love yourself so no one has to

location: triton’s car park time: 00:45 OPEN

          Fingers lined her pockets, a shiver crawling down the length of her spine. Despite the chill, which had begun to settle in her bones, Lara had not made any attempts to leave the wreckage site. No, instead she kept her eyes trained on many, plucking tales of the story from the lips of many - it was unamusing how different they were. But that was the thing about opinion, it so rarely held any true facts. Even the culprit would spin their own story, perhaps they stood among them, admiring their own handiwork. Her scarlet Mercedes was reduced to boiling metal and the horrid stench of melting plastic tyres. It was her favourite, the one which Jason had gifted because it reminded him of her, vibrant and powerful. She loved the car more than she loved him. 

Glittering stilettos tapped against the concrete, as she walked over to the nearest bystander prepared to pick another person’s brains, “It seems that demons of witching hour have a predilection for arson. They’re clearly trying to take a page out of Guy Fawkes book, although I don’t see us commemorating it like the English.” The neutral tone of her statement did not betray her internal ire, for she was determined to keep her cards very close to her chest…better for her to analyse everyone else. 

In an ideal world where Caleb truly cared for no one, perhaps this would have been amusing in his eyes. A figurative burning after the witch hunt that had been the town meeting, Woodlanders and Strays both victims alike in an arson that held no meaning at all to the rest of them. It seemed only the Augury really knew why they had targeted those specific people. (Or had it simply become a fire that had burned wildly out of control?) He could only count his blessings that he hadn’t been one of them, as he had walked that night, and feel sympathy for those that it had affected. Truth be told, he held none for the Woodlanders that could afford to buy another one at the drop of a hat, but the Strays were an entirely different story altogether.

His statement had already been taken, his mood ruined for the night, the only reason he lingered now was to wait for those who lived in Fairview so they could all walk together. He nearly jumped as Lara spoke, not quite expecting her or any of the Woodlanders to strike up a casual conversation in lieu of their vehicles being destroyed. They were friends, however, so he welcomed her words with a small smile. “People tend to do stupid things when they’re able to hide in the shadows, I’m sure you’ll make them regret it when the time comes, though.” He responded easily, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry about your car, though. I know it’s not the same, but you can use mine in the meantime before you get a replacement, if you want.”

time: 9:30pm location: triton’s availability: closed for @calebdier

he can work with this, he thinks. 

money that should’ve gone towards his rent now spent on drinks that was currently buzzing in his bloodstream, unfocused eyes lined black underneath the dark lights of the restaurant and singing too loud, notes too high, mind too high and he can work with this. 

soren just needs a distraction, if only for a night. 

and his hazy mind knows that he’s not the only one, blurred faces of neighbours and friends too goddamn tense as of late and he’s just here for a good time, they’re here and they should have a good time too. 

he pulls the first familiar face he sees from the crowd - muscular arms and broad frame - caleb, perfect - and he pushes the drink in his hands into the other’s, smiling perhaps a little too wide, a little too impish to mean anything good. 

“dance with me! or sing with me - i’ll let you choose. but you only have ten seconds to decide or else we’re gonna do both, yeah?” soren crows overexcitedly, voice loud so the other man could hear him above the blasting music. “i’m thinking single ladies if i had the choice. i know that’s your best practiced set.” 

all he wanted was peace in his remote corner of the club for the night, perfectly fine with simply observing the drunken antics of other patrons as he drowned out his stresses.

what he got was soren instead, the complete and utter opposite of his idea of serenity.

one moment, he’s sitting alone. the next, the boy is pulling him away from his cozy spot and shoving a drink in his hand with a truly mischievous smile on his features that almost makes caleb regret coming to triton’s in the first place.

god knows he’s going to need the drink with whatever he’s got up his sleeve, so caleb attempts to down it before soren actually asks what he’s come here to ask.

which turned out to be a bad idea as he nearly chokes on the liquor as he finally popped the question, finding the idea of either to be the very last thing he ever wants to do. “no, no, no. i don’t sing or dance, i’m only here to drink and then go home.” he shouts, rather unconvincingly and knowing full well that soren isn’t going to take no for answer anyways. “and you’re going to put it on youtube, so that’s even more of a no!”

LOCATION: inside triton’s TIME: 10:00 pm TAG: @calebdier

The night doesn’t seem to belong in the timeline they’re all meant to live now — something fixed with a murmuring state of panic, and yet, there’s something carefree here, something tangible in the air amidst the smell of alcohol and distant cigarette smoke. And she latches on to it, for something of peace even if this shouldn’t be the place to find it — all her too-wide eyes and feet that don’t seem to touch the ground. But she welcomes the party, welcomes the terrible music and cramped room as an entirely different place than screaming town halls.

In the end, what she partially expected from this night was just another evening spent with Soren and Mina, not the sight of Caleb at the bar when her eyes end up scanning a crowd. His own form isn’t something difficult to spot, his nature something she can’t by now, even if she still may not know so much about him besides what she can learn from mutual friends, from sitting together in Fairview’s lobby, her sketching him as he reads. And it’s almost the same here, him sitting by himself at some barstool, and she’s had just enough drinks in her to find this moment like the same as them in the lobby, her making her way to sit beside him.

He’s not facing her way right when she decides to make her way over to him, but from the height of the crowd compared to her own, she might not have been easily seen anyway until she’s right there, a smile for a greeting and warm features and eyes that look at him like a broody nature will never deter her. It’s something she respects, the way he faces the world, the two of them looking like the opposite ends of two poles next to each other, her nature next to his own. 

“You don’t look like the kind to dance, but I still might ask you if you want to if you haven’t yet.” She leans in only close enough to be heard among the great hum of a population and terrible karaoke, voice still needing to be raised anyway. “You could say ‘no’ though, I won’t be insulted.”

Caleb supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that Triton’s was packed to the brim for a Halloween party, masses of bodies pressed together so tightly that he couldn’t tell where one person ended and the other began if he were to turn around and scan the place himself. If he had bothered to, he would have seen Emme, Soren, and Mina and felt some sort of mild concern for all three of them. Separately, they were easier to handle if they ran into some issue that he felt like he needed to help them solve. Together, they were something else entirely and it often led to him guiding all of them back home. It was certainly tasking, but they were still endearing all the same.

Tonight, however, he didn’t care much for socializing. After a particularly rough few nights, Caleb simply wanted to relax and grab a few drinks before heading back home. To him, it felt wrong to be celebrating so soon after Eric’s death and with the killers still on the loose. There was still a rampant paranoia running through him that this wasn’t over and it was enough to ruin whatever good times would eventually come. It wasn’t that he cared for Eric, a part of him deeply resented and loathed the man, he was simply anxious that this wasn’t over quite yet. Lost in his own thoughts, he hardly noticed that someone had approached him until Emme was right there, her words nearly drowned out by the noise around them.

Soft spoken Emme, who always greeted him with an even softer smile despite his own scowl at times, was making an effort to get to know him outside of Fairview. Where he normally would have adamantly said no, Caleb hesitated for a moment before considering his words closely. He liked her well enough to not dismiss her with a rude answer, but he also didn’t like her enough to place his own pride on the line by dancing with her.

“I’m not much of a dancer, I’m sure if you asked Soren, he’d say yes.” He speaks after a moment of consideration, returning to his glass of amber liquor right afterwards. “Out of all the people in this room, why’d you single me out? I might have two left feet, for all you know.”

Stunt. A lapse in judgement. An absence in control. A chink in her armor. Something that can be used against her. Valerie winces at the word, shivering under her robe. It’s a terrifying thought, the idea that she jeopardized her own future, all for a game, in the name of winning. I bet you’d like that - to be a part of my downfall. Two lofty figures, it’s no secret that they seek to send the other tumbling. Luckily, it isn’t physical - or one of them would soon be joining Eric six feet under. Although there’s panic pulsing in her veins, Valerie remains calm, amber liquid quelling a little of the discontent within. He will do the rest.

“Nothing a little branding can’t fix.” She shrugs, projecting an image of indifference. That’s all politicians are - illusions, false people with a quench for power and egos beyond control. At least she’s unapologetic about it. She doesn’t delude herself like Eric used to. He truly did see himself as some sort of warped hero. “I’ll paint it as community outreach. Bridging the divide between the two sides.” The wit dances across her tongue, a wiry smile making it clear that she isn’t serious about her proposal. There are some sheep who would swallow it up. That’s the troubling thing about this city. Her insinuation is clear. I do not make mistakes. I can’t. I’m not capable. 

In truth, she isn’t sure if anyone noticed. Hopefully, the whole “murder club” situation overpowered it.

Deft hands untie the knot on her garb, allowing it to fall to the floor in a messy heap. Bare, without a stitch across her body, Valerie stands in all her naked truth - a goddess in need of nourishment. I’ve had enough of conversation. A lover might have approached him, but a hater makes you chase. Slithering onto the bed, she reclines, legs slightly apart. The implication is made.

She can’t, however, resist one final comment. “You could even sell a tell-all. Make enough money to buy a proper suit.”

Caleb almost takes pleasure in the way her face warps at his words, a clear indication that he had hit a nerve or two with his bluntness before remembering that it would damage his own reputation. He was, after all, the man who had taken strides not to form attachments in Fable City after watching everyone that he once cared for abandon him in the midst of his financial and personal problems. However, calling Valerie anything more than an annoyance was something all too laughable. She was a distraction, a mere play thing for when he was bored and needed some form of entertainment.

Just as quickly as the wince had come, it was gone and she had slipped right back into that proud facade that he knew best. Her words prompt him to roll his eyes, her indifference and teasing he was all too familiar with, but it didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed it. “You can find somebody else to be your ‘community outreach’, I’ve had my name in the news enough to last me a lifetime.” He replies, blunt as ever. Though he knows she’s not entirely serious, Caleb needs her to know that he isn’t simply a puppet to be played with either. Nevertheless, he concedes and attempts to let go of the conversation. After all, that’s not what they’re here for.

She runs, he follows. It’s typically how it begins between the two of them and tonight is no different as he watches her with something borderline animalistic in his eyes, an almost tangible smirk while he takes her in for all that she is.

He doesn’t undress himself as he makes his own way to the bed, she’ll have to work for that. For a moment, he’s tempted just to take her right then and there. Instead, Caleb takes hold of her ankles and drags her to the edge of the bed so she’s pressed up against him, so she can feel him despite the barrier of clothes between them. He’s a tease and he knows it, more than anything, he wants her to vocalize what she actually wants from him.

“Oh? They’re going to want proof, should I take a picture?” He responds, his tone equally as biting as it was playful.

kid: you don't have a father

time ;; 12:40 a.m. location ;; triton’s  carpark status ;; open

She’d only gone to the party to make a deal. One of her favorite customers ( and by favorite, she meant one who always paid up front & in cash and never tried to fuck her ), had insisted on it. She’d only stayed because she liked watching people make drunken fools of themselves at karaoke and the drinks were damn good. And perhaps because she liked to show off, and it’d been a while since she’d had a reason to. And of course it was all ruined rather quickly when the smoke had cleared and the panic had given way to confusion followed by more panic.

 “Jesus,” Letty breathed, almost not believing her eyes. “This is some fucked up shit.” She had wanted to disappear into the night, but she knew that was probably not the best idea, especially considering she hadn’t yet been cleared like so many others there that night. No, leaving would make her look guilty of something. Of what, she wasn’t entirely sure, but she wasn’t going to risk it. She was just thankful all she had on her that was slightly incriminating was a handful of twenties in her bag, but that could be passed off as stupidity rather than something illegal. 

Maybe she should have felt spikes of terror at arson and the warning. Maybe she should have tried to mimic more what others were doing, found a group to worm her way into as an attempt to make herself just another pretty girl in a crowd, but she couldn’t bring herself to. All she could be was thankful  that she wasn’t being dragged into the mess once more.  “Guess it’s a good thing I took a cab.”

On one of his rare nights off from both the brothel and fight club, all Caleb had wanted was to have a drink or three in peace only to be greeted by a drunken array of people dressed in the wildest Halloween costumes he had ever seen. His so-called peace was particularly short lived as he had taken to sitting partially hunched over the bar to deter others from dragging him into dancing or singing, but it certainly didn’t stop him from peering over his shoulder at times and laughing at everyone’s antics. That was until the scent of smoke wafted into Triton’s and he downed his drink before checking the wreckage the Augury had managed to leave behind. Veiled threats often meant business, but this was surprisingly bold in his eyes. 

“It’s fucked up,” He agreed, stepping into place by Letty’s side. “But I’m just happy it wasn’t me.” Caleb had walked from his apartment, clearing him from being one of their many victims, but he was sure this hadn’t just been a small coincidence. It didn’t help that a large majority of the Woodlanders had been affected, he was sure it was only a matter of time before they all started pointing fingers again, just like how the meeting had turned out.

It would have been far easier to just leave, pretend like he hadn’t been there that night and avoid being a suspect even more than he had been originally, but he was already under the figurative microscope and the last thing he needed was more attention. Crossing his arms as he took it all in, Caleb sighed in mild frustration. “This isn’t going to end until they either find out who killed Eric or the police drop the case, I just want some peace and quiet again.”

TIME: 10:14pm, two days after the meeting LOCATION: Room 106, a hotel known only to the two of them STARTER TYPE: closed @calebdier

Everything in the world has a price. There’s a going rate on the hotel room she swans across, paying generously for the pleasure of being the only one slip between the sheets. The receptionist on the desk has a tag of their own - Benjamin Franklins lining their pockets as they promise not to breathe a word of her identity and to keep this room permanently at her disposal. Even Caleb, the man who will meet her here, in his fallen and reformed status, can be bought. It’s a mutual transaction, purchased with moans and the best fucking orgasms. She’s blessed, she knows, to have so much currency available to her. And in these uncertain times, it may be needed more than ever.

Can an election be bought? Can a murder? How about innocence?

She doesn’t see why not.

But they are questions for a different time - for tonight, she intends to be pounded so hard she can’t think straight. That is, after all, the attraction behind Caleb. He seizes her attention, her hatred and her body. In his grasp, her vision narrows - focused wholly on him. On their own, such words sound sentimental. But they both know the truth. Each of them is cast in a dusty grey. Together, they are coated in sinners darkness.

The clock ticks forward and Valerie’s impatience grows. She’s already showered, robe hanging limp on her shoulders, wet hair clinging to her back. If you were earlier, you could have had me in there, she’ll point out later. Then, with red wine staining her lips, the door clicks - and her lover (although she’d rather refer to him as her fucker, given it sums up the situation better) enters. 

“About time.” Valerie growls, ready to pounce.

Nights with Valerie usually deliver some sort of clarity in his otherwise hazy mind, a few hours of peace and primal instinct as the stresses and noise of the outside world faded away into bliss. However temporary that was, it was still better than nothing at all. One other thing that certainly pushed their torrid affair into something that Caleb could handle was the sheer fact that it was a well-kept secret, his pseudo-relationship with her tucked away somewhere he had been assured no one could really find it. They met in the shadows often, bodies pressed tight in a hotel where no one could trace them while pretending the other didn’t exist in daily life. She was his secret to keep and he was her shame to hide. That was up until the night of the meeting, the ghost of her whispers having followed him for days.

He had half a mind not to come, wanting to punish her for exposing them and winning.

Nevertheless, Caleb presses on as he slips the keycard in and enters the room. His eyes immediately take her in, an almost predatory once over as he glowers at her impatience. He’d normally be pleased about her statement, but tonight’s a little different. He doesn’t apologize or make excuses, however. After all, he shouldn’t have a reason to be sorry or to quell whatever feelings she clearly didn’t possess for him. 

“If people had suspicions about us before, then they definitely know now because of your little stunt.” He states, all the while shrugging off his jacket. In truth, it clearly affects her campaign more than his own life, but Caleb also preferred to keep his relationships private for the sake of upholding a certain reputation he had established after his fall. “Happy with yourself?” 

suspiria task → caleb dier’s social media

She’s quieter here than she would be perhaps anywhere else — tired eyes and keeping to her own corner of the room and picking at a line of dried purple paint on the side of her hand for some movement. She doesn’t move far from a perch on one of the tables — not wanting to add to whatever was happening here, this entropy, because even trying to fix it seems like a something else to give someone the wrong kind of attention. Taking in account her exhaustion of whatever this is, what the universe seemed to be if this is the way people behave, and added to some persistent conditioning from childhood of the need to run as her first reaction when another yells — leaves her all confined until the meeting could finally come to an end. 

Sympathy something’s easily seen her expression when Caleb’s near, the scowl crossing his features nothing that turns her away or changes any idea of him even if she may not know him well beyond ideas, her nature is of wanting to expect the best, to search for it. “I want to say that about all of us,” she wants to say it even when she knows it’s wrong — that them all being suspects is a mistake. Want is the particular word here. The impossible one. "I think — I think they, we, just need some time.“ Hopeful words. And this early into the meeting, she needs them too. "This is a good hiding spot, though, if you’re here to join me.” She slides down on the table, gives him room if he decides to stay.

While Emme isn’t someone he could truly consider a friend, there was a level of familiarity between the two of them that Caleb couldn’t deny. They shared a number of acquaintances and lived in the same building, crossing paths with one another on almost a daily basis. Every time they spoke, the only impression he could take from their conversation was that she was entirely wholesome, pure and light against his dark and broody nature. They say the quiet ones are the ones to watch out for, but he simply couldn’t see how she could have been involved. In fact, Emme seemed to be the type to kill a fly and then sob about it in his eyes. To say her presence here was perplexing was an understatement, but she had a motive despite his initial judgement of her and he wondered just exactly what she was capable of.

“I think they should’ve never called this meeting.” Caleb murmured, heaving a sigh. His expression turned from one of brutish anger to something lighter, a little like sympathy as he regarded her. He wants to believe her, buy into her story of believing that everyone in the room was innocent, but he knows better. In a way, her naivety is endearing, only because he wants to see the world the same way she does. Slipping into the spot next to her, he leaned over to nudge her for a moment before pulling away. “You’re not afraid that I might bring attention to you?”

◤ ✕ ・。* send me 📞 and a ship and i’ll tell you… @fauxbelles

your muse’s contact photo in mine’s phone

your muse’s name in mine’s phone

your muse’s ringtone in mine’s phone

how often our muses text: pretty often, despite the fact that they see each other most days.

what our muses normally text about: it’s a lot of back and forth about books, the complaints about the state of the building, her baking, and work in general. and maybe, eventually, his mother.

◤ ✕ ・。* send me 📞 and a ship and i’ll tell you… @huntsmanwalker

your muse’s contact photo in mine’s phone

your muse’s name in mine’s phone

your muse’s ringtone in mine’s phone

how often our muses text: sporadically, probably only when caleb runs into bad situations or when he’s alone at the bar

what our muses normally text about: the young kids running around the city, reminiscing about their younger years, since they’re both relatively older... also caleb occasionally getting into trouble

◤ ✕ ・。* send me 📞 and a ship and i’ll tell you… @sorenxsong

your muse’s contact photo in mine’s phone

your muse’s name in mine’s phone

your muse’s ringtone in mine’s phone

how often our muses text: probably every single time soren has a youtube idea that involves going somewhere kind of shady

what our muses normally text about: soren doing something shady and caleb telling him not to and asking where he is and tagging along to make sure doesn’t get himself killed, honestly

◤ ✕ ・。* send me 📞 and a ship and i’ll tell you… @frostbcrn

your muse’s contact photo in mine’s phone

your muse’s name in mine’s phone

your muse’s ringtone in mine’s phone

how often our muses text: at least once a day, sort of a courtesy check-in, especially since she’s his boss.

what our muses normally text about: work, usually. lately, it’s been more about her pets, since caleb can’t have his own anymore.

“A gentle giant, eh bud? Only fight for money. I respect that. There’s a lot of things I’d only do for money too.” Caleb wasn’t just twice the size of Jack, he was probably three, maybe four times in terms of pure muscle. Jack had a lean figure, built for speed and agility. He was built for hopping fences and ducking through the gaps in hedges. Many people would have approached Caleb with caution, but not Jack. He practically waved red flags in front of bulls, but he might have been just charming enough to get away with it.

“Me of all people? Come on, buddy, start talking like that and I might start to think you’re singling me out.” His words were hilariously absent of threat. They were of a playful and perhaps even cocky nature, one belying the serious nature of this situation. Trust Jack to bury his fear and emotions under sarcasm. He blamed it on years of defense mechanisms built up from the foster system.  

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think it was you. You’re way too obvious, and you’d probably break is neck or hit him with a blunt object. Muscles like that, who needs a knife, right?” Jack looked around the room, his eyes searching the tight lips and cold stares, the way they mixed with the more ojectionable people in the room. “Anyway, it’s the fact they have money and power that makes me more likely to believe they did it.”

“Don’t get it twisted, kid. I’m, by no means, nice or anything close to gentle. I just know when to draw a line.” Caleb replied with ease, hinting a bit that Jack should do the same. It was one thing if a man like him attempted to call out those who profited off of the backs of others. It was another when someone like Jack did. At the very least, Caleb knew how to play the game when they called for it. He had, after all, once been one of them. Jack was simply stepping onto a minefield with only a helmet on to deflect the things that he could actually see. He couldn’t outright say what he meant, only hope that he could pick up on what he was trying to hint at.

“I meant Strays as a whole, but if you want to feel special... Sure, I meant just you in general.” Caleb was rather deadpan as he spoke, the only giveaway that he was teasing was the roll of his eyes as he glanced over at him. The term buddy wasn’t something he was all that comfortable with, grinding his gears a bit the more Jack referred to him as it. They weren’t friends, they didn’t really know each other at all. Any other day of the week, he would have chosen to ignore him rather than actually speak to him.

“Jack,” his tone is of warning, as though his words aren’t exactly helping. He may have looked like he could have torn someone apart of his bare hands, but he didn’t exactly enjoy when people actually voiced it. A wince accompanied his name, not liking the bluntness of both his observations of him and the Woodlanders. “You should really keep some opinions to yourself, you know that?”

Whenever anyone finished a sentence like that, with such familiarity, ‘you know that’, she ended up wondering how much of themselves they were offering up to her to imagine that she could predict their actions. More than that she wondered why, why they expected her to have more than a vague inkling about their habits. She was fairly sure that the reason she was able to estimate Caleb’s actions sometimes was purely because she read a lot of books, could read him like one. And that wasn’t a fair assessment at all when she was trying very hard not to really know anyone. With him it was a lot harder to avoid than with others, too much time spent in the same locations, an almost essential need to quell boredom with conversation or interaction.  She pushed the door open and stepped through, holding it on her way to prevent it falling back on him. It shouldn’t have been such a natural reaction. Closed doors were far more appealing.  Waited until they were both through, the conversations in the hall almost muted as she stepped away, before she continued talking herself. “You think there might be more..?” She can’t bring herself to say victims when Eric Rousseau was the cause and not the result of such. Hasn’t actually thought about the chance that Eric wasn’t a singular and very specific target. 

Even if she doesn’t put much stock in it, she shivers a little, pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders as she scans the street ahead. “That’s not something.. that..” grazes her teeth against her tongue to prevent a continuation, “This was so public though.. I suppose it makes sense if it was meant as a message.. but I hope that message wasn’t more to come when they clearly weren’t worried about being caught.” 

Truth be told, Eden knew him better than most people but their friendship was still something that was superficial of sorts. They were both private people, never talking about their pasts and what they believed in and who they wanted to be in the future. It was only familiarity and how much time they were forced to share together that bonded them at first, eventually bleeding into their love for literature that allowed the both of them to open up that facet of their lives to each other. Aside from that and the protectiveness he felt over her, he didn’t know much about her and she about him. It was, however, enough for him to tentatively call her his friend rather than just a neighbor.

Stepping through the door she held open for him, he allowed his shoulders to sag with relief as he exited the tension-filled building, the cool night air instantly making him feel better.

“I don’t know,” He admits, tucking his hands into his pockets as he walks towards their building. A part of him only went to the meeting in an attempt to find out and dig a little, but that was clearly something that no one else had really thought of. It had all gone to shit a lot faster than he would have anticipated.

Caleb was nothing if not predictable, at least by Flynn’s standards.

Every time a word passed the other man’s lips, every single time he rolled his shoulders with exhaustion or frustration, Flynn noticed. He noticed everything, the hidden smile in the lines of Valerie Drake’s face across the room, and the way her diamond-encrusted counterpart Lara walked through the crowded room like she owned the place. In a way, Flynn would suppose she did. She owned Caleb, to say the least, and Flynn would suppose that meant she owned everyone who cared about the fighter then as well, and the thief was surely among that crowd of people. 

If Flynn were to reach into the inner workings of his own mind to understand what it was about his neighbor that made him so protective, it would only make his grin grow wider, and he couldn’t afford to show that kind of affection here. 

So, he laughs, and in his own way, it’s the best protection he can afford to give Caleb. 

“If I weren’t, you’d never keep me around,” he says, watching as Caleb steps backwards, effectively surrendering his anger and leaving Flynn with the control. He was never sure whether or not he enjoyed that power he had over others, the many ways in which he was able to influence his friends, but such is the weight of the protector. Any means necessary. “And of course.”

A wink, a taunt. 

“If I didn’t, what would I be any good for?”

How the two of them ended up in this position with one another, Caleb will never really know. He had never had the intention of getting to know his neighbors, let alone Flynn or Eden. He certainly never thought he would come to care about the either of them, presuming that it would only amount to neighborly greetings and passing comments about the people that showed up at their doorsteps when they weren’t home.

Yet, he was protective of the both of them and they were the same in their own unique ways. It’s difficult to remember this when his pride is on the line, but putting a rare friendship on the line for his ego is something that the old Caleb would have done and even if he still feels that beast begging to come out, he knows he can’t.

“Fuck off, Flynn.” He answers with ease, the phrase all too familiar between the both of them. He’s sure the rest of the room doesn’t quite understand it, his tone is serious and accompanied with an eye roll, but he doesn’t care if they don’t. What matters is that the man standing in front of him understands.

It’s a rather strange relationship, but it’s solid and that much is certain in the way they stare at each other. His wink tugs at the corners of his lips, wanting nothing more than to smile, but he swallows it down with some effort because he still has something to say.

“You’re not the one getting accused of murdering someone based off of what you do and how you look. I’m just supposed to stand here and take it? That’s a little fucked up, isn’t it?”