of your scrubs. they're pink -- expressive in a world that brought back nothing but death and bad news. expressive just like you.

your skin is soft under his touch, just like he expected. caleb almost swears he's dreaming when you let him lift your shirt off, in which he throws it behind his back in a hasty manner. once gone, his lips fly to your neck in an instant.

"'leb," you pant, running your hands through his dark hair. "careful-- ah-- don't leave any marks."

he simply hums against your skin and sucks a hickey into it anyway, making heat flood in between your thighs.

"that's not my name, baby."

caleb soothes the mark with a teasing swipe of his tongue, admiring how quickly the spot becomes red. the sensation makes you whimper and squirm in his grasp, which makes his grip on your hips tighten. you know what he's referring to, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. but you give in anyway.

"colonel--"

three devastating knocks at the door snap the both of you out of your sexual haze. caleb lets out a frustrated sigh as he glances at the door, reluctant to release you even as you're panicking to slip out of his arms.

"permission to enter, sir?" the gruff voice asks from outside, which the both of you recognize as liam, caleb's lieutenant and second-in-command. he purses his lips, knowing that ignoring him would be the wrong decision. finally, he lets you go.

"hold on, liam," he coughs, leaning back in his seat as he discreetly tries to adjust the tent in his pants. "give me a minute."

while he's distracting the lieutenant, you look at yourself on a small mirror propped up against the wall, noticing the hickey immediately. it's huge, and in a spot that can't easily be covered without makeup. bastard.

leaving you no other choice, you quickly pull your hair down from your messy bun, pulling the strands to rest over your shoulders before combing through them with your fingers to ensure you don't look like a wreck.

the second you turn back to look at caleb, he immediately notices the way your hair is now down. he suppresses a smirk but gives you a nod, signaling that it's okay for you to go now.

but you'd much rather dig a hole, crawl inside it, and die, right here in his office.

with a deep breath, you force yourself to reach for the door's handle, knowing you'll definitely get some sort of weird stare from liam.

pulling the door open, the lieutenant's eyes widen slightly before schooling his expression back into a neutral one, he nods once in acknowledgement before stepping aside to let you pass. but once you're gone, he looks at caleb with a raised eyebrow before stepping inside the office and closing the door behind him.

caleb frowns, annoyed for getting cockblocked and being accused of participating in forbidden behavior (he was).

"meeting," he's quick to say, his defensiveness only growing at his comrade's skeptical expression. "we were having a meeting-- hey, don't make it weird. that's an order."

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

the next time it happens is in an elevator.

yes, an elevator.

the base is always busy, but somehow it’s busier than normal. recruits are rushing to get in formation in time, others are on their way to the cafeteria for lunch break, and you are stuck on a supply run, hauling a huge crate of medical supplies to the elevator.

your arms ache from how heavy it is, but you carry on. you’re not fond of breaks; they only slow you down in the long run. it doesn’t help that these people in the hallways are moving as slow as rocks; you have to purse your lips to keep yourself from telling them off.

once you finally reach the elevator, there’s a small crowd already waiting for the next lift.

great. just my luck, you think to yourself.

you join the crowd and set the supplies down at your feet with a soft groan. your back aches from supporting all the weight, so you rest your hands on your hips to stretch slightly.

but as soon as you get a moment’s reprieve, the elevator doors open. soldiers start to flood out, and you bite your tongue to resist the urge to scream. you lean back down to pick up the crate, but by the time you have it comfortably settled against your stomach, the elevator is already packed.

there was no way you were were walking up the stairs, and you were too impatient to wait for another lift. screw this base for only having one elevator on ground level.

with a resigned sigh, you set the crate down— again— settling for waiting for the next one.

the current lift closes and goes up. you watch in silence, crossing your arms over your chest. but before you can react, you feel a slight force next to you. it’s magnetic and grounding, somewhat heavy, and oddly familiar.

when you look over, the crate beside you is floating.

caleb.

as if on cue, you hear footsteps approach you from behind. the colonel has an easy smile on his face, one he only reserves for you.

“if you needed help, you could have just asked me,” he hums, using his evol to gently place the supplies back on the ground. you shake your head, both flattered and amused.

“it’s fine,” you shake your head. “guess today just isn’t my day.”

caleb raises an eyebrow and mirrors your stance, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“doesn’t seem fine to me,” he retorts. “you were standin’ around like a granny with back problems before i came.”

you roll your eyes.

“okay. maybe it is a bit heavy. but i can carry it just fine.”

“i know you can,” he replies with mock sympathy. “you’re a strong girl. you’ve been carrying that around all day, though. anyone would get tired doing that.”

before you can respond, the elevator arrives back on ground floor, empty. what a miracle.

you begin to lean down to pick it up, but caleb’s evol activates again and lifts the crate off the ground, refusing to let you carry it again.

“ah ah,” he tuts admonishingly. “let me. i can handle it.”

sore and too tired to argue, you let him, sighing softly as you two enter the elevator.

he has a smug smirk as he wins this battle, but says nothing more as you lean against the cold, metal walls of the elevator. caleb reaches over to press a few buttons. he doesn’t have to ask what your floor is; his office and the medical station are on the same floor.

with a soft click, the elevator closes, leaving you two alone in a small, enclosed space. caleb sets the crate down at your feet once more, pretending to be occupied as he counts the tiles on the lift’s ceiling.

the silence is quickly replaced by elevator lobby music, but neither of you are worrying about that. it's as if the two of you are trapped together in a little bubble, creating your own world. and there's nothing to do except get closer.

caleb whistles a soft tune from beside you when he realizes the lift will take a while, rocking on his heels back and forth.

"so..." he trails off. "how's your day?"

stupid question. he knows you've been running around base gathering supplies; he's seen you. to his (un)surprise, you shrug it off as you stretch your arms.

"tiring," you admit. "and a bit boring. i'm not used to working outside of the med-bay."

he hums in acknowledgement before silence falls over the two of you again. ever since liam almost walked in on you two, things have been a bit awkward. caleb can't tell if it was the semi-public indecency or his lieutenant that scared you away, but he doesn't blame you.

that situation had him feeling conflicted too. while you were working and saving lives, he'd spent every day since then brooding in his office while thinking of ways to expand this complication between you two past hooking up.

he knows this is against the rules. he knows he could get in trouble for pursuing a relationship with one of his colleagues. and he knows he should stop — but he can't. you simply feel too good to quit.

ultimately, he decides to address the situation. he's never been good with his guilty conscience, and likes to clear things up as quickly as possible. part of this habit also comes from his swiftness as a colonel, but he realizes that he should go about this moment as caleb, not as the colonel.

he also realizes that while the colonel tells him to stop, caleb tells him to keep going. while the colonel says this is wrong, caleb says to ask her out as a way to apologize for what happened.

the colonel is a part of him, but it's not all of him. so he listens to caleb.

"look. about last week—" he starts, but you quickly shut him down with a shake of your head. you’d already wiped the horrific moment from your memory, and didn’t want it back.

“it’s okay,” you insist, feeling your cheeks get hot. “we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to—“

he cuts you off this time with an apologetic (yet slightly sheepish) smile on his face.

“no, i want to! i just feel bad for what happened,” caleb’s hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “it was unfortunate timing, and i want to make it up to you— for real. so, i was wondering—“

ding.

the elevator doors open.

caleb’s fists clench at his sides, but his face remains neutral. why is this always happening to him? why can’t he have a normal conversation with you without the world constantly interrupting him?

meanwhile, you take this as an opportunity to flee the conversation. not because you don’t like caleb— because you do. you really do— but because you know this is wrong, and because the concept of being in a relationship with your superior still freaks you out.

“it’s okay, caleb. really!” you ramble, picking up the crate of supplies before he can lift, or, rather, float it for you. “we can make it up some other time, but i’m really busy— i’ll see you later!”

he purses his lips but flattens them out into a strained smile as he waves you off. not long after, the elevator floods again, and it isn’t until it starts moving again that he realizes that he should have gotten off with you. his office is quite literally on the same floor as the medical bay.

caleb resists the urge to punch something. he had been too lost in his thoughts (and your beauty) to get out at the correct floor.

then, he sighs softly, accepting his fate and preparing to wait another ten minutes before he can return to his workplace. but the whole way back to his office, he’s thinking about ways to bridge the gap between you two.

damn it.

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

caleb can’t tell if you’re doing this on purpose or if the world is genuinely fucking with him.

he doesn’t blame you for being busy— you’re just doing your job, after all. but it’s as if your job is all you’re doing. he can’t even catch you when you’re on break because you’d rather spend that time socializing with friends instead of taking a breath alone.

how is he supposed to approach you in front of your colleagues? and why would the colonel get all shy and bashful around the base’s medic? he’d rather die than embarrass himself like that.

one day, he figures that if you’re unable to come to him, he’ll come to you.

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

it was an accident. mostly.

before joining the farspace fleet, and even the daa, he knew the risks of flying near the deepspace tunnel: radiation exposure, wanderer attacks, protocore fluctuations, even muscle strain and neck/back pain from flying too long. but none of that stopped him.

especially not when the one mission caleb had been trying to complete for months was just within reach.

the objective was supposedly simple: record data based on the increase and decrease of protocore fluctuations at different depths of the tunnel. but the planes at the fleet weren’t suited to handle the immense pressure of the tunnel.

having yet to perfect the durability of the jets, researchers in the fleet still managed to make significant progress. so while the planes could handle the pressure, it wouldn’t be for long. caleb knew this and decided to take the risks anyway, knowing you’d be right back on base, eager to patch him up if anything ever happened.

…now, the word “anything” was an understatement.

his partners warned him not to go any deeper. the jet itself told him not to push his luck. but as caleb stares at the red letters on his radar, his determination to finish this mission began to outweigh the thoughts of death and destruction.

[warning: cabin pressure low. turn back now.]

he should have listened.

when he next awakens, he’s blinded by the fluorescence of the base’s lights and by the beauty of your worried face as you and a few other nurses wheel him to the medbay on a gurney.

his whole body hurts, and it’s as if someone’s splitting his skull open, but seeing your face and hearing your voice makes him feel just the tiniest bit better. in the end, he won.

“colonel!” you call out to him with the perfect mix of worry and professionalism. “can you hear me?”

caleb groans softly but manages a nod.

“yeah, i—“ he’s unable to finish his sentence thanks to a coughing fit, the taste of metal filling his mouth. your lips press into a thin line as you grab the clipboard from the base of the gurney.

“schedule him for an mri,” you order, your free hand lifting up his shirt to gently press against his abdomen. he lets out a pained grunt despite the shiver that goes down his spine at your touch. “no swelling yet, but there could be internal bleeding.”

a nurse nods and takes the clipboard from you, off to schedule the scan you requested. but your focus is now on him.

meanwhile, his brows furrow.

internal bleeding?

“you passed out while in the cockpit,” you explain to him, finally wheeling him into an empty room. you pull the blue curtains to section off the area from the outside world. “you’re lucky your colleagues were there when it happened.”

oh, that’s right. he remembers now.

the deeper into the tunnel he went, the more unwell he felt. he ignored it— a bad idea, he later realizes. the last thing caleb remembers was pressing the emergency button to his side.

he frowns slightly but lets you work on him, tracking your every move.

“oh. are they alright?” he asks.

you administer an iv drip to his arm while another nurse hooks up the heart monitor. you glance up at the monitor before cursing under your breath, lifting up his shirt again and pressing your stethoscope to his bare chest.

“he’s a bit tachy—“ you declare, looking at the rapid 176 on the screen. “start an esmolol drip— yeah, they’re okay. no major injuries.”

your response is half-hearted, too focused on treating him rather than making conversation. but underneath the professionalism is something deeper than just being professional.

it’s not like you two were professional in the first place, but you care for him— you really do.

he can’t make out what the hell you’re saying. it’s all medical nonsense he doesn’t understand, but hearing you speak it is like music to his ears. because of this, he decides to remain silent until a majority of his treatment is over.

he hopes that by then, you’ll stop treating him like a patient and more like caleb. your caleb.

by the time the medicine kicked in, the medical bay is quiet, and he can hear you greet the other nurses a good night as they sign out for the day. then, footsteps get louder outside his room.

you gently pull open the curtains, clipboard in hand as you look down at caleb. even when critically injured, he still looks incredibly handsome.

he opens his eyes upon sensing your arrival, his eyes softening his a fraction.

“you feeling alright?” you inquire, walking over to his side to check his vitals. your gentle hands work methodically to monitor his blood pressure before writing it down on the clipboard.

“not really,” he tries to lighten the mood with a self-deprecating joke, but straightens out when you seem to take it seriously. “but i feel better now that you’re here.”

you stay silent for a moment, eyes locked onto the clipboard. then, you turn around, peeking your head outside the curtain. it’s just the two of you in the med-bay.

suddenly, you feel your cheeks flush with warmth. you haven’t been alone with him since the incident in his office.

you turn back to face him, standing off to the side of his bed. you don’t look happy.

“why would you do that?” you hiss, your hands clutching your clipboard too hard for comfort. “you knew the risks!”

when you scold him, caleb cracks a tired smile. god, he missed your voice.

“worried? aww.”

“this isn’t funny, caleb!” you frown.

“you’re right. it’s not,” he hums. “it’s cute.”

you quickly shut your lips, restraining yourself from saying anything else. when caleb teases you like this, you’ve learned it’s best to keep quiet. talking to him is like talking to a brick wall.

“of course i was worried,” you sigh, your tone softer as you shove your clipboard under your arm. “i always worry when you do stupid shit like this. and maybe i’m worrying more than i should be, because technically you’re my boss, and—“

“go out with me.”

his words stop your rambling immediately. you glare at him, eyes widened slightly.

“what?”

his violet eyes trace over every delicate curve of your face, landing on the soft slope of your lips. his heart hurts knowing that he hadn’t kissed them in ages, but he repeats his offer with no hesitation.

“go out with me. i don’t care if i get court-martialed. i want you.”

you swallow the lump in your throat. the moment you had been avoiding was finally here, and you’re beginning to think that you’re the tachycardic one with how fast your heart is beating.

sure, you love your job. but lately, you’ve realized that maybe you love him, too. each day without seeing him only leaves you wanting more.

“i—“ you begin, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

“it’s okay. you don’t have to answer now,” he reassures you. “i just wanted to tell you in case we got interrupted again. it’s been weighing on my mind recently, and i would have gone crazy if i didn’t do anything about it.”

his voice is hoarse and weak from hours of unuse (you had told him to go easy on the speaking, not wanting him to cough up any more blood). but it’s also sincere and soft in a way he’s never spoken to anyone before.

for a moment, you hesitate. you think of excusing yourself to go get him water. something, anything that would allow you to get away from him and collect your thoughts. but caleb is too perceptive for that.

“don’t run away,” he pauses to take a short breath. “please.”

those words are all it takes for the wall of professionalism between you two to melt away.

with a sigh, you take a step closer to the edge of the gurney.

“okay. i won’t,” you murmur, hesitating for a moment before bringing your hand up to softly stroke his hair. caleb leans into your touch like a cat, closing his eyes.

the two of you bask in silence. you’ve done this many times, but now it’s different. it’s not awkward or tense; now it’s comfortable. intimate, even.

caleb sighs softly, now comfortable despite the lingering ache in his body. he knows the next briefing won’t be good, but all he cares about is you. only you.

your hand lingers on the top of his head for just a moment before slowly removing it. he looks peaceful for once, not worrying about missions or slow recruits. a warmth blooms through your heart, thinking that this look suits him much better.

as you stare at him, you realize that you wouldn’t mind waking up to this face in the morning. you wouldn’t mind his corny jokes, or the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you.

a normal, domestic life sounds… nice.

caleb notices the change in your expression and cracks a small smirk, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking. he manages to prop himself up into a sitting position, his back still supported by the gurney.

“what are you thinking about?” he quips.

you’re quick to shake your head and dismiss him, but it’s useless. the two of you are alone, so why did you still want to hide?

“nothing,” you reply. “i just missed you.”

caleb’s eyes soften. wanting to return the favor, he outstretches an arm to brush over your cheekbone with his hand.

“hey. don’t be like that,” he smiles softly. “i’m here now, aren’t i? come here.”

when you obey and lean closer, he meets you halfway with a kiss to your lips. they’re slightly chapped, but they feel like heaven against your skin as you kiss him back gently, still mindful of his fragile state.

when you pull away, you rest your forehead against his.

“for the record,” you breathe. “i’d love to go out with you.”

i apologize to the med majors for the medical inaccuracies LMAOOO. i did very minimal research. sorry this took so long — been busy. but i hope you enjoyed. not my best work but it’s something :,)

tag-list! (to those of you who did not specifically ask for a tag, i apologize haha just thought you’d like the update)

@elysiasgirlfriend @gravitationalbluberry @m1lfl0verrr @hanaohreally @yes-ishipit @blue-bird-legend-writes

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@alyceres 2026

do not transfer my work to any other platform or feed it to ai. if a post of mine sparks your creativity, please credit/tag me. i would love to read what you write.