ari reblogs

You can picture the way the elegist holds the pen, etching away and gradually crafting your star-crossed narrative: they’ve scrawled all the words with bloodied ink. Ripped the edges with laughter, left the paper to yellow with age. A Romanticist’s dark fantasy – a traditional ending that belonged in one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, a cruel fate subjected to you, a side character left to eventually rot away beneath the blinking moonlight. 

Unfortunately, you love Caleb. Fortunately, you love Caleb. You love him because he’s Caleb. You hate him because he’s Caleb. You love him the way Sydney Carton loved Lucie Manette, when he clawed out his own pulsating heart from his dying ribs and willingly served it to her on a silver platter. All without asking for a single thing in return, because she saved him from a life of disgrace. He was already withering, and she rekindled him from ashes into a blazing heap of fire, and that salvation was more than enough to grant her his beautiful devotion.

You think that if Caleb asked for your heart, you’d plate it within seconds – savoring whatever he chose to grow in its place. You’d let him plant asiatic apples – his favorite – inside your ribcage, and let him caramelize them and feed them to you without a second thought. If you struggled to breathe and cough up the bloodied seeds, you think that’s even better. Because it’s Caleb, and you hate him, but worst of all, you love him. And they go hand in hand, your love and hatred, so much so that it hurts. 

MC is a real sweetheart. A pretty thing who brought a noble reason for becoming a UNICORNS Hunter to the Association. You tried so hard to loathe her, you really did, but all your efforts came back futile. Because in reality, why would you hate MC? Because of Caleb? It’s not like she forces him to do anything – he willingly dotes on her. Sometimes she even gets upset because he gets a little too overbearing. Everything Caleb does for her is of his own accord. You are never the first person to be called when things go wrong. Never the first to be worried for. Not the first to be protected the second everything goes awry.

That place has always belonged to her, but Caleb granted her that place of his own free will. MC had never meant any malice towards you, because it was hardly her fault that Caleb chose her. Any hint of animosity was all but a carefully constructed illusion in your own head, because there was none. She had been nothing but kind to you. A real sweetheart.

The necklace around Caleb’s throat is proof of her place; a thin chain, dull silver, worn over by years of being grasped at without a second thought. The crystallized red apple and those dog tags that glint under the sunlight: a constant, unintentional reminder of her ownership and everything that you’re not. You’ve watched him reach for it whenever he’s anxious, fingers curled around it when orders from the Fleet are too heavy, and when his fear slips through the cracks of his carefully crafted composure.

Maybe that’s something you can hate her for, because that necklace serves as a painful admonition and a physical manifestation of all your hurt. You were there before that necklace. That damned necklace. Before any ranks. Before MC became your partner in the Association, another mocking reminder of where you stood within your twisted narrative. Before all your obligations grew teeth and knew how to bite, and sooner or later would swallow you whole.

You remember it now. The memory comes to you, unbidden and sharp and warm all at once, a wilted daffodil resting within the depths of your thoughts that refuses to leave.

It was summer that day, late summer. You remember the season because the apples were in full bloom and Caleb had been counting the days down until he could harvest the fruits that one of Josephine’s trees bore. He promised you that he’d make apple pie just like how she makes it, and you just giggled and told him not to set the fire alarm off again. He said that he never recalled doing such a thing.

The sky was blue, and the apples were a perfect shade of red, and you wished they would respectively stay blue and red forever. For those colors to never darken or fade, and hoping that one day, they would merge and settle under Caleb’s eyes. An almost impossible shade of ultraviolet that you constantly yearned for. 

MC wasn’t there. You don’t remember why, and frankly, you don’t care. All that mattered, for once, was that day belonged entirely to you. Out of all the afternoons that you spent as a trio, it had only been the two of you that day. Yes, this was a summer memory that was only yours and his to keep, for you to fondly keep in a locket deep within your ribcage for all eternity. 

That day, you were younger – too young to know how things would end – and sitting cross-legged on the dewy grass of his backyard, the blades damp against your palms. Caleb sits across from you, knees pulled up, and sleeves rolled to his elbows, eagerly waiting. The air smelled like sun-warmed leaves and fruits, like Caleb, and the poets were feeling creative, basking in the cooling wind the summer brought.

You had brought him a gift, you said, and he watched you with an expectant shade of curiosity as you reached into your pocket and pulled out two thin lengths of braided cord, a perfect mix of ivory and crimson. The bracelets were uneven, dyed by your shaky hands, and lightly fraying at the ends. You’d made them the night before, fingers clumsy and hands shaking as you followed the step-by-step tutorial playing on your phone. “Oh? What do you have for me here?”

“They’re matching bracelets. One for you, and one for me,” you mutter sheepishly, like explaining might’ve lessened the embarrassment tinting your cheeks. “I know they’re kind of stupid, but–”

Caleb leans forward at that. “Hey, they’re not stupid.”

You look up at him, surprised. “You promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he grins, and your throat tightens, his words like music to your ears, crescendoing into a harmonious choir the moment that Caleb willingly holds out his wrist for you. The way your heart thumped as your fingers brushed against his skin made you fear that he could hear its erratic beating, and the blood rushing in your eardrums. Maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he did, and chose not to say anything. He’s always been able to read you like an open book.

“There, done.” The bracelet rested just beneath the bone of his right wrist, the color vivid against his skin. When you finished, you leaned back to admire your work, pride blooming and heart full with his words, despite yourself. “Now, when you inevitably forget me in five years when you’re suuuper popular and cool at the DAA, you won’t be able to pretend like you didn’t know me.”

He laughs at that, bright and unguarded, and you wish that this day would never end. That Caleb and his bracelet and everything about him would just settle somewhere deep within your chest, finding shelter within the crevices of your ribcage. Or maybe you can find a home within his own body. You didn’t mind either outcome. “I don’t think that’s possible. Besides, you’re already way cooler than me.”

Then, without another word, he reaches for your hand. “Wait–”

Too late. He fumbles with the second bracelet, your matching half, and knots it around your wrist. It sits a little too tight, and you’re certain you’ll get rope burn once you begin to outgrow it, but you could hardly care less. He puts his palm against your own and intertwines your fingers against his, and your mind sings at the contact. “There. Now we’re even.”

You look down at your hand clasped against his own and mutter, “You’re never taking this off.” 

He smiles, saluting you with his free hand, and your eyes soften. You’ve marked each other with these bracelets. His hand is so, so warm, and Caleb is still so beautiful, like how everything should be. “Copy that.”

That day was an anomaly. 

You were matching bracelets with Caleb. Not him and MC. You and Caleb. He’d let you leave a permanent mark on him in a way that MC hadn’t, even though she ended up giving him that necklace years later. The sky shouldn’t have been such a beautiful shade of blue, and the apples shouldn’t have been so red, but they were. Caleb shouldn’t have been so boyishly pretty that day, looking over your visage so beautifully with those violet eyes, but he was. Everything was so perfectly aligned that day that you sometimes wondered if you had just imagined it all, as if he were but a mere phantasm in the breeze. A trick of the light to convince yourself that he was once yours.

Oh, but that moment was as real as it got. MC’s necklace may have come later, but those bracelets were yours first. Caleb was real, and that moment with him had been the one thing that you could call yours. Undeniably, indisputably yours.

But that was before the explosion. 

Like everything that you once could call your own, Caleb kept true to his word and never took the bracelet off, until it had been cruelly ripped from your grasp by the laughing elegist and the hands of fate. The facts were clearly written: Caleb survived the tragedy, Josephine did not. Caleb was now the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, and his right arm had been reinforced with a metallic prosthetic. His veins became wires tangled red, green, and blue, and the bracelet was lost with the debris. 

His right arm was no longer yours. A part of Caleb’s heart was no longer yours.

The arm you had fastened the bracelet around could no longer feel. The hand you held that summer afternoon can no longer experience your warmth, now cold with the false promise of permanence. The arm that had worn your mark so easily until it hadn’t, under the blink of an eye. You never said it out loud, because acknowledging the thought felt monstrous, almost sacrilegious, but sometimes, you truly wondered if you cursed him. 

Like the marks you leave on the things you loved most were meant to waste away with time, and eventually vanish.

The sky isn’t blue anymore. It’s a dull shade of grey today, actually. That summer day no longer smells sweet but more like something decaying. The apples are long gone and rotten right to the core, but Caleb’s eyes are still that haunting shade of amethyst and still everything you love. 

Because some things, apparently, endure.

You’re partnered with MC on an Association mission today, but this particular mission has ties with Skyhaven. Skyhaven meant the Farspace Fleet. And of course, the Fleet meant seeing Caleb before the Association sent you to take care of the next bout of wanderers or whatever they were ready to throw at you today. It was rare for Linkon and Skyhaven’s affairs to intertwine, even though they ultimately shared similar end goals. At the end of the day, they were still interconnected pillars that wanted to get rid of wanderers. Hence why you were here.

You feel inside your pocket, making sure the box is intact. The mission briefing ran much longer than it should’ve, and people from the Fleet filed out in pairs and clusters, none of them sparing the members of the Hunters Association a second glance. Boots echo across the floors, and you linger inside the room, looking for the familiar set of violet eyes, a ghost of a smile forming on your face once they meet yours.

Caleb. 

“Hey,” he says, and you know that if you were MC, that greeting would’ve been followed with his endearing nickname for her, ‘pips’. Unfortunately, you weren’t MC, and you weren’t his pipsqueak. What exactly were you to him? You didn’t know. You were just… you. 

Was that enough for him?

“It’s rare seeing you in the Fleet. I wish you weren’t here at all, though. It gets real crazy here sometimes,” He ruffles your hair, and you couldn’t even return the action because of his big, stupid Colonel hat. “D’ya need something before the mission? My good luck charm, maybe?”

“Hmm, I dunno. Is your charm really all that good?” You smile up at him, his pretty eyes gazing into yours, and suddenly, the banter almost makes everything flicker with normalcy. Caleb was here again. You were here with him, and the stars are almost aligning, because the world, inexplicably, hasn’t taken everything from you yet. “I have a gift for you, actually.”

“A gift? What’s the occasion?” He asks as you slowly reach into your pocket, fingers brushing the fabric and metal. It makes you hesitate, like you were sixteen all over again that summer day and were afraid of Caleb’s reaction towards your handmade, woven bracelets. The soft beam on his face this time around made it easier on your nerves, though. “My birthday’s stiiill pretty far away, you know.” 

You exhale slowly, pulling out the box under his watchful gaze. “Something I made,” you murmur, “Again.”

The box opens, and your gift is finally on full display beneath the blinking fluorescent lights of the Fleet. There are two bracelets inside, woven crimson and ivory, just like before. Anyone could still tell that it’s handmade, but the handiwork is neater, and the thread is no longer fraying. You got rid of your matching half after the explosion, vowing to only wear it if Caleb had his part of the pair. The expression on his face is unreadable, and it makes your heart thump with apprehension all over again. 

“I thought–” you continue, staring at the box instead of at him, “that maybe we don’t get to keep things forever, but we can try to, anyway.”

“You made another set, after I lost mine when…” He trails off, and you nod. It’s the closest thing you’ve gotten to talking about the explosion, and Caleb’s jaw tightens. You knew he was no longer sixteen, and you don’t even know if he’s still entirely Caleb, the same one who held your hand that late summer afternoon, but that mark you left on him was still yours. Even as the dog tags beneath his uniform serve as a painful reminder that he will never be truly yours entirely. “Put it on me, again. Just like old times.”

He wordlessly holds out his wrist for you – the left one this time – and he doesn’t miss your painful gaze towards his bionic arm. You fasten it around his left wrist, the only arm that can feel anything anymore, and the mark is seared once again, even though the sky is still gray and the apples are long spoiled.

Despite all that time, Caleb is still beautiful, and that has never changed.

Then, he reaches for you, taking your wrist and gently tying the second bracelet there. If you squint, you could probably still see the marks left behind by the previous one. His fingers brush against your skin in a way that makes your breath hitch, and his tongue is pressed lightly to his teeth, like he’s afraid of making the knot too tight like before. “Do you remember what you said that day? How you predicted that I’d forget you in five years when I’m ‘super popular and cool’ once I was at the DAA?”

You meekly nod as he finishes the knot. It’s a perfect one this time. Not too tight to give you any rope burns, and not too loose that it would fall off. “Well, I think my words still stand. I most certainly never forgot you, you’re still way cooler than me, and definitely way cooler than anyone there.”

With that, his eyes softly whisper against your own. You look at each other – really look at each other this time – and his damned violet eyes catch the light, familiar and unbearable and intoxicating, all at once. You think of all those blue summer skies and Josephine’s red apples and all the ways those colors can merge into something sadder, yet far more alluring. A mixture that rests under Caleb’s eyes.

Your foreheads are nearly touching, and his breath stutters as you take his mechanical hand into your own, caressing the metal that took away your mark and a part of Caleb’s humanity. He pulls you closer with his free hand – the one with your newly made mark – almost like he was luring you in with his Gravity EVOL. But Caleb didn’t need to utilize his EVOL to pull you in; he did it all naturally. Him and his stupid good luck charm.

“You come back to me,” he quietly whispers, his breath hot against your own. If you listened closely enough, you could hear his erratically beating heart. You weren’t Caleb’s pipsqueak, but you could do all of this to him. You had this effect on him. This moment was yours, and you were going to selfishly savor it. Replay this scene until it one day swallows you whole. “You promise.”

For a single moment, the world finally narrows to just the two of you. The Fleet and the Hunter’s Association were just background noise. His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes. You could feel the heat of your words just before you speak, just before he leans in and finally closes the gap. “I–”

“Caleb!”

MC’s voice cuts through the tension like a carefully positioned blade, and you immediately step back. Caleb withdraws his hand from the back of your neck like it stung, as if it never belonged there in the first place. The bracelet resting against your wrist feels hot to the touch. You wonder if it feels the same for Caleb, or if he’d eventually take it off sooner or later. MC’s looking at you expectantly, eyes bright and unaware of what just happened. “They’re calling us in. Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you declare weakly, breath still stuck in your throat, something you’re unable to swallow. “I’m coming.”

The realization dawns on you faster than anything when MC offers you a big smile. You were right – from the very beginning, you didn’t hate MC. You never did. She’s kind, sweet, and constantly has your back during missions. No, you were angry at her presence. How it was practically impossible to hang out with just Caleb. It was always you, Caleb, and her. How the duo could never stay as a duo, no matter what. How your moments with Caleb can be so easily ripped from your grasp by MC because she was here first. Of course, it was always her first. 

Caleb needs to keep her safe first. To protect her first. She was his priority first. This was the status quo, and you had no say in changing the rules that were already set in stone a long time ago. Still, as you catch a glimpse of Caleb’s wrist before you leave, you make a silent vow to yourself, to the crimson and ivory resting on your own wrist. 

If you cursed Caleb with your first present, you silently pray that this time around, it will curse you instead of him.

The mission turned into a shitshow faster than you had initially anticipated.

You were so outnumbered from the very beginning that you wondered what the hell the Association was thinking when sending you two on this mission. Was this a fucking death trap specifically designed for you and MC? For everyone else dispatched here? There’s so much blood on the floor you could hardly distinguish your own from any wanderer that you had defeated.

Another wanderer goes down, collapsing onto the debris with a sound that rattles your bones and shoots directly to your ringing eardrums. Your sword is immediately knocked away from your hands by the next target, and it falls onto the ground with a deafening clatter. You need backup, and you need it now. You think about who to call – you would have called Xavier, but your Hunter’s watch is long broken, and he’s probably just as preoccupied as you two. 

The entire situation was so pitiful that you could have laughed if it weren’t for how fucked over you both were.

You look towards MC, and your eyes widen as she stumbles, her breath staggering and legs shaking. You’re already moving, just before she hits the ground. “MC!”

“Hey, hey, stay with me–” you scream out, dropping to your knees beside her. You use all your strength and bring the two of you to a nearby tree, praying that all the shrubs and bushes cover you from the wanderer’s sight. She’s breathing, shallow but steady, eyes unfocused as she tries her hardest to meet your gaze. You prop her against the trunk and cup her face, trying to keep her awake. “Please, fuck–”

She’s injured, but she’s alive. Good. That’s good. You just need to keep her alive long enough to get to a safe zone, or until help comes. Something warm spreads beneath your hunter’s uniform when you shift your weight, but you ignore the excruciating agony in your abdomen and focus on MC. A stab wound in your core. You don’t even know where it came from, and the adrenaline had masked the pain until now. Still, you’ve felt worse. Way worse than this. Right now, you just need to keep her alive, because–

Because of Caleb. Because Caleb needs her alive.

“You come back to me,” His words briefly echo in your ears, and it makes your eyes sting with tears. You don’t know if you can. “You promise.”

You’ve never broken any promises when it comes to Caleb, and he’s never broken any, either. But, technically, this time around, you didn’t promise him anything because MC had interrupted you before you could utter any words out. So, you didn’t exactly owe him anything. Your life was second to hers right now.

Sorry, Caleb.

“We need to move,” you say, hauling her arm over your shoulder. This spot was not going to be safe for long, and you didn’t have your sword. If any wanderer spots you, that’d be the end of your narrative. And you can’t have it end yet, not when MC isn’t safe. “Can you stand?”

She groans, teetering between a fine line of consciousness and unconsciousness. “You’re – you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you say automatically, even though you’re surprised that she noticed the wet blood staining the abdomen of your uniform. MC is a real sweetheart. Always thinking about other people when she’s equally as fucked over as you. That’s why you never truly hated her. How could you have the heart to do so?

She blinks up at you, trying to focus. “No, you’re not. I can see right through you.”

“We don’t have time for this,” you grit your teeth and force yourself upright despite your core screaming out in a horrid bout of pain. You bite your lip so hard that it draws blood, bringing MC up with you and ignoring her protests. You remember during the mission briefing that a safe zone was about… half a mile up north. Every staggering step sends a sharp reminder throughout your body, but you stubbornly don’t slow. “Caleb needs you out.”

MC shakes her head weakly. “What about you?”

You don’t answer, and she continues, a huff of air almost sounding like a laugh. “He loves you, you know.”

Her words make you freeze, and you turn to look at her. “Cares about you… a lot. Don’t just think about me.”

It’s hard not to, you want to say, but the words never leave your tongue. If Caleb had to choose, in a life-or-death situation, whether to save me or you, I think we all know the answer to that a little too well.

You make it to a clearing in the forest, and her grip on you suddenly tightens, enough to make you stop in your tracks, despite yourself. “Stop,” she says, practically pleading, panic creeping into her voice. “You can’t keep going like this.”

“Oh,” she looks down, really takes a second to see your condition, and her expression crumples, muttering out your name in concern. “You’re hurt. You’re really hurt.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeat, but your voice cracks, and your composure is breaking. 

She tries to pull away from you. “Put me down, this isn’t worth it–”

“No,” you say sharply. “If we wait–”

“You could pass out,” she says, tears welling in her eyes and fingers digging into your sleeve. “You’re not okay, please, you don’t have to do this–”

You don’t say what you’re thinking, but your answer is already written all over your face. You do have to do this, actually. This was never a question. The bracelet on your wrist feels even warmer than before. MC reaches for you, fumbling with her gear with her remaining strength. Her Hunter’s watch and her gun. The watch’s screen was still lit, and her gun had a few rounds inside.

“Here, use my watch. I can’t… hold on for much longer,” her eyes are glazing over, on the brink of passing out, and you place her gun in your holster and the watch around your wrist, trying to keep the both of you upright. “Call for help, but promise that you… think about yourself, too.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat and meekly nod, taking her watch. Don’t say I promise to her, because you’re certain that you’ll break it. And you don’t make promises that you can’t keep. “Yeah. Sure.”

She smiles at that and goes limp in your arms. You suck in a breath, eyes flitting all over the screen as you thought about who to call. You try Xavier’s line and give up after a few rings. You just hope that he’s alright. Finally, your finger hovers over Caleb’s line. You know damn well that he’d respond, especially since this was MC’s watch, and not yours. The speaker rings once before the line opens. “Caleb, I need evac. Now.”

“Status.” His voice comes back sharp and controlled, and you realize that this wasn’t Caleb right now, but Colonel Caleb. 

“MC’s down, and–” I took a hit, and I’m bleeding out too. You’re unable to force those words out in between your labored breaths. “–she took a hit from a wanderer, and… I’m trying to take us to the nearby safe zone. I’m five minutes out.”

The world tilts as you haul MC’s weight higher against your shoulder. Your vision blurs at the edges, but you lock your jaw and keep moving. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s a shitshow out here, Caleb. I don’t have my sword, and she took a hit when I wasn’t looking–”

“When you weren’t looking?” His voice cuts through the line, tone hardening. You can hear him moving, probably running to his plane. “You’re supposed to cover for her.”

“I was,” you snap, the words tearing out of you like the flesh from your abdomen when the wanderer had stabbed you. “I was there, Caleb, I tried–”

“Then why the hell is she bleeding out?”

This was exactly what you expected. Maybe you shouldn’t have called him at all. His words hit harder than any wound you’ve sustained, and you stagger, barely managing to keep your footing – barely managing to keep MC upright with you. The pain is blooming, sharp and practically blinding, white-hot and so fucking unforgiving, and for a moment, you nearly cry out.

But you don’t. You tighten your grip on her instead.

“Damn it. The safe zone near you – I’m about ten minutes away from it. Can you make it there?”

You can hear it even through the static. The fear in his voice was raw, frantic, and all-consuming. The fear of losing MC eclipses everything else, swallowing whole whatever concern might have been meant for you. If MC was right – and Caleb really did love you – then his love was not enough to overcome the instinct carved into him long before you ever even entered his life.

Because she was here first. And you were not. And that’s just the way things were.

The thought makes something hysterical bubble in your chest. You laugh, or at least try to, but it breaks apart into an ugly cough, and more crimson stains your uniform.

“Yeah,” you manage out. “I think.”

You don’t know how you conjured up the strength to make it to the evac zone, but you do. The world narrows after your call began with Caleb, and the lights blur together into a pale white smear. Her weight grows heavier in your arms as she stirs, like she knew something was wrong with your staggering footsteps.

“You come back to me,”

“Promise that you… think about yourself, too.”

I’m sorry. To both of you.

Everyone finally notices you and MC, and your senses finally dull as your fingers slip from MC’s sleeve, letting someone else take her. Throughout all the clamor, someone begins assisting you, but you can’t feel anything. Trembling, your hand falls against your wrist, and the bracelet is still there. You think of Caleb’s left wrist and how it matched your own, and how that was the greatest salvation you could’ve asked for. You think about his right arm and how he never got to wear that first bracelet again after it got destroyed in the explosion. You wonder, briefly, if he’ll notice that this time, he’s going to be the one without the matching pair.

Caleb never once asks if you were alright.

His voice is still coming through MC’s watch – urgent and relieved that your location says that you’ve made it to the evac zone. Even though someone took her away already, you hear him telling her to hold on, and that he’s just a few minutes away with his plane. You smile faintly at that. Of course he is. He always makes it in time for her.

The poets and elegists from every era are calling out to you as they draft the final line of your narrative, and their hymns and elegies are beautiful. Your vision finally gives in, and the sky above is still a flat, unremarkable gray, nothing like that impossibly blue summer afternoon all those years ago. You suppose that’s fitting. Things were never meant to stay beautiful forever. The apples are no longer red. They’ve rotted a long time ago. Maybe Caleb’s eyes are no longer that same shade of ultraviolet, too. You wish you looked a little longer into his eyes, one last time, just to make sure.

The poet writing out your life taught you very early on that you were never first when it comes to Caleb. Maybe, in another life, Caleb would have chosen you over her. But this was not that life.

And even then, you think, loving him – loving him in the way you did – was still worth it.

Even now.

Especially now.

I FEEL TOO YOUNG TO HOLD ON / AND MUCH TOO OLD TO BREAK FREE AND RUN / TOO DEAF, DUMB AND BLIND TO SEE THE DAMAGE I’VE DONE / SWEET LOVER, YOU SHOULD’VE COME OVER.

update 1/28/2026: as this fic got so much more love than i expected (thank u everyone for all ur sweet comments btw i love you all <3) i am considering making a possible sequel in caleb’s perspective! if you would like to be added to the taglist then like this post and i shall tag u if i ever follow through :D

end note: i’ve seen a lot of caleb x non!mc reader fics that try and vilify mc or caleb and i just wanna emphasize how that was NEVER my intention with this fic! i tried my best to portray caleb’s turmoil over his entire existence revolving around protecting mc and the way he tries to make room for the reader, too — even though in the end, his innate instinct to save mc was what got the reader killed. his irrational fear of losing mc after years of protecting her was the reason why he overlooked the reader’s condition, but i promiseee that he mostly didn’t do it on purpose (even tho ik he was a bit of a dick in the ending its ok the reader’s ghost haunts him after she dies). his love for non!mc IS requited, but unfortunately was overshadowed by his devotion to mc, which was what ultimately doomed her in the end. so plz lmk ur thoughts on this!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Xavier

When Xavier heard it—really heard it—he swore he could feel his heart melting.

How could you have hidden this from him? That sound—so unfiltered, so raw—hit him like a warm wave, wrapping around him and pulling him under before he even had a chance to react. It wasn’t just a laugh; it was you, in your purest form, and it made his chest ache in the best way possible.

Sure, he always thought you were silly, but never in a way he’d tease you for. No—this was different. It was the kind of silly he wanted to keep forever, the kind that made him think, I want to hear this sound for the rest of my life.

His own laughter bubbled up before he could stop it, carried away by the sheer joy of you. It was contagious, impossible to resist. But when he saw your mortified expression—the way your eyes widened, hands flying up to cover your mouth—he sobered just enough to reassure you. A warm smile curved his lips as he cupped your cheek, thumb brushing gently against your heated skin.

"Never hide your true self from me again, okay?" His voice was softer than usual, but there was something new in it—a tenderness that settled deep in his tone, something reverent, as if he were committing this moment to memory.

You looked away, embarrassed, your face flushed all the way to the tips of your ears. His words, so effortless yet so intentional, made your heart stutter. And the fact that he was acting so casual about it only made it worse.

"...It’s embarrassing," you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Xavier let out a quiet huff of amusement before tilting your chin back toward him. Then, without warning, he squeezed your cheeks between his hands, molding your face into a ridiculous shape. His expression, however, remained perfectly serious.

"Absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about," he stated, his grip tightening just slightly for emphasis.

Your words came out muffled against his hold. "Alright, alright—!" You swatted weakly at his hands, surrendering with a breathless chuckle.

And then, just as quickly as the moment had come, your laughter returned—softer this time, but no less genuine. Xavier let go, only to watch in satisfaction as that small, easy smile took its place.

You never had anything to be worried about, after all.

Zayne

Zayne hadn't expected it. Not the sound of your laughter—unrestrained, unfiltered, so unlike the polite chuckles you usually allowed yourself. And certainly not the way it affected him.

It was foolish, really, how something so simple could send an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest, how his carefully composed demeanor fractured in the wake of your joy. But there he was, caught in the moment, lips curling into a rare, unbidden smile.

His sharp, refined features softened, betraying something unspoken—something close to reverence. This wasn’t just amusement to him; it was trust, a glimpse of something so deeply you that it left him spellbound.

But then, just as quickly, you withdrew.

"I'm so sorry, I don’t know what came over me..." You rushed out, voice tinged with panic, fingers tightening around the fabric of your sleeve as if grounding yourself.

His expression darkened—not in anger, but something dangerously close to disappointment.

"Why would you apologize?"

Before you could shrink further into yourself, he reached for you, his touch deliberate as he smoothed a hand over your shoulder. His movements were slow, calculated, meant to ease the tension in your frame.

“Do not diminish something so precious,” he murmured, his voice velvet-soft yet laced with quiet intensity. “It just so happens that the sound of your laughter may be my new favorite thing about you. And rest assured, my dear, I intend to hear it again.”

The certainty in his words sent heat rushing to your cheeks, your earlier embarrassment now replaced with something far sweeter, far more dangerous.

You hesitated before speaking, your lips curving into something playful despite the lingering warmth in your chest.

"Well then, Dr. Zayne..." You drew out his name, reaching up to pinch his cheek in a teasing display of defiance. “I’ll make sure you get sick of it.”

His gaze darkened—not in displeasure, but in something richer, something indulgent.

He caught your wrist, turning it over in his grasp with a featherlight touch, then pressed a lingering kiss to your palm.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he whispered against your skin, before leaning in to place a final, impossibly tender kiss to your forehead.

Rafayel

“Oh my god—did you just snort?”

Rafayel’s voice rang out, rich with amusement, his deep chuckle reverberating through the dimly lit room. The golden glow of the floor lamp cast shadows along the sharp angles of his face, his blue-pink eyes glinting with something unreadable—something between adoration and mischief.

He wasn’t laughing at you. No, the thought never even crossed his mind. He was laughing because it was you, because this moment, so unguarded and raw, was unexpectedly perfect.

But you didn’t see it that way.

A mortified groan left your lips as you shrank into the plush couch cushions, turning your face away from him, heat rushing up your neck. “...So what?” you mumbled, voice muffled, fingers curling into your sleeves as if that would somehow make you disappear.

For once, Rafayel didn’t push. Didn’t lean into his usual brand of relentless teasing. No sly remarks, no playful taunts—just silence, thoughtful and heavy, as he observed you with an expression far softer than before.

And then, before you could protest, he pulled you into his arms.

His grip was firm, grounding, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as he buried his face into your hair. A slow inhale, as if he was memorizing your scent, as if this was something fragile, something precious.

“Aww, cutie, no need to be embarrassed,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

You tensed, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he shifted, his fingers finding yours, tracing slow, absentminded circles along your knuckles. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its usual teasing lilt, replaced by something quieter, something real.

“I’ve never heard anything like that before,” he admitted, a rare sincerity lacing his tone. “It was unexpected, sure—but it was you. And that means it was perfect.”

Your chest tightened at his words, at the way his arms remained around you, unwavering, patient.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you muttered, voice small, but your resolve was already beginning to crack.

He hummed, tilting your chin up with a single finger, forcing you to meet his gaze. The playfulness was still there—of course, it was Rafayel—but beneath it lay something deeper, something unshakable.

“Well, that, but also…” He leaned in, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “I truly mean it. Laugh around me more, okay?”

You narrowed your eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Rafayel gasped, clutching his chest in feigned betrayal before dramatically pinching your nose between two fingers, making you yelp. “Don’t you dare hide such a treasure from me!”

You groaned, swatting at him, but the fight had already left you. Because even through the teasing, the mischief, the absurd dramatics—you knew.

You knew that to Rafayel, every part of you was something worth cherishing.

Sylus

Mortification coiled tight in your chest, making it impossible to meet Sylus’s gaze. You trusted him, of course—you knew he wouldn’t judge you—but that didn’t stop the nagging insecurity gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Sylus was always so composed, so effortlessly refined, his words always carefully chosen, his every move exuding an unshakable grace. And here you were, sinking further into the plush couch, burning with embarrassment over something as ridiculous as a misplaced snort.

What must he think of you now?

A deep chuckle rumbled from beside you, rich and velvety, carrying an almost amused warmth. “I knew you had it in you, sweetie.”

The gentle teasing in his voice made you peek up at him, brows furrowed in uncertainty. His expression was unreadable at first—calm, as always, but softened at the edges by something far more tender. You searched his gaze, those sharp crimson eyes gleaming with a quiet affection that made your stomach twist in ways you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

His fingers wove through your hair, slow and deliberate, the touch featherlight. “I understand you may feel slightly… embarrassed,” he mused, his voice a soothing hum against the quiet of the dimly lit room. His hand slid down, fingertips tracing your cheek before his thumb brushed over the heated skin. “But I assure you—I've never heard a sound so beautiful.”

You sucked in a breath, warmth blooming across your face. Of course, he would flirt his way out of this. Of course.

And yet… you didn’t mind.

The tension in your shoulders eased, replaced by something lighter, something almost intoxicating. You let out a quiet sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I just snorted in front of the leader of Onychinus…” you muttered, rubbing your temple in exasperation. But despite your words, a smile had already begun to tug at your lips.

Sylus only chuckled, tilting his head ever so slightly before reaching up to pinch your cheek—not hard, just enough to make you look at him again. His smirk was entirely too pleased.

“The leader of Onychinus,” he repeated, voice dripping with amusement, “knows how to appreciate true beauty when he sees it.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a murmur. “And you, darling, are nothing short of a masterpiece.”

Flustered beyond reason, you let out a groan before landing a light punch against his arm, making him laugh.

Maybe Sylus wasn’t as intimidating as you thought. Or maybe—just maybe—he was far more dangerous in an entirely different way.

Caleb

Caleb was no stranger to your laughter—the wild, unrestrained kind that always came from deep within your chest, the one that had haunted your teenage years with its sheer unpredictability. He had heard it countless times before, back when things were simpler, when you were nothing more than an impulsive, wide-eyed girl who never cared how she sounded or looked.

But now? Now things were different.

You weren’t that reckless teenager anymore. You had grown, refined yourself, learned to move with grace and carry yourself with poise. You wanted Caleb to see you as a woman—not the clumsy girl he used to tease mercilessly, not some silly childhood memory.

And yet, all of that crumbled the moment the sound left you.

A full, shameless snort.

Mortification hit like a wave, heat flooding your face as you turned to him, your eyes narrowing in a silent dare, challenging him to say anything.

But Caleb—damn him—only laughed, a rich, familiar chuckle that sent warmth curling through your chest in a way you weren’t ready to admit. “There it is!” he said, grinning as he reached out to ruffle your hair, the same way he used to when you were kids.

You groaned, swatting his hand away. “You are insufferable.”

His hand lingered for a moment before falling away, his gaze softening as he looked at you—really looked at you. To him, that laugh wasn’t something to be hidden or tamed. It was a sound he had carried with him through years of change and distance, something that had always felt like home.

And now that he had heard it again, he wasn’t going to let it slip away so easily.

“That’s the last time you’re hearing it,” you mumbled, turning away, trying desperately to compose yourself. But you couldn’t will away the flush creeping up your neck, nor the way your heart hammered against your ribs.

“No way, pipsqueak,” he murmured, moving in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

You stiffened. His voice had dropped just slightly—low, teasing, but with an undeniable weight to it. A promise.

“Now that I’ve heard it again,” he continued, dangerously close now, “I won’t stop until it’s the only sound you make.”

You barely had a second to react before his hands were at your sides, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. Then—pure chaos.

A startled shriek left you as he tickled you mercilessly, his movements swift, relentless. You thrashed against him, laughter bubbling up from your chest, unrestrained and wild, that same shameless snort slipping through again.

But this time, you weren’t embarrassed.

Somewhere between the helpless gasps for breath and the way his laughter mixed with yours, something shifted.

You felt… at peace. Like maybe, just maybe, hiding yourself had never been worth it in the first place.

"You're so gonna regret this!" you gasped between fits of laughter, half a threat, half a plea.

Caleb only grinned, utterly triumphant. “Doubt it, sweetheart.”

You feel his presence so vividly, his warmth radiating off his body and onto yours.

Mingyu’s large frame dominates most of the bed, his arm lazily resting behind his head while the other one holds his phone, scrolling through mindless content. You’re watching too, giggling at the random videos, when suddenly you feel it—his foot brushing against your leg, then retreating like it didn’t just happen.

The ticklish sensation makes you twitch, but you ignore it, assuming it was an accident.

A couple more videos play, but then, it happens again—this time with more intent.

His hairy leg lightly swipes across your smooth skin again, teasingly. You look over at him, already knowing he’s got that mischievous glint in his eye. He’s acting like he’s completely focused on the screen, but you know better.

“Mingyu, stop,” you say, your tone a mix of amusement and warning.

He chuckles but doesn’t look at you, still pretending he’s interested in whatever TikTok is on. “What?” he says, completely feigning innocence.

You roll your eyes but let it go, settling back into the comfort of the bed. The video on his phone switches to something else, and you relax, thinking the moment has passed. But then, without warning, his hand sneaks under the blanket and his fingers brush lightly over your side, right under your rib cage—the spot that always gets you.

You flinch immediately, your body reacting before your mind even registers it, and you squirm away from him, a laugh escaping your lips despite yourself. “Stop it, Mingyu! I’m serious!”

He’s grinning now, full-on amused with himself, his deep, low laughter rumbling in the quiet room. “I didn’t do anything,” he says, but the mischievous glint in his eyes tells a different story.

You give him a warning look, still smiling though, and try to focus on the phone. But, predictably, his hand moves again, this time poking your side more deliberately. His fingers dig lightly into your side through the blanket, and you jump again, letting out a half-scream, half-laugh.

“Mingyu!” you shout, swatting at his hand as you try to wriggle away from him under the covers.

He’s laughing harder now, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he enjoys every second of your reaction. “I’m just keeping you awake,” he teases, pulling his hand back but clearly not ready to stop.

You give him a playful glare, shifting away from him slightly, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he tries again. And, sure enough, after a few seconds of calm, his hand darts out one more time, and his fingers find your side yet again, this time really going for it. The blanket muffles your squeal as you try to wriggle away from his grasp, but it’s no use. He’s got you pinned.

“That’s it!” you exclaim, pulling yourself up slightly. “I’m not sleeping with you anymore!”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, still laughing as you dramatically try to yank his pillow out from under his head. You grip it with both hands, determined to show him you mean business, but his muscular body barely moves. You pull harder, but his strength is no match for yours, and the pillow doesn’t budge an inch.

He’s laughing even more now, his deep, booming laugh filling the room as you struggle to pull the pillow. “Oh, come on!” he says between breaths, clearly entertained by your effort. “You really think you can take my pillow?”

You let out an exaggerated huff, giving the pillow one last pull before finally giving up. “You’re so annoying,” you mutter, sitting back down with your arms crossed, still glaring at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” he says, still chuckling but trying to sound sincere. He sits up slightly, holding his hands up in surrender. “I won’t do it anymore, I promise.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “God promise?”

He bites his lip, trying to hold back a grin. “God promise,” he repeats, his voice dripping with faux sincerity.

You eye him suspiciously for a moment before deciding to trust him. “Alright then,” you say, settling back down beside him. You both shift under the blanket, the mood calming down as you cuddle closer, your head resting against his shoulder.

For a few minutes, everything is peaceful again, and you let yourself relax, thinking that maybe—just maybe—he’s actually done messing with you.

But of course, this is Mingyu. Just when you think the teasing is over, you feel him shift beside you, his hand moving under the blanket again. You tense up immediately, eyes wide as you turn to him.

“Mingyu…” you warn, your voice low but sharp.

He grins at you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t even touch you!” he says, his voice full of fake innocence as his hand hovers just above your side, threatening to tickle without actually doing it.

“Mingyu, I swear!” you say, swatting at his hand, but he pulls it back before you can make contact. You narrow your eyes at him, fully irritated now, but also unable to stop the smile creeping onto your face. “You said God promise!”

He shrugs, that grin still plastered on his face. “I didn’t break it. I didn’t even touch you.”

“You’re impossible,” you groan, rolling your eyes but unable to stop laughing as you nudge him with your elbow.

“I didn’t break the promise!” he protests, leaning over to nuzzle his face into your neck, his deep voice vibrating against your skin. “I’m innocent!”

“Yeah, right,” you mutter, still trying to act annoyed but your resolve weakening as you feel his warmth against you.

“Come on, don’t be mad,” he murmurs, his voice soft now, teasing fading into affection as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sigh, giving in as you let yourself relax into his embrace, feeling the familiar comfort of being close to him. The irritation fades quickly, replaced by that cozy, warm feeling that only he can give you.

“I’m still mad,” you say, but your voice is softer now, no real bite behind it.

Mingyu laughs quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Sure you are.”

The two of you fall back into a comfortable silence, the warmth of his body enveloping you as you drift off together, TikToks forgotten as the night settles in around you.