Maiko

back to where the air inside the car felt choked by the stench of stale iron—like an old toolbox left out in the rain. he hadn't said a single word to you, had he? that was the part that made your heart thrash against your ribs. monsters in the movies always growl, always give you a reason to fear them, but this one just had those quiet hands. when his leather-gloved fingers shoved you back against the passenger seat, it felt like being tucked into a coffin by someone who was simply doing their chores.

“get off—ugh, let me go!” the words were nothing but little scraps of sound, bouncing uselessly off the dashboard.

you weren't a delicate creature who knew how to faint on cue, though. no, you were wilder than that. 

your boots found the floorboards, digging in until the rubber groaned, and you lunged forward with your teeth bared. when you bit down on the rough canvas of his sleeve, you tasted a faint hint of peppermint. it was an ugly, frantic thing. he didn't even flinch, not even when your knee drove hard into the center of his chest. he just tilted his wrist, and that sharp little silver tooth of a dagger bit down into your thigh. one. two. three. four times. a sickening prickle of heat that turned the dark woods outside into a blinding flash of pure white canvas.

“aaagh!!”

but it bought you a second. just enough for your numb fingers, tied, to catch the cold metal of the door latch.

and then, tumble. crack. you were down in the dirt, out in the five o'clock air.

running when your hands are bound tightly behind your back with plastic zip-ties is such a silly childish sight, isn't it? you looked like a little bird with its wings clipped, tilting dangerously forward as you leapt over the mossy roots of the acacia trees. behind you, the heavy thud of the car door closing wasn't loud, but it settled deep in your chest.

run, run.

the sky above was throwing a tantrum, bleeding out into a bruised palette of deep violet and charcoal clouds. the acacias hung their heads low, their massive branches whispering secrets to each other as the first few drops of cold rain began to prickle the air.

“help! please, is anyone out there?” 

your jeans were soaked through now, the dark denim turning heavy and stiff as the warm ribbons of red ran down your shins. every step was a blind guess. you couldn't see the sharp stones hidden beneath the carpet of dead leaves, couldn't tell where the earth simply dropped off into the black throat of the ravine. you were just a panicked thing breaking through the brambles, your heart drumming a frantic little rhythm against your ribs, running from a hunter who didn't even have to chase you to keep you moving.

but the universe is a playful storyteller, and it loves to toy with its favorites.

with a sharp gasp, your boot caught the slick underbelly of a wet log. the earth rushed up to meet you, knocking the air right out of your lungs with a miserable huff. you stayed there for a moment, your cheek pressed into the rotting mulch. stay down, the mud seemed to whisper. it’s easier if you stay down.

everything was gone. your purse, your keys, the small trinkets of your ordinary life—all left behind on that leather seat. but there was still a reassuring weight pressing against your hip. your phone was still there, tucked away in the closed pocket of your jeans.

you twisted your torso, your purple-tipped fingers scratching uselessly against the thick fabric behind your back. but with your wrists clamped together so tightly, your hands were nothing but clumsy weights. you couldn't even reach the metal teeth of the zipper. you wanted to cry out again, to scream for a savior, but the woods had grown eerily quiet. if you made a sound, you’d be giving the man with the knife a perfect map straight to your hiding place. so you just lay there, grinding your wrists against the plastic ties until the skin split, hot tears finally cutting clean paths through the grime on your face. please, just break. please.

snap!

only it wasn't the plastic that broke. it was a twig, just a few feet away.

instantly your head jerked up, eyes wide and glassy with a primitive sort of horror as you pressed your spine hard against the rough bark of the log. through the misty twilight, a silhouette stepped out from between the acacias. a tall, familiar frame. an oversized hoodie that looked entirely too ordinary for a nightmare like this.

a boy.

for some reason, your brain gave a dizzy little hiccup—a spark of memory that felt like looking at a blurred high school yearbook through a window. wait... do i know those eyes? but your survival instinct didn't care about names. it just screamed at you to crawl, and so you scrambled forward on your knees like a broken doll, throwing your weight toward him.

“please,” you sobbed, your voice breaking into pieces. “please, you have to help me... there’s a man... he has a knife...”

the boy stopped dead in his tracks. for a heartbeat, his face went completely blank—a sort of stillness that felt a bit too quiet. then, like a curtain being pulled back, his expression shattered into pure breathless panic.

“oh my god—hey, hey, stop moving, what the fuck happened to you?”

he dropped heavily into the leaves, his knees sinking into the damp dirt. his hands hovered over your shaking shoulders, trembling slightly as if he were afraid that touching you would make you fall apart into smaller pieces.

you knew this guy. it was... calvin. wait, no, clark? cal... caleb! 

caleb from senior high. the boy who used to sit just two rows ahead of you in class. what was he doing out here in the deep woods? why now? 

none of it mattered, anyway. he wasn't the man in the mask. he was safe. and you have to ask for help. 

“jesus, your legs... you're bleeding so much,” he stammers, his eyes wide and swimming with concern while he takes in the state of your torn denim. “are you okay? can you hear me? who did this to you?”

isn't it beautiful how the world works? out of all the corners in this forest, the universe dropped a safe familiar boy right into your path. you could finally let go of the breath you’d been holding. everything was going to be fine now.

the tiny click of his pocketknife was the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. the moment the plastic tie snapped, your hands flew forward like trapped birds escaping a cage. your fingers were stiff, burning with a painful rush of pins and needles, but you ignored it, shoving your hand into your pocket to pull out the small rectangle of your phone.

your thumb left a dark smudge of dirt across the glass as the screen flashed to life, illuminating your pale face in a harsh square of digital light. no service. the little gray bars in the top corner were empty, a row of hollow lines laughing at your desperation. you dialed the three emergency digits anyway, your thumb shaking so violently you could barely hit the glass, but the screen just spun a uselessly endless circle before dropping into nothingness.

“no, no, no... please, work,” you whispered, the tears finally spilling over your lashes. you instinctively reached out, your fingers bunching into the fabric of his jacket before you even realized you were gripping him. “please—your phone. try your phone. we need the police. we need an ambulance right now!”

he looked down at you, his features soft and utterly helpless, heavy with pity. he slowly pulled his own phone from his pocket, his thumb tapping the glass with a worried crease between his brows, before turning the empty screen toward you. “there's nothing,” he said softly, voice dropping into a comforting murmur meant to soothe your rising hysteria. “we’re too deep down in the valley. the reception doesn't really reach out here...”

“w-we have to walk then,” you babbled, a spike of adrenaline forcing you to try and push yourself upward. you pressed your palms against his shoulders, trying to force your legs to bear your weight, but the moment you put pressure on your right thigh, the cuts ripped open with a blinding flare of agony. your knee buckled instantly, the world tilting sideways as your vision went fuzzy.

if he hadn't caught you, your head would have cracked right against the rotted log.

but caleb’s arms were right there, locked around your waist to keep you from falling. “hey, hey, hey easy. please stop trying to move,” he coos, his voice falling right back into that familiar one you remember from years ago, though he looked at you with the detached worry of a stranger who had simply stumbled upon a tragedy. “you can't run in this state, ma'am. you're losing too much blood, and the main highway is miles away. if you try to walk, you're going to collapse before we even make it past the ridge.”

then, he fell silent.

his hands stayed planted firmly on your hips, placing you against him. for a long second, the frantic panic on his face settled into something else—something unreadable, calculated, and entirely too still. his violet eyes slowly dragged down the length of your torn jeans, watching the way the wet crimson was staining the fabric. he took in the shivering curve of your exposed throat, the way your breath came in terrified little hitches.

“please, ma'am, listen to me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your freezing cheek. “my cabin is just over the crest. it’s not far, maybe a five-minute walk at most. i can wash these cuts, bind them up so you stop bleeding, and let you rest. once the storm passes and you're stable, i'll get you out of here. okay?”

no, no, you wanted to fight him on it. you wanted the safety of a hospital room, the comfort of the lights, the security of walls that didn't belong to a lonely house hidden in the middle of nowhere. but your body was giving up. the blood loss was drawing a curtain over your mind, making your eyelids feel like lead weights. 

the air was turning freezing cold, and caleb was the only warm thing left in the whole world.

before you could even mutter a protest, he shifted his weight, slipping one strong arm under the crook of your knees and the other behind your shoulders. he lifted you effortlessly, pulling you tightly against his chest as if you weighed nothing at all.

“hospital...” you managed to slur, the word breaking apart on your lips. “take me... to the hospital...”

“no need for now, alright? i’ve got you,” he murmured back—the very last thing you heard. 

—

you open your eyes. slowly.

and there, you find yourself—

tucked away so neatly, blanketed on a sunken couch that divots deeply under your weight, right within the quiet premises of the cabin caleb promised an hour ago. the orange glow of a crackling fireplace dances across the exposed timber walls, casting playful shadows that stretch across the floorboards like reaching fingers. you’re still wearing the same clothes, dried into uncomfortable creases against your skin, and the iron tang of your own blood has cooked into a heavy musk under the warmth of the wool thrown over you.

just as the fog in your mind begins to lift, a rhythmic scuff of socks echoes from the far end of the hallway.

out steps caleb—carrying a candlestick, the small yellow flame haloing his face in a way that makes him look almost saintly, a golden boy stepping out from the shadows to check on his patient. the moment his eyes find yours open in the firelight, his entire posture softens, with shoulders dropping into a visible sigh of relief.

“oh, thank goodness,” he rushes to you, his steps hurried but careful, setting the candlelight down on a small wooden side table where it flickers against the polished grain. “you're awake. i... jesus, i am so sorry about all of this. the situation, the... the place. it’s a bit rustic, i know, and it probably feels terrifying waking up somewhere, you know, after what you've been through.”

you try to swallow, but your throat feels like it's coated in sand. 

your head is still heavily fogged, swimming with the lingering aftereffects of shock and blood loss, so all you can do is look around cautiously, wordlessly, and tiredly. 

the cabin is small, wrapped in dark wood, the corners swallowed by a cozy gloom. on the table beside the candle, a white plastic medical kit sits waiting, its red cross staring back at you like a clinical eye...

“oh, uhm- i wanted to wait until you woke up before i did anything,” caleb explains gently, kneeling down by the edge of the couch so he's at eye level with you. “i didn't want to start treating your wounds while you were unconscious. i thought... well, given everything, waking up to a stranger touching you would be a nightmare.”

you try to shift, pulling your legs inward to sit up, but the movement drags the dried denim against the raw gashes along your thighs. so the cuts sting fiercely, a sharp reminder of the dagger that makes you wince. “ugh—”

“hey, hey—don't move, please,” caleb says instantly, moving closer and sitting on the very edge of the cushion beside you. his hand hovers over your knee, twitching slightly as if he wants to press you back down, but he keeps his distance to maintain that careful boundary. “you're going to tear the edges of the cuts open again. just... stay still.”

he looks down at your legs, and a subtle awkward tension thickens the air between you. 

with your tight jeans still on, it’s obvious to both of you—it would be incredibly hard to treat cuts that high up without getting the fabric out of the way. he clears his throat, his cheeks catching a faintly boyish flush in the firelight as he pulls the medical kit a little closer, though he doesn't make a move to touch you.

you ignore his gentle commands, your brain completely bypassing the medical kit, because of a cold prickle of reality beginning to chip away at the warmth. your eyes travel past his shoulder, fixing onto the dark pane of the window. outside, the rain is persistent and incredibly loud.

“...what time is it?” your voice comes out rough, cracking against the quiet of the cabin.

caleb blinks, shifting his weight as he awkwardly clears his throat again, his gaze deliberately facing away from your legs, staring instead at the flickering hearth. “it’s... just past seven, the storm really rolled in fast. it's coming down pretty hard out there.”

“seven?” 

two hours. 

you’ve been away for two hours. 

and your bag is gone. 

and your phone is fucking dead. 

you turn back to him, your eyes growing more frantic as the questions begin to tumble out of you, one after another, getting faster and more panicked by the second. “where exactly are we, caleb? how far is the road? did you see anyone else out there? did you hear a car? my family—someone is going to notice i'm missing, they're going to call the police, we need to try the phones again, there has to be a landline here, right? caleb, is there a landline?”

there was a tiny microscopic hitch in his shoulders, the sort of stillness that makes the fire crackle just a little louder in the silence. he doesn't answer right away. instead, his head turns slowly back toward you, the candlelight catching the genuine confusion written across his brow. his lips part, a faint perplexed half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as he points a finger at his own chest.

“wait, how... how do you know my name? have we... met before tonight?”

you stare at him, your own panic temporarily short-circuiting into bewilderment. 

huh, how did he not remember you? 

your mind races, digging through the fog. sure, you two were never close—never the type to hang out after the final bell or trade text messages—but you sat right behind him during senior year calculus. you watched him doodle in the margins of his notebook for an entire semester. you walked the same stage at graduation. granted, it had been years, and people change, but to be erased from someone's memory while you were currently bleeding out on their couch felt like a joke.

“a-are you serious?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly as you look at him. “caleb. caleb xia, right? we went to senior high together, we graduated from the same school.”

caleb blinks, his brow furrowing deeper as he genuinely seems to search his brain, looking at you with clueless eyes. “i—yeah, that's my name, but... high school? sorry i'm trying to place you, but my head is kind of spinning right now with the whole... you know, finding you in the woods thing.” he bites his lip, that was a bit too insensitive? “uh did you go to the main campus?”

“yes!” you burst out, frustrated by the sheer absurdity of the timing. “we were literally in the same department. we took the same core classes. think about it—do you remember section three? mr. harrison's homeroom? the room right at the end of the second-floor hall next to the old laboratory?”

there is an agonizing stretch of silence where caleb just stares at you. 

the rain hammers against the windowpane, loud and persistent, filling the gap between your desperate breaths. and then he looks at your face, eyes tracing your features with a deliberate attempt that makes the hairs on your arms stand up, though his expression remains perfectly and innocently blank.

then, his eyes widen—

“oh!” he lets out a breathless gasp, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck in sudden realization.

“oh my god, to think that you still remember me...” he breathes, shaking his head as a self-deprecating smile breaks across his face. “wow. you're... you're that girl. you're [name], right? from the back row? wow, jesus, i am so stupid. sorry, [name]. it’s been what, four, five years? what are the odds?”

“clearly very high.” you mutter, rubbing your temple as a fresh wave of exhaustion hits you. a chill ripples down your spine despite the heat of the fire—something about the seamlessness of his realization feels just a fraction too neat, but you shake it off. you don't have the mental capacity to analyze high school politics right now. “look, it doesn't matter. the point is, i need to get to a hospital, caleb. or a police station.”

“right, right, obviously,” caleb slides off the edge of the cushion, kneeling back down on the floorboards and pulling the white plastic medical kit toward him. the latch pops open with a snap. “but like i said, the storm is terrible right now and you're actively bleeding through your clothes. we need to clean these cuts before they get infected. let me just get the antiseptic and the gauze, and i can—”

“i can do it myself,” your hand extends to block his path, palm flat against the cool plastic lid of the box.

caleb stops, his fingers hovering over a roll of white bandages. he tilts his head, looking up at you through his eyelashes with a look that is too innocent. “are- are you sure? you can barely sit up straight without wincing. it's really no trouble, i can just do it for you. i took a first-aid course back in college, i promise i won't mess it up.”

you look down at him, one of your eyebrows slowly arching as the reality of the situation settles between you. 

“caleb,” you say, deadpanning. “they're thigh wounds. you're... implying that you're going to sit there and watch me take off my jeans?”

immediately, caleb’s cheeks catch a bright furious flush, the boyish color rushing all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

“no! no, oh my god, obviously not,” he mumbles, you could clearly hear his voice cracking while he scrambles backward an inch or two on his knees. “i swear i wasn't thinking about it like that. i just saw the blood and kinda panicked. i am so sorry, didn't mean to make you... uncomfortable at all.” 

you remained quiet, looking at the medical kit, then down at the dark crimson patches drying high up on the denim of your thighs, and then right back into his eyes.

“look, i'll—i'll just give you the supplies. i can leave the room, i'll go to the kitchen, get some water, whatever you need. and you go ahead.” he looks so genuinely flustered, so thoroughly embarrassed by his own lack of foresight, that a tiny part of the tension in your chest actually loosens. he’s still the same harmless, easily flustered guy from senior high. 

safe... 

respectable...

—

the bathroom of the cabin had been a cold sort of mercy. peeling the copper-scented denim away from the raw gashes on your thighs had brought tears to your eyes, the hot water from the showerhead stinging the freshly bandaged wounds until your hips throbbed in rhythm with your pulse. but the clothes caleb had left hanging on the brass hook outside the door were clean. they smelled deeply of laundry detergent and cedar, though they were too large—the soft grey sweatpants bunched heavily over your ankles, and the oversized flannel shirt hung low enough to clip the backs of your knees. it made you look small, swamped, and ridiculously fragile.

you stepped back out into the main room, twisting the damp ends of your hair into a white towel. 

but as your eyes swept the room, you froze.

caleb wasn't by the couch. he wasn't tending to the fire, nor was he standing awkwardly by the kitchen counter like you’d expected. it was something far much more unexpected, because instead he was sitting exceptionally straight in a heavy wooden chair by the small dining table at the end of the room. 

his broad shoulders were squared, large hands resting flat against the dark wood in a posture that felt way too rigid, too deliberate. on the table between his hands sat a dark bottle of red wine, two tall-stemmed glasses catching the amber firelight, and a large ceramic plate piled with perfectly seared cuts of meat that were still glistening with warm fat.

you stopped in your tracks, one hand still holding the towel over your shoulder with your eyebrow slowly crawling upward. 

how... domestic? 

it looked like a dinner date. a romantic little setup prepared solely for you, laid out in the middle of a literal survival nightmare. it was so incredibly and profoundly awkward that you didn't even know how to orient your mouth to speak.

caleb caught your expression.

“oh—hey! you're out,” he stammered, his voice jumping a half-octave before he gestured vaguely toward the table. “i... uh, i hope the clothes fit okay? and, i’m sorry if this looks... weird. or sudden. i just thought, you know, you’ve been through a lot out there earlier, and your body probably needs the protein. i had some steak in the cooler, and... well..."

he broke off, clearing his throat awkwardly as he picked up the wine bottle, thumb nervously tracing the edge of the label.

“and the wine, it’s... it’s been sitting in the cabinet for months,” he rambled on, his violet eyes darting to your face and then quickly dropping back down to the polished wood. “it’s a really nice vintage, honestly. my dad gave it to me, and it just felt like... it would be a total shame not to share it with someone. and since you’re here, and it’s raining, and we’re stuck... i just thought it might help take the edge off the shock, no?”

you watched him tumble over his own words, your mind working through the surreal nature of the moment. you walked over to the edge of the dining area, your bare feet making no sound against the floorboards. deliberately, you unraveled the towel from your head and began folding it into a neat square, draping it over the high back of an empty chair.

“...do you have any cigarettes?” you had asked.

caleb blinked up at you, his thumb freezing against the wine bottle. as if the concept of a cigarette had never crossed his mind in his entire life. “cigarettes? oh. uh... no. no, sorry, [name]. i don't smoke.”

“shucks.” you let out a humorless little breath, dropping your hands from the chair.

you didn't pull out the seat, though. you didn't sit across from him at the neatly set table, and you certainly didn't lean into the cozy and intimate atmosphere he had so carefully constructed. you felt more comfortable with reaching across the dark wood, fingers wrapping around the stem of one of the wine glasses, and then taking the heavy ceramic plate of meat right out from the center of the table.

caleb watched you, his mouth parting slightly as you simply turned on your heel, walking away from the dining setup entirely.

you walked back over to the fireplace, the heat hitting your face in a comforting wave. with a soft grunt, you lowered yourself directly onto the floor near the hearth, tucking your oversized sweatpants around your ankles. you set the plate in your lap and the wine glass beside your knee, content to eat like an exhausted animal on the floor and miles away from the polite constraints of a dinner table.

“are you... comfortable down there?” caleb’s voice drifted over from the dining area, sounding faint and distinctly hollow.

“perfectly,” you replied, picking up a piece of the meat with your fingers, not even caring about silverware. “the fire is warm.”

“right. yeah. the fire is good,” 

“and thank you, for the food.” from where you sat, focused on the crackling logs and the heavy comfort of the red wine coating your throat, you couldn't see his face. you couldn't see the way caleb remained seated at that table, a few meters away in the shadows. you couldn't see the utter, freezing disappointment that washed over his features, the soft curve of his mouth twisting into something odd while he stared at the back of your damp head.

the scent of the wine was just beginning to blunt the raw edge of your nerves when you decided to break the silence. you chewed slowly, swallowed, and leaned your head back against the edge of the couch. “so, what is this place, anyway? and why do you quite literally live in the middle of nowhere?”

at the table, the tension in caleb’s shoulders evaporated. it was like watching a wilted flower catch a drop of water—he lit up, immediately grabbed his own finished plate to discard it down the sink with an easygoing smile returning to his face.

“oh, this? it’s actually my grandfather’s old hunting lodge,” caleb answered, his voice rich and fluid while he stepped out of the dining area with the wine glass and walked into the warm radius of the firelight. “he left it to me when he passed away a couple of years ago. it was pretty run-down, but i've been fixing it up by myself whenever i get a break from work. it's quiet. and really nice.”

with ease, caleb lowered his large frame directly onto the floorboards, sitting a few feet away from you. he kept a careful distance—close enough to share the warmth of the hearth, but far enough that your knees wouldn't brush. 

“must be a long drive to work if you're living out here permanently,” you remarked, poking at another piece of meat. you’d always been a slow eater, but tonight the exhaustion made your hands heavy.

“well, i don't live here full-time, just most weekends,” he swirled the dark red liquid in his glass, his eyes reflecting the orange tongues of the fire. “and my job isn't exactly local. i'm actually based out of the regional airfield near the coast now. aha, i went into aeronautical engineering after graduation.”

you paused, a piece of meat halfway to your mouth. you turned your head to look at him. “aeronautics? i figured you’d end up in business or something corporate. you always looked like the type.”

caleb let out a boyish chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “yeah, everyone thought that. my dad wanted me to take over his agency, actually. but i don't know... i like things that are precise. there's a weird comfort in that kind of control.” he pursed his lips inwards, stealing a glance from you. “like- like if a plane stays in the air, it’s because you engineered it perfectly. no room for variables.”

“sounds tedious,” you muttered, taking a sip of the wine.

“it can be,” he agreed, his gaze shifting from the glass straight to your face again. “but it pays well. and it gives me enough free time to come out here and disappear for a few days. but uh, what about you, [name]? last i heard, you were finishing up your degree city-side. what brings you back to the outskirts? and... working at that restaurant by the highway?”

“it's just supposed to be temporary until i figured out my next move. then the shit earlier happened.”

“jesus, [name]...” caleb’s voice dropped into a sympathetic murmur. “i still can't believe it. when i heard the screaming through the trees, i thought i was losing my mind. to think you were just working a normal shift and then... some psycho...” he trailed off, shaking his head as if the weight of the reality was too much for his sensibilities to handle. “have you seen anyone suspicious hanging around the restaurant lately? any weird customers? stalkers?”

“no,” you said, your eyes fixed on the flames. “it's a quiet place. mostly truckers and old couples. the man... he didn't say anything. just grabbed me from the alley behind the kitchen while i was taking out the trash.”

“that's insane,” caleb whispered, his expression darkening with a protective sort of worry. “the world is getting so fucked up. but hey... you're safe now, you're here. he's not getting through that door.”

“i know,” 

you turned your head to look at him, intending to ask about the old high school crew, but as your eyes met his, a strange feeling established itself.

you held his gaze for a second, two seconds—but caleb’s eyes on yours didn't waver. they were perfectly and intensely still, holding your stare with an unblinking confidence that felt entirely out of character for the stuttering, flustered boy from minutes ago. after a moment, the weight of it felt too heavy, and you were the one who blinked your eyes back to the fire.

“do you ever hear from anyone else?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing naturally. “like... gideon? or that girl who used to sit next to you—tara?”

“tara moved to the capital, and gideon... well, gideon and i lost touch after he started getting into some sketchy stuff. people drift, you know? you think you know someone in high school, and then years later, they’re a completely different person.”

“yeah,” you murmured, cutting another piece of meat. “people do change.”

“or maybe they just stop hiding who they always were,” 

you looked up again, caught by the odd phrasing, and once more, his eyes were already there waiting for you. they were dark, absolute, and perfectly locked onto your own. again, an instinctual prickle of discomfort made you break the contact first, your eyes dropping down to your glass. maybe he was just like that, you reasoned. some people just had intense eye contact. it didn't mean anything.

“either way,” caleb said, his tone warming up as he raised his wine glass toward you in a silent toast. “i'm just glad i was the one who found you tonight, [name]. out of everyone else who could have been in these woods... i'm really glad it was me.”

the warmth of the red wine had just begun to settle in your stomach when the words finally caught up to your brain. working at that restaurant by the highway.

you paused, your fork hovering a few inches above the ceramic plate. “wait a minute... how did you know i worked at that restaurant?”

for a fleeting second, his shoulders went rigid, and his gaze dropped from your face, breaking eye-contact to stare down at the dark remnants of wine in his glass. it was the first time tonight he had been the one to look away first.

then, just as quickly as it had vanished, the sheepish smile slid back onto his face. he let out an amused huff, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “oh, that? well, i drive past that stretch of the highway all the time when i'm heading out to the airfield. i've seen you through the front windows a couple of times while i was stopping for gas across the street. it’s hard to miss a familiar face, even if it’s been years.”

you raised an eyebrow, “and you didn't bother stopping in to say hi?”

“well...” caleb chuckled, his cheeks catching that familiar flush in the firelight as he looked back up at you through his lashes. “we weren't exactly friends in high school, you know? i didn't want to be that weird guy who bursts into your workplace like, hey, remember me from highschool? i figured it’d just be awkward for both of us.”

you stared at him, letting the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable. your fingers tightened slightly around the stem of your glass. “so you did recognize me. which means when you found me out in the woods... you already knew my face?”

caleb’s hand froze against the back of his neck.

“but earlier,” you continued, “you acted like you had no idea who i was. you asked if we'd ever met. you even made me list out our old high school section just to get you to remember my name.”

caleb stopped rubbing his neck. he didn't stumble over his words this time. he just sat there on the floorboards, staring right into your eyes with that stillness you had noticed earlier. then, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, nodding slowly to himself. a breathy laugh escaped his lips.

“okay,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a smoother and an entirely unbothered tone. “fine. you caught me. i kind of lied.” he swirled his wine, watching the dark liquid catch the orange glow of the hearth. “i did recognize you when i pulled you out of the brush, [name]. but it’s true that i genuinely couldn't remember your name right away. my... brain was in full panic mode seeing all that blood. but as for the rest of it... yeah. aha. i played dumb for a second.”

an uneasy spike of suspicion bloomed right in the center of your chest. your survival instinct, the one that had been temporarily put to sleep by the warm blankets and the steak, suddenly jolted awake. “why... would you lie about something like that, caleb?”

“because think about it,” caleb answered instantly, turning his head to face you full. “it’s already an incredibly high-stress situation. you’re running for your life, you’re bleeding, you’re... traumatized. then you stumble upon a guy you used to know, but barely talked to, living in a secluded cabin. don't you think it would feel just a little bit... awkward? or weirdly intense if i immediately went, oh hey, [name], wild seeing you here!?” his eyes searched your face as he momentarily placed the glass on the floor. “i thought it would be easier on you if we just focused on getting you safe first, without the weird high school baggage. you know, i was just trying to keep things low-key.”

you remained quiet, eyes dropping down to your empty plate. you didn't nod. you didn't tell him it was fine. you just left the explanation hanging in the air between you, letting it rot.

it’s not safe out here. 

it didn't matter that he had sat two rows ahead of you five years ago. it didn't matter that he had an aeronautics career or a nice smile. you were a wounded, exhausted girl trapped in a damn cabin in the middle of a raging storm, miles away from civilization, alone with a man.

you looked away, your gaze fixing onto the persistent sheets of rain lashing against the windowpane, your mind frantically trying to map out a way to stay awake until dawn.

“hey.”

you turned your head back toward the hearth, your breath catching in your throat as you realized caleb had moved. he had inched closer across the floorboards while you were lost in your thoughts. now, he was resting his elbow directly on the plush edge of the couch right behind your shoulder, resting his temple against his fist, tilting his head slightly so he was looking up at you from under his thick lashes.

“what are you thinking about there so hard?” a small, almost teasing smile played at the corners of his lips. “you aren't... suspicious of me, are you, [name]?”

“no,” you forced a shrug of your shoulders, keeping your palms perfectly loose against the floor. “why would i be suspicious? you saved my life... i-i’m just tired. my head feels like it’s full of cotton.”

it was the safest play. 

if he really was someone you needed to fear, showing your teeth now—when you could barely stand without your thighs screaming in agony—would be nothing short of suicide. 

caleb stared at you for one more second, his eyes searching the micro-expressions on your face from beneath his lashes. 

“good,” he let out a relieved chuckle, pushing himself up from the floor. “because if you were, i’d have to start questioning my hospitality skills. my ego wouldn't be able to take that tonight.” he reached down to gather the empty ceramic plates and the two wine glasses, turning toward the small kitchen alcove. “you've been through a lot tonight, [name]. i think it's time to call it a night? you can take the bedroom,”

“i can sleep here.” you said quickly, gesturing vaguely toward the plush couch near the hearth. “you ...don't have to give up your room for me. i've already taken up enough of your space.”

“absolutely not,” caleb called out over his shoulder, the sound of running water echoing from the sink while he rinsed the dishes. “i am a lot of things, but a bad host isn't one of them. you're wounded and you need a proper bed, so i'll take the couch.”

he turned off the tap, drying his hands on a dishtowel before walking back over to you. 

he extended a hand, fingers open and waiting. “come on. let's get you sorted out.”

—

tick. tick. tick.

the sound of a small wood-framed clock somewhere in the shadows is the first thing that bites through your sleep. 

you hadn't even realized you’d drifted off, but the blackness of the midnight hours has already swallowed the evening whole. you wake with a faint groan catching in your throat, your eyelids being heavy with the residue of exhaustion and red wine.

you turn your head to the side, expecting the warm flicker of the candles caleb had left on the bedside desks.

nothing.

the room is ...pitch black. 

the candles are entirely gone—not just blown out, but absent. 

adrenaline instantly slices straight through your groggy brain, melting the last remnants of sleep. and then your eyes travel to the foot of the bed, only to see that—

the door is open.

it isn't really wide open, just slightly ajar, a narrow slice of dim orange light cutting through the darkness from the hallway outside. a thin sliver of the living room’s dying hearth dances across the floorboards like a warning. 

how...? 

you distinctly remember the weight of the little brass thumb-lock turning under your fingers....

a lock doesn't just undo itself in the dead of night.

gone was the cozy and domestic quiet of a boy hosting an old classmate; now it’s a tight breathless suspense, like the air inside a room right before a balloon pops. every instinct you possess—the cold-blooded survival code that got you out of that leather passenger seat—screams at you to move.

carefully, so carefully, you slide your legs out from beneath the heavy down comforter. the grey sweatpants caleb lent you sweep against the sheets with a hush that sounded more like a roar in your ears. the moment your bare feet touch the cold floor, the gashes along your thighs throb in protest, a burning ache that you force yourself to swallow. you don't wince. you don't breathe.

you creep toward the vertical slit of the door, fingers pressing lightly against the wood as you peer out into the hall.

all the candlelights have been shut dead, their little wicks pinched into cold black stumps. the only illumination left is the bleeding glow of the hearth in the living room, casting distorted shadows against the dark wood walls.

your bare feet make no sound while you steal down the hallway, and your eyes scan the darkness, hunting for a silhouette, a mask, the silver glint of a dagger. 

if your lock was bypassed... if someone broke in while you were unconscious...

you round the corner into the living room, your chest heaving in shallow and silent hitches.

there, on the plush couch near the fireplace, laid a shape. 

you freeze, your muscles locking instantly in place. but as you squint through the deep red gloom, you realize it’s just caleb. he’s wrapped entirely in his thick blanket, his large frame buried beneath the wool. his head is tilted back against the cushion with eyes shut. 

he looks completely peaceful, harmless.

but a fresh wave of horror washes over your skin.

if caleb is asleep right here... and the front door is still barred from the inside... then who the fuck opened your bedroom door? did the masked man find a way in without making a sound? did he look at you while you slept? 

your mind spins a terrifying web of variables, but you refused to just let yourself panic. there is no room for tears. there is no room for questions. there is only the necessity of getting out.

you turn away from the sleeping boy, your eyes scanning the dark perimeter of the room. you need a tool. a weapon. a map. a landline. anything.

as you glide toward the dark wooden cabinets flanking the stone hearth, your fingers were trembling slightly. you slide the first latch open, the wood giving a slow creak. you reach inside, your hands blindly rummaging through the contents—old decks of cards, manuals, boxes of matches, heavy iron tools for the fireplace. your fingertips scrape against the rough edge of a folded piece of paper. a map? a ledger? could it be? you immediately pull it out, trying to catch the faint red light of the dying embers to read the print.

please. just give me a direction. let me find the highway. i need to go home.

“[name]?”

you immediately jerked your shoulders back at the voice, the paper slipping from your fingers and fluttering back into the open cabinet drawer. 

shit, caleb is awake.

as you turned around to face him, he was already sat up on the couch, the wool blanket pooled in folds around his hips. and...

he was... shirtless.

you couldn't help your eyes from flicking down to the broad line of his shoulders and the manly expanse of his torso before you forced your gaze back up to his face. you knew plenty of guys slept like that, but the domesticity of it felt like a trap. there was no time to get flustered right now. your fingers curled into tight fists against the cabinet door.

“what...” caleb's voice came out thick, raspy with sleep. he blinked up at you while rubbing his left eye. “what are you doing up this late?”

you awkwardly cleared your throat, the sound dry and scratching against the quiet of the room. you needed an excuse that didn't involve the open bedroom door or the fact that you were currently hunting for a map to escape whatever it is you need to escape from.

“i'm just... looking for a cigarette,” fuck, that was such a bad lie. “i couldn't sleep. thought you might have some hidden in these cabinets.”

caleb could only blink at you, his head tilting slowly to the side while his brain tried to process the words. cigarettes? this late? he let out a huff that sounded like a sleepy laugh, rubbing the back of his head where his hair was slightly messy.

“a cigarette...?” he looked from you to the open cabinet drawer, then back up to your face. “you really must have an addiction, huh? i told you earlier, [name], i don't smoke. my grandfather didn't either.”

you had no choice but to nod, keeping your posture stiff against the woodwork. “right. worth a shot, though...”

caleb let out a sigh, the sound long and loose as he shifted his weight on the cushions. he swung his legs out from under the rest of the blanket, his bare feet hitting the timber floor. he stayed there for a second, hunched over with his hands dangling between his knees, just staring at the floor as if waiting for his head to stop spinning from the sudden wake-up.

“look,” his voice drops into a more grounded register while he looked up at you through his bangs. “if you're that restless, i can go to the kitchen and put the kettle on. make you some chamomile tea or something? my dad swears by it for shock.”

“i-i don't need tea,” you muttered, shifting your feet.

but the movement was a mistake. 

the sudden twist of your hips dragged the loose fleece of the sweatpants directly across the gashes on your right thigh. and it fucking stung.

he seemed to have notice it, as his eyes abruptly snapped down to your legs. the sleepiness have also seemed to vanish from his posture by the way his broad shoulders squared when he slid off the couch and stood up. 

“hey,” he gestured vaguely toward your lap. “you're limping again. did you tear the bandages when you got out of bed? you shouldn't even be walking around right now.”

“...they're fine,” 

“they don't look fine,” caleb pointed a thumb back toward the couch. “sit down. let me actually look at them this time. if you bled through the gauze while you were sleeping, we need to change it before it sticks to the cuts.”

your throat felt incredibly dry as you swallowed, your hand lingering on the edge of the cabinet door. “seriously, it really is fine. you don't need to do all this...”

he didn't argue immediately. instead, he simply turned toward the side table where the white first-aid box still sat under the dying light of the hearth. his fingers wrapped around the handle, lifting it with a clack. but as he turned back to face you, he froze, his eyes dropping down to his own chest, then flicking rapidly back up to your face. 

“oh—jesus,” he mumbled, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck. “i... i am so sorry. is it because i don't have a shirt on? let me just... go grab something from the room. give me a second.”

“it's not about that,” you said quickly, the words slipping out before he could turn away. 

am i just losing my mind?

you asked yourself, your fingers gripping the soft flannel of the oversized shirt he’d lent you. is this just the trauma? you had been kidnapped, almost stabbed, and chased through the dark by a literal monster. it made sense that your brain was treating everything—even the creak of a floorboard or a slightly ajar door—as a mortal threat. you were painting a sinister caricature over a guy who had literally dragged you out of the mud, sliced his own knuckles to free your hands, and offered you his bed. if he wanted to hurt you, if he wanted to do anything to you at all... he’d had hours while you were unconscious, dead to the world under his roof. 

but you had woken up untouched.

and yet, that voice in the very back of your skull refused to fully quiet down. stay on guard, it whispered. always stay on guard.

still, the sheer weight of the guilt was starting to make your chest ache. he was trying so hard to be the helpful guy, and you were treating him like the monster in the woods.

with a slow sigh, you crossed the small distance between the cabinet and the couch. 

“fine,” you lowered your weight onto the edge of the cushion. and unceremoniously, you began to pull the hem of the sweatpants up, the fleece dragging against your skin until it bunched up in folds around your upper thighs. the movement exposed the white gauze wraps—now messy, slightly unraveled at the edges, and blooming with wet spots of red where the cuts had split back open from your midnight walk.

caleb stood perfectly still.

as you focused on adjusting the bunched fabric around your lap, you missed the way his breathing hitched. his eyes lingered, carefully, on the exposed line of your ankles, climbing up the curve of your calves, on the skin behind your knees, and finally settling on the wounded skin of your thighs. 

but before you could look up and catch that, he was already moving.

in one motion, caleb lowered himself onto his knees right beside your legs. he popped the latch on the medical kit, fingers pulling out a fresh roll of gauze and a packet of antiseptic wipes with a faint smile. “i hate to say i told you so, [name], but... you did a total hack job on these bandages.”

“i was working with one hand and a lot of adrenaline,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice even while he brushed his fingers against the side of your knee to steady your leg.

“clearly,” he teased, his thumb lightly pressing against your skin to test your reaction, his eyes crinkling at the corners with that playful grin. “you wrapped them up all wrong. it's too loose at the top and too tight at the bottom...”

the crinkle of the wrapper was the only sound for a moment as caleb tore open a fresh pad of gauze, but you kept your face resolutely turned toward the stone hearth, watching the orange embers pulse and die in the ash. 

he didn't say anything for a while, his fingers working with a touch while he peeled away the blood-soaked cotton from your skin. his thumb caught the edge of a fresh strip of medical tape, tearing it with a sharp rip with his teeth.

“you know,” caleb squinted through the dark, breaking the quiet without looking up from his work. “you're giving the fireplace a really intense stare. if it's because i'm still missing half my clothes, i can really just go grab a shirt.”

“i'm fine,” though you kept your eyes locked on the brickwork. “i'm just tired.”

he let out a breathy laugh, fingers gently smoothing the edge of the clean white pad against the meat of your upper thigh. “you should've just let me handle the first round of bandages earlier. would've saved you the trouble of bleeding like this.”

you decided not to reply.

and he didn't mind your continued silence, pulling the roll of gauze to tighten the dressing. but as he went to tuck the loose end, his thumb pressed down—just a bit too hard—directly into the swollen edge of the fourth laceration.

“shit, that hurts-” your hands instantly flew to the leather cushion to push yourself backward.

caleb gulped, the prominent line of his throat moving sharply in the dim red light when he stole a glance at your face. “sorry,” he whispered, a little raspy. “you okay?”

“be careful.” you choked out, your breath coming a little faster now as you stared back at him. 

his palm remained resting flat against the curve of your knee, his thumb lightly, almost absently tracing the edge of the sweatpants' hem. he looked down at your legs for a quiet second before his eyes slowly crawled back up to meet your frown.

“is this your first time?” 

your brow furrowed deeper, “what?”

“seeing a guy half-naked this close,” caleb clarified, a knowing smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained perfectly steady and unblinking. “you look like you're holding your breath, [name]. i didn't think i was that intimidating...?”

“no, it's not my first time.” 

“oh yeah?” 

caleb tilted his head, his elbow resting on his knee to lean in further. “so there's been other guys then? past boyfriends?”

“...what does that have to do with anything?”

“nothing,” letting out a low chuckle, he finally pulled his hands back, capping the antiseptic bottle along the way. “just making conversation. we're catching up, aren't we? five years is ...a long time. i figured a girl like you would've had someone.”

caleb slowly sat back on his heels, eyes tracking the way your fingers dug into the fabric of your flannel shirt. 

“there was... someone,” you muttered, wanting to shut the topic down. “a while ago. it didn't last.”

“really?” his voice carried a strange satisfaction as he picked up the discarded bandages. he didn't look disappointed at all. “why's that? he didn't know how to appreciate what he had?”

“he was just too much, too possessive. always wanted to know where i was.”

caleb stopped moving for a split second, his back to the fire. “hmm, can you really blame him?”

“yes, you can blame him.” you reached down, your fingers catching the hem of the grey sweatpants to slide the heavy fleece back down over your calves. “how would you feel if you had a partner like that? someone constantly demanding to know every single person you talk to?”

caleb stared up at you from beneath his fringes.

“i don't-” a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head accompanied the words. “i don't think i'd mind it at all.”

you let out a humorless click of your tongue, pulling the fabric down past your ankles. “you're just saying that because you've never actually experienced it.”

caleb simply laughs, “well... you've got me there, [name]. i guess i haven't really had the chance to be in a relationship yet.”

that caught your attention. 

“really? in five years? i remember girls in high school lining up to slide letters into your locker. you're telling me you never got into anything like that?”

“never,” he snapped the lid of the medical kit shut. “a few talking stages that fizzled out after a couple of weeks, maybe a blind date or two that my friends dragged me into because they felt sorry for me. but nothing too close. nothing that lasted.”

“that's pretty hard to believe.” 

caleb xia was the definition of the golden boy back then, as far as you could remember—approachable, attractive, naturally charismatic, and the exact type of guy most people wanted to take home to their parents. it didn't make sense that he was so utterly single. “what could possibly be the reason? are your standards just impossibly high or something?”

caleb stood up from the floor, lifting the medical kit in one hand. but instead of walking away to put it back on the side table, he stayed right there, standing over you in the dim glow of the hearth.

“hey, my standards aren't high at all, i think i'm actually pretty simple. when i find something- or someone- that actually catches my attention, i tend to, just, keep my focus entirely on them. i don't see the point in looking anywhere else if... if- the perfect thing is already right in front of me.” he tears his gaze away to put the first-aid back into its place.

“well, good luck finding that in the city. people change their minds every two weeks out there.” goddamn it, the pain below is really getting unbearable. you were far too focused on the throbbing ache in your thighs, your brain already drifting back to the logistics of tomorrow morning's drive to the police precinct. 

“maybe... but luckily for me, i'm a very patient guy. i don't mind waiting for- for a long time.” you hear him murmur. with his back faced to you like this, you can't really help yourself but trace the beautiful definition of his back muscles with your eyes, and the ridiculous ratio of his broad shoulders down to his waist. 

with that physique, he might be a liar, he definitely have some situationships going on.

caleb suddenly turns around to meet your eyes, making you instinctively avert them. “you still want that tea?”

“no thanks, i'm really... fine 'nough now.”

“i see. well, i think you probably couldn't sleep back there because of the cold,” he walked towards the hearth to throw more logs into the pit. only now you realized how dim the room had been getting when the fire crackled back into its fiery light. “you need the warmth here in the living room, no?”

you sheepishly smile. “would that be okay?”

“of course, [name].”

—

“you're kidding me.”

under the sun through the acacia trees, you squinted your eyes. 

the words didn't even have the energy to carry a real edge. they just fell out of your mouth, evaporating into the cold morning mist that hung thick between the towering leaves and outside caleb's cabin.

meanwhile, caleb didn't bother looking up from under the rusted hood of his dark blue pickup truck. he was hunched over the engine bay, the fabric of a sleeveless hoodie stretched tight across his shoulders. his hands, grease-stained and calloused, were buried deep near the battery terminal with a wrench catching the daylight.

“i wish i was, not gonna lie.” caleb muttered, his voice muffled by the metal hood. he let out a frustrated sigh that blossomed into a little puff of white steam in the damp air. “i've tried priming the pump, i've checked the spark plugs... nothing. the starter won't even click.”

you had woken up with a spark of renewed relief in your chest, because finally, finally, you can go back to where you feel the most safe, you can finally report whatever bullshit that happened to you yesterday. 

but instead, you were met with an apologetic boy trying to fix his truck because, apparently, the engine decided to end its own life overnight. 

“how does a truck that was running fine yesterday just die overnight, caleb?” you walked closer, your knuckles white as you shoved your hands deep into the pockets of the flannel shirt. 

he finally pulled his head out from under the hood, wiping a thick smear of black grease across his forehead with the back of his forearm. he looked at you through his messy fringes, and you caught the way his eyes looked a little bit too... puppy-like. 

“the storm,” caleb vaguely gestured. 

the ground was completely saturated, littered with fallen leaves and broken branches from the torrential downpour that had finally died down to a drizzle just before dawn. “with this much humidity and the drop in temperature, moisture probably got into the distributor cap. or a wire shorted out. these old engines are finicky as hell, [name]. i'm sorry.”

you stared at the truck, your jaw locked so tight it made your temples throb. 

a miracle. 

a perfect little miracle for a guy who had just told you last night how much he loved precise systems where nothing was left to variable.

“...i can't stay here,” you insisted, your voice rising just a fraction. “my family is probably contacting the police right now. and my manager... caleb, they're going to think i'm dead. i need to get to a phone. i need to get to the highway.”

“i know that.” he replied, stepping away from the bumper. “i know you do. but, we can't drive this thing until i figure out what's wrong with the ignition.”

“then i'll walk.”

caleb’s hand froze mid-air as he went to wipe his wrench with an old rag. his dark eyes narrowed. “walk? [name], you can barely take three steps without a limp.”

“i don't care. you have a map, or- or a compass. i know you do- this is a hunting cabin after all.”

“no.”

“what?”

caleb tossed the wrench onto the truck's battery cover with a clank that made you jump. “it's not just about the distance,” he took two steps toward you, his large frame instantly blocking out the morning light. “the highway is nearly seven miles from here, and there are ravines out there that are flooded right now from the storm. one bad slip and you'll tear those stitches wide open, and then you're bleeding out in the mud with nobody to help you.”

“i'll take my chances.” you muttered.

caleb raised a brow. “and what about the man with the knife, [name]? he could be sitting behind a tree just half a mile from here, waiting for you to walk right back into his arms. do you really want to risk that?”

your fingers curled into the rough cotton of his top, the cold reality of his words settling into your stomach like a block of ice.

he had a point. 

a terrifying, undeniable point. the monster was probably still out there.

“it's better to be safe,” caleb murmured, his tone softening back into that sweet cadence. “i'm not trying to keep you prisoner here, i swear. i want to get you home just as much as you want to go. but you have to trust me on this. it'll take me a few hours, maybe 'till noon.” he turns back to the hood of the truck with a frustrated frown. “go back inside and let me do my job. okay?”

you let out a trembling sigh, looking away from his face to stare at the woods surrounding the clearing. you hated the situation. you hated how logical his arguments were, and you hated the warmth where his eyes had just been.

“fine,” you whispered, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “just... hurry up, please.”

“i will, promise.” 

you went back inside.

hours had bled away into the sluggish afternoon, and you had done nothing but count the knots in the pine ceiling and flip through the moldering pages of three-decade-old hunting manuals you found in the dusty cabinets. 

they got you nowhere. 

no phone numbers scribbled in the margins, no hidden emergency radios, no secret landlines. just instructions on how to field-dress a deer and diagrams of traps.

it was past two in the afternoon now. and this was getting ridiculous.

you paced the creaking floorboards of the living room, your bare toes digging into the cold grain of the wood. through the window pane, you watched caleb. he was still out there. his sleeveless hoodie was damp from the mist, broad back bent over the open hood of the truck with a disciplined concentration that should have been comforting. 

he looked like a saint, honestly. a boy working himself to the bone in the cold just to get an old classmate back to safety.

but the timing was too perfect. the dead engine was too convenient. and you couldn't afford to spend another night here, isolated in the middle of nowhere, wrapped in his clothes and eating his food.

your eyes drifted from the window, turning slowly toward the hallway.

there was a second door down there. it sat right beside the bedroom he had given you last night—a wooden door with no brass lock on the outside, completely quiet and unassuming. but it had been poking at the back of your mind since you woke up. and for some reason, a hum of intuition told you that behind that specific piece of wood lay the missing piece of the puzzle.

you glanced back out the window to see caleb having his back turned, and reaching for a socket wrench from his toolbox.

quietly, holding your breath until your lungs burned, you padded down the hallway. the floor seemed to hold their breath with you, refusing to creak just as you stopped in front of the door, your hand hovering over the cold brass knob. 

until, eventually, you stopped hesitating and twisted it. 

it wasn't locked. 

with an agonizingly slow click, the latch gave way, and the door swung inward.

you stepped inside, ready to find a dusty storage closet or a pile of old lumber. 

instead,

the room was... dark, the only light filtering through a black curtain drawn tight over the single window, but it was enough to reveal a space that looked less like a cabin bedroom and more like the inside of an... obsessively structured mind.

you didn't know why, but your legs felt suddenly weak, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead as you stepped deeper into the gloom. the walls weren't bare wood. they were covered in large corkboards, maps of the county and hand-drawn diagrams. and in the center of the main board, pinned with color-coded pushpins, was you.

it was a photo from your high school yearbook, your smiling face circled in faded red ink. but next to it were newer photos, candid shots. 

you walking to the vintage restaurant. 

you holding a trash bag in the alley behind the kitchen, captured from the treeline. 

you sitting by the register.

then, scrawled beneath the photos in a precise draftsman's print—the hand of an engineer—were pages of notes.

> [name]'s shift: 9:00 AM - 4:00 PM

> route predictability: 94%

> vulnerability point: rear kitchen exit (blind spot from highway)

your hands began to tremble so violently you had to press them against your thighs to keep them still. your eyes darted across the board, picking apart the timeline he had constructed. there were outlines of schedules, maps of these very woods with red ink tracing the exact path you had run last night. there was even a drawing of a leather passenger seat with a detailed list of strap measurements.

so, he hadn't really saved you...? 

your eyes swept to another section of the wall, where photos of other people were pinned—friends you used to know, people you were still connected with in the city, and even your ex boyfriend. across his face, a line had been drawn in black marker, with a note written beside it: easily removed.

your brain screamed at you to run, to get out, to lock yourself away. but your eyes were drawn to the far corner of the room, where a smaller, shadow-draped board hung.

you took three slow steps toward it.

there were no yearbook photos there, there were polaroids instead. raw and flash-lit pictures of coldly pale skin, bloodshot eyes staring at nothing, and wet earth. 

dead bodies. 

people who had gone missing from the county over the last few years, their faces preserved in caleb's organized archive.

“what the fuck—...”

you stumbled backward, your heel catching on the edge of a small wooden stool. it caused you to hit the floor hard, the jarring impact sending a fresh flare of agony through your wounded thighs, but you barely felt it. you scrambled back on your hands and knees, your palms smacking against the cold wood as you frantically covered your mouth with both hands to choke back the sob of pure terror rising in your chest.

what the fuck is this? 

what the fuck did he do?

don’t scream. if you scream, he’ll know exactly how much of his little theater you’ve torn apart.

there was no time to feel the dizzying slide of panic in your veins. your body, now operating on a raw survival code, simply forced you up. you scrambled off the floor of that room, your numb fingers catching the edge of the doorframe to drag yourself out. and immediately, you pulled the wooden door shut behind you.

you stood in the hallway, your chest heaving in ragged hitches, your hands pressed flat against your ribs to keep your heart from bursting out of your skin. calm down. calm down. if you pass out now, you're dead.

you gulped down the air of the hallway, forcing your legs to carry you back to the living room. you limped to the windowpane, your fingertips pressing against the cold glass as you peered out into the misty clearing.

the truck hood was still open. the wrench was resting on the battery.

but caleb was gone.

shit. 

shit, where is he?

a cold prickling wave of dread washed down the back of your neck, and you abruptly turned around—

and there he was.

caleb was leaning casually against the laminate kitchen counter, holding a clear glass of water and slowly drinking from it. his violet eyes watched you over the rim, perfectly still, perfectly calm, tracking the frantic movement of your shoulders. he then lowered the glass, setting it down on the counter with a hollow thud, before using the back of his hand to wipe a stray drop of moisture from his chin.

“what's wrong?” he asked, a sweet smile touching the corners of his mouth. “why do you look so pale, [name]?”

you couldn't even bring yourself to answer. 

is he... is he the one with the mask? 

no, it didn't make sense. you had bitten the masked man's sleeve, you had wedged your knee into his chest, you had run while caleb found you. but the room... the photos of you and your friends with a black line through their face... the dead bodies...

it was an orchestration, wasn't it? 

a sick, meticulously trap designed to drop you right into his waiting arms. and he was playing the savior so perfectly. 

this sick bitch.

caleb's brow furrowed, his expression changing into a look of pure concern. “hey, are you alright?”

he looked so soft. he looked like the kind of boy you could rely on when the world was falling apart. it was disgusting. it was terrifying.

your eyes darted wildly around the room. a weapon. i need a weapon right now. your gaze flicked to the fireplace tools—the heavy iron poker—but it was too far. you looked to the kitchen counter, but caleb was blocking the knives. you were trapped.

caleb’s brow raised slightly, his tone softening even more. “are you hurt? did the wounds on your thighs start bothering you again? let me see, i can—”

“stay back!”

you pressed your back hard against the wall near the window.

“i'm getting out of this house! don't you dare come near me! stay the fuck back!”

caleb stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in what looked like genuine fear. the sudden outburst actually seemed to startle him. he quickly raised both of his hands in front of his chest, palms open and facing you in a classic gesture of surrender.

“whoa—whoa, [name], okay! easy,” he stammered, his voice trembling slightly as if your anger was physically hurting him. the safe-boy mask was still pinned so perfectly to his face. “i’m not coming closer. i swear. please, just breathe. the engine... i’m almost done fixing it, okay? just ten more minutes. please, just sit down, calm down, and let me make you some tea—"

you didn't let him finish.

you didn't care about his hands, or his voice, or the pathetic, frightened look in his eyes. you just lunged toward the front door, your feet slipping slightly on the timber—

“don't open that fucking door, [name].”

you stopped.

the hand you had stretched toward the brass deadbolt froze, hovering barely an inch from the metal. you couldn't move. your feet felt as though they had been poured into the floor, rooted by a sudden paralyzing instinct that warned you any sudden movement would end in violence. you didn't look back at him. you couldn't bring yourself to face whatever had just taken the place of the guy that had been so good to you.

then, you heard him sigh. 

it wasn't the frustrated breath of a man losing his temper, but an almost endearing sound, like a parent watching a child refuse to eat their dinner. the scuff of his socks against the wood started up again, drawing closer and closer.

“i'm sorry...” 

another step closer.

“you just... you've been acting so off since this morning, [name]. why won't you just trust me?”

the hypocrisy of it reeked. 

you didn't move as he stepped into your space. the heat of his chest pressed nearly against your back, casting his shadow completely over the door. slowly, his hand reached around your face, fingers remarkably steady while they caught the edge of your jaw, gently but firmly lifting your chin. his skin was hot against your cold face. and with his other hand, he reached past your shoulder, his fingers intentionally wrapping around the brass handle of the door.

your breath hitched.

god, what do i do?

your mind scrambled and dug into the walls of your brain, fighting to find a way out. you couldn't fight him—not with your legs this torn up, not in his territory. if you ran, he’d track you down in the timber in minutes. if you screamed, no one would hear you. so...

the only way out was to play the game. 

you had to dismantle him from the inside, lower his guard, and make him believe his perfect plan was working exactly as planned.

you gulped, forcing the frantic rhythm of your chest to slow down, forcing your hands to uncurl. then, slowly, you turned your head to meet caleb's questioning gaze.

his face was so close, eyes wide and looking down at you with a searching innocence that made your stomach twist with revulsion. he looked like he genuinely cared. he looked like he was waiting for you to tell him it was all just a bad dream.

“i...” 

you looked at his lips, then back up to his eyes. 

“i found it.”

caleb’s brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly to the side as his fingers finally removed themselves from your chin. “found what, [name]?”

“the... the pictures,” you whispered, letting your gaze drop to his chest, then slowly rise back to his face, just to make sure your eyes looked warm and convincing enough. “in that room. i... i found everything, caleb.”

the wind outside seemed to die down, leaving only the sound of your own breathing.

you just hoped to yourself that whatever it is you were planning would also work as perfectly as caleb's did. otherwise, the universe would be a sick, unfair thing.

caleb just blinked down at you, and you couldn't seem to figure out what look he had on his face. his eyes, reflecting the dim light of the cabin, stared into yours without a single shred of readable emotion. it was like looking into a pair of deep wells.

he smiled, then.

a screeping tilt of his mouth that crinkled the edges of his eyes, blooming into a face of what seemed like euphoric disbelief.

“you found them?”

“yes,” you forced a shaky laugh to escape your lips, playing the part of the girl who had finally found her savior. “and i... i just wish you would've told me sooner, b-because... i've been waiting.” you gulped. “i've been waiting for you, too.”

caleb put on a frown. “really? you... you aren't disgusted? you accept me?”

you swallowed hard, nodding your head. “yes, i accept you.”

“even if i've been plotting this since high school, [name]?”

“even then,” you whispered, nodding again.

“even if it took me this long to finally find the courage to speak to you?”

“yes.”

“even if...” you watched the way his eyes narrowed, lingering just right below your neck. “i killed people for you?”

your stomach did a sickening flip, but you forced your expression to remain compliant. “even then.”

“even if it thrilled me when i cut your thighs?”

when i cut your thighs...?

so the man in the car... the monster with the knife...

it really was him.

but how? where was the car he had used? how had he chased you through the mud, sliced your legs, and then somehow circled back to “find” you and carry you to his cabin without a single drop of mud on his clothes? how had he flawlessly executed a sequence that should have been physically impossible? and if he was this dead-obsessed with you—if he had built a literal shrine to your existence in his spare room—why would he hurt you? why would he carve into your flesh?

is he really that fucked in the head? 

he wasn't just an obsessive stalker. he was a sadist. a monster who needed to break you, to bleed you, just so he could be the one to stitch you back together and play the hero.

you had to answer. you had to.

forcing your eyes to soften, forcing the horror back into the darkest corners of your mind, you let out a trembling sigh. 

“yes.” 

the shuddering breath that left caleb’s chest was shaky, thick with an almost pathetic relief. 

he let his eyes slip shut, his shoulders finally dropping when he leaned forward to rest his forehead directly against yours. it's like he left only the boy who looked entirely drunk on your submission.

only now you realized that his fingers were already on your neck, sliding up to tangle into the strands of your hair and cradling your head like a piece of porcelain. “such a pretty, pretty little thing... i knew you'd understand. i knew it had to be you.”

but behind your closed eyes, your mind was nothing but a machine. you gulped, the sensation of his hand on your throat still making your skin crawl, but you forced your pulse to steady. keep it together. you needed to break this stalemate. you couldn't stay in this cabin for another hour, let alone another night. if you kept playing the passive victim, he would keep you here forever.

you needed him weak. you needed him distracted, his guard completely shattered, so you could find an opening, grab whatever heavy object was closest, and run.

and the fastest way to blind a boy like caleb was to give him exactly what he’d been dreaming about since high school.

without saying a word, you reached up, your fingers wrapping slowly around the side of his jaw. 

caleb perked up instantly. 

his eyes snapped open, pupils blown so wide they almost swallowed the deep purple of his irises. he looked down at you with a breathless, desperate anticipation—like a stray puppy waiting for a hand to finally feed it.

and then, dreadfully, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his.

it's the perfect distraction, and–

you had experience. you knew the rhythm of it, how to tilt your head, how to apply just enough pressure to make a man lose his focus. but caleb was an entirely different story.

the moment your lips met his, his entire body went rigid. for a split second, he didn't even seem to know how to breathe, his lips dry and unmoving against yours as if the sheer shock of the contact had short-circuited his brain. it was the kiss of a boy who had never done this before—clumsy, hesitant, and utterly terrified of breaking the illusion.

but the innocence didn't last.

“mhmm—” 

as the realization of what was happening finally sank into his brain, caleb got completely carried away. another needy groan vibrated deep in his throat—a desperate sound that echoed in the cabin. before you could even pull away, his large hand slid down from your neck, arms wrapping tightly around your waist like iron bands.

and with a sudden tug, he pulled you backward. his bare thighs hit the armrest of the nearby couch, and he sank onto it, dragging you with him until you were standing flush between his knees.

he didn't let go of your mouth for a single second. the kisses became heavier, deeper, and uncomfortably loud as his lips parted against yours. a deep frown was etched across his brow, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as if he were trying to force himself to wake up from a dream he couldn't quite comprehend. 

the sound of his mouth against yours suddenly cut off as caleb pulled back. he didn't go far—just a fraction of an inch, just enough for the cold draft of the cabin to rush between your lips, leaving them chilled and slick. his chest was heaving, torso expanding and contracting in heavy hitches while he stared directly into your eyes. 

from this close, the bruised purple of his pupils looked almost black, dilated so wide that the iris was nearly gone.

slowly, a cruel smirk carved its way across his mouth.

“you're good,” caleb whispered, his voice a low vibration that brushed against your wet lips.

“you're really, really good, [name]. but i'm not an easy guy to fool.”

your hands, still resting against the sides of his neck, went cold.

“you saw everything. of course you're terrified of me.” his smirk widened, and his fingers tightened around your hips. “you even wanted to run out that door the second you realized what i did. so... what are you kissing me for, huh?”

your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching in your throat. he knows. the universe was indeed a sick, unfair thing, but you should have expected this. as irreversibly sick in the head as caleb xia was, he wasn't stupid. he was an engineer. he spent his life calculating variables, measuring tolerances, and anticipating failure points. of course he had planned for the possibility of you trying to manipulate him.

you couldn't speak. your tongue felt like lead in your mouth as you simply stared at him, the carefully crafted mask of compliance slipping away to reveal the terror underneath.

seeing the fear finally return to your face, caleb let out an amused sigh. he pulled back a bit more, putting a physical distance between your faces, though he remained sitting on the armrest with you standing locked between his knees. deliberately, his hands slid off your hips, his arms dropping to his sides in a gesture that looked mockingly like surrender.

“if you're really that scared of me... then go. run away. the door is right there.”

he nodded toward the exit behind you.

it felt too good to be true. it was a trap—it had to be. but as you stared at the brass deadbolt just feet away, your survival instinct screamed at you that staying here, trapped between his knees, was a guaranteed death sentence. it would be incredibly stupid not to take a chance in a desperate situation like this. if you could just get the door open, if you could just reach the misty treeline...

you inhaled a sharp breath, gathering every ounce of strength left in your aching thighs.

then, you turned on your heel and lunged for the door.

but you didn't even make it a single step.

before your foot could fully plant on the floor, caleb’s hand abruptly wrapped around your upper arm like a steel cuff. and with a violent surge of strength, he tugged you harshly backward. the world instantly spun in a blur of gray as your feet lost their grip, and your body was slammed hard down onto the cushions of the couch. 

“ah—!”

and before you knew it, caleb was already over you.

it was indeed too good to be true. 

his frame completely pinned you into the deep cushions, blocking out the light, the room, and the air. and immediately, as if afraid that he might also lose a chance, his mouth was already devouring yours from above.

it wasn't the clumsy kiss of a boy anymore. it was a rabid, starving thing. he pinned your wrists to the couch on either side of your head, his calloused hands locking over your joints with a crushing force that left no room for struggle. you writhed beneath him, trying to turn your head away, trying to keep your neck angled high to escape the suffocating heat of his face, but he simply used his weight to hold you down, lapping at your mouth, his lips parting yours with a wild hunger.

“god— hmm...” he was kissing you as if he were trying to pull the very breath out of your lungs, his head tilting from side to side to drink you in deeper, harder, completely losing himself in the taste of you.

finally.

that was the only word echoing through the hollow spaces of his head as he crushed your body beneath his. finally.

your fingers, pinned flat against the couch, twitched helplessly beneath the crushing weight of his palms. you tried to keep up. you tried to keep your head above, trying to maintain the distance that had kept you alive since last night. but the overwhelming reality of him was starting to dissolve the boundaries of your own mind.

why were you keeping up? 

all of this, all of it—it was a visceral assault on your senses. it felt gross. it felt incredibly, deeply gross to be the literal centerpiece of a sick years-long blueprint, to have your body subjected to the whims of his twisted fantasies. but as his weight settled more heavily beside your thighs, pinning you down until you couldn't move an inch...

it felt... good?

it felt good.

you found yourself ghost-blinking, your vision swimming as a sudden feverish warmth crawled up from your chest, flooding your throat and burning across your cheeks, before pooling into an ache in your lower body. you were completely paralyzed by it, caught in a terrifying tug-of-war between your survival instincts and a thrill you had never felt before. but you didn't dare kiss him back. you kept your lips stiff, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response, even as your body betrayed you.

caleb, still lapping hungrily at your mouth, finally and unwillingly began to pull away.

the transition was painfully slow, his lips dragging against yours with a heavy reluctance. as he lifted his head just a few inches, a glistening string of saliva stretched between your parted lips, bridging the tiny gap between you before it finally snapped.

your chest hitched. 

the sight of it made a burning blush erupt across your face. you couldn't explain it to yourself. you didn't know how to place the sudden, wild drumming of your pulse. it felt like discovering a hidden corridor inside your own house, a door you had never known existed, and you had absolutely no idea what to do with the monster waiting inside it.

above you, caleb stared down. his eyes narrowed, glassy, and wild, like a lovesick dog that had finally been thrown a scrap of meat but was still starving for the whole meal.

his fingers tightened around your wrists with a sudden bruising force, pinning your arms so hard against the leather you could feel the pulse in his own palms hammering against your skin. 

“i didn't do any of this to hurt you, [name],” he whispered frantically, eyes scanning your face, searching for any sign of comprehension in your gaze. “you have to believe me. you have to understand. i've been so quiet for so long. for five years- five years of watching you from afar, watching you walk home, watching other people take your time, watching them treat you like you were just... normal.” a breathless laugh escaped his lips. “like you weren't the center of the fucking universe.”

his forehead dropped for a split second to press against yours, closing his eyes shut.

“the people who tried to touch you, the ones who thought they had a right to you—” then, he opens his eyes ajar, pulling away just an inch. “i had to clear them out. i had to. because no one else could love you like this. no one else would go this far for you, [name].” 

he gulps, letting out a small grunt. “no one.”

his grip on your wrists tightened even more, the bones of your hands aching under his hold, but his expression was so incredibly, terrifyingly soft. 

“tell me you understand that. please. tell me you see it now.”

he didn't look away, he couldn't. his entire body trembled with the weight of his own confession, desperately waiting for you to say something. to curse him, to scream, to agree—anything.

but you remained flush beneath his grip.

you lay there, pinned to the couch. the words washed over you in a dizzying wave, but you couldn't process a single one. you couldn't think. you couldn't move. you could only listen to the rhythmic beating of your heart against your chest. only that. 

caleb watched the rise and fall of your chest, tracking the silent rhythm of your breath as you lay trapped beneath him. you weren't screaming. you weren't trying to tear your wrists from his fingers anymore.

a drop of satisfaction settled into his features. to a mind as twisted as his, the absence of a fight wasn't fear—it was an invitation. it was consent.

slowly, his gaze drifted away from your face. his eyes traveled down the column of your throat, sliding past the open collar of his oversized flannel shirt, before tracking the line of your torso. and finally, his eyes landed specifically on your thighs.

even beneath the sweatpants, the muscles in your legs were locked rigid, your knees pressing together so tightly that the fabric was bunched and strained between your joints.

caleb raised a single brow. his eyes flicked from your locked knees back up to your face.

fuck.

the warmth that had pooled in your lower body was a physical weight now, and the fact that he was actively studying it made a sudden surge of panic flare up in your chest.

“let go,” you choked out, twisting your hips and jerking your wrists in a frantic effort to hide yourself from his stare. 

his palms remained locked over your wrists like iron clamps, while he just watched your struggles with a curiosity, his head tilting slightly. “why are you doing that?” 

you stopped twisting, your teeth clicking together as your glare turned into a frown. “doing what?”

then, without warning, the suffocating weight above you vanished.

caleb simply let go of your wrists. he rose from the couch in one motion, his bare feet hitting the timber floor without a sound. 

he turned his gaze entirely toward the front door. and when he turned his face back toward the couch, the sadist from a second ago was gone. his eyes were bright, his face soft, and that sweet, reliable smile was pinned neatly across his lips. “the engine is finally fixed. the moisture cleared out of the distributor cap while we were... catching up.”

you sat up slowly, your elbows trembling as you propped your weight up on the cushions. what the actual fuck?

“i can drive you home now,” caleb continued, walking over to the side table to pick up his truck keys. “or the police precinct. or anywhere else you want to go. let's get you sorted out, yeah?”

you just stared at him, completely bewildered, your brain grinding to a screeching halt. he couldn't just do this. he couldn't build a literal shrine to you, kiss you like that, pin you to a couch until you were wrecked, and then just pull back and offer to take you to a drive-thru the next second. it was insane. the sheer whiplash-inducing absurdity of his behavior was breaking your ability to process the situation.

caleb turned on his heel, turning his back to you as he took two easy strides toward the wooden exit.

fuck it.

your survival instinct was screaming at you to just let him open the door, to get into the truck and never look back, but the chaos of the entire afternoon had pushed you past the breaking point.

“caleb,” you called out.

he paused, his hand hovering just inches away from the door handle. smiling, he turned his head back over his shoulder.

“hmm?”

“what are you doing?” 

caleb fully turned his body away from the door, his hand dropping loosely to his side with the truck keys giving a jingle in his palm. “what do you mean?” 

a spike of frustration flared up in your chest, mixing dangerously with the adrenaline still lingering in your veins. what was he trying to pull? did this look like a joke to him? the absolute whiplash of his behavior—switching from a dead-obsessed guy on top of you to a polite, helpful one in the span of thirty seconds—was maddening. 

you took a slow breath, your fingers digging into the cushion of the couch. “replace the bandages,” you told him. “before we go anywhere. they're bleeding again.”

caleb blinked at you, a momentary flash of surprise crossing his features, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. 

“of course,” he murmured, setting the keys down on the kitchen counter. “give me a second.”

minutes later, the quiet of the cabin was broken only by the pop of the first-aid box latches. you sat on the edge of the couch, your spine rigid, watching caleb lowering himself onto one knee on the floor directly in front of you. he was focused, broad shoulders hunched forward while he neatly laid out the fresh rolls of gauze, the medical tape, and a packet of antiseptic wipes onto the small wooden coffee table.

you pursed your lips inward, your fingers reaching down to the elastic waistband of the grey sweatpants, preparing to roll the heavy fleece back up your thighs.

“actually,” caleb said, without looking up from his neat arrangement of the medical supplies. “take them off this time.”

your fingers froze against the fabric.

“the blood's probably soaked through to the inner lining by now,” he explained, before he lifted his eyes to meet yours through his bangs. “if you keep them on, the fabric's just going to rub against the fresh dressing while i'm driving. i'll just grab you a new pair of pants from my room before we walk out.”

you hesitated for a long, heavy second. every sensible instinct in your brain told you to refuse, to maintain whatever boundary you had left. but there was something else shifting beneath the surface—a pull of submission, a curiosity that quietly nudged you to just see how far this would go.

keeping your eyes locked on his face, your hands gripped the waistband. you slid the fleece down past your hips, down your thighs, and kicked the sweatpants away, leaving your legs bare, covered in nothing but your underwear.

but caleb didn't look.

he didn't lean in, he didn't smirk, and his eyes didn't wander down the exposed line of your hips. instead, he kept his gaze entirely focused on the task at hand, his fingers moving with a careful discipline as he reached out and gently peeled back the blood-stained cotton from your torn skin.

“sorry,” his thumb lightly brushed the undamaged skin just above the laceration to steady his hand. “sorry about these.”

even with the pants gone, you couldn't help it—your knees were still locked together, your inner thighs pressing flush against each other in an instinctive attempt to hide the dampness ruined into your underwear.

with a fresh roll of gauze held between his fingers, caleb looked up at you from his knee on the floor. his expression was entirely too innocent, brow tilting up with that infuriatingly boyish look.

“if you keep pressing your legs together like that, i won't be able to wrap the tension properly. they're just going to split again.” he let out a quiet chuckle. “come on. relax for a second.”

the audacity of the sound made your jaw tighten. you didn't know what was happening to you anymore. the logic of the world had unraveled within the span of an hour. you knew who he was now; you knew what lay behind that closed door down the hall. you should have been frozen in pure, unadulterated terror. you should have been vomiting from the revulsion of sitting naked in front of a monster.

but you weren't. 

instead, that heat was turning into a literal ache between your hips. your pulse was hammering directly into the cushion beneath you, your skin hyper-aware of the cool air traveling over your bare skin. why are you like this? why do you want him to do something?

with a gulp, you slowly let your muscles give way.

you spread your legs just an inch or two, exposing the wet patch blooming right through the center of your cotton panties.

caleb’s eyes dropped down.

he stared at the damp fabric for one long, unblinking second, but he just wordlessly forced his gaze back down to the lacerations on your right thigh, his throat moving as he swallowed hard. his hands became incredibly precise, almost stiff, as he rapidly laid the clean pad down and began winding the white gauze around your leg, securing it with three tight strips of medical tape.

once the final piece of tape was smoothed down against your skin, caleb didn't linger. he immediately picked up the discarded wrappers, dropping them into the white first-aid box and snapping the latches shut.

you blinked, the sudden withdrawal leaving you feeling strangely hollow. trying to shake the dizzying fog from your head, you leaned forward, your fingers reaching toward the floor to grab the discarded sweatpants.

“are you just going to leave it like that?”

caleb’s voice cut through the room, low and raspy. 

your hand froze on the fleece.

then, you looked up. he was still kneeling between your feet, his hands resting flat against his own knees. 

“do you want to take care of that too before we go?” he had asked.

the question left you staring at him, bewildered, with your mouth parting slightly. you felt yourself grow even wetter, the cotton clinging miserably to your skin as the ache intensified.

caleb didn't wait for a verbal answer, because your reaction was written entirely across your burning face.

he stared at you for one more second, and then, his hands reached forward, fingers wrapped firmly around the insides of your knees. with an unyielding pressure, he pushed his arms outward, spreading your legs even wider, just to leave you open and exposed to him.

he kept his dilated eyes locked directly onto yours from below, his mouth curving into a small smile. “i guess that makes the two of us, then.”

his thumbs swept slowly across your skin, tracing burning circles right over the edges of the fresh white bandages, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“you're shaking,” the contrast was dizzying—the innocent smile still pinned to his face while his pupils were dilated so wide they looked like pools of leaked ink. “is it because it's cold in here, [name]? or is it because you're finally realizing you belong right here?”

“shut up.” you choked out, your knuckles turning white as you dug your fingernails into the cushions beneath you. your brain was screaming at you, a siren warning you that this was the man who had carved into your flesh, the monster who had mapped out your entire life on a corkboard down the hall. 

but your body was operating on an entirely different command. the dampness between your legs had soaked through the cotton, and the cool air of the cabin rushing over your exposed skin made the ache unbearable.

caleb let out an amused hum, the sound vibrating against your bare knees as he slowly lowered his head. he leaned in close to your right leg, his warm breath fanning across your skin a second before his lips pressed down against your inner thigh.

god.

the kiss was slow, heavy, and searingly hot. he dragged his mouth upward, his lips parting slightly as he nipped at the soft skin just an inch away from the white gauze wrap. you let out an involuntary gasp, your hips jerking slightly against the couch.

“caleb—stop—” the protest was weak, entirely devoid of any real force.

“can't do that,” he whispered against your skin. “you're too wet, [name]. it's messy. let me clean it up for you.”

he shifted, dropping fully to both knees between your feet while his hands slid up from your knees, his palms flattening against the outsides of your hips, anchoring you into the cushions so firmly you couldn't move an inch even if you tried. he looked up at you one last time, a lovesick gaze taking over his features before he bent his head down completely.

his nose nudged the edge of your panties, pushing the damp cotton aside with a single finger until he found you.

when his tongue first made contact, a broken sob immediately tore right out of your throat.

“hngh-!”

it was slow. agonizingly slow. caleb wasn't rushing to finish, it was like he was testing you, studying the way your breath hitched, measuring just how much you resisted him. his tongue was broad, hot, and thick as he swiped it upward, tracing the sensitive length of your clit with his mouth. it made your toes curl inside his wool socks, your back arching off the couch.

“you can't... just...” your logic was losing the war, shattering into pieces under the heat of his mouth.

caleb let out a rumble of satisfaction against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh. he began to pick up the pace, his tongue lapping at you hungrily and drinking in the sweet taste of your cunt with an uncomfortably loud sucking. 

he was testing himself too, learning the exact angles that made you writhe, the specific way that made your breathing turn into desperate pants. every time you tried to pull away, tried to reassemble the logic that told you he was dangerous, he would use his tongue to push you right back over the edge, lapping you down from below until you were helpless under his control.

“you taste so good,” he gasped out, pulling away for a mere fraction of a second, his lips shiny and wet in the dim light before he buried his face right back between your thighs. “so perfect. i knew you would. i knew it.”

the heat between your thighs suddenly vanished, leaving the sensitive skin tingling and cold against the drafty air of the cabin. you let out a whine, your head tossing against the cushion as you blinked through the dizzying haze of pleasure.

but caleb didn't give you room to breathe.

he crawled up your body like a shadow, his large frame blocking out the rest of the room as he pinned you back down into the couch. he was panting, his purple eyes fixed on your face with a rabid hunger.

“you're... so loud for me, [name],” he rasped, his voice a deep, gravelly vibration that brushed against your burning cheek. “i love it. i love hearing what i do to you.”

before you could even gather the breath to respond, his hands slid up your torso, his fingers hooking into the front of the oversized flannel shirt. with one tug, he parted the fabric to bare your chest to the cool air and his scorching gaze. your breath hitched sharply as his eyes locked onto your breasts.

“...so beautiful. so perfect.” he breathed.

and immediately, caleb leaned down, his mouth targeting your left breast while his large hand cupped the right one, his calloused thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip with a pinch that made you arch off the cushions. when his hot tongue finally swiped across your nipple, a broken gasp tore out of your throat.

he took your nipple into his mouth, his lips locking around it as he sucked deeply, pulling the sensitive nub against the roof of his mouth. 

“caleb—ah! wait—” you whimpered, your hands flying to his broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscle to push him away.

your logic was screaming at you, a fading voice telling you how humiliating this was, how deeply wrong it was to be falling apart under the touch of the man who had orchestrated your capture. the shame burned hotter than the blush on your face. but even as your hands pressed against his shoulders to push, your hips instinctively tilted upward, begging for something more, for something else. 

caleb switched sides, his wet mouth dragging across your chest to devour your other breast, his tongue lapping and swirling around the stiff peak until you were panting.

“...you like it,” he murmured against your skin, “you want more, don't you? tell me.”

“no... i don't—ah!”

the lie died instantly in your throat, turning into a ragged sob as a sudden intrusion stretched you open from below.

while your mind had been entirely consumed by the sensation of his mouth on your tits, caleb had slid his hand back down your abdomen. his fingers had touched the cotton of your underwear, and without a single word of warning, he had buried two of his fingers deep inside your tight warmth.

the suddenness of it made your toes curl once more, your fingers instantly gripping his hair to pull him hard against your chest. his fingers were so long, stretching you open before he immediately began to pump them inside you, his knuckles rubbing hard against your clit with every thrust.

caleb's tongue dragged flat over your wet nipple, his teeth catching the peak just hard enough to make your hips jerk off the cushions. he sucked it deep into his mouth, chest expanding with a rough breath while his two fingers drove all the way into you, bottoming out against your tight walls.

the sliding sound of his knuckles against your soaked panties filled the space between you, sharp and uncomfortably loud.

caleb pulled his mouth away from your breast, his eyes locked onto yours with his messy bangs brushing your forehead. a slow, small smile crept across his lips—that same dependable expression he used when he was tending to you last night, now utterly curdled by the sight of you pinned beneath him like this.

“shh, it's okay,” he whispered, suddenly pulling his fingers out of your heat. “i'm just taking care of you, [name]. we can't have you getting into the truck all wet like this,” and then, he plunges them back into you much, much deeper again. “that'd be something, wouldn't it?” 

“fuck you,” you choked out, the curse losing all its weight when he suddenly hooked his fingers and drove them faster, hitting your spot with a punishing pace.

“ah—! caleb—”

you were a complete hypocrite. 

your brain was screaming at you that this was the man who had planned your isolation, the monster who had cut your legs, but your body was entirely detached from your sanity. shame burned hot in your throat, a nauseating weight in your stomach, but as he drove his fingers in even faster, your knees instinctively fell further apart.

you spread yourself wider for him, your thighs loosening and opening your pussy to his hands as you chased the pressure of his knuckles.

caleb let out a grunt that was followed by a chuckle, “hmm, look at you. look how wide you're opening up for me.”

he drove his hand in harder, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit, rubbing in circles with every wet thrust. 

“caleb, please—fuck—stop, it's too much—!”

“no, it's not?” he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath blooming against your skin. “you want this. just take it, [name]. let me finish taking care of you.”

the friction inside you became too much, the pressure of his knuckles building into a wave that you couldn't fight anymore. your breath caught in your chest, your fingers clawing uselessly at the fabric of his hoodie as you felt something tightening into a knot in your lower abdomen. your logic, your shame, the memory of the room down the hall—everything completely shattered as the sensation pushed you over the edge.

you fell straight into an orgasm.

“caleb—ah! caleb!”

your thighs convulsed, legs trembling against the cushions as you came hard right against his hand, the muscles inside you clamping down around his fingers in pulses. you were utterly mortified, tears of pure overstimulation stinging the corners of your eyes, but your body was utterly out of your control.

and caleb didn't stop.

even as your hips bucked and your legs shook, he kept his fingers inside you just to continue to pump his hand. he didn't slacken the pace for a single second, driving his hand in deep, forcing you to ride out the hypersensitive waves of the climax. 

“aw, look at that,” he squeezed and grunted his voice. “look how much you're cumming for me, [name].”

he gave two more deep, dragging thrusts, bottoming out against your walls one last time before he finally and slowly curled his fingers and pulled his hand out of you.

the sudden withdrawal left you feeling empty, shivering instantly as the cool air hit your wet skin. you lay there helpless, your arms thrown back against the cushions, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. 

you watched the way caleb lifted his wet hand, how his fingers were coated in your orgasm, shining in the low light. keeping his eyes locked onto yours, he brought his hand to his mouth and wrapped his lips around his middle fingers, sucking the slick moisture off his skin.

you widened your eyes, “hey, that's-”

he suddenly reached up, his palm resting gently on the top of your head. his fingers smoothed through your messy hair, patting you with a smile that felt terrifyingly domestic, like a pet owner rewarding a good animal. 

“there,” caleb murmured. “is that already better, [name]? did i take good care of it for you?”

he let his hand slide down from your hair, his thumb lightly brushing the side of your knee where your legs lay loose and parted against the cushions.

“no more legs tightening now, right?”

“shut up.”

caleb stayed kneeling between your feet for a few moments longer, his serene smile never wavering as his thumb traced a gentle circle on the side of your knee. “i'll get those pants for you now.” 

he stood up, his bare feet making no sound against the floor while he walked toward the hallway. you watched his broad frame disappear down the corridor, heading toward the bedroom—past the heavy wooden door that held the corkboards, the maps, the candid photos of your life, and the polaroids of the dead.

the second he was out of sight, the spell broke.

the fog in your brain cleared with a sudden, violent snap. the shame was a bitter taste in the back of your throat, but you couldn't afford to sink into it. your legs were loose now, the tight tension gone, replaced by a cold adrenaline. you sat up, your bare feet hitting the floor. 

you didn't wait for the new pants, instead you grabbed the discarded ones on the floor and put them back on again. 

then, your eyes locked onto the kitchen counter.

there, resting on the laminate wood right next to the empty glass of water, was the heavy metal keyring. the keys to the truck.

holding your breath, you stood up on your trembling, bandaged legs. every step was a sharp flare of agony against the fresh gauze, but you pushed through it, padding silently across the living room. your fingers closed around the cold metal of the keys, wrapping tight to keep them from jingling.

you turned toward the front door, before your hand gripped the brass deadbolt.

click.

the sound of the latch releasing felt as loud as a gunshot in the cabin.

“[name?]”

you didn't look back. you threw the door open, the air of the misty afternoon hitting your bare skin like a physical blow. you lunged out into the gray light, your wool-socked feet slipping on the wet grass as you sprinted toward the open hood of the truck.

slimming into the driver's seat, you jammed the key into the ignition and turned it. the engine roared to life, coughing violently before settling into a rumble.

through the grimy windshield, you saw him.

caleb had stepped out onto the porch of the cabin. he didn't run down the steps. he didn't scream your name. he just stood there in the mist, holding a pair of neatly folded red flannel pajama pants in his left hand. his eyes locked onto yours through the glass, his face entirely expressionless as the wind whipped his messy bangs across his forehead.

you slammed the truck into reverse, the tires spinning and spraying thick mud into the air as you backed out of the clearing. you threw the gear into drive, stamping your foot down on the gas pedal, tearing down the overgrown dirt track that led toward the highway.

the trees blurred past in a sickening rush of green and gray. you were breathing hard, tears finally spilling over your hot cheeks as you gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turned white. 

finally, you were escaping. you were going home.

but as your eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, watching the silhouette of the cabin disappear into the dense timber behind you, a sickening realization settled deep into your chest.

you had the truck. you had the keys. but he had the blueprints. he had your schedule, your routes, your predictable blind spots, and the black line drawn neatly across the face of everyone you loved. you were driving back to the city, back to your life, but you knew—with a certainty—that you were just moving along the exact path he had already paved for you.

the heat of the mid-noon always makes the wrapper stick to the cheap ice candy you’ve both bought from the corner store since you were kids. it’s a stupidly precise ritual—caleb rips the top off with his teeth, unfazed by the plastic cutting into his lip, and hands the half-melted orange block over to you before taking his own.

the walk back from granny’s nursing home is long enough for the initial heaviness of seeing her frail state to wear off, and it left just the familiar hum of the pavement and caleb’s shoulder occasionally brushing against yours.

“you're still wearing my grey hoodie,” caleb says, dropping his head back to blink up at the sun through the trees. “i almost got late to my class just looking for it.”

“wachu mean? it's mine now,” you take a bite of the ice candy, ignoring the brain freeze. “you left it on my bed months ago. soooo statute of limitations has passed.”

he snorts, shoving his free hand into his pocket. his stride is longer now, with a frame broader than it used to be when you first moved into the house, but the irritating tilt of his head is exactly the same. “that's not how the law works, kiddo. and for the record, it fits you like a fucking tent. it looks ridiculous.”

“it's comfortable.”

“it smells like you now, anyway. probably covered in whatever vanilla lotion you're obsessed with.” caleb stops mid-stride, turning his head to look down at you as a teasing smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “actually, did you shrink it? or did you just borrow it because you ran out of laundry day options again? also, right, i swear to god, if you're wearing my boxers as shorts around the house again, i’m putting a padlock on my dresser.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart does a small trip behind your ribs. “...it was one time. and they were clean! besides, they have a better drawstring than mine.”

“they're men's underwear, you absolute menace,” he laughs, an easy sound that vibrates in the space between you. “what is your future husband even going to say when he finds out you steal your brother's underwear?”

“you aren't my brother.” you make a popping sound on your ice candy.

“hmm, alright, baby sis.”

“and i'll tell my future hubby he has to share his clothes too, if he's half as dramatic as you, i'll just divorce him.”

“nah.” caleb leans in while still walking, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. “whoever you marry is going to have to deal with me first. i’m going to be the worst brother-in-law in human history. i’ll show up at your house at two in the morning just to tell him all the embarrassing stories from when you were nine.”

“you wouldn't dare.”

“try me,” he suddenly reaches out and plants his thumb right against the corner of your lip, wiping away a stray drop of melting orange ice. his skin is warm, rougher than it used to be, and his thumb lingers for just a beat too long against your skin before he pulls it back. “you've got sticky stuff on your face, as usual.”

you blink, your throat suddenly feeling dry despite the ice candy. you look away first, focusing hard on the cracked pavement ahead. 

as you arrive back at home, the heavy front door clicks shut behind you, sealing out the heat and replacing it with the slightly hollow coolness of the house. without granny there, the air feels different—thicker, somehow, and much too big for just the two of you.

caleb dumps his keys on the entryway bowl with a loud clatter, already peeling off his sneakers with his feet without unlacing them. “god, i'm starving,” he walks straight toward the kitchen island, pulling a cutting board from the rack. “i'm making those wraps from the leftover chicken. you want one?”

”yeah,” you mutter, slumping against the kitchen counter, watching his broad back as he reaches into the fridge. he moves with the effortless familiarity of someone who owns every square inch of the space. he’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms shifting as he grabs a knife and starts chopping lettuce like a husband material.

“hey, you watered the ferns by the window sill today, right? gran said they need a misting every morning or the leaves start turning yellow.” he says casually, not breaking his pace with the knife. 

silence...

your eyes darted toward the living room window where the row of clay pots sits under the harsh sunlight. the soil looks bone-dry. fuck, you completely forgot! again!

caleb pauses his chopping, “so you didn't.”

“i-i was going to!” you blurt out, immediately spinning on your heel to head toward the sink to grab the watering can. “i'm doing it right now, see? i just got distracted by the—”

“uh-uh. too late.” 

before your fingers can even touch the plastic handle of the watering can, a pair of heavy arms wraps around your waist from behind. caleb instantly lifts you clean off your feet! with a grunt of easy effort, he pivots, hoisting you over his shoulder like a literal sack of rice. the sudden rush of gravity sends your head rushing with your stomach pressing into his shoulder.

“you—?! caleb! put me down, you idiot!” 

“how many times do i have to tell you, pips? gran is literally going to haunt us from the nursing home if her pothos dies,” he grumbles, totally unfazed by your squirming as he marches into the living room. “this is the hundredth time this week. you have such a short-term memory.”

“i just forgot, okay?! let go!”

“nope. punishment.”

he dumps you unceremoniously onto the plush cushions of the couch. and before you can even scramble to sit up and escape, caleb instantly drops his weight over you, pinning your thighs down with his knees and digging his fingers straight into your ribs.

“caleb—no! stop! fuck, caleb, i'm sorry!” you shriek, throwing your head back into the pillows while your entire body convulses into a breathless laughter. you twist and writhe beneath him, but he’s too heavy, his hands finding every single ticklish spot along your waist.

“say you're sorry to the plants,” 

“i'm sorry! i'm sorry to them! i'll water them with my tears, just stop!” you gasp, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. you try to push his chest, your hands sliding against the thin fabric of his t-shirt. but shit isn't he huge.

caleb just laughs, a breathlessly rough sound, and catches your wrists, pinning them over your head into the cushions. he traps you just to lean down so close you can smell the faint scent of the ice candy on his breath. it turns into a messy grunting wrestling match, your legs flailing against his hips as you try to dislodge him.

“aw, you're so weak,” he taunts, his chest rising and falling heavily against yours. “how are you gonna—”

but out of pure survival instinct, you wrench one leg free and drive your knee straight upward, landing a blunt kick into his stomach.

hiya!

“umf—!” a sharp intake of air cuts his laugh off, and his face contorts in genuine pain for a second, his grip tightening instinctively.

“oh my god, are you okay—?”

“you little brat,” out of sheer retaliation and to neutralize your defense, caleb reaches down and grabs your ankle in a vicelike grip. with a heavy shove of his forearm, he pushes your leg wide across the back cushion, effectively pinning your knees completely apart to lock you down.

what the fuck, wait.

the position is suddenly so intimate. 

you are open beneath him, legs spread wide and hips locked under his, and the sheer weight of his frame is utterly undeniable. it's annoying how your heart thumps violently against your ribs now—no, not from laughter, but it's from a dizzying wave of ...heat. 

but caleb is just blinking down at you, his chest still heaving from the exertion. his hand is still wrapped tightly around your ankle, fingers burning hot against your bare skin. he’s looking at your face with a slightly annoyed puff of air escaping his lips while he nurses his stomach with his other hand.

“you seriously fucking kick like a mule,” he mutters, ignoring—or totally oblivious to—the fact that he is holding you in a position that feels too inappropriate for two people who share a last name on an adoption certificate. but he doesn't let go. he just hovers there. “should i leave you like this till lunch is done?”

you force your voice not to tremble, swallowing down the dry lump of panic in your throat. “get the fuck off me, caleb. seriously. you’re being weird.”

caleb raises a brow, his head tilting to the side as he stares down at you. “weird? what's weird about this? the only thing weird here is that you just broke my ribs with your knee and you haven't even apologized.” he lets out a scolding click of his tongue, his hand tightening around your ankle just enough to remind you that you aren't going anywhere. “matter of fact, you need a punishment for that. you gotta learn your place, you little girl.”

“caleb, don't—”

before you can even finish the sentence, caleb leans down. without a hint of hesitation, he sinks his teeth straight into the soft flesh just below the hem of your shorts. 

your breath hitches sharply, the sudden sting of his teeth sending a jolt straight down your spine. and he bites down even harder! the pressure of his jaw leaving a deep, burning ache against your skin.

“okay! okay, fuck i'm sorry!” you whimper, hands clawing futilely at the couch cushions. “i'm sorry, caleb,”

he finally releases your skin, but the playful retort you're expecting doesn't come. 

he's strangely quiet. 

and for a second, it feels like there is something complicated inside his head. his eyes are unreadable as they track the red imprint of his teeth on your leg.

“caleb...?”

he leans in even closer, his shadow completely engulfing you. your eyes widen as he buries his face right into the crook of your neck while his nose brush against your collarbone.

what the hell is he doing? what is he pulling right now?

how can he be so comfortable doing this? how can he just occupy your space so ruthlessly while you're paralyzed like this beneath him?

you feel the warm puff of his breath against your bare skin as he takes an inhale. his nose slides lower, brushing past your jaw, trailing a path of goosebumps down to the heat of your chest before he takes another long sniff. you can feel the exact weight of his chest pressing into yours, the hard line of his thighs pinning you open.

but the sudden groan coming from him wakes you up. 

“knew it. you used my body wash again,” he finally pulls back, sitting up on his knees but still hovering over you. there's that familiar scowl returning to his face. “i knew i wasn't crazy. ugh you're really annoying, pipsss.”

ah. oh. alright.

that was it.

the suffocating knot in your chest uncoils, a wave of dizzying relief—and a bitter sting of disappointment—washing over you. it was just because of a body wash. not because he was looking at you differently. not because he felt the same pull that you did. it was just caleb being caleb.

“it smells better than mine,” you manage to choke out, forcing your voice back into its usual defensive cadence even as your heart refuses to slow down.

“buy your own.” he finally lets go of your ankle and pulls his weight off you. 

that was your life with caleb.

the house, once bursting at the seams with granny’s presence and the sweet smell of her liniment, suddenly feels too big for just the two of you. it's a stage built for a larger cast, yet only you and caleb remain to play house in the quiet.

every saturday morning is the same. you both pack her favorite soft biscuits into a tin container, ride the bumpy bus down to the bright walls of the nursing home, and sit by her bed. and then caleb would play the part of the dutiful grandson—smiling wide, kissing her paper-thin cheek, laughing at jokes she’s told a hundred times before. but then sunday night rolls around, and the silence settles back into the floorboards like dust.

then come the weekdays when college classes split your schedules into mismatched pieces. there are quiet mornings where you wake up to the smell of burnt toast and find a messy note scribbled on a napkin: leftover rice is mine, touch it and die. there are rainy afternoons where you sit alone in the living room, listening to the water hit the glass and wondering if his lecture ran late or if he’s simply loitering somewhere else.

then, your life with caleb became a collection of tiny petty wars fought in the shadows of granny’s absence. you steal his oversized socks because yours are all lost in the dryer. he retaliation-hides your favorite hair clips in the freezer. you scream at him for leaving his damp towel on the bathroom floor; he barks back at you for leaving the milk carton empty inside the fridge. it's the noisy camouflage you both wear so nobody looks too closely at the spaces where your skins accidentally linger, or the way his eyes track your movements when he thinks you aren't paying attention.

until the afternoon it breaks.

it happens on a tuesday, right in the crowded heat of the university's cafeteria hall. you're sitting across a guy from your major block, sharing a plate of fries and talking about a group project. it's entirely innocent, entirely mundane... but then a shadow falls over the plastic table, and you look up to find caleb standing there.

sliding into the seat right next to you, uninvited, he slung a heavy arm over the back of your chair and grinned a bright smile at your terrified classmate.

“so, who's the friend, (name)?” caleb had asked, and for the rest of the day, and all through the walk home, he had relentlessly poked at you. 

is he your boyfriend? 

does he know you still wet your bed? 

should i invite him over for tea so i can interrogate him?

he laughed and nudged your shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief, but beneath the playful banter, there was... something else?

which brings you to friday night.

the old grandfather clock in the living room ticks with a rhythmic thud that echoes through the empty house. 

11:03 pm.

you're curled up on the edge of the sofa, the screen of your phone casting a blue glow across your face. you’ve already sent seven texts to him. you’ve called three times, each one going straight to voicemail, the robotic operator telling you what you already know: he isn't answering.

where the hell is he?

caleb never stays out this late without a word? he's the dependable one, the good boy who always sends a quick text to let you know if he's grabbing drinks with his friends or staying late at the library. but tonight, there is nothing. just the empty house and the sickeningly dark windows staring back at you. your chest feels tight, a heavy knot of anxiety twisting in your gut. is he with someone? did he finally decide to try his luck with one of the girls who always leave comments on his photos?

screech! 

you almost jumped out of your skin when the front gates sounded with a sudden noise, which means... caleb is finally home. 

seconds later, the main door unlocks with a clumsy, fumbling click. and when it swings open, caleb is standing in the threshold, the cool night air rolling in behind him. he looks like a complete mess with his varsity jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, uniform shirt half-untucked, wrinkling out from beneath a dark hoodie.

you don’t even give him a chance to step fully inside before you cross the living room, your bare feet slapping angrily against the cold floorboards. “where the hell have you been? why didn't you text me back? i called you several times!”

caleb doesn't shoot back with his usual retort. instead, he just stands there, blinking down at you through slightly unfocused eyes. a slow, crooked smile creeps onto his face, looking incredibly stupid and entirely too relaxed. as he steps closer, the sweet-and-sour sting of alcohol hits your nose.

so he’s drunk.

“hey,” he mumbles, his voice thick and dropping an octave lower than usual. “you're still awake.”

“obviously i'm still awake! i was worried sick, you absolute—”

you couldn't even finish yourself before he suddenly tilts forward, his entire upper body collapsing right against your shoulder. your breath instantly gets knocked out of you as your arms instinctively fly up to catch him, fingers digging into the thick fabric of his hoodie. damn, he is heavy. the broad weight of his chest presses completely into yours, burying his face right into the crook of your neck as he lets out a long, hot sigh against your skin.

“did you drink? caleb, are you fucking serious?” you strain against his weight, your heart doing a panicked dance behind your ribs. “get off me! where did you even go?”

“just... a house party, some guys invited me. didn't check my phone.” he muttered into your shoulder. 

a sharp spike of jealousy and irritation then flares up in your gut. the thought of him surrounded by crowded rooms, flashing lights, and girls trying to get his attention makes you lose your temper. with a frustrated grunt, you plant both hands against his chest and shove him away with all the strength you have left, throwing him straight backward onto the couch cushions.

caleb hits the plush sofa with a heavy thud, his limbs sprawling out awkwardly. “fuck—!” he winces, a sharp groan slipping past his lips as he rubs his shoulder, glaring up at you through his messy hair. “what the hell? that actually hurt.”

“good! you deserve it!” you snap, crossing your arms tightly over your chest to stop your hands from shaking. “just because you’re in college and granny isn't here to monitor you doesn't mean you can just run around doing whatever you want! going to parties, drinking until you can barely walk... did you kiss someone? did you do something stupid? are you trying to get yourself kicked out?”

caleb just stares up at you from the cushions, his irritated expression suddenly melting away into an amused chortle. the sound rumbles deep in his throat, dark and dripping with that infuriatingly lazy charm.

“look at you,” he giggles, a breathlessly drunken sound as he throws his head back against the sofa. “you’re acting exactly like a mother. it’s hilarious.”

“i'm trying to look out for you, you idiot.”

“why do you even care so much?” caleb asks, his laughter suddenly cutting off. he rolls his head to the side, eyes locking onto yours. “it’s not like we're actually blood-related, pipsqueak. you don't have to keep tabs on me like i'm your real brother.”

the living room goes dead silent. 

the grandfather clock ticks loudly in the background, but the sound feels miles away. you freeze in place, your tongue suddenly turning to lead, your eyes wide as you blink down at him. not blood-related. well, it’s the absolute truth, the reality you both dance around every single day, yet hearing him say it out loud feels like a line has been... crossed. 

you swallow down the bitter taste of hurt and confusion, forcing your expression into a blank mask. “fine, do whatever you want. drink yourself to death for all i care.”

without waiting for a response, you spin on your heel and walk away. you march down the hallway, slip into your bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind you, clicking the lock into place before leaning your back against the wood. 

back in the living room, caleb stays exactly where you left him, staring up at the shadow-drenched ceiling.

the stupid smile completely vanishes from his face, replaced by a bitter twist of his lips. “ahah...” he runs a frustrated hand over his face, fingers dragging through his hair as he lets out a sharp exhale into the quiet house.

god, he hates it. he absolutely loathes the sibling label the two of you have used as a shield for the last ten years. he hates that the only way he can get you to look at him with that much intensity, the only way he can pull those reactions out of you, is by pretending to be the very thing he wishes he wasn't.

—

by the following week, the threads holding your carefully constructed reality together begin to fray and knot in ways you can't control. 

the afternoon sun is heavy and suffocating when you finally push the front gate of your house open after a brutal three-hour lecture block. your feet ache and your shoulders are stiff from carrying a backpack loaded with textbooks, and on top of that, your stomach is letting out an aggressive growl. the only thing keeping you moving up the driveway was the thought of caleb’s cooking. for all his agonizing flaws, the boy knew how to handle a kitchen and you were ready to swallow your pride if it meant getting a plate of his garlic rice.

you twist the doorknob, stepping into the familiar coolness of the entryway. “caleb, i'm starving, did you leave any—”

the words die in your throat.

the living room, usually your shared sanctuary of quiet television static and stolen snacks, is suddenly alive with noise. the tv screen flashes with the chaotic colors of a multiplayer racing game with the volume cranked up high. and there, sitting cross-legged right on the carpet across the floor, are two people.

caleb is leaning forward, jaw tight with mock seriousness as his thumbs fly across the controller, and right next to him... is hyeran.

you know exactly who she is. she’s in the same year and department as caleb’s, one of those effortlessly pretty girls who always seem to be at the center of caleb’s university friend group, laughing a little too loudly at his jokes by the campus benches. right now, she’s screaming in frustration, her shoulder bumping solidly into caleb’s as her car spins out on the screen. in response, caleb throws his head back, letting out a boisterous laugh that you rarely hear him share with anyone outside these walls.

the sudden clatter of your keys hitting the entryway bowl cuts through the noise like a knife.

caleb and hyeran pauses mid-game, turning their heads simultaneously to look at you standing there in your wrinkled uniform. 

shit. this is fucking awkward.

“oh! hey, pips!” caleb doesn't scramble up or look guilty; he just offers a lazy wave of his controller. “you're home early. lecture got cut short?”

“uh, yeah,” you force out, your throat feeling suddenly tight as you grip the straps of your backpack. you adjust your expression, plastering on a polite smile that feels completely hollow against your cheeks. “hi, hyeran.”

“hi, (name)! oh my gosh, sorry for the noise,” hyeran chimes in, offering a warm smile that makes your stomach do a bitter flip. she looks so perfectly at home sitting on your living room rug, her canvas bag spilled open near granny’s favorite armchair. “your big bro told me i could borrow his notes, and then trapped me into playing this stupid game.”

you blink.

he isn't my fucking big bro.

“don't lie, you wanted the rematch,” caleb jests, nudging her with his elbow. 

“i'm just going to... grab a snack.” you mutter, desperately needing a barrier between yourself and the display on the floor.

you walk past them, your eyes locked firmly ahead as you retreat behind the kitchen island counter. the kitchen layout is an open-concept, completely overseeing the living room, meaning there is nowhere to hide. you can see everything. to keep your hands busy and stop them from shaking, you pull a bowl of apples and a small paring knife toward you.

you begin peeling the fruit, the sharp blade slicing through the red skin in one continuous ribbon.

“caleb mentioned you're still a freshman, right?” hyeran asks, twisting her torso around to lean against the edge of the sofa, looking up at you over the counter with curiosity. “how is it? 'cause when i was in your shoes, i can baaaarely handle the workload.”

“it's fine. just a lot of memorization,” you cut a slice of the apple, popping it into your mouth and chewing. “you just have to manage your time. which some people in this house clearly don't know how to do.”

“hey, i heard that. (name) loves to pretend she's the responsible one, hyeran. don't let the uniform fool you. she literally forgot to water granny's plants thrice last week.” caleb interjects, not looking back as he unpauses the game.

“it was only once, you liar.” 

“whatever helps you sleep at night, sis.” 

hyeran giggles, turning back to the screen as the countdown for the next round starts. “you two really argue like real siblings, it's so cute. my brothers just ignore me.”

siblings. there it is again. that stupid, suffocating word.

you stand behind the counter, a half-peeled apple in one hand and the paring knife in the other, then you look at caleb. 

he’s doing this on purpose, is he? you know him too well not to see the edge beneath his playful demeanor. he’s showing you what life looks like when he plays by the rules you both set—the rules that say he is just a brother, and that he is perfectly free to bring other girls into the house you share.

caleb and hyeran continue to play the last few rounds of the game, their voices rising in cheerful bursts of laughter that fill the empty space where granny used to be. and you can only stand there, chewing on your tasteless fruit, staring at the back of caleb’s head with a sarcastic scowl.

this little bitch.

if this is the game, then you're going to be a better player.

if caleb wants to play a game of boundaries, you are going to show him exactly how it feels to have the board flipped. two can play the petty game of bringing people into a space where they don’t belong. if he can bring his shiny giggling friend into the living room, then you are going to give a certain someone else the time of day.

the very next morning, you seek out valko.

valko is the kind of blockmate who has spent the last semester treating your existence like a personal challenge. he’s loud, entirely too confident, and has spent months throwing flirty remarks your way—advances you’ve always shot down with a sharp roll of your eyes or a cold shoulder. so when you walk straight up to his desk before the morning lecture, leaning against the wood and offering a small smile, the confusion on his face was almost comical.

“you're... talking to me? no biting remarks? no telling me to get lost?” valko's eyebrows shot up as he stops shuffling through his tablet. 

“maybe i'm just tired of being mean,” you say smoothly, tilting your head in a way you know looks casual, though your pulse is racing for an entirely different reason. “can't a blockmate just be friendly?”

valko isn’t a fool, but he’s certainly not going to complain about a sudden miracle. by the time the final bell rings at four in the afternoon, he’s already dangling his car keys between his fingers, blocking your path out of the lecture hall with a triumphant grin. “hey, since we're being friendly now, (name), let me give you a ride home. the clouds look heavy anyway. don't want you catching a cold.”

you hesitate for a fraction of a second, thinking of the dusty pavement and the walk you usually take, but then you picture caleb’s stupidly smug face from yesterday. “sure!” you say clearly, loud enough for a few surrounding classmates to hear. “thanks, valko.”

the walk to the student parking lot earns you exactly what you wanted: stares. a lot of them. whispers ripple through the department cliques as you slide into the passenger seat of valko’s surprisingly clean sedan. word travels fast on campus, and you know for a fact that caleb’s friends hang around the same smoking area right outside the parking exit.

the drive to your house is filled with the low hum of the air conditioner and valko’s easy chatter. but as the car finally pulls up along the familiar front gates of your house, the atmosphere inside the vehicle turns... awkward. 

valko cuts the engine, his hands lingering on the steering wheel as he looks at the closed facade of the house. “so,” valko clears his throat, his eyes darting toward the front door. “your, uh... your big brother. caleb. is he home?”

you blink, “probably. why?”

valko lets out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “nnnothing, it's just... that guy is terrifyingly annoying. i saw that hunk staring at me in the cafeteria last week like he wanted to fuckin' dissect me. i don’t really fancy getting my head bitten off just because i drove his little sister home.”

you let out a breathless chuckle, the word sister grating against your nerves like sandpaper. you reach for the door handle, turning back to look at valko. “you don't have to worry about him, valko. and for the record... caleb and i aren't real siblings. we're not blood-related at all. his granny just took me in.”

valko’s eyebrows twitch upward, a sudden glint of renewed interest lighting up his eyes. “oh. seriously? huh. i didn't know that.”

“yep! well. thanks for the ride,” you say, pushing the car door open and stepping out into the humid afternoon air.

but valko doesn't just let you leave. he rolls down the passenger side window immediately, leaning over the console to keep the thread of the conversation tightly pulled. “hey, (name), wait—so if he's not your actual brother, does that mean i don't need his permission to take you out for real next time?”

valko cheekily smiles.

you idle right outside his side of the window, your fingers gripping the strap of your bag, keeping your expression light and teasing even as your eyes instinctively drift toward the glass of the living room window. “maybe, haha, you'll just have to ask nicely...”

“pipsqueak!”

the familiar shout cuts through the air. you immediately turn your head toward the source, only to see caleb jogging down the sidewalk toward the driveway with a bright smile splitting his face. before you can even process what he's up to, he closes the distance, throws his heavy arms around your waist, and lifts you clean off the asphalt.

he spins you around in a breathlessly joyful circle, his laughter vibrating hard against your chest.

“caleb! what's up? put me down!” you frown in utter confusion, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. inside the sedan, valko’s eyebrows knit together, his frown deepening by the second.

“you know what's up?” caleb sets you back down but doesn't let go. his large hands stay clamped firmly onto your upper arms, his eyes wide and gleaming with pure excitement. “we won, pips! our team won the interschool championship game!”

and because of that, the bitterness from the past week evaporates. your eyes light up, a wide smile breaking across your face. “oh my god, seriously? that’s amazing!”

“i know!” he laughs, pulling you back into an another tightly crushing hug. like he's using you as a lightning rod for all his manic energy, burying his face in your hair and all that. 

thwack!

the car door behind caleb suddenly flies open, the heavy edge of the metal panel smacking squarely into his lower back.

“ah—” caleb winces, a sharp groan escaping him as he stumbles forward, forced to break his hold on you. he wheels around, eyes instantly hardening into something cold when valko steps out of the sedan.

“oops, sorry about that, mate,” valko grins, pulling his lips into an awkward one. “i didn't see you standing right in the swing of the door. anyway-uh, i'm valko, (name)'s blockmate.”

caleb straightens up to his full height, his broad shoulders squaring as he looks at the guy. the warm, golden-boy smile he gives valko is entirely rigid. “right, valko. i've heard. what brings you to our driveway?”

“just driving (name) home from campus,” valko replies, matching caleb’s forced courtesy. “and making sure she got back safe. well... you must be the big brother she mentioned.”

“something like that,” 

“uhm, valko was just—” you stepped between them to clear up the mounting friction, but valko cuts you off completely.

he looks caleb straight in the eye, tilting his chin up. “actually, since you're here, i think it's only fair to tell you directly. i've decided i'm going to start courting (name).”

“cough, what?”

what?

both you and caleb widen your eyes, the world going dead silent.

“and honestly, man,” valko adds, crossing his arms and offering a smug tilt of his chin before either of you can even draw breath, “you probably shouldn't be hugging her too easily like that anymore. since, you know, i’m going to start dating her.”

you internally facepalm so hard your brain rattles. oh my god. what did you just get yourself into? valko had completely, catastrophically misread the entire situation. he thought he was playing the part of the chivalrous alpha suitor, oblivious to the fact that he was currently standing in a radioactive strike zone.

but then, a part of your brain clicks into gear. you wanted a reaction out of caleb, didn't you? you wanted to wipe that infuriatingly smug, "i-can-bring-girls-to-the-house" look off his face. maybe this trainwreck of a misunderstanding was exactly what you needed.

you let out a sigh, turning away from caleb to face valko with a perfectly practiced look. “it's fine, valko. caleb is just... a guy i grew up with. really. nothing else. just two kids who happened to live under the same roof.”

valko blinks, processing this, his chest puffing out a little more. “so... like childhood friends?”

“yeah!” you nod quickly, your tone a little too casual and a little too dismissive. “yeah, exactly. childhood friends. that's the perfect way to describe us.”

from the corner of your eye, you feel the exact moment caleb’s gaze burns into the side of your face. you glance up at him, and sure enough, he is staring down at you with a sarcastic scowl—the exact, burning, “this-little-bitch” look you had given him behind the kitchen counter yesterday. the silent, petty warfare is screaming between you two.

valko, blind to the silent daggers being thrown over his head, scoffs and shakes his head. “right. childhood friends. uh, honestly, i don't really buy that whole thing. there’s no way a guy and a girl can just be friends without something else going on. it’s usually just an excuse to keep someone within arm's reach.”

your heart does a nervous, jittery little skip. you quickly scramble to patch up the defense before valko digs too deep into the truth. “no, it's not like that at all! caleb is... he's like a brother to me. we're basically siblings.”

“but we... aren't siblings though.”

caleb’s voice cuts through your sentence like a blunt blade.

you freeze, your tongue going dry as you slowly pause and look up at him.

“i'm not your brother, (name).” 

what the actual hell is he talking about?

your hands go hot and sweaty against your side. this is the exact same guy who, just a few days ago while dead drunk, threw the “not blood-related” card in your face to push you away and tell you to mind your own business. he was the one reinforcing the stupid label, using it as a shield to bring other girls around—and now, right in front of the guy who just announced he wants to court you, he’s arguing the exact opposite?

you stand there completely wordless, the nervous jittery tension tight enough to snap. valko shifts his weight across caleb, looking suddenly confused by the sudden shift in the air, but caleb doesn't even glance back at him.

he keeps his eyes entirely on you.

valko clicks his tongue.

“right,” he blurted out, deliberately stepping sideways to cut off caleb’s line of sight and forcing his way back into your field of vision. “anyway! you look kind of... tight right now, (name), like your shoulders are up to your ears. there's that street-food stall down the block that sells those pork dumplings. why don't we go grab a plate? my treat. it'll help you unwind.”

your brain, currently fried from caleb, scrambles for a normal human response. “oh—uh, dumplings? i mean, i guess i could—i mean, sure, that sounds—”

“‘oh—uh, dumplings? i mean, i guess i could-’” caleb instantly parroted, his voice pitching into a ridiculous falsetto that sounded absolutely nothing like you. he slouched his shoulders, batting his eyelashes in a grotesque mimicry of modesty that made your fist twitch. “‘i guess i could eat a little dumpling, valko!’”

valko raised a brow.

“caleb, shut up!” 

“i'm just saying,” caleb hummed at you, casually sliding his hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. his thumb swiped across the screen with a smirk. “i should probably just dial up gran's unit real quick. let the nursing staff hold the receiver up to her ear so i can tell her that her precious adopted granddaughter is already out here in the driveway, ignoring her chores, just to eat cheap meat down the street with random guys from the university.”

he tilted his head, giving you a look of fabricated pity. 

“man, she’s going to get reeaaally upset, pips. you know how her blood pressure gets when she finds out you're being irresponsible.”

“you wouldn't dare!” you gasped, your lungs seizing up. granny loved you, but she was a traditional woman who would absolutely launch a long-distance lecture about decorum through the phone lines if caleb fed her some twisted version of reality. “give me that!”

you lunged forward, throwing your weight against his side as you reached wildly for the device. but caleb had been anticipating the movement since the moment you took a breath. with a delighted chuckle, he simply straightened his spine, extending his long arm straight up into the air. because he had grown nearly a foot taller than you over the last three years, the phone might as well have been on the roof of the house.

“come on, grab it, pipsqueak,” he was solid as a brick wall! his chest vibrating against your forehead as he laughed down at your frustration. “you’re too short it's embarrassing.”

“caleb, i swear to god, drop your arm right now or i will kick you again!”

“hey, (name).”

you paused, breathless and flushed, looking back over your shoulder. valko had stepped closer, his expression a mix of irritation at being ignored and a tryhard desire to look like the savior of the narrative. before you could scramble away from caleb's side, valko reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around your right wrist.

“don't worry about him,” valko said, giving your wrist a soft, encouraging tug toward the open street. “come on, let's just go get the food. ignore the noise.”

the physical touch sent a strange jolt of awkwardness through you, and you instinctively took a step forward, your shoes clicking against the pavement while valko started walking you down the street.

snap.

a second basket of heat clamped down around your left wrist.

you blinked in utter surprise, your head whipping back around so fast your neck cracked.

caleb had also... wrapped his fingers around your opposite wrist. your right arm was pulled toward valko; your left arm was locked tight by caleb. you were literally being pulled in two different directions like a wishbone.

you stared at caleb, your heart doing a series of unpredictable thuds against your ribs. “what is up with you today, caleb...?”

“what?” he murmured, giving your arm a tiny, playful yank back toward his chest. “i want to eat dumplings too.”

—

and then, there you were. 

the plastic stool beneath you wobbles every time someone passes the cramped table, but that's the least of your concerns. the air inside the tiny stall feels thick with the steam of boiling pork broth and the sting of chili oil. meanwhile, you're squeezed into the center of a very narrow wooden bench, a literal buffer zone between two opposite poles.

to your right is valko, leaning his elbow on the table and entirely absorbed in trying to keep your attention locked on him. then, to your left is caleb. he hasn't uttered a single syllable since you all sat down, choosing instead to stare ahead like a brooding gargoyle while a single plate of steaming dumplings sits between the three of you.

“no, seriously, (name),” valko shakes his head with a wide grin while he dips a dumpling into a small saucer of soy sauce. “professor actually looked me dead in the eye during the anatomy practical. i swear the man has a personal vendetta against me.”

you let out a breathless laugh. “maybe if you didn't sketch caricatures of him, he’d give you some grace.”

valko chuckles back, his shoulder nudging yours beneath the cramped table space. “hey, that was art. it showed appreciation for his eyebrows.”

slurrrrrp. smack. clack.

the sudden loud sound of chopsticks scraping against a plastic bowl cuts right through your shared laughter.

you blink, your head snapping toward the left side of the bench. caleb has his face nearly buried in his bowl as he takes a dripping piece of garlic-chili cabbage, shoves it into his mouth, and smacks his lips together with an obnoxious noise.

valko's grin falters slightly, his eyes darting over your head toward caleb. but caleb doesn't even look back. he just reaches across the small table, his long arm deliberately cutting off valko's view of you, and stabs another dumpling with such unnecessary force that the wrapper splits open with a wet pop.

“anyway,” you say quickly, your cheeks turning a frantic shade of pink as you try to steer the conversation back before caleb derails the establishment. “so... did you fail the practical or what?”

“uh, no, i managed a passing grade," valko says, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the absolute menace sitting next to you. “but after that, i had to spend two hours in the library just trying to—”

crunch. crunch. crunch.

caleb has now unearthed a bag of fried pork rinds from his pocket, snapping them between his teeth with a crunch. he leans back against the wooden bench, long legs splayed wide under the tiny table—his knee bumping solidly against yours with an insistence that makes you grind your teeth.

you glare at him, this little bitch is doing this on purpose.

caleb finally rolls his head over to look down at you. he takes another obnoxious bite of a pork rind, chewing it open-mouthed while raising a mocking eyebrow at you, like he was daring you to say something about it in front of your new suitor.

valko clears his throat, determined to plow through caleb's warfare like a true soldier of romance. he leans in a little closer, voice dropping into what he clearly thinks is an intimate tone. “so, anyway... since the weather's supposed to be nice this weekend, i was thinking maybe we could head down to that new cafe by the harbor? the one with the outdoor seating? we could—”

shrrrrrk!

caleb hooks his shoe around the bottom rung of your stool and, with one casual yank of his leg, slides your entire body a whole foot to the left. you instantly collide with his side, your shoulder smacking right against his solid bicep.

“what the...” you gasp, your hands flying out to grip the edge of the greasy table so you don't tip over.

but caleb doesn't even look up from his plate. he casually scoops up the last dumpling, pops it into his mouth, and speaks around it with unbothered calm. “hurry up and finish eating. we have to get back. we still have to feed our pet.“

you blink, your eyebrows nearly disappearing into your hairline. “since when do you care about the turtle?”

“i've always cared about him,” caleb turns his head to look down at you. “he's a vital member of the household.”

“i'm the only one who ever feeds him? you haven't touched his pellet container since 2024.”

“people change, sis. i've formed a bond with him over the last twenty-four hours,” caleb hums, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as his knee bumps against yours under the table again. “and right now, he's starving. we're being bad parents. so eat.”

meanwhile, valko sits on the right side of the table, his mouth slightly open. he looks at your stool, which is now physically closer to caleb than it is to him, and lets out a long defeated breath through his nose. he clearly wants to argue, but trying to debate the nutritional schedule of a reptile with a guy who looks like he could bench-press the entire dumpling stall seems like a losing battle.

so the poor guy chooses to remain quiet. 

—

the very second the lock of the house clicked shut, your polite “public” face melted completely away, and you turned into a breathing volcano. “you are an actual child, caleb!” you started prattling instantly, tossing your heavy backpack onto the floor with a loud thud. your words tumbled out in a rush as you kicked off your shoes. “seriously, what was that? pulling my stool? making those obnoxious caveman noises? you were being a weirdo and an annoying prick for absolutely no reason. i feel so bad for...”

you spun around to give him a piece of your mind, but you paused.

there caleb was, leaning lazily against the doorway with his big arms crossed over his chest. he was staring down at you with a massive sarcastic scowl. ugh! he even had the nerve to look at you like youwere the one who had just ruined a perfectly good dumpling date over the turtle! 

you mirrored his posture, locking your arms tight and tilting your chin up. “don't look at me like that. what is your actual problem today?”

instead of snapping back, a slow little smirk began to crawl onto caleb's face. oh, he was loving this. this was his absolute favorite game in the world, and you had just walked right into his trap. wordlessly, he unclipped himself from the doorframe and took a deliberate step toward you. and then another.

you instinctively took a step back, but clack—your hips hit the hard edge of the open kitchen counter. 

you were cornered.

“my problem?“ now, caleb loomed over you, placing one palm on the counter right next to your waist to trap you in his shadow. “i don’t have a problem, pipsqueak. i was just being a protective big bro to you. isn’t that the label we chose?”

“protective? you looked like a lunatic!” you fired back, your face turning a furious shade of pink. “you were intentionally trying to ruin my conversation! for your information, you don't own me, caleb. if i want to go out and get dumplings with valko, i am allowed to.”

“with him?” caleb let out a chuckle, leaning down an inch closer until you could feel the warmth of his body. he was utterly enjoying how flustered and mad he was making you. “come on, the guy looks like he struggles with basic math. his hair looks like a bird nested in it. you seriously have zero taste.”

“huh, at least he doesn't bring random girls into our living room to scream at video games all afternoon! you had hyeran over here yesterday behaving like she owns the couch. if you can do stuff like that, why can't i?”

caleb’s smirk grew even wider, a quiet triumph gleaming in his eyes. ah, his face seemed to say, so that’s what this is really about.

“oh, so you were watching us from behind the counter,” he nudged his knee playfully against yours, anchoring you against the wood. “were you jealous, pips? is that why you let the car guy drive you home? because if you wanted to play video games with me that badly, all you had to do was ask nicely, you know?”

ah.

you had reached your absolute limit with caleb’s bottomless well of confidence. you were sick and tired of always being the one pressed against the woodwork, left all breathless and flushed while he got to stand there looking like the smartest boy in the whole wide world. you wanted the tables to turn so desperately that you could taste it, even if it meant playing a very dangerous game with your own silly little heart.

so, with a sudden narrowing of your eyes, you did something unpredictable.

yank!

your fingers reached out like little lightning bolts, wrapping tight around the fabric of caleb’s collar and pulling him downward with all your might.

oh, you should have seen his face. the teasing fool was caught off guard. his grand smirk evaporated into thin air, and a ragged little breath hitched right in the back of his throat. for the first time in a while, his polished exterior cracked into a million tiny pieces. 

you didn't dare break eye contact. you leaned in just a millimeter closer, your voice dropping into a mocking whisper. “what's the matter, caleb? not so talkative now? where did all that big, brave mouth go?”

poor caleb’s brain had gone into emergency mode. inside his broad chest, his heart was drumming a frantic—thump-thump, thump-thump—so loud and violent that you could practically feel the vibration through his shirt. his large hand, still planted on the kitchen counter beside your waist, gripped the polished wood so tightly that his knuckles turned so white, as if he were holding onto the edge of a cliff to stop himself from falling over—or worse, from reaching out and grabbing you back.

seeing your victory, you decided to push your luck just a little bit further. your hand slowly traveled up from his collar, your fingertips tracing an agonizing path up the side of his warm neck, before your thumb gently tapped the very edge of his earlobe.

“look at that. for someone who acts so cool, your ears are so bright red.”

caleb swallowed hard, his throat bobbing up and down as he gulped down the dry air. 

“you're such a hypocrite,” you mocked him one last time, giving his collar a playful shake. “always talking so much shit, but the second someone plays back, you freeze right up.”

and just as quickly as you had caught him, you planted both of your hands squarely against his hard chest and gave him a mighty shove.

whoosh!

caleb actually stumbled backward a couple of steps, his long legs flailing for a second before his feet caught the floorboards. he quickly cleared his throat—ahem, ahem—and rubbed the back of his neck.

“uh—wow,” he tries to forcefully laugh it off and turn the tension back into a silly joke. “okay, crazy lady. i- you nearly bit my nose off—”

“shut up and go jerk off to your notes, caleb.” you shot back over your shoulder.

caleb instantly went wide-eyed, letting out a dramatic cough—gack!—as he choked on his own saliva at the sheer obscenity of your remark.

you spun on your heel and marched happily down the hallway, slipping into your bedroom and clicking the lock shut with a very satisfied smile on your face, leaving the poor boy all alone in the quiet kitchen to figure out exactly what the hell had just happened to him.

serves him right.

—

and so, the great war officially began.

if you were going to be shameless about using valko as your personal human shield against your own confusing feelings, then caleb was going to be a thousand times more shameless about turning your life into a living cartoon. he became an absolute ghost in the machine, a walking disaster zone that magically appeared whenever valko so much as breathed in your direction.

on wednesday, you and valko were sitting on the low stone wall by the university quad, sharing a bag of salty chips. valko was leaning in close, his voice dropping into that tryhard smooth register again while he reached for a chip. thwack! out of absolutely nowhere, a round and suspiciously aerodynamic pebble shot through the leaves of the old oak tree, striking valko squarely in the middle of his forehead.

“ow! what the—” valko hissed, rubbing his brow as he looked around wildly.

far across the grass, standing by the sports locker rooms, caleb was casually tossing a basketball up and down in the air. he wasn't even looking at you. he was whistling a cheerful little tune, entirely innocent, though his vertical aim had been precise enough to deserve a gold medal.

on thursday, valko tried to walk you to your lab, proudly carrying your heavy medical dictionary like a true knight in shining armor. but as you rounded the corner of the science building, caleb suddenly materialized from the shadow of the vending machines. he didn't say a word to valko though. he just walked straight between the two of you like a giant solid wall, his broad shoulder subtly but violently checking valko to the side.

“oh, sorry, mate,” caleb hummed, reached down, and snagged the heavy book right out of valko’s hands before the guy could even blink. “my (name)'s got a weak spine, you know. family history. i always carry her books. thanks for holding it, though!” and just like that, he marched off, flipping through the pages of your textbook without a single care in the world.

it was a relentlessly ridiculous game of tag, a noisy circus meant to keep the terrifying gravity of that kitchen counter argument from swallowing you both whole. as long as caleb was throwing rocks and stealing books, he didn't have to think about his bright red ears, and you didn't have to think about his racing heartbeat.

until friday afternoon arrived, and the playful music finally... stopped.

the sky was the color of bruised slate when valko’s sedan pulled up along the front gates of your house. the engine let out an idling purr against the quiet pavement. you stepped out of the passenger side, but you didn't immediately walk toward the door. instead, you lingered by the open window, your shoulders slouched and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth in a rare display of genuine defeat.

today, you had failed the major quiz. 

you had studied until three in the morning, your eyes burning under the harsh blue light of your phone, only to see an ugly red circle at the top of your paper. the exhaustion and the disappointment were sitting heavy on your chest, and it felt so fucking awful. 

“hey,” valko seemed to catch on it, pushing his car door open and stepping out onto the asphalt beside you. he looked at your downcast face, his usual arrogant confidence softening into something genuinely concerned. “come on, (name). don't look like that. it's just one quiz. prof is a sadist anyway, everyone struggled.”

“i didn't just struggle, valko. i choked,” you muttered, staring down at the tips of your dirty shoes. “i'm supposed to be the responsible one. granny’s paying for these blocks, and i can’t even remember the difference between cellular necrosis and apoptosis when the timer's ticking.” 

saying that now, it kind of makes you laugh a bit.

but little did you know, behind the glass of the living room window, a pair of eyes was watching.

caleb stood in the shadows of the house, his arms hanging loose at his sides as he looked through the pane. he had been waiting for you. he had already cleared the kitchen counter, ready to cook whatever ridiculous comfort food you wanted to cheer yourself up after a long week. but now, he was frozen. he watched the way your lower lip trembled, the way your fingers nervously twisted the strap of your bag. he knew that exact look on your face. he knew the precise flavor of your sadness because he had been the one to hold your hand through every failed exam and scraped knee since you were seven years old. every protective instinct in his body screamed at him to open the front door, to run down the driveway, to scoop you up and carry you inside where it was safe.

but he didn't move, because he didn't have the right to.

“hey,” valko murmured again, stepping closer. “hey, look at me.”

and you looked up, your eyes wide and vulnerable. before your brain could even process the movement, valko reached out. his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your smaller frame firmly against his chest in a sudden hug meant to chase the cold away.

your body went stiff as a board against his jacket, hands dangling awkwardly at your sides. you hadn't expected it, maybe because... you hadn't wanted him to do it.

inside the house, behind the glass, caleb saw it. of course he did.

the sight of another man's arms holding you—the sight of you standing perfectly still in the driveway while someone else tried to soothe your tears—rubbed bitterly against him.

it was one of those moments again, those moments when caleb couldn't summon a single sarcastic remark. couldn't pull out a smirk. couldn't even pretend to be angry. it was just a thick and suffocating wave of unadulterated possessiveness and grief washing over him.

his jaw tightened, throat bobbing heavily as he gulped down a painful breath. his hand, which had been resting lightly against the edge of the curtain, suddenly convulsed, his fingers tearing into the fabric. he couldn't look at it. he physically and mentally could not bear to see another second of you belonging to someone else, even for a fleeting moment of comfort.

with a jerk of his arm, caleb yanked the heavy curtains shut, sealing out the afternoon light and plunging the living room into darkness.

caleb blinked several times, trying to catch his breath, trying to keep himself calm, trying to stay where he's at and remove the ugly thoughts of doing something to that red-haired guy. 

the living room was supposed to be a hiding place, but the walls inside granny's house had grown far too narrow to hold himself. his chest heaved, and his feet simply refused to stay glued to the floorboards. and the rationality he always wore like a freshly ironed uniform eventually disintegrated, leaving nothing but an itch that dragged him back toward the door.

it swung open with a bang that cut right through the hum of valko’s idling engine.

immediately, your head whipped around at the noise, your eyes still wide and startled from the sudden weight of valko's arms around you. but before you could even draw enough breath to call his name, caleb was already down the concrete steps. 

with a sudden jerk of his forearm, caleb reached out and grabbed the shoulder of valko’s jacket, yanking the guy backward with enough force to break his hold on you. 

“did she say yes to you?” caleb asked, “are the two of you officially dating right now?”

valko blinked, thoroughly bewildered and rattled by this guy's audacity. “no, we aren't, but i'm—”

“then you don't have any right to touch her like that,” caleb cut him off, his voice flat and freezing cold. “you don’t get to wrap your arms around her if she hasn't given you permission to be there. it's rude. it’s completely out of line.”

valko let out an incredulous scoff, the sheer persistence of caleb’s interference finally pushing past him. he took a step forward, tilting his chin up until he was staring directly into caleb’s face. he finally found the courage to say what he’d been thinking for weeks. “are you serious right now? what is your actual problem, caleb? what are you even to her?”

you blinked and looked up at valko. 

“you’re always... hovering. you’re always throwing things, always splitting us up, always acting like you own the ground she walks on. you said you aren't her brother. she said you aren't siblings. so what exactly is your deal? what are you to her?” 

caleb’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. 

so valko saw the break in the armor, and he drove the blade right through the crack. “do you like her?” 

at that, your heart did a leap behind your ribs, the blood rushing to your ears so loudly it drowned out the noise of everything else. you desperately and subconsciously wanted to hear the syllables leave his lips, to know if the pull you’d been drowning in was something he was drowning in too. 

what is he going to say? why isn't he saying anything?

but caleb couldn't answer.

he knew you were staring at him. he could probably feel the exact weight of your eyes tracking the rigid line of his jaw and the frantic rise and fall of his chest. but for the first time in his life, he couldn't meet your gaze back. his eyes darted nervously across valko, his throat bobbing in a gulp as he tried to find a lie big enough to save him.

until finally, slowly, caleb’s head tilted downward. his hair fell forward over his brow, before he hesitantly rolled his gaze down until his eyes locked directly onto yours.

gulp.

that look in his eyes...

it was something you had always disliked since you were kids. everytime the either of you brought up the subject of parents, of having a mother and a father, he did that face. except now it isn't because of that.

now... 

“i'm her guardian.” 

caleb answered.

“what?” your head tilted to the side, that familiar sarcastic scowl crawling right back onto your face.

“i am her legal guardian,” caleb repeated, nodding with a completely straight face. “since  our gran is currently being held back at the nursing home facility for medical observation, the responsibility of maintaining the household and ensuring the safety of it falls entirely on me. i am the primary caretaker of this residence.”

this little bitch.

valko just stood there, his mouth hanging open so wide a family of birds could have moved in. “what?” 

before you or valko could even open your mouths to scream at him for being an absolute fool, caleb’s heavy hand snapped down around your wrist.

“anyway, it's getting very close to six o'clock, which is the official cutoff time for driveway visitations,” caleb said, his voice dripping with an agonizingly tryhard politeness as he began walking backward, dragging you along like a sack of potatoes. he offered valko a little wave with his free hand. “thank you so much for the transportation, valko! drive home safely! watch out for the speed bumps on the main avenue, they’re quite treacherous this season!”

“caleb, you fucking—” you lunged backward, but caleb’s grip was absolute. you were forced to do a clumsy little sideways shuffle up the concrete steps, your free arm flailing in the air as you tried to offer valko at least a goodbye. “bye, valko! sorry! i’ll text you about the anatomy slides!”

but valko didn't even wave back. he just stood by his open car door, probably wondering if this whole situation was secretly a psychological experiment.

slam! click-clack!

the wooden door finally shut.

the very second the threshold was secure, caleb dropped your wrist like it was a hot potato. the authoritative guardian persona vanished into thin air, and he turned into a quiet giant. without saying a single word, without even looking at you, he spun on his heel and marched straight toward the safety of the open-concept kitchen.

you stood alone in the center of the living room.

this little brat is seriously getting on my nerves!

one second he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing left in the world, and the next second he’s inventing fake household rules just to avoid answering a simple question!

but you were not going to let him see how much he had rattled you. oh, absolutely not. you needed to get the upper hand back, even if you had to fake it.

you let out a dramatic cough to clear your throat, smoothing down the front of your wrinkled shirt before you marched over to the kitchen island. instead of hiding in your room like a coward, you hopped right onto one of the tall barstools, planting your elbows on the counter so you could watch him like a hawk.

“you are insane, you know that? a guardian? seriously? that is the dumbest thing that has ever come out of your mouth.”

caleb didn't answer you. he was currently busy staring down at the kitchen counter with an expression of concentration. for a guy who was usually a wizard with a skillet, he looked lost. he had a carton of heavy cream in one hand, a bottle of soy sauce in the other, and a tub of margarine sitting between them like a puzzle he couldn't solve.

“you were being so aggressive out there! valko was just trying to be nice because i was having a bad day—hey i'm speaking to you!” you huffed, your eyes narrowing as you watched him confusedly pick up a bulb of garlic, stare at it like it was an alien spacecraft, and then drop it back onto the wood. “are you even listening to me, you brat?”

“what am i to you, then?” caleb finally spoke.

oh, now, do you feel that? the air in granny’s kitchen just became so thick you could probably slice it with the very paring knife you used for those apples last week. you thought you were safe sitting on that high barstool, tucked neatly behind the counter like a judge delivering a very righteous verdict. 

but you forgot one very important rule when it comes to your big bro: he always knows when you’re hiding behind a loud mouth.

you should have just gone to your room. you should have just locked the door, eaten a stale cracker, and minded your own business instead of sitting out here pretending to be brave.

but it was already too late to run.

caleb finally abandoned his study of the soy sauce bottle and turned around. and then, he took a few strides over to your side of the counter. before your brain could even coordinate a retreat—shrrrrk!—caleb reached down to hook his hands around the metal legs of your stool, and pulled you a whole foot closer to him.

the proximity was so sudden your cheeks erupted into a furiously bright blush, while he just stood towering right over you. 

“tell me, pipsqueak,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before lifting back to your eyes. “what is valko to you?”

“he's my... suitor?”

“and what am i to you?” 

“y-you're just—i mean, we've always been—”

with a slow lean, he brought his entire upper body down, planting his palms firmly on the seat of your stool right on either side of your thighs. 

“do you want me to stop playing the sibling part then? do you want me to become something else?” caleb tilted his head, his voice dropping into a soft whisper.

“what do you mean... something else?”

a faint little smile touched the corner of caleb’s lips. “you know, like... a guy. a guy to you.”

thump. thump. thump.

your heart was no longer just beating; it was a damn throbbing thing inside your chest. your hands went completely numb against the stool, your eyes wide and your mouth slightly ajar in a look of such ridiculous shock.

caleb tracked every single ounce of your panic. he saw the terror, the blush, the absolute deer-in-the-headlights look paralyzing your face.

and then, just as the tension reached the absolute breaking point... caleb suddenly let out a boisterous laugh.

phew!

he pulled his upper body back, releasing your stool from his cage. before you could even register the sudden rush of cool air between you, caleb reached out and playfully pinched the tip of your bright red nose, shaking your head gently from side to side.

“gotcha,” he chuckled and turned back to the kitchen counter. “man, you should see your face right now, you look like a terrified little bird. i'm obviously just teasing you.”

you couldn't even bring yourself to manufacture a witty comeback. you just sat there on that stool, staring blankly into the empty space between the salt shaker and the soy sauce bottle.

caleb, however, appeared to have moved on, back to being the domestic king of the kitchen, the heavy iron skillet letting out a cheerful sizzle-hiss while he tossed the chopped garlic into the oil.

“we need to head out early tomorrow to visit gran, by the way,” caleb hummed casually over the sound of the spitting grease. “like, seven in the morning early. so don't stay up late scrolling through your phone.”

the mention of your grandmother finally poked a hole through your daze. you blinked, shaking your head slightly to clear the cobwebs as you focused on the back of his neck. “...why so early? the nursing home visiting hours don't even get busy until noon.”

“i have to be back on campus by ten. coach called a basketball practice for the championship preparations, and i can't miss it.”

“ah.” you nodded to the back of his head.

you managed to survive the rest of the evening by acting like a very polite, very quiet ghost, eventually slipping into your bedroom to endure a night of toss-and-turn sleep where caleb's whispering voice kept echoing in your dreams.

until the next morning arrived and caleb decided that the boy from yesterday was officially dead and buried.

bang! bang! bang!

“wake up, monkey! rise and shine!”

your bedroom door then flew back against the wall with a violent clack as caleb marched inside like a fucking drill sergeant. before your sleep-deprived eyes could even adjust to the morning light, caleb reached the edge of your mattress.

whoosh!

with one yank of his hand, he ripped your cozy duvet clean off your body, leaving you curled up in a shivering little ball on your sheets.

“fuck, why are you so damn loud early in the fucking morning?” you shrieked.

“ten minutes, and if you're not in up, i'm leaving you behind and telling gran you love sleeping more than you love her!” 

minutes later, you successfully managed to wash the sleep from your eyes and throw on a decent pair of clothes, though the inner grump was still very much awake.

you stood at the kitchen island, furiously snapping the plastic lids onto a neat little tower of tupperware containers. caleb had actually outdone himself this time—the savory aroma of freshly stewed chicken broth and garlic rice was already locked tight inside the plastic, ready to be delivered to granny's bedside.

the downstairs bathroom door swung open, and out stepped the grand tormentor himself.

you instinctively lifted your head, only for your brain to immediately scream abort mission! abort mission! because caleb had a fluffy white towel draped lazily over his damp hair, but that was the only thing he was wearing from the waist up. his broad shoulders, the sharp line of his collarbones, and the ridiculous expanse of his chest were completely on display, glistening faintly with a few stray droplets of water.

you whipped your head back toward the tupperware so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, your cheeks instantly sparking with a familiar warmth. 

“hey,” he stopped right on the other side of the counter, smelling faintly of mint and soap. “did we run out of the extra toothpaste? i can’t find the tubes under the sink.”

“cabinet. it's behind the extra bars of soap on the top shelf. go look there.”

“right. thanks,” he mumbled, turning on his heel and thankfully retreating back into the bathroom.

you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. honestly, the nerve of this guy.

not long after, caleb finally emerged looking like a civilized human being again, with his heavy sports duffel bag slung carelessly over one arm. 

“you ready to go?”

“yep,” you quickly gathered the paper bag full of food and stepped toward the front door. 

but as caleb walked past the living room window sill, his eyes narrowed at the row of small terracotta pots sitting in the morning sun. he stopped, casually extending one long finger and poking it straight into the dark soil.

he paused. 

he wiggled his finger, then, he turned his head to look at you, a knowing eyebrow crawling up his forehead. “brat. did you water the ferns today?”

you froze right with your hand on the doorknob, your lips twitching, and you turned around to offer him the most innocent cheeky smile you could possibly muster. 

caleb let out a roll of his eyes. 

“come here,” he pointed a finger at the floor in front of him.

“no.” you shook your head violently. “we have to leave early, remember? for gran, and your super important basketball practice!”

with a delighted laugh, caleb let his heavy sports duffel bag slide right off his shoulder, letting it hit the floorboards with a loud thud. and before you could even turn the doorknob to escape, he closed the distance between you in two strides.

“caleb, wait—ah!”

you shrieked when his large hands clamped firmly around your waist. with zero effort, he lifted your feet clean off the ground, turning you around while you flailed uselessly in the air. he marched two steps back into the living room and dropped you right against the plush cushions of the sofa.

“punishment time!” caleb laughed, instantly hovering over you and planting his knees on either side of your hips so you couldn't wiggle away.

“no, stop! caleb, i swear—!”

but your threats were instantly drowned out by your own hysterical laughter as his long fingers began mercilessly digging into your ribs. you squirmed and twisted beneath him, hands frantically trying to swat his wrists away, but he was too big, too heavy, and entirely too good at finding your most ticklish spots!

eventually, what started as a simple tickle punishment quickly spiraled into a full-blown war of the cushions.

the moment caleb’s fingers paused to let you catch your breath, your inner competitive spirit woke up. you weren't just going to sit there and take the defeat! with a heave, you planted your socks against the back of the sofa and launched your entire body forward, aiming a messy tackle straight at his broad chest.

“oh, so we're wrestling now?” caleb laughed, his deep voice booming right against your ear before he effortlessly caught you by the waist.

the rules of the house were completely thrown out the window as the two of you flipped, twisted, and rolled across the plush cushions, trying every single fake martial arts move you had ever seen on television. heck, you were pulling out all the stops—trying to hook your arm around his neck, aiming sharp elbows at his ribs, and trying to pull off a dramatic headlock.

you were starting to sweat, and you were putting 110% of your soul into making this giant human being tap out.

caleb, on the other hand? he was putting in absolutely zero effort. he was literally lying back against the pillows, letting out a loud, breathless laugh at every single one of your frantic maneuvers. to him, you probably felt like an angry flailing puppy. every time you thought you had a solid grip on his arm, he would casually just flex his bicep and pop right out of it. 

“come on, pipsqueak!” he taunted, easily batting your hands away as you tried to pin his shoulders. “is that all you got? my teammates hit harder than this during warmups!”

“shut up and die, caleb!” 

you threw your weight into one final grapple. but alas, pride can be a very dangerous thing when you're fighting a varsity athlete.

caleb decided the game had gone on long enough. and in one quick motion, he caught both of your wrists in a single hand, threw his heavy leg over your torso, and completely flipped you over.

oomph!

suddenly, you were now slammed chest-first against the back cushions of the sofa. caleb slid right up behind you, his body pressing heavily against your back to completely pin you down. he wrapped one massive arm securely around your upper chest like a seatbelt, while his other hand kept your wrists locked together near your chin.

you were utterly trapped in a textbook rear-naked choke hold.

“all right, game over,” he gave you a playful squeeze, anchoring you even tighter against him. “tap out and acknowledge me as your supreme ruler, and i'll let you go.”

“never! i will literally bite you before i tap out!”

“stubborn little girl.” caleb chuckled softly, his chest rumbling right against your back. “you can't move. just tap the couch and save your dignity.”

oh, he thought he had won because he was bigger and stronger? he forgot that you were smaller, faster, and willing to play dirty.

the competitive fog in your brain is a blinding thing, so heavy that your survival instincts completely take the wheel before your common sense can even map out anything else. you don't even know what possessed you. you aren't thinking about the dangerous lines you almost crossed together over the past few days; only thinking about the iron band of his arm across your chest, and the humiliating prospect of defeat.

so, you use the only lever you have left.

with a subtle shift of your weight, you arch your spine slightly and press back, slowly grinding your bum right against the heat of his crotch.

!

behind your back, caleb’s entire frame goes stiff as a stone wall. the boisterous laughter bubbling in his chest dies mid-breath, cutting off into nothing but a ragged hitch. it takes him three agonizing seconds to realize what tactic you’ve just deployed, and when it finally clicks...

“(name),” he groans, his voice no longer the cocky older brother but something rough, uncovered, and deeply rattled. “what... what are you doing?”

but instead of releasing you, his massive arm tightens around your upper torso, locking you so hard against his chest that you can feel the frantic hammering of his heart against your back. he tries to laugh it off, tries to maintain the upper hand, but the words come out strained and frayed at the edges. “nice try, though, pips. dirty tactics don't work on... nh... varsity players.”

the tiny stifled sound that slips from his throat was all the fuel you needed. it’s working. he sounds so tense, his breath coming in shallow puffs against the sensitive nape of your neck.

your own face is a burning mess of a tomato, but the taste of victory is too close. you want to remind him that he doesn't hold a monopoly on audacity in this house. you have it too.

you move again, harder this time, abandoning any pretense of subtlety. you press your ass firmly into his crotch, rolling your hips back against him in such an explicit way. 

“hey, stop, seriously—” caleb chokes out, a helpless moan breaking past his lips before he can catch it. his fingers, still holding your wrists, lose their grip, beginning to tremble against your skin.

subconsciously, his own hips begin to tilt forward, meeting your shameless grinding with a press of his own. “this... this isn't working, you should try something else. or just tap out. because i'm still not... ah... letting you go.” he swallows hard, his thumb twitching against your wrist, his long legs tangling with yours on the cushions as he tries to find an exit from the trap you both built. “so just... tap out and stop, yeah?”

“s-shouldn't you... shouldn't you be the one tapping out, huh?” your heart is doing frantic and erratic loops behind your ribs, but you push through the panic. “isn't it... isn't it weird that someone you see as a sister is doing such a thing to you? you're the older one, caleb... you should tap out. be the responsible one.”

to prove that you aren't the one who is going to break first under the weight of this, you roll your hips back against him again harder, dragging your bum across the expanse of his crotch. 

caleb doesn't answer you with words. he can't. all that leaves his throat is a series of thick, breathless moans—nh... ah—each one a helpless sound that shatters the last remaining illusion of the “sibling” shield you both spent years constructing. 

and then, slowly, you feel a very hard thing pressing solidly through the fabric of his bottoms. it felt heavy and hot enough to burn through your clothes. your movements instantly slow down, your entire body going rigid as a fresh wave of red flushes from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears. is that his...? no, no, no. you don't want to point it out. you don't want to say a single word. if you say it out loud, the universe will split wide open and there will be absolutely no going back to the way things were before.

but while you are trapped inside the spinning dizzyness of your own thoughts, you were too slow to realize that caleb's palms had snapped down around your wrists, separating them from your chin. with a surge of his upper body, he pins both of your arms flush against the cushions on either side of your head. 

and then, without a single shred of his usual teasing hesitation, caleb pulls his hips back—and drives them forward, dryhumping you roughly from behind.

“ah—!”

“don't move,” caleb humps you again, a rhythmic thrust that slides his heat perfectly between your thighs. “tap out now, (name).”

no, there is no way you're going to easily tap out like this. if you do, that's just going to show him how easily he can just go to his way with you. so without much of a choice, you bite your lip. 

“fuck, nh...” 

why is he moaning? does this feel good for him?

“just... tap out, pips,” he pants heavily, hips rolling into you in another rough stride that makes your toes curl inside your socks. “tap the couch and tell me to stop... otherwise, i'm just gonna keep going.”

“i-i hate you,” you tighten your fingers against the cushions beneath his palms, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “caleb, ngh—i swear to god, i...”

caleb lets out a chuckle, “yeah? how much?”

he doesn't let you answer and instead slides his hands down from your wrists to grip the very edges of your hip bones. with one forceful heave of his strong arms, he hoists your hips up high off the sofa cushions, tilting your pelvis back and locking you into a perfectly angled incline—before slamming his hips forward again, driving his hard erection deep into the curve of your ass. 

“not tapping out yet?” 

“i-i'm not tapping—!”

you cut yourself off when caleb's hips against your bum suddenly stutters. he drives into you one last time—hard and entirely too desperate—and then his entire body goes completely rigid.

“(name)—ah, fuck—!”

caleb lets out an unvarnished moan, his voice breaking into a breathless whine as his chest shudders violently against your back. he freezes, fingers digging bruisingly hard into your hip bones before a wave of heat blooms right through his shorts, dampening the fabric of your pants. 

your brain, despite having zero knowledge about how men's bodies work or what exactly happens when they hit their limit, registers the sudden wet warmth and his sudden loss of strength.

oh. he messed up.

“a-are you kidding me? did you just—”

“shut up,” caleb wheezes, his head dropping onto your shoulder. “don't... don't say it.”

“oh, i am absolutely saying it!”

being an opportunistic woman, you take advantage of his jelly-like limbs and twist your torso. caleb is usually a solid brick wall, but right now, his body is too sensitive. you wrench your hips out of his slack grip, plant your hands on his broad shoulders, and shove him backward with all your might.

thud!

caleb falls flat onto his back against the sofa cushions, and before he can even think about recovering, you launch yourself over his lap, straddling his thighs and planting your hands squarely on either side of his neck, pinning his arms down.

strangely, he doesn't even fight you. caleb is easily strong enough to bench-press you off him with one hand, but instead of resisting, he just lets out a pathetic grunt and lets his arms go limp beneath your palms. 

“look at the so-called supreme ruler now,” you mock him instantly, a breathless smirk breaking across your face. “what happened, caleb? you were talking so much shit about tapping out, and you couldn't even last three minutes? you came too fast that was pathetic!”

“(name), please,” caleb groans, his face turning a shade of pink as he tries to turn his head away from your gaze. “you don't even know what you're saying.”

“well, i know you're a loser.”

“you... you started it!” caleb defends himself weakly, his voice was an embarrassed whisper while his fingers nervously twitch against the couch cushion. he finally rolls his eyes back to meet yours. “what is wrong with your head? you were the one grinding your ass against me like a p-pervert... what did you think was going to happen?”

“i was trying to make you tap out!” you argue back, your face heating up again but your grip on his arms tightening.

“by making me cum...?“ caleb whines, his jaw clenching when he lets out a shaky breath. “that's a pretty lame strategy don't you think?”

“you're just making excuses because you lost,” you say, your voice trembling slightly despite the thick layer of bravado you're pouring over it. you look down at the front of his joggers where a distinct darkening patch of wetness is spreading against the fabric. “look at that. the great caleb, taken down by a simple strategy. i should take a picture and send it to your coach.”

“y-you brat, i swear to god, shut up,” caleb groans with a laugh. “you don't know what you're doing. just get off me.”

“no, i think this needs a proper inspection.” 

your brain is screaming at you to stop, telling you that you are sprinting across a line you can never cross back over, but the sheer adrenaline of having caleb completely at your mercy prevents you from backing down. if you stop now, if you get off him and let him look at you with that smug smirk again, the awkwardness will literally suffocate you. you have to finish this. you have to prove he's the loser.

with a suddenly decisive movement, you reach down and grab the waistband of his joggers.

“wait—(name), hold on—” caleb gasps, his eyes going wide with panic as you pull the fabric down. 

even through the cotton fabric of his dark grey boxers, his dick is thick, massive, and still remarkably heavy and hard despite having just come. it stretches the front of his underwear to its limit, a rigid outline that looks terrifying up close. holy shit. he's... he's huge.

your face is burning so hot you're pretty sure you're going to spontaneously combust. your hands are shaking, your ears ringing, but you force your fingers to move forward. you place your palm flat against the center of his boxers, wrapping your fingers directly around the pulsing length of his dick.

“ah—nh!” caleb's head flies back against the sofa cushions, fingers clawing into your waist so hard it almost hurts. “fuck, stop... i told you i'm too sensitive—”

“what's the matter?” you stammer, your voice cracking as you squeeze him slightly through the cotton, your thumb tracing the hard ridge of his shaft. “thought you said it didn't work? you're twitching so much under my hand, caleb. who's the weak one now?”

“you're... you're a psycho,” caleb pants, a strained chuckle breaking through his ruined voice. he looks up at you through his long eyelashes, jaw clenched and sweat beading at his hairline. “what about you? you're blushing like a tomato and your hands are shaking. you're terrified right now, aren't you?”

“i'm not terrified of a loser,” you lie through your teeth, sliding your hand up and down his length, the friction through his boxers causing another wet drop of pre-cum to seep through the fabric against your palm.

“fuck... ah, please,” he looks so devastatingly undone beneath you it's funny, his chest heaving while he whines against the cushions. “you're... you're cheating. this is a foul. i'm gonna tell gran you're being so...”

“granny would just laugh at you for being so weak,” 

the boy who used to help you look for snails in the backyard after a heavy rain—the same boy who once gave you a piggyback ride for three blocks because you scraped your knee on the pavement—was currently pinned beneath you on granny’s floral-print sofa, stripped down to his underwear and trembling like a leaf.

it was a sacrilegious image, because for ten whole years, caleb had been the towering fixture of your childhood, the annoying older-brother figure who stole your food and made fun of your haircuts. but now, the fabric of his boxers was the only thing standing between you and a completely different world.

“you’re still shaking.” your voice was a little breathy, though you kept your eyes locked on his face to hide how fast your own heart was knocking against your ribs. 

caleb let out a ragged laugh, his head tilting back against the cushions. “you aren't going to make me tap out if that's what you're planning, you silly.”

“oh, you think you're so smart?”

before he could even muster another cocky comeback, your fingers hooked directly into the elastic waistband of his boxers and dragged the fabric down past his hips.

and just like that, the angry length of caleb's dick sprang free, twitching madly in the warm morning light.

oh my god. 

he was fucking huge. the thick, veins-veined shaft was throbbing with a pulse, the heavy weight of it slapping against his lower belly when the fabric set it free. 

caleb’s eyes went wide as the cool air hit his bare skin, a genuine spike of panic breaking through his composure. “hey, wait, hold on, what are you planning to do?” 

you stared down at the very tip of him, where a shiny drop of clear pre-cum was slowly leaking out, glistening against the skin. the sight of it made a strange spark right in the pit of your stomach.

“i'm finishing the wrestling match,” you whispered, your hand moving forward until your fingers wrapped completely around his thick shaft.

“fuck—nnggh!“ caleb gasped out loud, his entire upper body arching off the sofa as your palm made direct contact with his heat. his knuckles turned white as he grabbed the edge of the armrest. “(name)... seriously, you don't know what you're doing, stop it.”

“shut up and take your punishment.”

“you don't know shit about—oh, fuck—please... i'm gonna come again, i swear to god...”

but you weren't done pushing his limits, you wanted to erase every single ounce of that cocky exterior until there was nothing left but the vulnerable boy beneath you.

leaning down until your chest was nearly brushing his lap, you let your hand slide away from his tip—and replaced it with your tongue.

you swiped your warm and wet tongue directly over the crown of his dick, licking up the excess pre-cum and the sticky remnants of his earlier climax from the sensitive skin.

“ah-!”

at that, caleb lets out an undignified shriek that was instantly swallowed by a deep groan. his hands flew to the sides of your head, fingers tangling frantically into your hair as his dick twitched against your lips, throbbing so hard it felt like a living thing. he was whining openly now, his chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling with blown-out eyes.

you wrapped your lips around the very top of his shaft, sucking him gently. “(name)... i hate you... i hate you so much...”

“how much, caleb?” you mumbled against his hard skin, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your hand gripping the base of his giant length to keep him locked right where you wanted him.

“i'm not gonna last, (name). seriously, i'm gonna come in your mouth if you don't stop,”

but you don't stop. your tongue swipes over the sensitive ridge again, determined to drive the final nail into his coffin. truth be told, you have absolutely no idea what you're doing. your teeth graze his skin awkwardly, your suction is uneven, and your movements are incredibly clumsy, lacking any real rhythm. but caleb is just as clueless and inexperienced as you are, and to a boy whose body is already primed and hyper-sensitive from a first climax, the messy, wet warmth of your mouth feels like absolute heaven.

you keep going, your hand stroking his base while you lick the sticky tip. you just want to make him blow his top again. you need to see him completely break, just so you can hold it over his head for the rest of his life. 

...or is that really all it is? because your heart is hammering so loud it's practically echoing in your throat, and a strange heat is pooling deep in your stomach as you taste him.

“fuck... i'm coming, i'm literally—ah, nh...” caleb whines out loud, his head thrashing against the cushions, his entire lower body trembling while his hips lift off the sofa, twitching directly into your mouth.

you tighten your grip, getting ready for the final victory—and then, the world violently flips upside down.

whoosh!

caleb’s hands leave your hair and snap down around your armpits. your mouth slips off his dick with a wet pop when he completely sat up before he hoists your entire body into the air like you weigh absolutely nothing.

“ah! what do you think you're—!” 

and with one ruthless motion, caleb pivots your torso and bends you straight over the widely padded backrest of the sofa. your chest is pressed flat against the top cushion, your head dangling over the back of the couch toward the floor, while your hips are lifted high and trapped beneath his massive weight as he slides up behind you.

and then, you hear it. a breathless and absolutely insufferable chuckle bouncing right against your ears.

“you are such a gullible girl,” caleb pants heavily, his chest heaving against your shoulder blades as he lets out a triumphant laugh. he isn't coming at all. “did you really think i was gonna let you win that easily? you thought you could just suck me off and make me cry?”

“you literal piece of trash!” you yell, trying to push yourself up off the backrest and kicking your legs blindly behind you. “let me go, caleb, i swear to god—”

caleb's hips slide right back against your ass, his hard length pressing explicitly into your lower back to remind you who has the upper hand. he grips your waist with both hands, locking your pelvis into place so you can't wiggle an inch. “save all the shouting, okay?” he gives your hip a playful, firm squeeze. “we're right back where we started. you're pinned, you're cornered, and you're out of moves. so what's it gonna be, huh? are you finally gonna tap out or do i have to keep you bent over here all morning? 'cause i don't mind being late, you know.”

“shut up,” you choke out, your forehead digging hard into the plush fabric of the backrest. “i'm not... i'm not listening to a liar who fakes a climax just to cheat his way out of his loss.“

“it's called strategy, sweetheart. you should look it up sometime,” he chuckles, an arrogant little sound that rubs directly against your neck. “but you know... since you were so incredibly bold with me just now... since you decided you could just put your hands wherever you wanted... i think it's only fair that it's my turn now, right? that's how the game works.”

for all his cocky bravado, you feel a sudden tremor pass through his palms. his fingers twitch against your skin. he’s hesitating, isn't he? the heavy reality of what you've both done sinks into the quiet spaces of the room, but he doesn't pull back.

slowly, his fingertips hook into the waistband of your shorts. you let out a quiet whimper when he slides the fabric down over your thighs, exposing the bare expanse of your bum to the morning air.

and then, the teasing stops.

the living room goes dead silent, save for the uneven rhythm of caleb's breathing. he stares down at you, his throat bobbing in a gulp. even without turning around, you know exactly what he’s looking at. the thin fabric of your panties is kind of ruined and darkened, clinging, and utterly soaked through with a wetness from your own mounting frustration. 

“...you're wet, (name). what am i supposed to do with you like this?” caleb whispers, his voice suddenly stripped of its malice.

“don't look at it, you brat.” you whimper, trying to hide your face in the sofa. “caleb, don't—just let me up, please—”

“no way, you started this. you don't get to run away just because you're embarrassed?” caleb chuckled.

then wordlessly, his fingers hook the side of your underwear, pulling the fabric upward to stretch it tight against your skin, using the soaked material to press firmly up into your sensitive folds.

“ah—” 

“look at how you're reacting,” caleb murmurs, leaning his weight harder into you. “but you've been a really bad girl today, breaking all the rules... so i think you need to wait a little.”

he slowly lets go of the fabric, but his hand doesn't leave. instead, his long fingers begin to lightly trace the very edge of your soaked panties, feeling the slick heat of your wetness seeping through the cloth onto his fingertips. he hovers right over your center, brushing against you but not quite, giving you just enough phantom friction to make your toes curl, but entirely denying you the actual release you're starting to crave.

your body was now squirming helplessly beneath his palms as you try to force yourself against his hand to get more pressure, but he ruthlessly keeps his fingers just a millimeter away. “fuck you, either touch me or let me go, don't be a jerk—”

“oh i'm not being a jerk yet, (name).” caleb pants, another rough chuckle breaking through his serious expression while he watches you twist and writhe under his touch. his own erection is throbbing madly against your back, but he keeps his hips still. “will you admit defeat and tap out if i be a jerk to you, then?” he punctuates that sentence with a tentative press of his index finger into your hole through the panty. 

your fingers are practically tearing into the fabric of the sofa cushion already, the adrenaline from earlier turning into a suffocating dread that makes your throat dry. 

with a quiet tug, caleb’s fingers hook into the edge of your damp underwear, sliding the cotton fabric to the side.

“caleb...” your voice is a tiny squeak against the dark velvet of the couch. your hips instinctively try to lift, a sudden panic flaring in your chest. “what... what are you doing?”

but he doesn't stop. the cool air hits your bare folds for a fraction of a second before the tip of his finger presses directly against your entrance. you let out a ragged hitch of air as he slowly pushes past the tight ring of your muscles and sinking into your slick warmth.

“this... this doesn't count as anything, right?”

caleb’s broad chest is heaving violently against your shoulder blades, his entire frame shuddering as he buries his finger deeper inside you. “it’s just... it’s just a finger, (name). we're just playing the game. all of this... it's just about making each other tap out. it's not... whatever else it could be?”

you can feel the desperate lie he's spinning, his own mind scrambling to build a bridge back to sanity even while he’s stretching you open.

“it doesn't count,” he pants, his thumb pressing hard against your hypersensitive clit, making your toes curl inside your socks. “it doesn't count as long as i'm... as long as i'm not using my cock, right? we're still just us. we haven't crossed anything.”

you gulp, because a part of your brain screams at you to twist around and slap him, to scream what the actual fuck is wrong with you? but the guilt is a leaden weight sitting right on your chest. you were the one who started it. you were the one who put his dick in your mouth just to prove a point. you are just as dirty, just as guilty as he is.

“yeah,” you whisper, your voice thick with a dirty shame as you shut your eyes tight. “yeah... that makes sense. it's just... it's just a game.”

caleb then slides a second finger right alongside the first, the sudden invasion stretching your tight walls as he begins to slowly and deeply thrust inside you.

squelch. squelch.

the wet sounds of his fingers sliding through your excess moisture fills the quiet living room, explicit and loud enough to make your face burn a shade of red. 

“(name)...” caleb murmurs, and it's the exact same tone he uses when he's giving you advice on your chores or asking about your classes, but his fingers are currently buried inside your vagina, driving you insane. “have you ever put your own finger in it?”

your lips press together so hard they turn white. you want to lie, you want to bite your tongue, but the mind-numbing pleasure of his thrusts is making your defenses completely crumble. “y-yeah, a... a few times only. when you weren't home.”

caleb picks up the pace slightly, the wet squelching sound getting faster, deeper, his knuckles rubbing against your bare skin.

“did it... did it feel like this?” he asks quietly, his voice shy, almost innocent, like a boy asking for help with his homework, even as his hips heavy-press against your backside. “does it feel better when i do it?”

the duality of this guy is completely ridiculous. it’s terrifying. one second he's caging you like a predator, and the next he’s whispering sweet clumsy questions like he's still the boy from your childhood. you can't even answer him anymore; you're just a flushed panting mess.

pop.

but caleb hooks his fingers out of your heat, making an involuntary whine escape your throat before you can even think to choke it down. your hips instinctively jerk backward, chasing the feeling of his fingers, but your hands only find the empty velvet of the backrest. why the hell did he stop? 

behind you, the rustle of heavy fabric is loud. the weight on your lower back vanishes as caleb steps backward onto the wooden floorboards. “no need to tap out anymore, 'cause oh my goodness i'm going to be late,”

by the time you manage to push yourself up on your trembling elbows, your limbs feeling like melted wax, caleb is already completely upright. his joggers are pulled back up, the dark grey waistband of his boxers now neatly hidden away. 

he looks down at you, and an infuriatingly soft smile touches his lips—the exact look he gives you when he’s being the responsible one.

“we should really get going, pipsqueak,” caleb says softly, as if his fingers hadn't just been swirling over your pussy. he reaches down, casually picking up his heavy sports duffel bag from the floor and slinging it over his broad shoulder. “i'm going to be horribly late for practice if we don't move right now. go adjust your clothes.”

you just stare up at him from the sofa, your mouth slightly open. you looked dumbfounded, your brain becoming incapable of processing how a guy can go from driving two thick fingers into your soaking womanhood to checking his watch like a middle-aged accountant. 

—

the afternoon does not care about your identity crisis. 

you had ended up having to visit granny all by yourself in the halls of the nursing home. the very second the two of you had stepped out to the car, caleb’s phone had erupted into a series of vibrations—his coach's caller id flashing like a warning flare. the muffled shouting through the receiver about missing the championship preparations had left caleb looking genuinely stressed, his fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel. he had dropped you off at the facility with an apologetic squeeze of your shoulder, leaving you to sit by granny’s bedside alone, nodding blankly while the old woman prattled on about the hospital soup and how caleb was such a good, responsible boy for taking care of you.

if only you knew, granny. if only you knew.

by the time you finally drag your feet onto the university campus for your late-day lectures, your mind is a useless swamp of static. you sit in the rows of the amphitheater, the professor's voice about cellular pathology washing right over your head like white noise. 

every time the professor speaks, all your brain can register is the memory of caleb's deep and ruined moans echoing against the walls of your shared home. your fingers keep absentmindedly tracing the edge of your desk, your lower body still feeling a ghostly throb from the wet squelch of caleb's fingers stretching you open. 

and by the time six o'clock arrives, the heavy tropical heat of the campus grounds is finally beginning to cool down.

usually, this is the hour where caleb’s long shadow appears beside yours at the main gates, his heavy arm slinging over your shoulder to drag you toward the terminal while he complains about how hungry he is. the habit of him is a deeply rooted thing in your bones. instead of turning right toward the exit to head straight home to an empty house, your feet lazily, almost sub-consciously, steer you left toward the concrete structure of the university gymnasium.

as you slip inside, taking a quiet seat on the very edge of the lowest wooden bleacher, the vast space is alive with a scattering of echoing noises. on the far brightly lit side of the court, a bunch of cheerleaders are practicing their stunts, and a few stray students are still lingering on the higher bleachers. 

but your eyes immediately drift to the opposite free side of the court.

there, sitting in a circle directly on the polished wood, is the university's basketball team. their coach is standing over them with a clipboard, his sharp whistle tucked between his lips as he gestures aggressively toward a diagram. and right in the center of the huddle, his long legs splayed out in front of him, is caleb. he’s wearing his dark blue practice jersey, broad shoulders glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, a giant water bottle gripped in his large hand as he listens intently to the lecture.

he looks so regular like that, so athletic. so completely like the golden boy the entire school admires. you pull your knees up to your chest, wondering how on earth you're supposed to walk home with him after what he did to you this morning.

caleb is nodding along, his hand idly spinning the basketball between his palms on the floor, looking every bit the disciplined athlete. then, his eyes wander. he’s just scanning the empty spaces of the court, a subconscious habit of checking his surroundings, when his gaze drifts up toward the lower bleachers.

and lands squarely on you.

for a long second, neither of you knew how to react. the teasing grin he usually flashes when he spots you in a crowd doesn't happen. he just takes you in, his fingers freezing against the leather of the basketball. you just stare at each other, the secret weight of the morning—the wet sounds, the moaning, the taste of his dick—crashing into the space between you like a physical wall.

caleb looks away quickly, his throat bobbing as he downs a huge gulp from his water bottle, his broad shoulders tensing up as he tries to focus back on the clipboard. 

five minutes later, the coach blows his whistle twice. “all right, pack it up! managers, get the training cones back in the locker. caleb, you're on equipment duty tonight since you were late this morning. secure the loose balls and the extra jerseys from the bench.”

“got it, coach,” caleb grunts, pushing himself up from the floor.

the team starts dispersing, heading toward the showers in an echoing wave of laughter and low chatter. caleb begins gathering the stray basketballs into a mesh sack, and as he nears the bleachers where you're sitting, he just stops a few feet away, slinging the heavy sack over his shoulder.

“hey,” caleb's shadow falls over your sneakers. “(name). stop being lazy and help me carry these jerseys to the storage room. coach wants a head count before the after-party tomorrow, and i'm not doing it alone.”

you blink. “can't your co-captain do it?”

“he's already in the showers,” caleb says, finally cutting his eyes toward you, a subtle, desperate intensity flickering in his gaze that makes your stomach flip. “come on. the quicker we finish, the quicker we go home. go grab the bin.”

you purse your lips, but you slide off the bleacher anyway. you grab the plastic bin filled with damp jerseys, your heart already starting to throb a frantic rhythm against your ribs as you follow his massive back toward the dark hallway at the rear of the gym.

the storage room door is heavy iron, creaking loudly as caleb pushes it open. the inside smells like old rubber, canvas bags, and dust, lit only by the faint orange glow of the twilight filtering through a barred window. you step inside, the plastic bin heavy in your arms.

“where do you want these—”

slam!

the door cuts your voice off completely as caleb shoves it shut behind you. within a snap, his large hands snap around your waist and lifts you off your feet, pinning your back directly against the solid wood of the door.

“caleb, what the—”

and your mouth is instantly smothered.

caleb drives his lips against yours with an aggressive hunger, his head tilting sharply to lock his mouth over yours. it’s a messy, bruising kiss, completely devoid of the hesitation he had this morning. he lets out a desperate whine against your lips—nhhh—his fingers digging like iron claws into your hips, pulling your lower body flush against his jersey.

“fuck,” caleb groans directly into your mouth, his tongue forcing its way past your lips. he tastes like the cool mint from earlier and the salty heat of his sweat, his jaw working against yours as if he's been starving for this for the last seven hours. “i couldn't... i couldn't even think during our practice, you know. coach wouldn't stop screaming at me but all i could see was you bent over the couch.”

“caleb—stop, someone's gonna—mmph—” you try to speak, your hands frantically coming up to push against his broad chest, but the sheer mass of him traps you. 

“let them hear,” his hips slam forward instinctively, driving his hard erection—already straining madly through his gym shorts—directly into your thigh. “i don't care. i don't care about it. you can't just... nh... fuck, you were all i could think about today—”

“you were the one who stopped,” you gasp out, your fingers subconsciously tangling into the damp hair at the back of his neck. “you acted like... like nothing happened, and then you left me alone... you idiot.”

“i was scared...” caleb cries out softly, his voice a ruined whisper before he brings his mouth back up to cover yours, thumbs tracing the bare skin of your waist beneath your shirt “i'm supposed to protect you, but all i want to do is rip these clothes off you right now and pound inside you until you can't even stand up.“ a guilty laugh slips past his lips. “shit, am i allowed to say that?...”

your heart is a wild thing, hammering so hard against your ribs it feels like it might burst through your skin. “caleb—”

the rest of your breath is completely stolen when his calloused hands hook into the waistband of your underwear. there is no gentle hesitation this time, no restraint left to save either of you. with one downward tug, the fabric is stripped away, bundling around your sneakers along with your shorts. 

he doesn't even take his jersey off. his dark blue varsity uniform is damp with sweat, the rough material scraping against your bare chest as he uses his body weight to pin you flat against the wood. with a trembling hand, caleb reaches down between your laps, his long fingers finding your soaking, swollen entrance. he doesn't need to prep you; you are already dripping, ruined from hours of thinking about his touch.

he aligns the angry head of his cock right against your opening. he is so incredibly huge—a terrifyingly solid length that makes your stomach drop in a mixture of fear and desperate longing.

“(name)... look at me. just look at me,” caleb whimpers, his voice completely cracked and ruined. “i can't... i can't hold back anymore. i'm going to cross this line now.”

before you can even utter a sound, caleb grips your hips like iron vices and drives his hips forward.

“ahhh!”

a high-pitched gasp is ripped from your lungs as the stretching length of his dick forces its way inside you in one thrust. it's a tight, bruising fit, your walls screaming at the sudden fullness of him while he buries himself all the way to his hilt, his lower belly slamming hard against your pelvis. 

caleb lets out a shattering groan that sounds like a sob, his head instantly dropping forward into the crook of your neck. his hot breath scalds your skin, and you can feel the wet smudge of tears mixing with the sweat on his face. he is crying into your shoulder, panting like a dying man, his entire broad frame shuddering violently against you.

“ffckk... nhhh... you're so tight, it's so hot,” caleb opens your thighs wider just so he can pound into you much, much faster. “i've... i've thought about this every single night.... every time you smiled at me... every time you fell asleep.... i've wanted to do this so fucking bad...”

caleb grips your thighs, hoisting your leg up until it was wrapped tightly around his broad waist, and begins to fuck you desperately against the iron door.

thud. thud. thud.

the heavy wood rattles on its hinges with every brutal stride of his lower body. caleb drives into you as if he is angry—furious at you for making him wait this long, furious at himself for breaking the rules, and desperate to mark every single inch of your inside. he doesn't give you time to adjust to his size; he just plunges deep, his thick shaft sliding through your tight squelching wetness.

“caleb—ah!—stop, it's too deep—nhhh!” you moan out loud, your head thrashing against the door behind you. your hands leave his shoulders and wrap around his damp hair, trying to pull him closer, trying to find some anchor as his massive cock relentlessly reorganizes your insides. you can't even think straight anymore, his dick is leaving you with nothing but the raw urge to take his size and beg for more.

“not stopping,” caleb grunts against your ear, it makes your thigh squeeze tighter around his waist. he tilts his head upward, jaw clenched so hard the tendons in his neck look like wires under his skin. his eyelashes flutter, his eyes half-closed and ghost-blinking as he loses himself entirely to the pleasure. “fuck, why didn't we d-do this sooner?”

he thrusts into you even deeper, his hips rolling with a newfound precision that hits a sensitive spot deep within your womb. 

“hnggh, caleb, deeper, deeper...!” 

“what was that, huh?” caleb suddenly pulls out, bringing your legs down. 

“what are you... a-are you going to leave me again?” 

he smirks, pressing a kiss against your forehead while you felt the wamrth of his hands grabbing your right leg to hoist it up high - up, up, and up - until you're now sideways, leg stretched open and high enough that your ankle was an inch away from caleb's face. “deeper, right?” in a second, he drives his cock back into your hole, this time making sure that every thrust he gave you was a slap on the womb. 

“ahngh, caleb!—”

the orange twilight through the barred window slowly deepens into a thick midnight blue, but the desperate rhythm inside the storage room doesn't stop.

for the next few hours, the university gymnasium becomes completely empty, the lights on the court turning off one by one until the only sound left in the entire concrete structure is the repetitive rattle of the iron storage door. caleb completely loses his composure, his body moving on pure instinct while he continues to drive his length into your soaking heat over and over again.

the dynamic between you never truly changes, even as the skin of your hips turns a deep, flushed pink from the iron grip of his palms. every time he tries to pull that annoying tone to tell you to take his size, his voice shatters into a pathetically high-pitched whine the second your tight walls squeeze him. you don't let him have the satisfaction of total victory either; even when your legs are trembling so hard you can barely keep them still, you still find the breath to mock his stuttering moans, driving your fingers into his damp hair to yank him down into bruising, messy kisses.

the bass from the main stage doesn’t just hit your ears; it vibrates straight through the thin soles of your sandals, humming up into your ribs. the beach concert was a damn neon-lit mass of salt-sticky skin, cheap coconut rum, and the suffocating heat of a thousand bodies swaying in tandem under the humid night sky. you’d left your friends screaming lyrics into the air, slipping away to the stall by the tree line to grab a refill.

now, cup held loosely in hand, you’re trying to wedge your way back through the shifting wall of people by the shoreline. it’s like trying to navigate a labyrinth of warm shoulders and fucking sweat. you take one blind step past a group of guys laughing too loud, and your foot catches on an uneven dip in the sand. 

you stumble forward, your shoulder colliding with something solid. 

fuck-

the iced drink sloshes violently over the rim of your plastic cup, splashing right across a broad, pale chest.

“shit, what the fuck—”

the curse is muttered under a breath that smells faintly of bitter lime and cheap gin, the tone completely flat, deadpan, and instantly recognizable. you blink, steadying yourself, and your eyes travel upward—past the dark cargo jorts low on his hips, past the lean, surprisingly cut lines of a pale torso, and over a thin silver chain resting against his collarbone.

it’s xavier.

his sunshades are perched crookedly in his messy ash-blonde hair, reflecting the distant strobe lights, and his diamond blue eyes are narrowed down at you in sheer annoyance. what is he doing here? he looks entirely out of place, a pale ghost haunting the edges of a party he clearly didn't want to invite himself to. a black stud glints in his earlobe as he tilts his head.

xavier stares at you. the slow blink of his eyelashes makes him look like a dazed bunny caught in a trap, his brain visibly short-circuiting as he processes the fact that someone from the university—let alone a blockmate he has actively avoided eye contact with for an entire semester—is standing right in his personal space.

he doesn't know what to do with his hands. he settles for crossing his arms over his wet chest, a pathetic attempt to shield himself from you, though it only serves to flex the skinny muscle of his biceps.

“you,” he mutters, his voice a low, monotonous drone that barely cuts through the thumping bass. he sounds like he's reading a script he hates. “you're from the block. the one who sits in the back.”

“and you're the one who sits in the front and doesn't talk at all,” you shoot back, not missing a beat. you let out a mocking little laugh, tilting your head up to match his gaze. you don't offer an apology for the sticky alcohol now dripping down his sternum. instead, you eye him up and down with an amused smile. “wow, look at you. i didn't know the block phantom actually possessed a pair of legs, let alone came outside. who dragged you out of your cave, xavier?”

his jaw tenses, a tiny twitch beneath his pale skin. 

he hates this. he hates the way you look at him like he’s a strange specimen under a microscope. he's used to being invisible, a background character who fades into the chalkboard grease of lecture halls. having your attention focused entirely on him feels like an interrogation.

“nobody,” xavier looks away, his eyes tracking the dark horizon of the ocean instead of facing you. “i came because i wanted to. not that it's any of your business. you should go back to your friends. you’re blocking the breeze.”

“ouch. friendly as always,“ you stepped closer just to watch the way his shoulders go rigid. you take a slow sip from your half-empty cup. “i'm surprised you even know what a breeze feels like, considering you usually look like you live in a basement. what's the matter? surprised to see me here?”

xavier's eyes flick back to you, cold and sardonic, though there's a faint tightness in his throat as he swallows. “i'm surprised you're capable of walking in a straight line. you spilled your drink on me.”

“consider it a baptism into the real world,” you say, laughing softly at his sour expression. “but seriously. you? at a beach concert? alone? it's a little pathetic, don't you think?”

xavier’s fingers dig slightly into the skin of his arms. he wants to tell you to go away. he wants to push past you and disappear into the dark, back to the quiet apartment where nobody looks at him, nobody mocks him, and nobody makes his chest feel this tight. but his feet feel heavy in the sand, anchored by the novelty of someone actually speaking to him.

“i'm fine by myself,” he says, his voice dropping into that familiar, stubborn tone. ”leave me alone.”

he turns on his heel, his large cargo jorts swishing heavily against his shins as he tries to melt back into the shadows. it’s his instinctual move—the clean break, the quiet exit. but you don’t let him. your sandals crunch in the sand right beside him, matching his stride.

“so are you seriously alone?” your voice drifts over his shoulder, light and entirely unbothered by his glaring aura of hostility. “like, actually by yourself? do you even have friends, xavier?”

the question bites, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the sand ahead. he does have friends. zayne and rafayel exist in his orbit, but the mere thought of zayne sitting on a humid beach with a plastic cup of cheap alcohol is absurd, and rafayel would have spent the entire night complaining about the quality of the crowd or the salt ruining his clothes. they aren't the type for this. they don't belong in a chaotic mass of college kids, and neither does he. but explaining that requires too many words, too much vulnerability.

“i have them,” he mutters, almost robotic as he steers away from the main shoreline. “they just have better things to do than stand around in the mud.”

you just chuckle, a mocking sound that follows him as he leads the way toward a darker, quieter corner of the resort. the heavy thump of the bass begins to muffle, filtered through a thick screen of tall bamboo stalks that sway lazily in the night breeze. it’s a designated smoking area, tucked away from the main pavilion. a couple of empty wooden crates serve as makeshift stools, and right now, the little pocket of shadows is completely deserted.

“then, why do you come here anyway? are you here to get some girls?” another snicker escapes past your lips. 

xavier then turns around to face you, his pale chest still gleaming slightly from the alcohol you spilled on him. his diamond blue eyes narrow under the faint amber glow of a single hanging bulb.

“[name], why are you suddenly all up in my ass?” he asks, the profanity sounding almost clinical coming from his voice. “don't you have a bunch of people waiting for you? you're... better off bothering some other guy who actually wants to, like, talk to you.“

he reaches into the deep pocket of his cargo jorts, his fingers pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a cheap plastic lighter. you watch him, momentarily stunned, as he slides a cigarette between his lips. the small flick of the flint illuminates the curves of his face—the boyish, bunny-like slope of his nose, the long eyelashes—contrasting sharply with the way he draws in the smoke. you hadn't expected this. the quiet blockmate who sits in the front row and never raises his voice actually smokes. he feels less like a flat, boring caricature of a loner and more like a puzzle with missing pieces.

you clear your throat, tilting your head as he exhales a thin, grey stream of smoke into the humid air, his eyes tracking the cloud as it disappears into the bamboo.

“well, my friends are occupied, and it's getting kind of boring over there,” you say, taking a step closer into his small sanctuary. a teasing smile plays on your lips. “honestly, it's way more entertaining to stand here and watch you squirm. so, what's the deal then? do you always hide out in corners like this? oh, i know why—it's a trick to attract girls, no? have you ever even experienced getting hit on by a girl before?” 

xavier takes another sharp drag, the tip of the cigarette glowing a fierce orange. he isn't used to this kind of attention—the piercing gaze of a girl who looks at him like he's something to be unraveled for amusement. his throat feels dry, because the truth is humiliating: almost no one approaches him, almost no one talks to him, and the few times women have looked his way, he had frozen up so badly they simply walked away, assuming he was stuck-up or broken.

“fuck off.” 

xavier shifts his weight, looking anywhere but at your face after pocketing his sunshades. “i'm not that type of guy. so, just leave me alone.”

he holds the cigarette awkwardly between his fingers, the ash growing dangerously long because he’s entirely too stiff to tap it off. his knuckles are white against the paper filter, and the silence between you only stretches, punctuated by the distant muffled thump of a techno remix playing by the shore.

“you're not that type of guy?” you repeat, stepping fully into the small bamboo enclosure. “what type? the type who knows how to hold a conversation, or the type who actually knows what to do when a girl hits on him?”

xavier squeezes his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, his chest rising and falling in a shallow breath. he takes another drag of his cigarette just to give his mouth something to do, but he inhales too fast.

“ghk—!”

he chokes.

it’s a pathetic, muffled cough into his fist, his whole pale torso spasming slightly as the smoke hits the back of his throat. it makes his blue eyes instantly water, looking away immediately and cursing silently in his mind. you didn't fail to catch the way his ears were burning a hot crimson.

“i'm fine,” he swallows hard, trying to force the monotonous drone back into his vocal cords, but it comes out sounding shaky. “the wind changed.”

“there is no wind, xavier,” you cross your arms, leaning your hip against one of the bamboo stalks. “jesus, you really don't know what to do with yourself, do you? are you seriously this clueless around women?”

“i-i'm not fucking clueless,” 

a normal experienced guy would laugh it off, make a smooth joke, or step into your space to push the tension back onto you. xavier does none of that. he just freezes, staring at his cargo jorts like the faded denim holds the answers to the universe. “i just... don't see the point. people are loud. you're loud.”

“i'm standing right here and talking in a normal voice,” you point out, taking a deliberate step closer. the scent of your fruity drink mixes with the bitter tobacco smoke hanging around him. “xavier, look at me when i'm talking to you.”

his eyes flick up, entirely against his will, caught off guard by the authority in your tone. up close, his features really do look like a startled bunny—wide, blinking eyes, a soft, trembling lower lip that he bites down on to keep from speaking. he looks so incredibly defenseless for someone who just told you to fuck off two minutes ago.

“...what do you want from me? i don't have anything to say to you. you're just... doing this on purpose.”

“doing what?”

“making fun of me,” xavier tightly grips his own upper arms again, his black piercings catching the light as he ducks his head. “you're just bored and you want to see how long it takes for me to look fucking stupid. go back to the beach.”

“tch—hahahaha!“

the sound of your laughter breaks the quiet of the bamboo enclosure, echoing over the distant thumping of the bass. you actually have to hold your stomach, tilting your head back because god, xavier is a riot. his reactions are better than any entertainment on the main stage! the panic vibrating off his frame makes a wicked little thrill dance in your chest. you want to toy with him until he completely snaps.

“okay, okay, look,” you say, catching your breath but keeping that mocking smile fixed on your lips. “i'll leave you alone. i’ll walk away right now, but... you have to answer just one more question for me.”

xavier watches you out of the corner of his wet, glass-pink eyes, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. he doesn't say anything, which you take as a green light.

“are you a virgin?” you ask, leaning in slightly, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “because honestly, xavier? you look and act exactly like one. oh my god, are you really a virgin?”

you expect him to choke again. you expect him to stutter, to turn away, or to give you another defensive non-answer. but instead...

“yes,” xavier shoots back instantly, his voice cracking slightly on the vowel but sharp enough to slice through the humid air. he doesn't hesitate. he stares right into your eyes, his diamond blue gaze dark and completely cornered. “i am a fucking virgin. are you happy now? is that what you wanted to hear? so go away. go find some experienced guy who actually knows what the fuck he's doing and bother him instead.”

you blink. 

oh. oh. 

he really is... a total virgin, huh. 

you hadn't actually expected him to just lay his cards on the table like that, so exposed and utterly pathetic in his honesty. it leaves you momentarily speechless, looking at the sharp lines of his collarbone, the flushed skin of his bare chest.

but, a slow grin crawls back onto your face. you decide to press his buttons harder. “hmm. i don't believe you.”

xavier’s eyebrows knit together into a deep frown. “what the fuck do you mean you don't believe me?”

“i mean, i have to at least find out for myself, right?”

the air catches in xavier's throat, his eyes widening into pools of pure shock. he stutters, his lips moving a few times before any sound actually comes out.

“...what?” he croaks, his gaze darting frantically between your eyes and your mouth. “w-what did you just say? repeat that. i must've... i-i misheard you or something—”

“i said, i want to feel your shape, xavier.”

what the... fuck.

xavier suddenly chokes on his own saliva, a harsh, pathetic cough rattling through his chest. his hand trembles so violently that the half-smoked cigarette slips right from his fingers, tumbling into the dark sand below, its orange ember dying instantly. he doesn't even notice. his mind is entirely fried, the blue of his eyes completely wild as he stares down at you, his back pressed so hard into the bamboo that the stalks groan behind him.

“you're... you're fucking messing with me,” he breathes out, “you're really... you're really this committed to making a fool out of me, aren't you?”

you chuckle sweetly, “i'm not messing with you, xavier?”

your eyes slowly track downward, leaving his flushed face and trailing across the expanse of his shirtless torso. you're searching for something, and it doesn't take long to find it. there, nestled beneath the faded denim of his cargo jorts, is the unmistakable silhouette of a growing tent. it twitches slightly under your gaze, like a physical betrayal of how affected he actually is.

xavier notices where you're looking and his brain completely short-circuits. “i-i don't... i don't even know what you want from me, so—okay, what the fuck, what the fuck—”

his voice cuts off into an unintentional high-pitched whimper as your hand reaches out and presses directly against the apex of his tent.

“ah.. nh...”

it’s a pathetic, needy little sound that slips past his lips before he can stop it. your fingers curl slightly, deliberately playing with the stiff shape through the thick denim, testing his weight. xavier’s hand instantly fly to your shoulder, his long fingers gripping your skin tightly—not to push you away, but because his knees have suddenly gone completely weak. 

you stop the movement for a second, looking up at him with a look of mock concern. “oh my, xavier... you've been hard?”

he tries desperately to catch his breath, his eyes closing tight before snapping open again. and he presses himself even harder against the groaning bamboo wall behind him, trying to swallow the hot lump in his throat.

“i-i'm a guy, okay?” he stammers out, his monotonous drone completely shattered into a defensive whine. “and... and you... you know you're really pretty, and you're—you're fucking hot, so... of course my body is going to—to—”

“how long?” you cut him off, your voice dripping with teasing authority while your thumb slowly strokes the length of his twitching bulge. “how long have you been hard for me?”

his head snaps to the side, his chin tucking into his shoulder as he desperately avoids your eyes. the deep, burning crimson has spread all the way down his neck, coloring his pale chest in splotchy, beautiful patches of sheer embarrassment. he looks so small, so incredibly tense and cute as he writhes weakly under your palm.

“s-since... fuck,” he stutters, a small, frustrated sob caught in the back of his throat as your fingers twitch against him. his eyelashes flutter rapidly, wet with panicked tears. “since like... since you started talking to me, okay? since you—i couldn't—i couldn't help it. please stop... no, don't stop, just—ah...”

the weight of him expands under your palm, hot and straining fiercely against the thick denim of his cargo jorts. you let out a soft exaggerated gasp, pulling your lips into a mockingly surprised pucker.

“oh, wow,” you murmur, your fingers spreading out to measure him through the fabric. “so you're actually pretty big, huh? look at you, xavier.”

the praise makes xavier’s head roll back against the bamboo stalk, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over with a heavy daze. the fierce crimson on his cheeks makes the blue of his eyes look blindingly bright, almost silver under the amber bulb. he looks down at you through his long lashes, lips parting as he draws in a shaky breath.

“y-you... you really think so?” 

”i do,” you coo, giving him a gentle, firm squeeze that makes his hips involuntarily twitch forward into your touch. “does anybody else know how big you actually are, xavier? have you shown anyone?”

xavier frantically shakes his head no, the messy ash-blonde strands falling into his eyes. “n-no... nobody,” he stammers, “nobody else has ever... ever touched me like this. i told you, i'm—i'm a virgin.”

”poor thing,” you slowly slide your hand up and down his length, snickering under your breath.

and the moment the words poor thing leave your lips, the bulge underneath your hand twitches violently, a thick pulse that you feel right against your palm. xavier lets out a ragged hitch of his breath, his eyes snapping wide open as a jolt of pleasure shoots straight to his groin. he looks at you like a starved creature, his bottom lip trembling as he swallows hard, trying to force his tangled tongue to work.

“s-say... say that again,” he pleads, his voice cracking. his grip on your shoulder tightens, pulling you a fraction of an inch closer to his shirtless chest.

“say what?” 

“th-that... what you just—just called me,” he stutters harder, his pale torso completely tense, a thin sheen of sweat making his collarbone glisten under the light. “c-call me... call me a poor thing again. please. it—it felt...”

he can't even finish the sentence, but you strangely find yourself obeying him anyway. there's something entirely intoxicating about seeing the unapproachable, sardonic block loner reduced to a shivering pathetic mess right in front of you just from a few words.

“poor thing,” you whisper sweetly, leaning in until your breath brushes against his burning ear. “such a poor, pathetic little bunny. you're so sensitive, xavier. look how worked up you are just from me touching your pants.”

”oh, f-fuck... ah...” his head slowly shakes from side to side against the bamboo wall, his entire body trembling as you continue to rhythmically palm him through the cargo jorts. 

“you like being called a poor thing?” you whisper, pressing your body against his trembling frame to pin him thoroughly. “do you want to be called something else, hm? perhaps a... good boy?”

“y-yes... ah! please—” his fingers dig into the meat of your shoulders, desperate for anchor, his knuckles turning stark white. “call me—call me that... please, say it... just say it, i—i want to hear it, please...”

“no.”

the denial breaks him. and for all that he is, he fucking lets out a pathetic sob, his head thrashing from side to side against the bamboo wall. he becomes a completely unhinged, moaning, begging mess right beneath you—just a pathetic starved virgin writhing under your touch.

“please... please,” he wails softly, a breathless moan tearing from his throat as his lower lip trembles violently. “don't be mean... don't be mean to me, i'll—i'll do whatever you want... just call me it... please, tell me i'm—tell me i'm a good boy...”

seeing him reduced to such a shivering, responsive wreck is too sweet to resist. you let your hand resume its punishing pace, and lean right into his burning ear. “such a good boy, xavier. look how well you take it for me. such a sweet, good boy. like that?”

“ngh—!!”

xavier goes completely rigid.

his eyes roll back into his head, his eyelids fluttering as his entire torso spasms violently. a loud, choked-out moan tears from his chest, echoing against the bamboo as he begins to fucking cum right through the thick fabric of his cargo jorts.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fumck—”

his hips slam into your hand over and over in helpless, uncoordinated jerks. he spasms like a dying bunny, helpless to stop the overwhelming waves of friction. and because he’s a little virgin, because he has held everything in for so long, the release is incredibly violent and lasts a bit too long, his body continuously tightening and pulsing against your palm while he stutters and moans incoherently into the dark air.

“shit, xavier, it's not stopping yet?”

“f-fuck... ah, ah... n-no, it's—it's too much... hngh... please...” 

slowly, the violent tremors begin to subside, leaving him slumped weakly against the bamboo, his legs visibly shaking as if they can barely support his weight. oh god, he's so fucking embarrassed.

you slowly draw your hand back, tilting your head as you inspect your palm. the front of his cargo jorts is completely ruined, a dark and sticky-wet stain soaking through the stiff denim.

xavier’s hand leave your shoulder, his fingers trembling so violently he can barely coordinate them as he slides a palm up his face, pushing his messy ash-blonde hair back from his forehead. he presses his hand over his eyes, his breathing still coming in ragged gaps that rattle his throat.

“oh fuck,” he breathes into his skin, the word muffled, trembling, and saturated with a wave of humiliation. “fuck... i didn't... i'm sorry.”

he drops his hand from his face, his diamond blue eyes looking completely wide and glossy with a pinkish rim of pure embarrassment. he looks away from you, staring desperately at the dark sand beneath his feet.

“i didn't mean to... to do that,” he mutters, though it's entirely thin and cracked at the edges. “i got... carried away. i told you it was my... my first time doing anything like this. i didn't know it would... fuck. i'm sorry for cumming too quick.”

“you really are funny,” you let out a sweet chuckle, entirely unbothered by his panic as you step back a fraction of an inch, your eyes trailing over his shivering frame. you turn around lazily, stepping toward one of the high, makeshift wooden crates tucked against the bamboo wall. with an easy grace, you hop up, sitting against the rough edge of the wood.

“well, since you ruined the mood by finishing so fast, you're going to have to make up for it.”

xavier blinks, his long eyelashes fluttering rapidly as his brain stalls out yet again. he looks at you, eyebrows knitting together into a vulnerable frown that makes him look like a lost child. “make... make up for it? what do you mean?”

“i mean exactly what i said,” you murmur, leaning back slightly against the bamboo behind you, parting your knees just enough to send a message. “it's my turn now. you need to give me something.”

xavier’s mouth parts, a breathless gasp escaping his lips. he stands looking at you like you’ve just spoken a language he has never heard before. “i... i don't know what you want. i don't have anything to give you.”

“use your hands, xavier,” you point a finger down at yourself. “put your fingers in me.”

“w-what?” he stammers, his voice cracking loudly as the splotchy red flush on his chest flares up with renewed heat. “you... want me to do what? i can't—i don't know how to do something like that. i've never—i've never touched a girl before. what if i mess it up? what if i hurt you?”

“shush,” you pat the edge of the wooden crate, tilting your chin down. “come here, don't make me repeat myself.”

he looks at you through those long eyelashes, his body frozen in place for three agonizing seconds before the invisible leash pulls him forward. his large cargo jorts swish heavily against his knees as he drags his feet through the dark sand, moving with the reluctant obedience of a stray dog that knows it's about to get scolded. he stops right between your thighs, his torso glistening with a fresh sheen of anxious sweat under the low amber light.

“i'll guide you,” you say softly, your voice dipping into that patronizing tone that treats him like the complete novice he is.

without breaking eye contact, your fingers reach down to the fly of your shorts. the metallic click of the button snapping open sounds loud in the small bamboo clearing, followed by the slow scratch of the zipper sliding down.

zzzzzip.

xavier’s gaze drops instantly, drawn down by the gravity of his own terror, and then he stares at the soft curve of your exposed lower belly. he looks so incredibly flustered, his throat working in a visible gulp. he realizes, with a sudden wave of panic, that he is about to see a girl's pussy in real life for the first time in his years of pathetic existence. not on a screen, not in a textbook, but right here, breathing and warm, under a resort light.

“hey, i told you,” he stammers out, his voice a shaky, thin thread that lacks even a fraction of his earlier sardonic bite. “i'm... i'm not going to be good at this. you're going to... you're going to hate it. don't expect anything from me.”

you don't even bother to acknowledge his miserable little disclaimer. instead, you lean forward slightly, your fingers wrapping around his trembling wrists, forcing his cold hands down until they rest against the waistband of your unbuttoned denim.

“take them off. panties, too. do it together.”

xavier lets out a faint gasp, a breathless “fuck...” slipping past his lips before he can choke it back. he looks at your hands on his wrists like you're forcing him into a crime, but his fingers instinctively curl into the fabric anyway. he’s so utterly malleable under your authority it’s almost laughable.

with hands that shake so violently they repeatedly snag against the rough denim, he begins to push the material down your hips. the fabric bunches around your upper thighs, and he moves with an agonizing slowness, as if he's terrified that any sudden movement will cause you to vanish or, worse, laugh at him again. his eyes trace the expanse of your thighs as they are slowly unveiled.

but as the dark cotton of your underwear follows the denim down to your knees, xavier’s head abruptly jerks upward. his eyes snap to your face, wide and frantic, deliberately forcing his gaze to stay glued to your eyes. he absolutely refuses to look directly there yet.

slowly, you part your thighs, the smooth skin of your legs brushing against the coarse fabric of his long jorts as you widen the space between you. “look at it, xavier,” you murmur, “look at it, and put a finger inside.”

xavier squeezes his eyes shut, his throat moving in a heavy, desperate gulp. for a second, he just stands there in the dark, his hands twitching helplessly in the air as if he’s praying for the bamboo stalks to swallow him whole. and when his eyelids finally flutter open, his gaze drops down. 

he looks, staring directly into the slick, parted heat of your pussy. a wave of heat surges up his cheeks, turning his ears a bright crimson under the bulb. he looks less like a man and more like a completely overwhelmed creature that has just stumbled upon something sacred and terrifying. his lips part, a small, shaky exhale slipping past his teeth.

“it's... it's so pretty,” he whispers under his breath, the praise slipping out unfiltered, raw and thoroughly pathetic in its utter lack of cool. it’s the kind of line only an absolute virgin would utter while staring between a girl's legs.

you reach down to wrap your fingers around his trembling wrist once more. “now don't just stare at it. put a finger in.”

you guide his hand forward, his long index finger pressing hesitantly against the wet entrance of your womanhood. xavier flinches slightly at the sudden contact, his other hand flying out in a blind, clumsy reflex to grip your knee. 

with a slow nudge of your hand, his finger slides past your lower lips, sinking into the tight, tight heat of your walls.

fuck. fuck, fuck.

the moment the slick warmth swallows his finger to the knuckle, xavier’s eyes widens, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat. under the damp denim of his cargo jorts, the ruined bulge of his erection twitches shamelessly, growing harder and tighter against his stomach even though he literally just came through his clothes minutes ago. 

“is this right?” his finger is stiff, twitching awkwardly inside you without any real rhythm because he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing. “am i doing it okay? tell me if it hurts, or if it's–shit you're so fucking warm.”

“you're just holding it there, xavier. that's not fingering,” you mock gently, your thumb pressing down on the back of his wrist to force an upward hooking motion. “curve your finger. like this. curl it up inside me.”

“l-like this?” he croaks, his pupils completely dilated as he tries to mimic the movement. his hand is so tense the tendons are standing out along his forearm, his knuckles white where he’s gripping your knee. he hooks his finger clumsily, catching against your sensitive walls, and the sudden wet squelch of his own awkward movements makes his face burn twice as hot. “like that? are you—are you liking it?”

“i'd like it a lot more if you weren't moving like a broken thing. do it faster, and deeper. unless this is really the absolute best those clumsy fingers of yours can manage?”

“fuck... shut up,” 

before you can even laugh at his little display of temper, his free hand—the one anchoring him to your knee—moves with a sudden bruising grip. his long fingers dig firmly into the soft flesh of your thigh, and with a sharp, heavy heave of his arm, xavier lifts your leg high. he hoists it all the way up onto his shoulder, forcing your thighs to splay open in a completely exposed angle.

the suddenness of the movement makes your breath hitch, your fingers instantly digging into the rough wood of the crate to keep your balance as the cool night air hits the absolute dampest, most intimate part of you. from this point, you are entirely laid bare under the amber bulb, a prize splayed out for the most pathetic pervert on campus to see.

xavier doesn't look away. now that his insecure temper has been piqued, his eyes are fixed entirely on your pussy. he leans over you, his chest casting a long shadow across your lap, the silver chain around his neck swinging like a pendulum as he repositions his hand.

“you want it faster?” he mutters, his breath hot and uneven against your neck. “fine.”

he drives his index finger back into you, burying it all the way to the base of his knuckle. a loud, squelching wet sound echoes clearly over the rustling bamboo stalks as his hand begins to piston into your heat. it’s still incredibly clumsy—his rhythm is erratic, a frantic, uncoordinated jerking motion that has absolutely no baseline experience behind it—but the force of his desperation makes up for what he lacks in technique. he's pushing into you with everything he has, his knuckle bumping repeatedly against your sensitive outer lips.

“wow,” you gasp out, a genuine shudder ripping through your frame as the friction starts to build. “look at you go. you're actually starting to get a hang of it, bunny.”

jesus, you are so goddamn wet. the sound of his own clumsy finger sloshing around inside you is so loud, so incredibly lewd, that the heavy tent underneath his cargo jorts throbs with a renewed tightness. he is so hard it physically hurts, a thick drop of pre-cum soaking further into the stained denim as he pins you down further.

the heat between your thighs is beginning to build into something thick and undeniable, like a buzzing current of pleasure that ripples right up your spine every time xavier’s clumsy finger drives home. it’s getting incredibly hard to maintain that mocking little smirk you’ve been wearing like armor. your teeth dig sharply into your bottom lip, trying to anchor the ragged gasps threatening to slip past your throat. you absolutely cannot let this isolated, virgin blockmate see that his zero-experience is actually working on you. it would be completely humiliating to lose your grip on the reins now.

you need to remind him exactly who is running this little thing.

“two,” you breathe out, your voice a little tighter, a little more strained than you intended. “put two fingers in, xavier. one isn't doing anything.”

xavier's hand freezes dead inside you, his eyes widening into flustered circles as he looks up from your wet folds.

“two?” he looks at his own hand, then back up at your parted thighs. “but... you're already so tight. i don't think they'll fit. what if i stretch you too much? what if it—”

“shut up and just do it.”

he gulps, the silver necklace clicking against his collarbone as he slowly, awkwardly wedges his middle finger right alongside his index. the sudden thick expansion against your walls makes your hips twitch involuntarily on the wooden crate. xavier doesn't even wait for you to lecture him this time; driven by a sudden, greedy curiosity, he begins to piston his hand back into your heat.

squelch.

“~ah!”

a loud genuine moan slips right past your teeth, echoing sharply against the rustling stalks above.

instead of pulling back, xavier plunges his hand deeper, driving those two fingers all the way to the hilt, his thumb bumping hard against your clit with a clumsy pressure that makes your toes curl into the air. 

“more,” you whimpered, the teasing girl completely vanishing, replaced by a needy shivering mess that’s entirely at the mercy of a boy who didn't even know what a pussy looked like twenty minutes ago. “put... put three, xavier. put three in.”

“th-three?” he gasps out, his knuckles slick with your own arousal as he hovers at the entrance. “are you sure? that's—that's too much, you're already so wet and, and, i don't—”

losing the last shred of your patience, you reach down and blindly grab his wrist to yank him forward.

with a low grunt that sounds entirely unlike him, he forces his ring finger right into the tight seam of your pussy. “shit—what the fuck...”

the brutal stretch of three fingers burying themselves inside you all at once catches you completely off guard. you let out a helpless whimper, your back arching off the wooden crate as your fingers claw desperately into the rough grain of the seat. 

the sloshing sound inside you is getting even more out of hand, a wet rhythmic squelch that is echoeing obscenely. and he’s doing it. the guy who looks like he’d apologize to a door if he bumped into it, is currently burying three thick fingers into your heat. 

but for someone who is supposedly delivering the pleasure here, he is making an absolute fool of himself. xavier is whining. actually whining. every time he shoves his hand forward, a strained noise hitches in the back of his throat, his soft boyish features contorting into a pained, pathetic scowl as if he’s the one being subjected to some kind of beautiful torture. his forehead is pressed nearly against your hoisted knee, his chest heaving so hard the silver chain is practically rattling against his collarbone.

you let out a breathless chuckle, fingers digging into his sweat-slicked shoulder just to feel the way his skinny muscles twitch under your touch. look at him. he looks like a pathetic, cornered bunny who is entirely too greedy for his own good.

“what's the matter, xavi? do you want to say something to me?”

in response to your mocking, xavier lets out a frustrated grunt. he drives his three fingers brutally deep, all the way to the hilt until his damp knuckles press hard against your entrance, and curls them upward with a sudden hook.

”~ah! shit!”

you squirm violently on the wooden crate, your toes clawing into the dark air while your hips involuntarily rise to meet his hand. 

xavier pants heavily, his blue eyes completely glazed over and dark with a drunken daze. he looks down at where his hand is buried inside you, his lips trembling as he tries to swallow the thick knot of embarrassment in his throat. “i-i don't... i'm unsure if i can say it,” he stammers out, his voice a shaky cracked whisper. “am i allowed to say it?”

you can barely even find your voice to answer him, your chest heaving as you give a wordless impatient nod. your brain is entirely too focused on the fact that his long fingers are moving way too loudly inside you.

then, without an ounce of warning, xavier leans in close, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin of the pulse in your neck. the movement forces you to stretch your leg wider, higher.

“...can i eat you out?”

the whisper is so incredibly soft, so completely unpolished, that it catches you entirely off guard. your eyes widen, your heart doing a sudden flip in your chest. the absolute audacity of this virgin. he’s still actively pistoning his fingers inside you, making you stretch and leak all over his knuckles, and he has the nerve to ask that?

“say it fucking properly.” you gasp out, trying desperately to claw back your sense of control because you refuse to let him see how much the question actually rattled you. “say it like an actual guy, you dork.”

xavier blinks, trying his absolute best to shake off the thick, pleasure-drunk fog clouding his brain. he doesn't pull his hand out; instead, he uses his grip on your knee to hoist himself up, leaning over your body more until his flushed, beautiful face is bare inches from yours. his messy ash-blonde hair brushes against your forehead, his dilated blue pupils locked onto your lips.

“can i eat your pussy?”

fuck.

he says it with the most ridiculous combination of innocence and desperation. it’s a line that should sound smooth, but coming from his trembling splotchy-red lips, it just sounds like a starved creature begging for a scrap of food. and the worst part? your body absolutely eats it up.

before you can even think of a mocking comeback, a thick hot gush of white liquid sloshes out from deep inside you, sliding slowly down his fingers and over your exposed thighs. your eyes roll completely inward, a loud, shattered moan tearing from your throat as your back arches entirely off the wooden crate. you shake helplessly under his touch, your walls clamping down around his three fingers in a pulsating rhythm as you come.

fuck, how did you come this fast? he’s just a fucking loser virgin. a loner who doesn't talk to anyone. how the hell did he just reduce you to a shivering, dripping wreck with nothing but a few clumsy fingers and a pathetic question?

xavier completely cuts off your trail of thought. he slowly pulls his three fingers straight out of your heat. the sudden emptiness makes you whimper, but the movement allows a fresh wave of your sticky, white cum to spill out, dripping lazily down the skin of your seat.

his fingers are dripping with your wetness, his breath coming in short, pathetic puffs as he stares down at the mess he just made. he looks like an absolute freak, an innocent bunny who just realized he has a taste for blood, unable to believe his own eyes.

but the next words that slip past his lips completely seal his fate as a total pervert.

“guess i'll take this as a chance to lick you clean,” he looks up at you through his long eyelashes, his lower lip quivering with that same pathetic timidity. “going to eat you out now. okay?”

you’re slumped against the wooden crate, chest heaving and trying to pull oxygen into lungs that feel entirely too tight. your brain is still a scrambled mess of white noise from the climax you just handed over to a fucking virgin.

and speaking of the devil—or, well, the pathetic bunny in jorts—he’s already moving.

xavier drops heavily onto his knees, the dark sand crunching under his shins. his torso leans forward, long fingers spreading out to grip the flesh of your thighs with a sudden, possessive weight. his knuckles are still slick with your release, and his diamond blue eyes are completely wide again, staring at the pink ruined seam of your core like he’s about to perform open-heart surgery without a license.

slowly, hesitantly, xavier tilts his head. his long eyelashes flutter as he leans in, the tip of his tongue darting out to gently and awkwardly lick the excess white cum dripping from your lower lips.

he flinches at the taste, his ears turning a fresh violent shade of maroon. you can see the nervousness radiating off him; he looks up at you through his messy ash-blonde fringe, his eyes wide and seeking validation like a dog that just accidentally knocked over a vase. the contrast is hilarious. he’s the one who made the perverted request, but he has absolutely no blueprint for how to actually do it.

you open your mouth, a mocking jibe sitting right on the tip of your tongue, ready to dismantle whatever is left of his dignity—

schlick.

xavier buries his face directly into your heat, his mouth pressing clumsily against your clit.

the sudden sloppy sensation makes your head snap straight up against the bamboo wall, a sharp breath hitching violently in your throat. your fingers instantly claw into the rough wood of the crate. he is entirely uncoordinated, his nose shoving hard against your skin as his tongue licks in a frantically flat rhythm that feels more like a wet puppy.

but god, he’s enthusiastic. way too enthusiastic.

“f-fuck,” xavier mumbles against your wet folds, his voice muffled, vibrating directly against your sensitive skin. a high, pathetic whine breaks from his throat between heavy suctions. “shit... i'm getting... i'm getting so hard again.”

“xavier, stop just flat-licking me like a freak,” you gasp out, trying to regain a shred of your authority while your lower half shivers under his mouth. you reach down, your fingers tangling into the soft, damp strands of his blonde hair to guide his head. “swirl your tongue. swirl it right there on the tip. and suck... like this.”

he whimpers against your skin, his hands tightening on your thighs, bruising your skin in his effort to obey. he tries to mimic your words, his tongue swirling awkwardly, catching the sweet spot just enough to make your knees shake.

“like this?” xavier croaks, his head suddenly bobbing up from down below. his face is an absolute disaster—lips glistening with your wetness. “am i doing it good?”

“go lower,” you breathe out impatiently, your hips twitching forward. “you talk too much.”

“i-i'm sorry,” he stammers out pathetically, his boyish features crumpling into a flustered scowl before he ducks his head back down.

this time, driven by your command and his own desperate need to be a good boy, xavier opens his mouth wide. he presses his lips flat against your opening and drives his tongue straight inside you. deep.

squelch.

the wet intrusion stretches you all over again, his tongue pushing into the slick path his fingers had carved out. it’s heavy, hot, and completely unpolished, but the sheer force of him burying his face into your pussy makes your entire world tilt. you fist your fingers deeper into the strands of his ash-blonde hair, the soft texture slipping between your knuckles as you use your grip to ruthlessly guide his head. you push him down, forcing his face entirely into your aching thing.

xavier lets out a muffled whimper right against your wet folds, his lips vibrating against your clit as he tries to draw in air. a tangled chain of choked curses—fuck, please, shit—bleeds directly into your skin, swallowed up by the sloshing wetness he's created. but he doesn't pull away. the absolute pervert doesn't even try to fight you. instead, his fingers slide up your skin, his nails digging ruthlessly into the soft meat of your outer thighs until they leave angry crescent marks that bloom into a fierce crimson. 

you really thought you could just toy with the loser and walk away unscathed, didn't you? look at you now, pinning a shirtless, twitching virgin to your lap in a deserted smoking area while a bassline thumps half a mile away.

the worst part is, the loser is actually a fast learner. his tongue stops the clumsy licking and starts to focus, his instincts adapting with a greedy terrifying speed. he swirls his tongue with an erratic friction right over your most sensitive knot of nerves, combining it with a suction that makes your pelvis lift completely off the wooden crate. then, a tight knot begins to coil deep in your lower belly, tightening with every sloppy degrading lap of his tongue.

suddenly, his large hands slide under your knees. he yanks your thighs inward with a bruising force, pulling you so close that your face is nearly level with the top of his head.

“x-xavier—ngh!”

the sudden change in angle forces a shattered whimper from your throat, your legs trembling helplessly up in the air—and xavier takes absolute advantage of your exposure. 

he buries his face much deeper, driving his nose hard against your pelvic bone as he begins to eat you out with a violently frantic hunger. his tongue pistons straight inside your opening before curling up to swipe your clit in a messy relentless pattern.

it feels so good it’s sickening. your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling his scalp so hard your knuckles go white, but he just whines and sucks harder, completely drunk on the taste of you. the knot in your belly snaps.

“sh-shit, xavier—wait, wait-!”

too late, your words are completely drowned out by a sudden violent spasm that rips through your entire lower half. your walls clamp down like a vice, and before your brain can even process the sensation, a thick hot gush of clear fluid erupts from deep inside you.

you're squirting.

you're violently squirting right into his face, the hot liquid spraying across his nose, his lips, and flooding his mouth all at once. “shit—fffunmck!” xavier lets out a muffled, terrified squeak, his eyes flying wide open in shock as he’s suddenly drowning in your release. he tries to jerk his head back, but your hands are still buried deep in his ash-blonde hair, ruthlessly holding his face down just to pin him to the source of your climax while you shake and sob under his mouth.

the spray of your release slowly tapers off into a quiet drip, leaving the bamboo enclosure thick with the heavy scent of cum and salt. your fingers finally loosen their white-knuckled grip on his hair.

the moment he’s freed, xavier pulls his face away with a gasp. his mouth is parted, his lower lip trembling as your second climax literally drips down the boyish slope of his chin, glistening under the low light. shit, he looks so fucking cute like that—like a completely corrupted and overwhelmed bunny who doesn't know whether to run away or bite.

he stays on his knees for a second, looking up at you from the sand with an anticipated expression.

“did you... did you really just... twice? you came... twice? from my... from my fingers and... and my tongue?”

you click your tongue. “don't be so full of yourself.”

he slowly stands up, his long legs noticeably shaky beneath his cargo jorts, which are still heavily stained and ruined from his own embarrassing mishap earlier. “shit,” he mutters under his breath, turning his head away. “shit... fuck...”

you let out a small chuckle, finally lowering your trembling legs from the wooden crate and letting your feet sink back into the cool sand. “you actually kind of did a good job, bunny,” 

xavier’s head snaps back to you, his eyes wide. “you really think so?”

you nod, sitting up a little straighter against the makeshift high chair, adjusting your messy hair. “yeah. look at you. you can actually go save this for the next time you need it, you know? consider yourself graduated. you basically have experience now.”

it's kind of hilarious how desperately you're trying to regain control when your thighs are literally vibrating.

xavier stays dead-silent for a beat. he reaches up with the back of his hand, aggressively wiping the wetness from his lips and face. “yeah... maybe. yeah. that... that makes sense.” 

he blinks, his eyes tracking your movements. “wait. where are you going?”

you tilt your head, reaching down to grab the waistband of your underwear and shorts, casually pulling them back up over your sticky thighs and into place. “i'm going back to my friends. they must be looking for us—well, for me—already.”

“what?” he croaks out, taking a clumsy step toward you. “why? where—aren't you going to stay?”

“and do what? stand in the dark with a guy who ruined his own pants in two minutes?” you shoot back, letting out a sharp laugh as you swing your legs off the crate and stand up.

but the moment your feet hit the sand, your knees completely buckle. wow. your legs feel like absolute, wobbly jelly, a direct consequence of his three-fingered pistoning. you stumble slightly, taking one awkward small step toward the exit of the bamboo clearing.

“hey, you can't just—i mean, you're the one who came in here and started—” 

he suddenly cuts himself off.

before you can even take another step, a pair of pale hands lunges forward from the dark. xavier grabs your upper arms with a suddenly startling grip, and with a frustrated grunt, he pushes you harshly back against the makeshift high chair.

thud.

the rough wood bites into your lower back again as you slam into it, your eyes widening in complete shock and pain. that caught you so thoroughly off guard you actually couldn't say a single word, your breath trapped in your throat as you stare up at him. xavier is standing right between your legs again, his shirtless chest heaving, his face bare inches from yours. 

sensing your stunned silence, the pathetic loser instantly panics.

“i—i'm sorry,” xavier stammers out. his scowl is deep, pained, fighting his own greedy instincts. “i didn't mean to—to push you like that. i just... i really want you to stay. and... uh... shit. fuck it.”

he swallows hard, his lower lip quivering as his gaze drops down to your covered lap.

”i really want to fuck you. right here.”

you stare at him, stunned. did he just...? did you hear him right? 

he swallows again, licking his lips. “i... i really want to pound my dick inside you until you see stars.”

“what the fuck?”

“sorry,” he blurts out immediately, his voice cracking as the realization of his own sudden aggression catches up to his fried brain. “i don't... i don't know where that suddenly came from.”

you stare up at him, your chest heaving as the initial shock wears off. a slow little smile pulls at the corners of your lips, the absolute thrill of having this untouchable outcast completely at your mercy giving you back your teeth. “is that what you really want, xavier? you want to fuck me right here in the dirt?”

xavier lets out a long ragged breath, his forehead dropping down to press heavily against yours. his eyes squeeze shut, his long eyelashes wet with a fine sheen of panicked tears as his hands blindly rush down to the waistband of your shorts. “yes,” he whimpers, his fingers clumsily fumbling with the button and zipper all over again with a frantic speed. “yes, fuck... please...”

before you can even utter another mocking remark about his lack of technique, xavier grips your hips and shoves you fully down against the flat wooden surface of the makeshift high chair. with a sudden heave of his arms, he hoists your legs right back up into the air, pinning them wide apart on his shoulders. 

“xavier... wait...” but he doesn't give you much time to adjust.

with a low, shaking curse—”fuck, fuck, it hurts so much”—his fingers dive into the front of his cargo jorts. he yanks the fabric down just enough to finally set his dick free. it springs out, thick, violently throbbing, and heavily glistening with the messy cum that had been soaking through his clothes the entire time.

he doesn't even know how to line himself up properly. he blindly presses the tip against your lower lips, and with one uncoordinated thrust of his hips, xavier slides right into your tight heat.

“ahhhhh, fuck!~”

a loud moan tears from his throat, a messy, echoing symphony of pathetic noises that reverberates through the vicinity. his entire body goes completely rigid the second your tight walls swallow him, his eyes rolling back as he immediately begins to thrust, his movements erratic, frantic, and entirely devoid of any seasoned rhythm.

your hands fly out to grip the edges of the wood, your head snapping back as a sharp gasp cuts through your throat. “x-xavier—wait, shit, you're so thick...” you can feel the heavy weight of his shaft still crowding against your outer lips. “a-are you... are you even fully in?”

xavier lets out a pathetic sob, his chest heaving violently against yours as he hitches your legs even higher on his shoulders. 

“n-no... it's not all the way in,” he gives a short, shallow twitch of his hips, his knuckles turning white where they’re anchoring into your thighs. “if i... if i push it all the way in, i'm going to—i'm going to fucking pound you until i cum. it's too tight. you're so fucking hot—”

“then do it, pound me until you cum. show me what you've got.”

the directive completely snaps the last thread of his sanity.

grunting, xavier leans all the way down, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he slams his hips forward with everything he has. he presses himself all the way in, burying his entire length into your pussy until you could feel the fucking tip hit you at the spot. “xav—shit!”

xavier turns into a completely unhinged moaning mess above you, trembling violently as he begins to frantically drive himself back and forth into your wetness. he is ridiculously tearing up, actual drops of sweat and panicked moisture spilling from his eyes onto your skin as his hips hit you with a sloppy, uncoordinated force.

slap. slap. squelch.

“f-fuck... yes, like that... look how well you take my dick,” he whimpers into your ear, his tongue darting out to blindly lick your jaw in a messy, wet display of affection. “you're taking all of it... you're stretching around me so good... shit, shit, this is all i've ever wanted. this is fucking it...”

he hooks his arms under your knees, lifting your legs even higher and spreading them brutally wide apart until your thighs are pressed nearly flat against his ribs. the angle is completely unshielded, forcing your womanhood to open up to its absolute limit as he drives back into you.

slap! slap! squelch!

he isn't moving with that hesitant, stuttering rhythm anymore. xavier has completely lost his mind to the friction, his hips slamming into you faster, harder, until the rough wood of the makeshift chair groans beneath your weight. he is an absolutely unhinged mess above you, his torso slick with a heavy sheet of sweat that glitters under the amber bulb. tears slide down his flushed cheeks, dripping directly onto your chest, but he doesn't care. he just allows himself to pound into your tight heat like a fucking machine.

it's so intense, so fiercely deep, that it catches you completely off guard. for a second, it’s like he isn't even a virgin anymore; he’s a starved pervert who has suddenly found the exact cadence to tear you apart. your fingers claw into his shoulders, your toes curling in the air as you try to hold back your noises, biting your lip until it hurts.

but xavier notices. 

with a grunt, he leans down and bites hard on the sweet spot where your neck meets your shoulder. the sharp sting of his teeth forces a high-pitched yelp right out of you, your hips involuntarily bucking upward into his heavy groin.

“d-don't... don't hide it,” he pants heavily into your skin, pulling back just enough to drive himself all the way to the hilt again. “let me hear you... fuck, you're so tight, your pussy is clamping down on me so hard... it's wrapping around my dick...”

his hips keep hammering into you, a relentless punishing pace that turns your insides into pure mush.

plap! plap! plap!

“give me everything,“ xavier whispers, a frantic sob catching in his throat. “give me everything... give me everything... give me it... give me you...”

his voice begins to fade, squeezing into a tight, strained wheeze as the overwhelming friction starts to drag him toward the edge. his movements grow shorter, more violent, his hips twitching in tight desperate jerks while he buries his face back into the crook of your neck.

“just like that... fuck, yeah, just like that... just like that...” 

he is fucking you silly, driving into your tight heat with a relentless speed that turns the small bamboo corner into a blur of heavily wet impacts. the sheer, unbridled force of his hips slamming against yours makes both of you practically see stars, your eyes rolling back as the muffled bass from the beach party fades into absolute white noise.

“f-fuck... ~ah, ah!~” xavier wails directly into your neck, his teeth grazing your skin while his pace hits a punishing peak.

suddenly, his fingers dig into your thighs with a bruising grip, his toes clawing into the dark sand below. with a loud, choked-out sob, he drives himself all the way to the absolute hilt, spasming, his thick length hitting your womb repetitively.

and just like that, he comes thoroughly deep inside you, a massive release that pulses hard against your walls over and over again. your chest heaves, a shattered breathless moan tearing from your throat as you take the full brunt of his climax. shit, that felt so goddamn good.

for a long minute, the only sound in the enclosure is the ragged overlapping pattern of your breathing. xavier stays slumped against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, his chest heaving like a runner at the end of a marathon.

and then slowly, with a trembling grunt, he makes an effort to pull himself out. the sudden separation makes you let out a soft, aching whimper. as his thick shaft slips free, it reveals a glistening strain of liquids from the both of you—a messy, thick combination of your squirt and his hot release—that instantly gushes out, dripping down the dark wood of the makeshift high chair and splashing lazily onto the dark sand below.

xavier stares down at the mess between your legs, his mouth parted.

“fuck,” he curses under his breath, pushing his damp blonde hair back. “what the fuck... it... it really did happen. oh god.”

you let out an exhausted groan, bracing your elbows against the rough wood to painfully sit back up. your legs are still trembling, completely numb from the weight of his pace. you look straight into xavier’s eyes.

“are you... are you really even a virgin, xavier?” you pant, your voice dripping with a mix of genuine disbelief and lingering malice. “what the hell was that? you didn't move like one at all at the end.”

xavier flinches slightly at your words, his long eyelashes fluttering rapidly as he looks away.

“y-yeah, i told you, i am,” he looks down at his ruined, stained cargo jorts, his bottom lip quivering slightly before he forces himself to look back up at you. “i just... i didn't know what suddenly came over me. i just... felt like... fucking you like that. because you were being so mean.”

“well,” you breathe out, your voice still a little raspy from the screaming he forced out of you. you reach down, slowly dragging your underwear and denim shorts back up your thighs, the fabric sticking slightly against your skin. “that was... definitely something, xavier. guess you don't need to practice on your pillows anymore.”

the mocking barb is meant to give you your armor back, but xavier doesn't snap back with his usual cold defensive drone. instead, he just lets out a small breathless huff, his lower lip twitching into a tiny, pathetic line that looks almost like a sulk.

“shut up,” he mutters, the curse completely devoid of any real heat. he reaches down to awkwardly pull up the waist of his jorts, his long, pale fingers still trembling so hard he can barely button them. “don't... don't say it like that.”

you hop down from the wooden surface, your feet sinking into the cool sand. your knees give a dangerous, wobbly shake the second they take your weight, and you have to blindly reach out and plant a hand against his bare shoulder to keep from dropping right back down. xavier instantly freezes under your touch but he doesn't pull away. his large hand instinctively hovers near your waist, ready to catch you if you trip.

“wow, still such a helpful little bunny.”

xavier swallows hard, “are you... are you really going back to the resort?” he asks, his voice dropping into that small, needy whisper again. “right now?”

“i have to,” you murmur, finally pulling your hand off his shoulder and stepping past him toward the narrow exit of the bamboo stalks. “my friends are probably wondering if i fell into the ocean. and you need to go wash those pants before someone thinks you spilled a whole drink on yourself.” 

he lets out a faint, flustered groan behind you, but he doesn't try to stop you this time.

as you take a step out into the open air, the loud throbbing bass of the beach party hits you full force, a stark contrast to the mess you’re leaving behind. you pause for just a second, tilting your head back over your shoulder to look at him one last time. xavier is still standing in the shadow of the bamboo, looking like an absolute freak—completely disheveled, beautifully flushed, and entirely ruined for any other girl on campus.

the heat of early june in the province always carried a specific kind of weight, heavy with the scent of sun-baked asphalt, dry grass, and the faint rot of fallen mangoes in the backyard. it was summer, finally! the kind of summer that felt less like a break and more like a threshold. you had just wrapped up your sophomore year at the state university down the road, a year spent navigating crowded lecture halls, cheap iced coffees, and a revolving door of new faces that you tried very hard to care about.

for the first time in your life ever since, you and caleb hadn't shared a daily routine. 

after eighteen years of being so aggressively attached at the hip that your shadows practically bled together, the last four years had seen you both drifted into your own separate worlds. it was a strange, quiet realization: you both had lives of your own now. 

caleb had packed his bags for that prestigious aerospace academy up north, his childhood fascination with the sky hardening into a fierce passion for flying. you, on the other hand, had stayed behind anchored to the familiar soil of your hometown just to float between random orgs, shifting friend groups, and the vague pursuit of figuring out who you were when you weren't “caleb and his girl.”

and today, he was coming home....

the question had been humming under your skin all morning, rhythmic and annoying like a cicada’s buzz. did caleb change? would he look different? act different? 

the last time you saw him in the flesh, right before his departure, he had already begun to outgrow the lanky, boyish frame you could map with your eyes closed. his shoulders had broadened, his jawline cutting a sharper silhouette against the terminal lights. he had looked less like the boy who used to help you steal guavas from the neighbor's tree and more like a stranger you'd cross the street to look twice at.

”make sure you tell him to eat properly while he's here,” granny had mumbled earlier this morning, her voice thick with sleep as she shuffled around the kitchen, adjusting the mesh food cover over a plate of fried rice. “that boy always forgets to look after himself when he's excited.”

you had laughed, buzzing with a restless, frantic energy, nodding quickly as you practically flew out the screen door. you didn't even bother putting on real shoes—just slipped your feet into a pair of worn-out rubber slippers, the soles thin enough that you could feel the morning grit of the driveway beneath your arches.

gideon’s car was already idling by the gate, the exhaust coughing a pale plume of smoke into the crisp morning air. gideon, caleb's friend and the closest thing you both had to another brother, had come back from the city a few days earlier because of some vague corporate endeavor he refused to elaborate on. his early return was a stroke of luck; it meant you didn't have to brave the crowded public transportation to get to the drop-off terminal.

“look who finally crawled out of bed,” gideon teased as you yanked the backdoor open and threw yourself into the backseat. the leather was cool against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the mounting humidity outside.

“i've been up since five, actually,” you shot back, leaning forward so your chin was practically resting on the gap between the two front seats. “go, go, go. we're going to be late, gideon!”

“we have forty minutes, calm down,” gideon chuckled, throwing the car into reverse with practiced ease. his hand spun the steering wheel effortlessly as he backed out onto the main road.

the moment the car straightened out, you immediately started. you couldn't help it. the questions poured out of you in a breathless stream, all of them centered around the one person who hadn't been here. because gideon and caleb were in the same university for college, gideon was your only real window into caleb’s new life.

“is he still doing those crazy flight simulator hours? did he actually pass his survival training or did he cry? does he still sleep with three pillows? is he... does he look different, gideon? like, really different?”

gideon navigated the familiar potholes of the provincial highway, answering each query with a patient nod of his head. he was used to this. he had been the buffer between you and caleb ever since.

“he's fine. still a nerd about planes,” gideon said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror with a knowing smirk. “he passed the survival drills with top marks, obviously. you know how he is. he doesn't cry over dirt. and yeah, he's bigger. the academy makes them do a lot of physical training. he looks like a proper pilot now.”

you listened to every word, your head tilting slightly, your eyes fixed on the back of gideon's head. you were listening so attentively it almost hurt, your ears straining for something specific. a name, maybe. a habit. a detail that sounded wrong, or a hint of a girl, or a sign that he had completely outgrown the small-town girl who used to share his umbrella. you were waiting for a phrase that would confirm your deepest, unvoiced fear: that he had left you behind in the dust of the province.

but that piece of information didn't arrive. gideon just kept talking about credit hours, physical exams, and flight logistics.

“anyway,” gideon clears his throat, switching gears as he turned onto the long stretch of road leading to the junction. “enough about the golden boy. how's state uni treating you? your granny said you joined some theater production crew last month. you making friends?”

the spark in your chest caught a sudden, damp chill. your posture slumped just a fraction, the manic energy leaving your shoulders as quickly as it had arrived. the topic was no longer caleb.

“oh. yeah. it's fine,” you murmured, your voice dropping an octave. “the theater stuff was just for a midterm project. it's over now. and friends... yeah, they're okay. we go to the diner near the campus sometimes.” it sounded dull. it sounded incredibly small compared to aerospace academies and survival training and flying through clouds.

sensing your sudden shift in mood but choosing not to press it, gideon just hummed, turning up the radio slightly.

you leaned back against the seat, suddenly feeling the distance between your body and the front of the car. with a slow movement, you pressed the button on the door panel, letting the window roll down all the way. 

you were going to see him in less than fifteen minutes. and for the first time in your life, you were terrified of what his smile might look like now.

with a restless groan, you shifted your weight, sliding down the leather until you were lying flat across the length of the backseat. you lifted your legs, balancing your heels against the rim of the lowered window frame, letting the rushing wind blow right over your bare toes. the bright summer sunlight hit your face in a sudden wash, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut as the shadows of roadside acacia trees flickered across your eyelids like a film strip.

gideon glanced back through the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “what exactly is the strategy here? are we airing out your feet, or are you trying to slide out of the car entirely?”

“shh,” you muttered, not opening your eyes, just waving a hand dismissively in his general direction. “don't ruin the vibe, gideon. i'm getting into character. when we get there, i'm going to pretend to be asleep.”

“and why, pray tell, are we faking a coma?”

“because,” you mumbled, your voice dropping into a stubborn drone. “he's been gone for four years acting all professional and pilot-like. i'm not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me standing at the curb like an eager puppy. if i'm asleep, he has to wait for me to wake up.”

gideon let out an amused snort but didn't argue further, slowing the vehicle down as he navigated the chaotic entrance of the terminal. the air became a noisy symphony of sputtering engines, the loud barking of barkers calling out destinations, and the heavy hiss of bus brakes.

then, the car came to a full stop. the engine remained idling, its low vibration humming right through your spine as you lay flat on the seat.

you heard the tinny ring of gideon’s phone bridging the gap over the dashboard, followed by the click of the answer button. gideon didn't even put it to his ear; he just left it on speaker, the sound cutting through the air-conditioned cabin.

“yeah? where are you? i'm near the main exit, by the yellow bakery,” 

”oop, i see the car,” a voice replied.

that was caleb!

your breath hitched, catching sharply in your throat. it was him. it was caleb. even through the cheap, compressed audio of a phone speaker, there was no mistaking that specific cadence—that easy, slightly raspy, slow-rolling tone that always sounded like he was hiding a joke behind his teeth. it was exactly the same. 

“alright, hurry up. the traffic enforcer is already looking at me sideways,” gideon said, hanging up.

panic, sudden and entirely irrational, flared up under your ribs. you scrambled to pull your legs down from the window, tucking your knees slightly toward your chest, and threw your right arm over your eyes, effectively blocking out the blinding glare of the sun and the view of the front seats. you squeezed your eyelids shut until you saw spots, forcing your breathing to slow down. 

just act natural. you're asleep. you've been sleeping the whole ride.

the crunch of boots on gravel outside the car door was your only warning. and then, the front passenger door clicked and swung open. “hey!”

your heart nearly leaped right out of your chest. the sheer force of it hammered against your ribs so violently you were terrified he would actually hear it over the sound of everything else. you closed your eyes even tighter, your arm pressing down hard against your brow line. 

“man, you look like you survived a war,” gideon’s voice boomed, followed by the rustle of clothing as the two of them exchanged a brief half-hug across the console.

“more like two years of institutionalized sleep deprivation,” caleb replied, his voice much louder now, much closer, vibrating from the seat right in front of your head. the car door slammed shut with a heavy thud, sealing the three of you inside the quiet space.

there was a brief rustle of a duffel bag being shoved into the footwell, and then a sudden pause. you could feel the exact moment his attention shifted.

”is... she dead?” caleb asked, his tone dropping into that familiar, amused lilt.

“passed out about ten minutes ago,” gideon lied without a single hitch in his voice. god, you owed him a premium coffee for this. “she was buzzing around the house since five in the morning, then collapsed the second we hit the highway.”

a loaded silence descended upon the car as gideon shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. you lay frozen, every muscle in your body stiff with the effort of remaining limp. you could feel caleb’s weight shifting in the front seat, the leather creaking slightly as he turned his upper body around to look back at you. 

even with your arm covering your face, you could feel the weight of his stare burning through the fabric of your sleeve.

then, a low huff of a laugh escaped him.

“silly girl,” caleb murmured, the word dripping with an irritatingly affectionate playfulness. “still a sleepyhead. some things really don't change, do they?”

gideon steered the car back onto the main road, the smooth roll of the tires replacing the chaotic noise of the terminal. “i don't know about that. she’s grown up quite a bit while you were gone, caleb. she’s not the little girl who used to cry when you stole her slippers anymore. she's at state uni now. got her own thing going on.”

there was another pause, a tiny stretch of time where the only sound was the hum of the engine.

“yeah,” caleb said, his voice shifting into a tone that was harder to read, more contemplative. “i can see that. she looks different.”

“don't let the height fool you, though,” gideon chuckled, glancing at the rearview mirror. “she’s still a menace. but yeah, you probably can't carry her around with one arm like you used to.”

“please, i can absolutely still carry her with one arm.” a fleshy slap echoed through the front seat—the sound of caleb smacking his own bicep or forearm or whatever to prove a point. “these muscles aren't just for show, gid. i could lift her and her bags without breaking a sweat.”

god, the urge to open your eyes was so overwhelming it was almost a physical ache in your chest. you wanted to throw your arm off your face, look at him, and tell him to shut his stupid mouth just like old times. you wanted to see exactly how broad his shoulders had gotten, wanted to see if his hair was still cut short and neat, wanted to see if that annoying, arrogant little smirk was plastered across his face. but the weight of your own realization—the sudden consciousness of him not just as caleb, but as a man who could effortlessly lift you—kept you completely pinned to the leather.

“whatever you say, pilot boy.” gideon laughed, shaking his head as he accelerated down the open road.

the comfortable rhythm of their conversation was broken by the sharp click of gideon’s turn signal. the car slowed down, veering off the main highway and pulling up.

“alright, cay, this is me,” gideon unbuckles his seatbelt with a crisp click. “i need to drop by this studio for that project archive i told you about. you take the wheel from here. just park the car back at granny's house when you guys get back.”

“yeah, sure. no problem,” 

wait, what?

gideon was leaving? 

panic flared up again as you stayed perfectly still, listening intently to the rustle of clothes, the sound of gideon opening the passenger door, and the heavy thud of his boots hitting the gravel outside. there was a brief exchange of instructions—gideon reminding caleb about a loose wire near the stereo dashboard—and then the driver’s side door opened. the car dipped slightly under a new weight as caleb slid effortlessly into the driver's seat.

the door slammed shut. the heavy, reassuring presence of gideon was gone, replaced entirely by caleb’s proximity.

he adjusted the seat, sliding it back a few inches to accommodate his longer legs. then, the car smoothly pulled back onto the road. and god, the silence that followed was deafening. without gideon’s easygoing banter filling the cabin, the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rush of the wind through your open window.

should you open your eyes now? if you wake up now, it'll look natural. just a casual yawn, and—

a subtle tug pulled at the crown of your head.

it wasn't painful. it was incredibly light. you felt a hand reaching over the center console, two fingers winding carefully around a single stray strand of your hair, giving it a teasing little pull.

your eyes flew open.

through the gap between the front seats, you finally saw him—caleb driving effortlessly with his right hand on the steering wheel, his left hand extended backward over the armrest with his thumb and index finger still lightly holding the end of your hair. he didn't even look back at you; his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.

but his eyes flicked upward, locking onto yours through the rearview mirror.

the corners of his eyes crinkled instantly, breaking into that utterly familiar expression. that lazy, arrogant, beautiful smile spread across his lips.

“got a good sleep, pips? your gege's back now.”

the nickname—the one he used to demand you call him when you were kids just to annoy you—should have earned him an immediate eye-roll or a sharp kick to the back of his seat. but you couldn't even bring yourself to reply. your tongue felt thick, glued to the roof of your mouth.

you just stared, agape, taking him in for the first time in four whole years.

he looked like a man.

caleb's eyes flicked up to the mirror again, catching the exact moment your gaze drifted from his face down to his shoulders, and then back up. your wide-eyed, breathless silence was loud. too loud.

for a split second, the easy smirk on caleb’s face faltered. his prominent adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a sudden patch of color rising along his neck. he cleared his throat, a slightly tense sound, and quickly looked back at the road, his fingers letting go of your hair as he pulled his hand back to the steering wheel.

“what's with the face?” he asked, trying hard to force that casual lilt back into his tone. “you look like you've seen a ghost.”

you quickly sat up, pulling your legs inward and smoothing down your shirt, desperately trying to find your footing. “you look different, that's all. the academy must be starving you if you've gone all that just to survive.”

“starving? please. they feed us like racehorses,” caleb scoffed, though the response felt a little rehearsed, a little too quick as he kept his eyes glued strictly on the asphalt ahead. “but thanks for noticing. glad to know my hard work isn't lost on a provincial girl like you.”

you leaned your cheek against your hand, looking out the side window to hide the heat rushing into your own face. 

somehow, the conversation didn't go the way you had scripted it in your head over the last four years. you hadn't greeted each other like two people who had spent their entire lives attached at the hip, starved for each other's presence. there were no desperate questions, no breathy laughter, no clumsy, overwhelming hugs that left you smelling like his cologne.

instead, you were simply staring out the side window, watching the green expanse of the provincial rice fields blur into a smear of dusty emerald, and then he was simply driving. 

“so, state u,” caleb started, “gran says you're keeping busy. how's the actual college life treating you?”

“it's fine,” you replied, your voice matching his even tone. you kept your eyes fixed on a passing billboard outside. “it's a lot of reading, but my blockmates are nice. i usually hang out with maya and javi after our afternoon lectures. we found this cheap diner near the campus that serves really good sizzling meat.”

“maya and javi,” caleb repeated, testing the names on his tongue as if trying to fit them into the map of your life. he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the road. “that's good. it's good that you found your crowd.”

“mm. javi's in the theater crew too, so we usually walk home together when rehearsals run late.” you added, offering the detail up like a shield.

why did it end up like this? why did the air between you feel so thick, so cautious, as if a single wrong word would shatter a boundary neither of you had openly acknowledged yet?

“what about you?” you asked, trying to sound completely nonchalant, keeping your gaze trained on the side mirror. “must be nice up at the academy. you probably have a whole new circle of pilot friends.”

“yeah. the guys in my barracks are solid. we complain about the flight instructors together. it keeps us sane.”

and then, that's where it happened.

“any... girls?” the word slipped out of your mouth a little too smoothly, a little too practiced. “i mean, the uniform probably does half the work for you up there.”

the car went starkly silent. 

caleb didn't answer right away. he shifted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening just a fraction before he relaxed them. it took a long drawn-out pause for him to reply.

finally, a gentle smile spread across his face—but it wasn't his usual mischievous smirk. 

“yeah,” caleb said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked out at the highway ahead. “actually, there is. i've got a pretty massive crush on someone from the nursing college nearby. i'm planning on courting her this coming semester.”

oh. okay.

you didn't say anything for a moment, letting the sound of his confession hang in the air between you like heavy smoke.

”that's nice. good luck with that.”

wanting nothing more than to disappear into the upholstery, you leaned further back against the leather of the seat. and you lifted your legs again, resting your ankles on the open window frame just like you had earlier. you stared straight into the blinding, white-hot summer sunlight, letting the glare sting your eyes until they watered, using the heat as an excuse for the burning sensation behind your eyelids.

college really is horrible. it really does change everything and everyone, doesn't it? it takes the boy who used to swear he'd never care about anyone more than you, sends him away for four years, and brings back a stranger who belongs to someone else.

you watched the provincial scenery go into a blurring motion as caleb pressed down on the accelerator, speed being his only response to the quiet.

suddenly, caleb cleared his throat, a nervous cough breaking the quiet. “what about you, pips? you mentioned that javi guy. do you... have a boyfriend now?”

you blinked, your eyes still stinging from the sunlight. you didn't even have to think about it. “no.”

within minutes, caleb steered the car smoothly up the gravel driveway of granny's home, pulling up right under the shade of the large mango tree. the engine died with a final, shuddering purr, leaving only the loud clicking of the cicadas in the backyard to fill the space.

you kept your ankles resting on the window frame, your eyes closed against the light.

then, you heard the rustle of caleb's heavy duffel bag being pulled from the footwell, and the solid thud of his boots hitting the gravel. but instead of walking straight to the house, the sound of his footsteps looped around to your side of the car.

a shadow suddenly fell over your face, blocking out the harsh heat of the sun.

you opened your eyes a fraction, only to see that caleb was leaning his arms against the window frame, his broad shoulders completely framing the opening. he looked down at you, a golden-boy smile playing on his lips.

“we're here, sleepyhead,” his voice still carried that warmth that used to make you feel so safe, but now it just felt like salt on an open wound. “aren't you coming out? granny’s probably already waiting at the door.”

you quickly averted your gaze, looking past his shoulder at the porch of the house, avoiding his eyes entirely.

“you go ahead.”

—

the heavy heat of mid-afternoon had dissolved by the time your eyes fluttered open, replaced by the long-shadowed stillness of late gold. 

you groaned, a sharp ache radiating through your lower back and neck from the impossibly cramped angle you’d been knotted into across the backseat. four hours. you had actually managed to pass out for four hours in the belly of a dead car.

you pushed the heavy car door open, your thin slippers slapping against the gravel as you stepped out into the humid yard. stretching your arms over your head until your joints popped, you shook out your numb legs, half-hopping, half-limping your way up the porch steps and pulling the screen door open with a lazy rattle.

the house was strangely quiet.

“granny?” you called out, your voice still thick and raspy from sleep. no answer. you tilted your head, wandering past the dark living room where the old wooden rocking chair sat still, and followed a faint metallic clinking toward the kitchen.

when you stepped over the threshold, the words caught squarely in your throat.

caleb, completely shirtless, bent over the kitchen sink with his back turned to you. a chaotic battlefield of rusty wrenches, tattered rags, and rolls of teflon tape were scattered all over the tiled countertop beside him. he was clearly deep-cleaning the drain and trying to muscle a stubborn leaking pipe back into place, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the amber sunset filtering through the small window.

from this angle, the reality of how much he had changed hit you like a physical blow. but it was when he leaned further down into the cabinet under the sink that your eyes inevitably landed on the silver chain hanging from his neck, the metal dogtag swinging loosely against his collarbone.

you swallowed hard, forcing your gaze upward, and cleared your throat loudly to break the spell. “where's granny?”

the sudden interruption made caleb flinch violently, his entire torso jerking upward in surprise as the back of his head collided with the edge of the upper cabinet.

“ouch!” 

”clumsy idiot.” you muttered.

caleb slowly turned around, still wincing, and looked up at you from his crouched position. you caught the distinct, deliberate way his gaze traveled down your frame—taking in your post-nap hair, your dumb shirt, and your bare legs—before flicking back up to settle on your face. the intensity of it lasted only a fraction of a second before his easy golden-boy mask slid right back into place.

“granny went down the road,” he casually leaned his hip against the counter, completely unbothered by his lack of a shirt. “visited mrs. alvarez or someone. said she’d be back before dinner.”

trying to appear completely casual, you walked past him, keeping a careful radius of distance between your shoulder and his bare chest, and opened the refrigerator door. the cool air hit your face as you grabbed the heavy glass pitcher of water.

“look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” caleb watched you pull a glass from the cupboard. “four hours, pipsqueak? i was about to check if you still had a pulse. you sleep like a log.”

you poured the water, keeping your back to him as you scoffed. “i had to make up for the four years of peace and quiet i'm about to lose now that you're back to annoy me.”

behind you, caleb let out a bright, boyish laugh—the kind of chesty sound that filled the entire room and made him look exactly like the sixteen-year-old boy you grew up with. 

“yeah, yeah, keep talking...” chuckling, he wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his forearm. he leaned closer to the table, his eyes shining with a sudden eager spark. “hey, are you free tomorrow? they opened that new amusement park by the bypass road while i was gone. i was thinking we could go. just the two of us, like old times.”

you raised the glass to your lips, using the movement to buy yourself time as his words settled heavily in your stomach. like old times. but it wouldn't be like old times. not with him looking like this, and certainly not with a nursing student waiting for him up north.

you set the glass down on the counter with a soft click, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before looking at him. “can't tomorrow. i already have somewhere to go with a friend.”

“a friend?” his brow furrowed, a deep line cutting between his eyes as he stared at you. “since when did you choose a friend over me?”

the confusion on his face was almost comical, because it was a look you knew intimately—the look caleb gave whenever the universe didn't bend to his precise specifications. it was intensely ironic, a hypocritical double standard that made you want to scream. he could go off to the city, rebuild his entire life, and find a nursing student to court, but the second you had a life outside of this gravel driveway, the rules suddenly changed?

“just a friend from state u.” you said airily, turning on your heel and walking out of the kitchen. “you're not the only one who got a change of scenery, caleb. i’m all grown up now. i actually have a life and people outside of this house.”

you hear the heavy, silent thud of his bare feet following you, the sheer mass of him trailing you into the small living room like a shadow you couldn't shake. you threw yourself onto the worn-out fabric of the sofa, grabbing the dusty remote control to click the television on.

instead of sitting down on the opposite armchair, caleb came to a halt right at the edge of the sofa, looming over you. he crossed his arms over his bare chest, his shadow completely blocking out the remaining amber light of the sunlight.

“i'm serious,” he muttered, carrying that infuriatingly paternal tone he used whenever he wanted to control a situation. “don't go hanging out with people alone just that easily. you're too trusting. the city might be a mess, but the town isn't exactly a sanctuary either. shit is unpredictable, and people have motives.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, snapping your head up to look at him. 

“you should know that if you’re a grown up as you claim to be.“ caleb added.

you raised a single eyebrow, your lips curling into a mocking smile. “what are you implying, then? that you still need to protect me? that i can't handle a simple afternoon coffee without my big, strong gege holding my hand?”

caleb’s eyes narrowed, a dark glint flickering in his irises. “should i not? just because we were apart for a couple of years doesn't mean you get to be careless. you've always been too stubborn for your own good.”

“yeah, well, you should not.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned your attention back to the television screen, where a loud game show was playing to an empty audience. “i'm [age] years old, caleb. i am quite literally not a kid anymore. so stop acting like a hypocrite when you're the one who—”

“let’s test that theory.”

before the breath could even leave your lungs, the cushion beside you sank violently. caleb lunged forward with a terrifying fluidity that you had never seen from him before. your brain didn't even have time to process the movement before the heavy, solid weight of his knees dug brutally into the foam of the sofa, effectively pinning the fabric down on either side of your hips.

in a fraction of a second, you were completely trapped. he had closed the distance so aggressively that you were locked between his thighs, his massive shirtless chest looming inches from your face.

“wait—what the hell!” you gasped, your hands flying up in a knee-jerk reaction to push him back, but caleb's hands shot forward, his fingers wrapping around your wrists with an unyielding grip. he didn't squeeze enough to hurt, but the absolute finality of his hold made it clear you weren't going anywhere. a slow incredibly wicked smirk spread across his lips then.

“see?” caleb murmured, leaning down just an inch closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. “you couldn't even move before i did this. you can't even defend yourself, you silly girl. that means you still need me to protect you.”

up close, the heat radiating off his bare skin was intoxicating, a musky warmth that seemed to fill your entire throat. you could see the tiny pulse point fluttering at the base of his neck, right above where his silver dogtags hung, dangling loosely and brushing against your collarbone.

“you're a cheater,” you hissed. “this is a cheap shot!”

“it's a reality check,” his grip on your wrists tightened just a fraction, a wordless challenge. “tell you what. if you manage to dislodge me—if you can actually get out from under me right now—then i'll let myself believe that you aren't a kid anymore. i'll let you go on your little date tomorrow without a single word.”

“it's not a date!” you yelled, the denial tearing out of you with a sudden heat. alright, if a game of strength was what he wanted to play to prove his stupid, masculine dominance, you were going to give it to him. you knew caleb. you knew how he moved, or at least, you thought you did.

”and fine. if that's what you want, you're going to get it.”

with a swift movement, you bucked your hips upward, twisting your wrists sharply against the grain of his thumbs—a self-defense trick he had ironically taught you himself when you were fifteen. the sudden, biting leverage worked; caleb's grip slipped, his hands sliding off your skin with a faint gasp of surprise.

“ha!” you celebrated, a triumphant grin breaking across your face as you immediately reached up, your palms slamming against his broad bare shoulders to shove him off the couch.

but you had vastly underestimated your gege.

before your arms could fully extend to deliver the push, caleb utilized your own momentum against you. leaning his entire weight forward, his chest slammed into yours, knocking the wind right out of your lungs as he drove your back deep into the cushions. in the same breath, his hands caught your forearms mid-air, pinning them flat against the back of the sofa.

a loud, frustrated groan escaped your throat as your knuckles hit the fabric.

“you're cheating!” you wheezed, your legs twisting beneath his thighs, trying to find some purchase, some leverage to kick him off, but his lower body was like an anchor. “caleb, let go! in a game like this, you obviously have the advantage, you giant idiot!”

“i told you,” caleb chuckled, his chest vibrating directly against yours. the sensation of his hard pectoral muscles pressing into your softness was a sudden jolt that made your entire body go completely rigid. “those flight drills aren't just for show. you're slow, pips. you're losing your touch.”

“i am not slow!” you argued as you thrashed beneath him. you tried to wrench your left arm free, but caleb simply slid his fingers down to lace tightly through yours, pinning your hand flat against the sofa pillow.

every time you writhed to escape him, your bodies rubbed together in a way that made your skin feel like it was on fire. the friction of his denim jeans against your bare legs, the heavy slide of his chest against yours, the tight, hot grip of his fingers tangled in yours—it was completely overwhelming. caleb had stopped laughing. his breath was coming in shorter, heavier gasps now, his chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm that mirrored your own frantic respiration.

“let... me... go,” you panted, but he stayed hovering over you, his broad shoulders completely blocking out the rest of the living room, effectively reducing your entire universe to just him. his gaze dragged slowly down from your eyes, lingering on your parted lips, before rising back up to look into your pupils with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with a childhood bond. 

“make me.”

his hips shifted just a fraction, a subtle pressure against yours that made your heart completely halt in your chest. “tell me you don't need me anymore. say it like you mean it, and maybe i'll think about letting you up.”

if you couldn't get him off of you with pure physical force, then you might as well use your words. you needed a distraction, something so inherently mundane and unsexy.

you swallowed hard.

“caleb,” you muttered, your voice hesitant. “i... i need to pee.”

caleb blinked. 

for a second, he just stared at you, his chest still rising and falling raggedly against yours. then, slowly, he began to relax the iron grip on your wrists, gently pushing his torso back to give you some breathing room.

is it working? a tiny sigh of relief bubbled in your chest. that worked, didn't it?

“hold it in.”

your eyes widened instantly. the sigh of relief died in your throat. what the fuck?!

you gasped inaudibly, your body going completely rigid all over again. instead of getting off the couch like a normal person, caleb simply shifted his weight above you. he let go of your hands entirely, but he just slid his knees slightly to the side, repositioning himself so he was hovering over you at a slight angle.

”do you remember when we were younger? whenever you felt like peeing, what did i make you do?”

your face burned a furious, hot crimson. you knew exactly what he was talking about. back when you were a pre-teen, you had a lot of difficulty with that—a stubborn, painful urinary retention issue that made you miserable during long car rides or summer afternoons. caleb, being the overprotective problem-solving idiot he was, had researched it in some random medical forum and forced a habit on you: he made you press firmly on your lower abdomen, right above the bladder, hold it tightly for ten seconds to stimulate the muscles, and then rush to the bathroom to let it out. it always worked.

but that was when you were kids. 

doing that right now, with a shirtless muscular caleb hovering right between your thighs, felt entirely indecent. the innocent childhood routine had suddenly been warped into something thick with a strange intimacy...

“what the fuck?” you cussed under your breath, your voice shaking as you glared at him. “let me up, caleb. i'm serious.”

caleb didn't react to the swearing. his expression remained entirely unbothered, his jaw ticking slightly as he stared down at your flushed face. he was completely serious.

“hold it in,” he repeated. “then press on it with your hand for ten seconds.” he paused, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your face. “unless... you don't have difficulty with it anymore? you can just do it without the routine now?”

to be honest, you still had that exact same problem. the childhood difficulty hadn't magically disappeared, and the trick caleb had drilled into you was a literal physical habit you had been doing ever since. it was a secret piece of your daily life that still belonged to him, even after four years apart.

but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. you remained completely speechless, your lips parted. 

caleb studied your silence for a beat longer, the corner of his mouth twitching with a shadow of that knowing smirk.

“nevermind.” 

he suddenly slid his legs off the sofa and stood back up to his full height. the sudden rush of cool air where his body had just been made you feel instantly cold, exposed. caleb reached down, casually ruffling your messy hair with a quick hand, before turning on his heel.

“i should go back to fixing the sink back there before granny gets home,” he walked beyond the living room threshold, his bare feet padding softly against the wood. “go pee, pips,” he called out over his shoulder before his voice faded into the kitchen.

now you were left lying there on the cushions, entirely silent.

—

the next morning brought no relief from the heat; if anything, the humidity had thickened overnight, settling over the house like a damp woolen blanket by eight o’clock. you woke up with your skin already tacky, your hair plastered to the nape of your neck, and your mind instantly pivoting to the afternoon ahead. today was the day you were supposed to meet your friend from state u at the town plaza, and the mere thought of sitting in a crowded bus while looking unwashed was enough to make you drag your feet out of bed with a sense of urgency.

grabbing your clean clothes and a towel, you padded barefoot into the indoor bathroom, ready to submerge yourself in the shock of cold water. you twisted the plastic knob of the shower faucet.

nothing.

not even a rusty trickle. 

you frowned, turning it all the way until the plastic creaked, but the pipes only answered with a mocking hiss.

ugh, caleb.

he had been elbow-deep in the plumbing just yesterday evening, claiming he was deep-cleaning and repairing the lines, and now the entire bathroom was bone-dry. he had probably shut off the main valve or misaligned the pressure tubes with his supposed logistical training.

with a frustrated huff, you realized your choices were entirely limited. you couldn't wait for granny to get back from the market to fix it, and you certainly weren't going to knock on caleb’s bedroom door to ask him for a favor after the suffocating display on the living room sofa.

there was only one alternative.

you shed your clothes and reached for a thin cotton sarong with a batik pattern that had grown incredibly soft from years of granny running it through the wash. you wrapped the fabric tight around your chest, tucking the edge securely over your breasts, and gathered your shampoo, soap, and a plastic basin. 

if the modern plumbing was compromised, you’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.

the backyard was a secluded narrow strip of land shielded from the neighbors by a dense, unruly wall of trees and overgrown leaves. tucked into the furthest corner, sitting on a moss-slick concrete slab, was the old manual pump-well. the heavy iron looked ancient, its dark blue paint peeling away to reveal patches of orange rust, a relic from your childhood that hadn't been fully utilized since granny got the indoor electric pump installed years ago.

you set your basin down on the concrete and approached the pump, wrapping your fingers around the long iron handle.

you pushed down, and the lever didn't even budge.

“hnggggh!” you tried again, putting your entire weight into it, your slippers sliding slightly on the mossy concrete as you forced the iron arm upward to prime the cylinder. a screeching groan echoed from the metal throat of the pump, a sound so loud it felt like it was tearing through the quiet morning. your breath caught, your chest heaving against the tight tuck of the sarong as you pumped frantically, trying to coax the groundwater up through the dry valves. a bead of sweat rolled down from your temple, tracing a hot line down your neck as you struggled, your face flushing with a mix of physical exertion and mounting frustration.

“you're going to break your back doing it like that.”

your hands froze on the lever as you whipped your head around, your heart doing a sudden flip against your ribs that had absolutely nothing to do with the heavy lifting.

woah.

caleb looked like he had just walked straight out of a sports commercial—wearing a gray athletic tank top that clung to the damp contours of his chest and black gym shorts that showed off the lean, powerful definition of his thighs. his skin was flushed a warm pink, covered in a fine glistening sheen of sweat with a white towel slung carelessly around his neck.

he took a slow step into your space, his eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of your chest beneath the thin cotton fabric of the sarong. his gaze flicked from your flushed cheeks, down to your strained shoulders, and finally settled on the rusted handle of the pump-well.

“just got back from a five-kilometer loop around the bypass road,” he tilted his head, a small smirk beginning to tug at the corner of his lips as he took in your disheveled state. “and i come back to find my pipsqueak fighting a piece of old iron. let me guess—the bathroom pipes aren't cooperating?”

“yeah, because of you.” 

you pointed an accusing finger at his chest. “you were the one messing with the plumbing yesterday, caleb. i don't know what kind of aerospace engineering logic you applied to granny’s bathroom, but it's completely dry. so yes, the pipes aren't cooperating because you broke them.”

caleb didn't even have the decency to look guilty. 

he just stood there, the corner of his mouth twitching upward into an intensely sarcastic smile that made you want to kick his shins. he listened to your scolding with an amused quiet indulgence, like he was watching a small kitten hiss at him through a window.

how annoying. 

he didn't even offer an excuse. instead, he took a sudden step forward into your space. “calm down, let me help you.”

instinctively, your heels slid back against the mossy concrete, your arms crossing tightly over the knot of your sarong to keep it secure against your chest. but caleb wasn't looking at you—not yet. his eyes were on the rusted blue lever. he brushed past you, his sun-warmed shoulder cutting through your personal bubble, and wrapped his large hand around the iron handle right where yours had been just seconds ago.

and within two pumps, a thick gushing stream of crystal-clear groundwater burst from the spout, splashing loudly into the plastic basin below.

it was going alright now, thankfully. 

you stood a step back, your tongue tucked behind your teeth as you tried to look anywhere but at him. but you couldn't help it. your eyes inevitably traced the flexion of his bicep every time he pulled the lever.

and then—splat!

caleb pushed the lever down too fast, and a full burst of water caught the edge of the basin, ricocheting straight up and hitting you square in the face.

“hey!” the freezing groundwater immediately drenched your forehead, eyelashes, and cheeks, running down the front of your neck and soaking the top line of your cotton sarong.

caleb froze instantly. the sarcastic smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of genuine panic. “oh—oops, i'm sorry,” he frantically dropped the iron handle and reached out with both hands, his white gym towel already bunching in his fingers. “i didn't mean to torque it that hard. are you okay? did it get in your nose?”

as a payback, you didn't even give him the chance to wipe your face. before he could step closer with the towel, you lunged downward, scooping a palmful of the freezing water straight out of the filled basin and throwing it upward with a vindictive flick of your wrist.

splat!

the water slapped caleb right across the jaw and eyes, head snapping back in surprise before he shook it aggressively from side to side—exactly like a wet golden retriever trying to shake off a bath—sending a spray of droplets flying from the wet strands of his hair.

he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a boyish grin breaking through his wet features.

“serves you right.”

“alright, fair enough,” he chuckled, his voice dropping back into that rumbling cadence as he looked down at you.

then, his eyes flicked past your shoulder, landing on the small plastic tray sitting on the concrete slab—the bottle of shampoo, the bar of soap, and the clean towel you had neatly laid out. 

“so,” caleb leaned one hand against the cool iron body of the pump, his gaze tracking a slow line from the soap back up to your wet face. “are you getting all washed up and pretty for that day out with your friend?”

you lifted your chin, “yup, i am.”

caleb’s grin hardened, freezing into a rigid imitation of a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

the silence of the backyard rushed back in, thick and suffocating, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip... drip... drip of the water from the spout into the overflowing basin.

“right,” his eyes tracked a slow path down to the wet fabric of your sarong. the thin cotton had absorbed the splash, turning translucent where it clung tightly to the curve of your chest and the dip of your waist. “the friend from state u. the one you walk home with?”

“javi,” you reached up, squeezing the excess water out of your hair strands, letting the drops splash onto the concrete between your feet. “we're going to the plaza. he wants to check out this old second-hand bookstore, and then we're getting dinner.”

“dinner?” caleb repeated, the word sounding flat, heavy, like a stone dropped into mud. “sounds like a lot of effort for a casual classmate.”

“he's not just a classmate, caleb. he's my best friend at university,” you stepped forward, intending to pick up your shampoo bottle, but caleb didn't move an inch. his broad shoulder remained firmly in your line of sight. “now, if you're done breaking things and splashing me, can you continue pumping the water so i can actually wash my hair? i'm going to be late.”

caleb looked at you for a long unreadable beat. then, a familiar smirk began to pull at the corner of his lips—but it was different this time. it was the calculating version of his smile, the one he wore right before he flipped a chessboard.

“sure, anything for my pipsqueak.”

he reached down, wrapping his fingers around the iron handle again, and began to pump. but he didn't do it quickly. he did it with a slow, agonizingly steady rhythm.

“you know, it's just a bit funny. four years away, and the first thing you do when i get back is run off to the city with some guy i’ve never met. makes a guy feel a little replaced.”

“you weren't replaced,” you muttered, leaning over the basin to scoop up some water to wet your hair, the movement causing your sarong to stretch tight across your back. “you left. there's a difference. you went to the academy, you got your own life, your own barracks... your own nursing student.”

the words slipped out before you could stop them, bitter and sharp.

“what did you say?” 

“i said you have your own life,” you repeated stubbornly, forcing yourself to straighten up and look him in the eye. “so don't act like i'm the one breaking rules here. go save your overprotective routine for the girl from the nursing college. she's... the one you're planning to court, right?”

the iron handle came to a sudden dead stop.

the water ceased its gushing, reducing to a trickling stream that dripped lazily into the basin. 

instead of shooting back with a witty remark, caleb simply averted his gaze. his long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked rapidly, his eyes tracking a random crack on the wet concrete slab. for the first time since he stepped out of that terminal, he looked... guilty. 

almost... shameful?

“what, lost your tongue?” you straightened up from the basin, squeezing the wet fabric of your sarong tighter over your chest. 

“you stand here lecturing me about hanging out with a friend, acting like you’re still my overprotective—ugh, i don't even know, when you’re literally planning to bring a new girl home next semester.” you purse your lips together, but it's too late to stop now. “you're such a hypocrite, caleb. go save your little 'hold it in' routines and your grand muscle displays for your precious nursing student. see if she actually tolerates your stupid, suffocating mind games, because frankly, i am so sick of hearing about how much you're moving on while i'm just supposed to sit here and—”

you cut yourself off, the words freezing in your throat. your heart did a violent terrifying drop into your stomach. 

fuck.

you had just said entirely too much. the stinging venom in your voice hadn't sounded like a childhood best friend being annoyed; it had sounded like a deeply bitter jealous girl who was bleeding all over the concrete.

caleb's head snapped back up. the guilt in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of absolute shock. he swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing sharply as he stared at your face.

“there... is no nursing student,” 

you paused. “huh?”

“i-i made her up,” caleb admitted.

”i invented her the exact second i got into the car yesterday. because you were looking at me like i was just a distant cousin.” he takes a deep breath, eyes wandering away while he furrowed his eyebrows. “you were so casual, so polite, talking about your university and your blockmates like my four years away didn't even matter to you. i got... i got terrified. i thought you completely outgrew me.”

and then, his eyes went back to yours. ”i've never even had the thought to get a girlfriend. i haven't looked at another girl that way since the day i left this hometown.”

you stood frozen in utter surprise, your mind completely blanking out. what the hell? your hands numbed against the cotton of your sarong, your mouth opening slightly but no sound coming out. how were you even supposed to react to that? the chess piece you thought he was playing to move on from you was nothing but a sick desperate lie to get a reaction out of you...

caleb let out a ragged sigh, a bitter self-deprecating chuckle rumbled deep in his bare chest. he looked down at his own wet gym shoes, shaking his head. “i'm such an idiot. i spent four actual years up at that academy staring at flight panels, thinking about nothing else other than coming back home to this house, to you... and just holding you in my arms all over again. but gideon's right. college really did a number on us. you have your own world now.”

he looked you straight in the eye then, his irises dark, intense, and swimming with a vulnerability that completely stripped him bare. “and i just... i missed—”

he stopped himself mid-sentence. 

his jaw tensed, eyelids blinking rapidly as a sudden crimson blush bloomed furiously across his cheeks and spread down to his neck. he bit his lower lip, tearing his gaze away from your face and looking out toward the dense wall of trees.

your heart was now hammering so violently against your ribs you were certain he could see it lifting the thin fabric of your sarong.

“i was scared too,” you whispered, breaking the quiet before you could lose your nerve.

caleb’s head snapped back toward you, his eyes wide.

and you clenched your own fists against your thighs, keeping your eyes trained firmly on the concrete between your feet, too shy to meet his gaze. “the only reason i was acting like that in the car... was because i thought you came back as a stranger. you got so big, and you looked so different, and then you started talking about that girl... and i just thought you didn't need me anymore.” you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

”all this time, caleb... i missed you. so much.”

there it was, laid out in the open.

caleb’s eyes widened in absolute awe, his breath catching so loudly in his throat it sounded like a gasp. he could do nothing else but to stare down at you, his chest heaving silently beneath his gray tank top.

but then—shreek!

the metal screech of the front gates swinging open suddenly cut through the heavy quiet, the sharp sound making the both of you flinch and snap your heads toward the driveway at the exact same time.

that must be granny.

just like that, your confession was left hanging in the damp morning air, completely cut off as you both went inside the house with granny's slow footsteps shuffling into view. she was carrying two heavy plastic bags filled with mangoes and avocadoes from the early market, her small frame leaning slightly to the side from the weight.

“oh, you're both awake,” granny mumbled, her voice carrying its usual sleepy cadence.

without a word, caleb fell back into his dutiful grandson role, though his face was still flushed a light pink. 

he stepped away from you, his large frame moving quickly to take the heavy bags from her hands. you swallowed the lump in your throat and followed him into the kitchen, desperately trying to smooth down the edges of your cotton sarong so you didn't look as completely disheveled as you felt.

the two of you stood by the kitchen counter, casually helping her arrange the fruits into the wicker basket. every time your fingers accidentally brushed against his while reaching for a mango, an awkward jolt went straight up your arm. 

granny paused, placing a hand on her hip as she looked at you funnily. “why do you have a sarong on this early? and your hair is wet.”

“the bathroom pipes aren't working, granny,” you explained quickly, your voice a little too high. “i was trying to use the pump-well outside.”

“ah, that old thing,” granny sighed, shaking her head and failing to notice the suffocating tension between you and caleb. “caleb, i told you to fix that last night. look what you did to your sister.”

caleb didn't say anything, just let out a small hum, his throat bobbing as he placed the last avocado in the basket.

“well, i'm quite tired from the walk,” granny rubs her lower back as she turned toward the stairs. “i'm going to take a short nap. caleb, come upstairs for a bit and help me find my maintenance meds in the cabinet. my eyes are too blurry today.”

“yes, gran. i'll be right up,” caleb replied without a single second of hesitation.

he finally turned his head to look at you as granny started her slow climb up the wooden steps. his eyes were still heavy with everything you both had just admitted out by the well, but he couldn't stay. he gave you one unreadable look before turning on his heel, his broad back disappearing up the staircase behind her.

and then, you were just standing there alone in the quiet kitchen.

in a wet sarong. without a proper bath.

fuck's sake.

you let out a long breath, your shoulders slumping as the reality of the situation hit you. your skin felt sticky from the groundwater, your hair was damp and tangled, and you were supposed to meet javi at the plaza later. with the bathroom completely dry and caleb occupied upstairs, a real shower was out of the question now.

muttering a curse under your breath, you walked back to your room, peeling the damp translucent cotton off your skin. you were forced to just wipe yourself down with a dry towel and change back into your casual home clothes.

knock. knock.

“you in there?“

caleb’s voice bled through the thin wood of the door, the sudden wrap of knuckles against your bedroom  making you jump half a foot in the air. you quickly smoothed down the front of your fresh t-shirt, took a shaky breath to steady the frantic drumming in your chest, and pulled the door open.

caleb had finally put on a new shirt—a slightly faded black tee that somehow made his broad shoulders look even more intimidating in the cramped hallway—but he was standing there completely awkwardly. his hands were shoved deep into his gym shorts pockets, his elbows jutting out slightly, and he was deliberately looking at a framed vintage cross-stitch on the wall instead of looking at you. a faint, lingering trace of that dark crimson blush was still dusting the tips of his ears.

“uh, yeah?“ 

caleb cleared his throat, his adam's apple bobbing before he finally shifted his gaze down to meet your eyes.

“granny... uh, gran told me to get the bathroom pipes sorted before she wakes up from her nap,” caleb muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “she said since i was the one who messed them up, i have to fix them right now. but i... i need an extra pair of hands to hold the wrench from the other side of the basin valve.”

he paused, his eyes searching yours with a quiet hesitant look.

“come help me, please?”

—

the bathroom felt smaller than it ever had before. 

you stood right over him, bare feet pressed against the cool porcelain of the floorboards, holding a heavy roll of teflon tape and a pair of rusted pliers in your hands. caleb was sitting flat on the floor, his long legs bent awkwardly in the tight space between the toilet bowl and the lower basin cabinetry.

neither of you spoke.

every rustle of his clothing, every heavy breath he exhaled, and every metallic click of his wrench against the pipe joint sounded like a damn gunshot in the cramped room.

your thumb kept sliding over the screen of your phone, lighting up the lock screen to check the digital clock. it was getting closer to the afternoon. 

caleb noticed. even though his head was tucked beneath the porcelain basin, his shoulders went completely rigid the third time your phone screen illuminated the dim corner of the room.

then, the scraping sound of the wrench died out. caleb remained perfectly still for a long beat, his forehead resting lightly against the cold underside of the sink as if he were gathering a desperate amount of courage. slowly, he pulled himself back, his broad shoulders clearing the cabinet door as he looked up at you.

“are you...” caleb's voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat, forcing the gravelly pitch down. “are you still going to the city with your friend?” he reached for the valve handle, his long fingers wrapping around the plastic knob with a hesitation that was entirely uncharacteristic of him.

the question was asked way too softly, way too hesitantly. he sounded small.

you froze, the roll of teflon tape slipping a fraction of an inch between your fingers. the truth was, the second those words had left your mouth by the backyard well—the second you had admitted that you spent four years missing him in the quiet of your bedroom—you had already resolved to cancel the day out. you didn't want to go to the plaza. you didn't want to browse second-hand books or eat dinner across from javi while your skin was still burning from caleb's touch.

but as you looked down at caleb’s upturned face, at the raw vulnerable waiting in his eyes...

“yes, i'm still going.”

why did you say it? you didn't even know. maybe it was a reflex, a desperate attempt to rebuild the walls he had so easily torn down out by the well. maybe you were terrified of what would happen if you stayed here alone with him while granny slept outside.

caleb didn't flare up. he didn't snap or offer a sarcastic remark. he just let out a low quiet hum, nodding his head twice as his eyes dropped back down to the plastic valve.

his reaction wasn't what you expected, and it made the hollow ache in your chest widen into something unbearable. what was supposed to happen now? were you both really going to sit here in the bathroom and pretend like you hadn't just shattered the childhood boundary? were you going to act like you hadn't confessed to missing him until it hurt?

“pips,” caleb said, his tone entirely too polite while he reached his hand upward without looking. “hand me the pliers. and... crawl down here for a second. i need you to hold the main pipe line steady while i tighten this last bolt, or the pressure's going to crack the plastic again.”

“okay,” you murmured instantly, doing exactly as you were told. you dropped the teflon tape onto the lid of the toilet and crouched down beside him.

the space was incredibly cramped. 

caleb's position lied flat on his back on the bathroom floor. his head and shoulders are pushed completely inside the dark open cabinet space beneath the sink basin so he can reach the pipes. and because his legs are so long, the lower half of his body is sticking out.

“alright, look,” caleb muttered, his voice echoing hollowly against the underside of the sink. he pointed a long finger at the heavy gray intake pipe. “when i start turning the wrench on this coupling bolt, the whole pipe is gonna want to twist with it. if it twists too much, it’ll snap the plastic threads inside the wall. i need you to take the pliers, clamp them onto the upper collar, and hold it perfectly still. think you can do that?”

and because you have to help him by holding a pipe that is also inside that dark cabinet, you'd have to lean your entire upper body over his chest while you crouched beside his hips and thighs. 

“i'm not completely useless, caleb.” you whispered back.

“never said you were,” he murmured, his eyes flickering up to meet yours beneath the sink. for a second, his gaze lingered on your lips, before he blinked and forced his attention back to the metal wrench in his hand. “alright. on three. one... two... three.”

you clamped the pliers onto the collar and squeezed with all your might. you could hear caleb grunting below you, biceps bunching as he threw his strength into turning the stubborn rusted bolt. but the second the wrench caught, your hand slipped on the grease-slicked metal. the pliers clattered loudly against the tiles, and the gray pipe twisted with a nasty screech.

“wait, wait! stop!” you gasped, your fingers scrambling to grab the tool again.

“you're letting it turn!” caleb yelled, though it was more of a breathless panicked laugh than an actual scold. he had to throw his arm over your shoulder, his large hand coming down over yours to help you steady the pliers. “there, hold it tight like that and squeeze!”

“i am squeezing! your hands are too big, you're blocking my grip!” 

“okay, okay, teamwork, remember?” caleb chuckled, his breath fanning across your neck. “let me reposition. you hold the handle with both hands, and i’ll just use raw force on the wrench. ready? go."

this time, you locked your fingers around the pliers, planting your heels firmly against the tiled floor and leaning your entire body weight into the tool to keep the line steady. caleb grunted again, a low sound deep in his throat, and with one shove of his arm, the rusted coupling bolt finally gave way, sliding smoothly into place with a satisfying click!

“is that it?” you panted, your knuckles white from gripping the pliers.

“uh, turn the valve. let's see.”

still hovering over him, you reached out and twisted the small plastic knob all the way to the left. for a second, there was a breathless silence—and then, the hollow hiss in the walls was replaced by the rushing water. you both waited, eyes wide, staring at the joint. 

not a single drop leaked out. it was perfectly, completely dry.

a breathless laugh then tore out of your chest before you could stop it. “we actually did it!”

“good job, pips.” caleb smiled, his hands coming up to clap against his thighs as he slid himself out from under the sink. ”this is exactly like that summer when we tried to build that stupid treehouse behind the old chapel. remember? you dropped the entire box of nails into the mud and blamed it on a stray dog.“ a nostalgic smile broke across his face as he sat back on his heels. 

you wiped the stray pools of water from the floor with an old rag, while caleb casually tossed the teflon tape and pliers back into his plastic toolbox. “because it was a stray dog! it barked at me and i got scared, and need i remind you who tried to use a literal rock because he forgot to bring a hammer?”

“hey, the rock worked for at least three planks,” caleb defended himself, catching the rag you threw at him with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that specific, beautiful way they always did when he was genuinely happy. “besides, i was twelve. cut me some slack. at least i didn't cry when the roof fell through.”

“i did not cry because the roof fell, caleb, i cried because a caterpillar fell on my shoulder!”

“same thing, baby. you were a total baby.”

“says the guy who still can't sleep without a fan on because he thinks the darkness makes the room smaller,” you shot back, leaning your shoulder against the bathroom wall.

caleb paused, his grin softening into something incredibly tender, leaving behind the golden-boy warmth you had starved for over the last four years.

“i missed this.” he casually reached out, his long fingers gently tugging at a loose strand of your hair that had dried in a messy curl against your cheek. “i missed you making fun of me. the guys at the academy are too polite. it’s boring.“

“yeah?” your heart did that erratic skip against your ribs again as his thumb lightly brushed against the edge of your jawline. “well... someone has to keep your ego in check.”

“exactly, can't have me flying planes with an oversized head, right?”

you finally stood up, your knees cracking slightly as you broke the spell of the small space. 

“i'm gonna... i should probably check the kitchen. granny bought some fish earlier, so i'll start cooking lunch before she wakes up.” you murmured, keeping your voice light as you took a step toward the exit, your hand already reaching for the brass doorknob.

you didn't even get to wrap your fingers around the metal when—

thud.

a large palm slammed flat against the wood of the door right in front of your face, the sudden vibration rattling through the frame. you jumped in surprise, your breath catching sharply in your throat as you instinctively whirled around.

“don't.”

caleb was looming directly over you, but it was the look on his face that made your heart stop. the boyish smile from seconds ago was entirely gone. instead, his features were twisted into a deeply troubled, desperate grimace.

“don't go.”

you frowned. “what do you mean? i'm just going to the kitchen—” 

“don't go to the city today,” he interrupted, his tone shifting into something bolder as he stepped even closer, effectively trapping your smaller frame beneath his. “i only have two months here. that's it. sixty days before they drag me back to the barracks and put me back in a cockpit. so...” 

caleb hesitates, but he takes a deep breath.

“can you just stay here? can you... spend every single day with me before i have to leave again?"

you stared up at him, your mouth parting slightly. fuck, you were blushing now. it must be so visible. 

caleb’s hand—the one planted firmly beside your head—slowly curled into a tight fist against the wood of the door. “it feels like i missed you a hell of a lot more than you missed me.” his voice dropped an octave, turning into a vulnerable murmur. “you have no idea how many nights i spent staring at the ceiling of that concrete bunk, just waiting to see your face this close again.”

speechless, you could only look up at him, your mind completely short-circuiting under his honesty. 

desperate to find some sort of anchor, desperate to make sense of the dizzying reality that caleb—your childhood friend that you should see as a brother—was practically begging for your attention, you swallowed hard and blurted out the first defensive defense your brain could manufacture.

“why didn't you get a girlfriend there?” you try, blinking rapidly as you struggled to maintain his gaze. “i mean it, caleb. you're... you're handsome, and you're well-built. it’s completely impossible that you didn't at least have girls trying to talk to you or court you up there.“

“why didn't i get one?” a slow smile broke through his troubled expression, his eyes glittering with a sudden amusement. he tilted his head down, his gaze dropping briefly to your small hands, before snapping back up to lock directly into your eyes.

“because... i prayed every single day. i closed my eyes at night and prayed that you wouldn't have a boyfriend by the time i got back.” you press your head further against the wood of the door, just when caleb nears his face close enough. “the thought of another man touching what belongs to this house... what belongs to me... would really, deeply upset me."

he leaned down a fraction of an inch further, but then he suddenly breaks the proximity by pulling back. 

“and... did you just say i'm handsome?” caleb smiled wider, his thumb trailing down the doorframe to lightly graze the very edge of your wet shoulder. “so... is that an admission? am i attractive to you?”

am i attractive to you?

your lips parted, but no sound came out. 

the sheer audacity of him—shifting from a desperate aching boy to this dangerously confident creature in the span of a single breath—was enough to make your throat go dry. you wanted to push him away, wanted to snap at him for using that rumbling tone on you, but you couldn't.

“you're an idiot, caleb.” 

“that's not an answer, pips.” 

he moved his hand from the doorframe, his fingers sliding slowly down the side of your neck. his palm was warm, a stark contrast to the chilled skin of your collarbone where the groundwater had soaked you earlier. his thumb found the frantic pulse point fluttering at the base of your throat, pressing just firmly enough to let you know he could feel exactly how much power he held over you in this room.

just outside, through the wooden slats of these walls, granny was sleeping. the knowledge that she was just at the other side of the room—that a single loud noise, a dropped tool, or a sharp gasp would shatter the quiet of the house...

“caleb, stop,“ you breathed, the protest losing all its teeth as your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him slightly closer instead of pushing him back. “granny will...”

“i'm being quiet,” he whispered back, tilting his head until his lips were brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “but you're driving me crazy.”

a soft whimper caught in your throat, and caleb immediately swallowed it.

“hmgh—!”

you felt his hand sliding from your neck up to your jaw, tilting your face up as his lips came down to meet yours.

it wasn't the sweet, tentative kiss of childhood friends. 

it was rather heavy, desperate, and laced with an aching hunger that had been rotting inside his chest for several months. 

his lips pressed firm and unyielding against yours, demanding a response you had been starving to give. you let out a muffled gasp against his mouth, and caleb took total advantage of it—his tongue slid past your teeth with a stroke that made your knees buckle.

you would have almost slid straight down the door if caleb’s other arm hadn't instantly locked around your waist.

he hoisted you up, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips through your thin shorts, dragging your lower body flush against his. the solid weight of him was overwhelming; you could feel the hard contours of his thighs and the frantic rising and falling of his chest.

you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, your fingers tangling into the short, damp strands of his hair, pulling him down further. you kissed him back with the same bitterness you’d been hoarding since he left—punishing him for the distance, for the nursing student lie, for the suffocating way he made you feel like you belonged to him even when he was hundreds of miles away.

your hands, tangled in the soft fabric of his black t-shirt, moved themselves to his shoulders, pushing against the stubborn muscle until he was forced to take a blind step backward. his heel caught against the base of the toilet, and with a muffled grunt, caleb sank down. 

the plastic lid was securely closed, providing a seat that placed him directly beneath you, his knees spread wide to accommodate the sudden change in height.

you froze for a second, your breath hitching as you stood between his thighs. the sudden drop in his posture left you looking down at him, your hands still resting on his broad shoulders while he looked up at you through his eyelashes. you hesitated, your lower lip stinging from the friction of his mouth, and despite of it all, your mind kept on screaming that you were crossing a line you could never uncross.

but caleb didn't give you the chance to overthink it.

his hands reached up, palms slick with a light sheen of sweat as they wrapped firmly around the sides of your waist. with one heavy pull, he guided your hips forward. and then, your knees slid effortlessly over his thick, denim-clad thighs until you were completely straddling his lap.

“ah—”

shit, this is such an intimate position!

the impact of your lower body hitting his thighs made a gasp slip from your throat, but caleb caught it instantly again. he surged upward, his mouth slamming back over yours to smother the sound before it could echo past the wooden door.

the kiss turned frantic, fueled by the weight of your body resting completely on his. it wasn't gentle anymore. caleb’s tongue pushed deep, demanding and possessive, while his teeth lightly caught the flesh of your bottom lip, biting down just enough to make you whine into his mouth. you bit him back in retaliation, an instinctive nip that made a guttural vibration rumble deep in his chest. his hands moved from your waist, one sliding up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling roughly into your damp hair to hold your face exactly where he wanted it, while the other pressed flat against your lower back.

and then, without warning, your mind went entirely, terrifyingly blank.

a sudden rolling pressure moved beneath the thin fabric of your shorts. caleb arched his back just to grind his hips upward in a slow tilt that pressed the hard length of his arousal directly against your center.

then, a sharp jolt of pure heat shot straight up your spine, making your eyes flutter shut as your fingers clawed into the fabric of his shirt. 

“caleb—” you gasped against his lips, trying to pull back just an inch to breathe.

“shh,” he breathed, his mouth instantly chasing yours, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jawline, before burying his face in the crook of your neck. his breathing was completely ragged, a suffocating thing against your collarbone. he didn't stop. his hand on your lower back moved down, a heavy palm pressing firmly against the base of your spine, and he ground his hips upward again, harder this time, forcing you to feel every single inch of how aroused he's just getting. 

“please,” caleb whispered into your skin, his voice cracking. ”don't move away. please... just let me feel you like this. i’m so tired of imagining it.”

“granny will...” you whimpered, your head tilting back as his teeth lightly grazed the sensitive skin right beneath your ear. your hands were shaking against his shoulders, your lower body instinctively tilting into his next roll, a shameless surrender that made him let out a broken sigh. “caleb, if she... if she hears us...”

“she won't,” he muttered against your skin, his thumb digging firmly into your hip bone, locking you flush against him so there wasn't a single millimeter of space left between your bodies. he took a deep breath, his chest expanding hard against yours as he forced his movements to become agonizingly slow. “i’ll be quiet. just stay. please... you’re right here, you’re finally right here...”

“i'm here,” you whispered breathlessly into his ear. “i'm right here.”

your skin was beginning to sting where it pressed against his. the agonizingly slow tilts of his hips couldn't stay slow for long.

without either of you consciously deciding it, the grinding turned into a drag of weight against weight—a quiet breathless dryhumping that sent waves of heat pooling directly between your thighs.

the fabric of your loose shorts and his heavy denim rubbed together with a soft, repetitive whisper—it was the only continuous sound in the small space besides the ragged, broken cadence of your breaths. caleb’s hands were no longer just holding you; they were practically anchoring you to him. his long fingers buried into the flesh of your bum, pulling your pelvis down hard against his with every upward surge of his thighs.

“caleb—”

the name was clipped neatly from your tongue as he hitched his hips higher, a muffled whimper escaping your throat. you slapped a hand over your own mouth, your eyes widening in sheer panic as you stared at the bathroom door. the reminder of granny sleeping just down the hall felt like a wire wrapped tight around your throat.

caleb caught your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from your lips only to replace it with his own shoulder. “bite me,” he choked out a whisper. “bite the shirt. don't... don't make a sound.”

you didn't hesitate. you buried your face into the soft black cotton of his shoulder, your teeth sinking into the fabric as caleb let out a shuddering gasp.

he was a complete mess. 

nothing more than a boy who looked thoroughly undone by your weight in his lap. a dark crimson blush had crawled all the way up his neck, blooming across his sharp cheekbones and turning the tips of his ears a burning pink. his long eyelashes were damp, fluttering rapidly as he kept his eyes squeezed shut.

every time your weight humped against his hard bulge, a whine would catch in his throat, a sound he desperately swallowed by burying his face into your hair.

you began to move with him, your hips rolling in a frantic rhythm that matched his pace, chasing the tight, coil of pleasure that was tightening in your stomach. this makes his fingers dig brutally into your hip bones.

“wait—hey, wait,” he wheezed, his hips stuttering against yours as he tried to find his bearings. he was trembling beneath you, the muscles in his thighs and arms locked so tight they were vibrating. he opened his eyes, irises completely blown out, to look up at you. “you're... if you move like that... i won't be able to stay quiet.”

“then don't move,” you breathed against his neck, unable to stop humping him like a starving bunny.

“i can't,” he whispered back, a tear of sheer overstimulation tracing down his flushed temple. a soft, helpless whimper broke from his chest as his hips instinctively arched upward again, completely disregarding his own warning. he ground his lower body against yours in three quick, desperate, and torturously deep strokes, his head falling back against the porcelain tank as he fought a losing battle to keep his ragged groans silent inside.

“how about...” you panted, “how about we do this standing up? would that... would that make less noise?“

caleb's movements immediately stopped, his breath hitching sharply in his throat at the suggestion. he didn't answer with words; his large hands just tightened around your waist, and with a low grunt of exertion, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly off his lap before setting your feet firmly back onto the cool tile floor.

before your knees could buckle from the sudden rush of cold air, caleb's heavy palms guided you forward. you found yourself bending over the bathroom sink, your upper body lowering until your forearms were pressed flat against the cool, smooth porcelain basin...

right in front of the wide mirror.

seconds later, the towering weight of caleb’s chest loomed against your back. he adjusted his stance, his long legs spreading slightly to frame yours, and then he crowded back into you. the thick ridge of his arousal aligned perfectly with your ass from behind, pressing hard against your thin cotton shorts.

he started moving again, but this angle... this angle was entirely different. 

it was so much more exposing, so much more intense, because when you look up, your blurred vision collided directly with your reflection in the mirror.

you could see everything. you could see your own flushed breathless face, your lips swollen and wet from his kisses. and right behind you, caleb was a mess. his dark hair was thoroughly mussed, cheeks and neck burning with a furious blush.

with every thrust from him, the force of his hips sent a jolt of heat straight to your throbbing thing, making your hands slick against the porcelain as you gripped the edges of the sink for dear life.

“hngh...! caleb—”

“shh—you have to keep quiet,” caleb scrambled to scold you, but he sounded completely panicked, his breathing so loud and ragged it was a miracle granny couldn't hear it from outside. “gran's room is... it's literally right beside this. if you make a sound, i'm gonna—we're gonna get caught.”

even while trying to play the protective guide, his eyes shifted downward in the reflection. staring at your bent-down position, watching the way your body curved beneath his and how perfectly you took every push of his thighs, was enough to send caleb entirely over the edge. he went visibly harder against you, his long fingers trembling violently where they were clamped over your hip bones.

“god, shit—” caleb choked out, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder blade, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. his rhythm turned a little clumsy, a little too eager, his hips grinding up against you with an uncoordinated, desperate hunger that made your mind spin. “i... i don't even know what i'm doing. i almost... i can't believe this is real. you're actually here. you're really letting me do this.”

“caleb, you're moving too fast,” you whimpered, your fingers slipping on the wet porcelain as he gave another firm, deep roll of his pelvis that made your thighs shake.

“i'm sorry, i'm sorry,” pressing a line of apologetic kisses along your shoulder blade, he consciously tried to slow himself down, his large hands squeezing your hips to steady the rhythm, though the intense blush on his face only deepened until his ears were practically purple. “is this better? like this?”

“yeah... yeah..”

suddenly, caleb’s hands moved from your hips, his long fingers sliding beneath the hem of your shorts.

“hey,” he choked out. “i can't... i'm not staying behind these clothes anymore. i need to feel you.”

with a frantic uncoordinated rush of movement that was entirely fueled by a lack of control, he pulled your shorts and underwear down to your knees, managing to free himself from his gym shorts at the exact same time. 

the sudden sensation of his bare, burning skin pressing against your uncovered backside made you gasp. “w-wait, caleb, what are y—”

he didn't wait. caleb guided the tip of his manhood to your entrance and pushed forward. with a slow, agonizingly thick surge, he slid completely inside of you.

the size of him filled you so entirely it took your breath away. your fingers clawed at the slick porcelain of the sink, your head dropping as a high broken whimper left your lips. caleb let out a long trembling groan against your shoulder, his chest heaving violently as he buried himself to the hilt. 

“fuck, fuck!”

”be quiet, caleb...”

“s-sorry, fuck.” a lazy smirk tugged at his lips in the reflection, his hands tightening on your waist. “see? i told you nobody else could fit you like this. you're shaking.”

he buries his head into your hole much, much deeper. “did you miss me this much?”

the teasing sting of his words, even now, made a surge of stubborn retaliation flare up in your chest. you didn't want him to see how completely undone you were. pulling your hands off the sink, you tried to straighten your spine and pull yourself forward, attempting to slide off his dick to break his rhythm.

it was the wrong move.

the sudden threat of losing you made caleb snap completely. his large hands locked around your hips like iron cuffs, yanked you violently backward, and thrusted into you with a force that was so deep and heavy it made your vision go entirely white.

“don't run from me,” caleb gave another hard, bruising thrust that almost hit your womb, pinning you ruthlessly against the porcelain. his upper body slammed against your back, his face completely flushed a dark, furious crimson as he forced your head up. “look at yourself in the mirror. look at what you're doing to me. look at how much of me is inside you right now.”

you couldn't even form words to respond. you were completely paralyzed by how big, how thick, and how utterly unrelenting he felt stretching you open from the inside. all you could do was grip the edges of the sink for dear life, your knuckles turning white as your body struggled to take his bare thighs slapping against yours.

yet, for all his dominant holding, caleb was a complete, crying mess.

every single time he shoved his hips forward, a pathetic little moan escaped his throat—sounds he tried so desperately to bite back, burying his face in your wet hair or chewing on his own bottom lip until it bled, utterly terrified of waking granny up outside. 

“fuck, please,” caleb whimpered against your neck, penetrating you over and over again with each stroke making you cry out into your hand. he was trembling so hard the vibration traveled straight into your body. “can we... can we do this every day? just until i leave again? please. tell me you'll let me do this to you every single day?”

you couldn't even answer him. you were too occupied, and quite literally occupied, by the way he's pounding against your ass. 

he was driving into you, his pelvis slamming against your backside with a wet and heavy sound. it was too much. the fullness of him stretching you open was overwhelming, and as he bottomed out completely inside you for the third time in a row, the careful restraint in your throat shattered.

“aaangh~!”

before the sound could even fade, caleb's palm snapped upward to clamp firmly over your mouth. his long fingers wrapped tightly around your jaw, crushing your lips against your teeth and effectively smothering your next desperate gasp into a muffled whimper against his skin.

“i told you to stay quiet,” but even as he scolded you, his lower body didn't slow down for a single second. if anything, your loud reaction only drove him deeper into the edge, his hips pumping into you even faster. “you're gonna wake her up. do you want gran to walk in here and see you like this? see what a bad girl you're being f'me?”

you were completely pathetic beneath him now. you couldn't breathe properly, you couldn't scream, and you couldn't pull away. all you could do was let out small broken whines against his palms, your tears wetting his fingers as your hips shook uncontrollably under the force of his penetration. you were nothing but a trembling, weeping toy for him to use.

“shit... oh god, shit, look at you,” 

followed by a groan, his entire body went rigid as he reached his breaking point. needing to get even deeper, to consume every remaining inch of you before he spilled, he reached down with his other hand and hooked it beneath your thigh. with one effortless pull, he lifted your leg up to force you to balance precariously on one foot while your knee was pinned up against his waist. “fuck, i'm so close,”

the new, devastatingly wide angle opened you up completely. it only allowed him to bury his entire length into you with a series of shoving that made your head snap back.

“don't make a sound,” caleb choked out, his voice cracking into a crying whisper while he began to hammer into you with his hand pressing harder against your mouth. “keep it in. take all of me right now. just take it.”

the final push of his hips sent your mind spiraling into absolute oblivion, your body tightening around his thickness in a series of violent, helpless spasms that milked him completely. caleb let out a sharp gasp against the crown of your head, his entire muscular frame going stiff as iron against your back. he knew he was at the absolute point of no return. even through the blinding fog of his climax, that ingrained discipline and the terrifying reality of the consequences cut through his thoughts.

with a sudden, desperate grunt of exertion, caleb grabbed your hip bone with bruising force and violently pulled himself out of you.

the abrupt sensation of emptiness made a choked sob rise in your throat, but before you could even register the loss, caleb’s release hit you. he came in heavy thick spurts across your backside and the small of your lower back.

“oh, god—oh fuck, i'm coming, i'm coming,” caleb cried out, his voice completely fracturing into a loud mess. he couldn't even keep himself quiet anymore. “fuck, i love you, i love you so much. look at what you did to your caleb.” 

a crying whimper escaped his lips as the final waves of his orgasm racked his large body. his hand finally slid off your face, fingers trembling as he let go of your jaw, leaving your lips swollen and burning. instead, he dropped both of his heavy palms onto the curves of your hips. “look at this fucking mess...”

meanwhile, your upper body remained slumped over the cool porcelain of the sink. your fingers were weakly splayed against the slick basin, completely devoid of any remaining strength. your knees were wobbling so much beneath your weight that the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the tiled floor was the unyielding grip of caleb's hands on your waist. 

slowly, caleb’s heavy breathing began to level out, turning into shallow, ragged pants against the nape of your neck. he opened his eyes, staring down at the reflection in the wide glass mirror.

he could only stare at the mess in absolute awe. the sight of you bent over the sink, your shorts pushed down to your knees, your skin flushed a beautiful crimson and glistening with his thick, white fluids, looked like something straight out of the sinful dreams he had hoarded in his concrete barracks. it didn't feel real. the fact that he had actually touched you, filled you, and marked you like this inside his grandmother’s house made his heart thump.

with a sigh, caleb leaned his entire weight forward, completely hugging you from behind. his broad chest pressed firmly against your back while his large arms wrapped securely around your waist to support your sagging frame. he buried his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as if he were trying to memorize it all over again.

“pipsqueak,” he whispered, his voice incredibly rough, gravelly. ”hey... look at me. are you okay? did i hurt you?”

you let out a small whimper, your head shifting weakly against his shoulder as you managed to nod. “yes... i'm okay.”

caleb let out a breathy chuckle, and he tilted his head to press a soft kiss against your burning cheek. “do you think we woke gran up?” 

you swallowed the dryness in your throat as you stared blankly at the porcelain basin. “i... i don't know, caleb. you were really loud at the end.”

caleb hummed, a lazy, satisfied sound as his thumbs lightly stroked the sensitive skin of your hip bones, soothing the small red marks his fingers had left behind. 

“well... if she's awake, she's probably just gonna think i'm clumsy and dropped the wrench again,” he murmured into your hair, his grip tightening just a fraction, pulling you closer into his warmth. “come on. let's get you cleaned up. i'll wash you down, and then... i'll cook you that braised pork you love right now. the one with the sweet soy sauce and the star anise. how would that sound, pips?”

“that sounds great, gege.”

caleb gulped at the nickname. “it's been a while since you used that on me,” his face breaks into a smile, and then he leans down to look at you in the eye instead of through the mirror. “what if you use that while we do it again tonight?”

your breath hitched, but your face didn’t change. he twirled the baton in his fingers - slowly, like a man spinning thought between his hands - before he drifted behind you. “your infiltration logs were brilliant, i’ll give you that,” you felt the baton before you saw it, its cool metal brushing lightly against the curve of your neck. it was just there, ghosting over your pulse. 

“who are you?” his voice was close now, just right behind you, coaxing—as if he already knew, and was waiting for you to admit it.

you tilted your chin to say, “you first.” 

he then gave a low hum, a smirk with an imperceptible huff. the baton dragged lightly down the side of your throat, trailing warmth in its absence.

“watch your mouth.”

arrogant bitch.

you cursed inside your head. the baton slid lower a breath along your collarbone, light enough to be mistaken for air. “you stole a signal that doesn’t exist on official channels,” he whispered, a lulling edge to the end. “you replied to something that no one should’ve been able to hear.”

the baton stilled, resting just at the base of your throat. you could feel its weight, you could feel his weight and the full press of his attention, sharp and absolute. then he leaned down that you could feel the surface of his lips ghostly brushing against below your ear. it made you want to shiver. “who sent you?”

you let the silence stretch, let it fester. his question lingered in the air between you, still clinging to the metal baton resting against your skin. then, you snickered. a sharp, cruel thing. like a blade dragged across velvet.

”you talk too much,” you turned your head as much as the restraints would let you, and your eyes met his over your shoulder, unapologetic “you wear all that black like it’s meant to scare me, but i’ve seen even more prettier things rot.”

you smiled faintly, before moving just a sudden shift, a sharp buck of your knees and a jerk of your shoulder - but enough to make the chair scrape against the floor, to make him step back out of instinct. you twisted hard, trying to unbalance yourself, maybe break the armrest, maybe dislodge something sharp.

but before you could even move again, his hand was on your shoulder. ”you're not being clever.” he leaned down. the baton tapped once, gently, against your temple. “you don't need to bury your fear under your sleeve, i've broken better masks than yours.”

and then, slowly, he stepped around you, back into view. and from his hip he drew the gun. polished, regulation-issue sidearm, matte black and loaded. he didn’t point it at you, nor did he try to threaten. he simply turned it over in his hands, admiring it and kneeling down, until you were face to face. 

he lifted the gun, deliberately, and tilted the barrel so it rested beneath your chin. the touch was featherlight. “do you know what makes me dangerous? it’s not this.” then came a gentle tap against your jaw with the muzzle. “it’s that i never need to use it.” he tilted his head, eyes dragging across your face like he was dissecting it. 

“because i know someone like you folds easily.”

there's a pause, long enough to stretch. long enough for you to feel the weight of it all, his breath, the barrel, the words that still clung to the air like smoke. but you refused to flinch. instead, with the slow calculated tension of someone who’s been waiting, you twist your wrists. the cuffs groan in response, before... 

a snap!

metal splits with a screeching crack, and before the sound even finishes ringing out, you instantly moved. only your hands can though, as your ankles are also trapped. your fingers wrap around his wrist and wrench the gun from his hand, trained.

he lets you, strangely. he lets you drag the muzzle up, up, up - until it’s basically pressing into your own lips, eyes locked with his like a dare. “you could put this in and pull the trigger, but i still won't talk.”

colonel caleb smirks, standing up without breaking eye contact. after a slight pause, he twists your wrist in an abrupt flicker to take the gun back between his fingers, and then, “sure, i will.” he says, right before forcing the gun into your mouth. 

this catches you off guard, making you squirm on your seat and grip on the armrests. you could feel how the barrel of his gun is pushing your mouth lpen just to adjust to its size. though it wasn’t fairly big, the absurdity of the gesture only seemed to humiliate you. 

you watch him stare down at you. why wasn't he saying anything? you watch how his eyes were slowly turning lazy, a ghost of an uncharacteristic smirk forming between his lips. 

the cold metal of the barrel stretched your lips wide, a blunt and intrusive presence that tasted of oil and gunpowder. you let out a muffled, indignant sound, your throat working as you tried to accommodate the intrusion. your hands gripped the armrests so hard your knuckles turned white, eyes wide and flashing with a mixture of shock and mounting fury. you expected the sting of a slap or the bite of a blade, but whatever this shit is far more humiliating.

is this typically how the colonel treats problems? 

caleb didn’t pull back. he stayed close between your thighs, gaze heavy and unblinking as he watched you struggle. he looked less like an interrogator and more like a man watching a beautiful, trapped bird flutter its wings in vain. “what happened to all that fire?” he asked, “you were so ready to bite, weren’t you?”

he leaned forward, his weight shifting as he used his free hand to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. with a slow movement, he pushed the muzzle deeper. it wasn’t a violent shove, but a commanding pressure that forced your jaw to unhinge just a fraction more. the metal slid past your teeth, only pressing against the sensitive flesh of your tongue. 

“there she is,” he murmured, a ghost of a laugh catching in his throat as he saw the way your eyes narrowed into a fierce glare from beneath the heavy lid of your lashes. “the little rebel. you look so much more... compliant... when you can't find the words to insult me.”

you tried to snarl, to let out a defiant sound, but it only came out as a choked hum against the steel. 

“hmmgh!” you glared at him from below, eyes burning with a silent promise of retribution, but the effect was lost on him. instead of intimidation, your fury seemed to feed his amusement. he watched the way your lips strained around the gun, the way your breath came in shallow, ragged puffs.

“don’t look at me like that,” caleb teased, the thumb of his free hand tracing the curve of your lower lip, just where the gun met your skin. “unless you want me to see just how much of this you can take before you start begging.” he gave the gun another slight, teasing nudge, testing the limits of your endurance. “yeah? you’d hate that, won’t you?”

absolutely.

you had reached your limit. the humiliation was a bitter taste, second only to the oil on the barrel, and your patience snapped like a frayed wire. in a sudden burst of movement, you lunged forward, hands flying up to grasp his wrist. you intended to shove him back, to reclaim the space he was so brazenly invading, but the colonel was obviously a man of iron and discipline. his grip on the sidearm only tightened, the metal clicking as his fingers braced against the frame. his brow furrowed, a stern frown settling over his handsome features.

”enough,” he warned, voice dropping into a low register that signaled the end of his patience. “stop this theater, or i’ll stop being gentle. don’t complain when i decide to pull the trigger right now."

the threat should have made you recoil. it should have sent a tremor of terror through your limbs. but as you stared up at him, the sharp edges of your glare began to melt. you didn’t see a killer; you saw a man. a man who was far too comfortable in his dominance, a man who relied on the fear of his shadow to keep people in line. 

if he wants to play the colonel, then you might as well play the siren.

your hands, which had been trying to push him, suddenly softened, as your fingers curled around the solid shaft of the gun. you leaned into the metal, eyes losing fury and replacing it with a hooded liddedness. then, with a deliberate grace, you began to suck on the barrel. 

you bobbed your head in a rhythmic, mesmerizing motion, lips sliding over the steel as you looked up at him through your lashes, your gaze a sultry challenge.

caleb, the man who had been so dominant, so utterly in control, froze. his eyes widened, the pupils dilating until the dark iris was nearly swallowed by black. his breath hitched, an audible intake of air that betrayed the sudden jolt to his system. he was speechless to say the least.

who’s in control now?

while you maintained the facade of the seductive captive, your mind was working a different kind of magic. beneath you, hidden by the shadows and the intensity of the moment, your ankles were in constant motion. you worked the metal of the locks, twisting your feet, feeling for the mechanism, trying to find the slight give in the heavy restraints. 

and you kept the rhythm steady, your eyes never leaving his, watching the way his composure began to fray at the edges. caleb was fighting a losing battle; you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his throat worked as he swallowed hard, trying to suppress the pained expression that was threatening to break through his mask of authority. the stoic colonel was drowning in the image of your lips on his weapon, and the hunger in his eyes was no longer just about information. 

but then...

“so...” he finally spoke, his voice a gravelly, strained shadow of its former self. “this is the real game you’re playing? you aren’t here for the signal... you’re here for this?” he challenged, his gaze burning into yours “are you so desperate for a taste of something real that you'd settle for my gun?”

abruptly, he pulled the gun free from your mouth. the sudden absence of the metal left your lips feeling cold and strangely empty. you watched, mesmerized, as a glistening thread of saliva stretched between your bottom lip and the muzzle, a silver line that shimmered in the dim light before finally snapping. he didn’t look at you as he set the sidearm aside on the table with a thud. 

“if you are so eager to satisfy that hunger,” caleb murmured and reached for the waist of his trousers, “then use the real thing, hm?” his fingers caught the tab of his lower zipper, and the sharp zzzzzzt of the metal teeth parting sounded like, to you, a threat. 

the sheer audacity of the gesture hit you like a physical blow. your composure, the carefully constructed mask of the seductive prisoner, shattered instantly. a soft, broken gasp escaped your lips, but no words followed. 

what the hell? you had expected him to fall for it, but not like this.

you wanted to look away, to reclaim your dignity, but you were like a moth drawn to a terrifying flame.

caleb let his buttons part, and with a triumphant smirk, he revealed himself. your breath immediately hitched, caught in the back of your throat as you stared. 

he was massive, an angry, twitching red, incredibly hard and straining with a life of its own, the veins standing out in sharp relief against his skin. there was already a bit of pre-cum leaking out the tip. says a lot about how long he’s been rock hard for you. the sight was overwhelming, making you feel small, vulnerable, and achingly aroused despite yourself. 

“go on,” caleb commanded, “suck it. that's an order.”

you swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making the movement feel clumsy. for a moment, the old defiance flared up again, a desperate attempt to reclaim the high ground. you tilted your head back, eyes narrowing into that sharp glare again as you looked up at him. “is this what a colonel does? is this how you conduct an interrogation?”

caleb takes a heavy step forward, closing the distance until he was looming over you. he reached down to catch your chin in a rough, uncompromising grip that forced your face upward. 

“show some respect.”

“i’m not... i’m not going to suck that.” you tried to pull your chin away, to turn your face in a final act of rebellion, but he was too fast.

“that’s okay,” a slow smile spread across his lips as he swiftly pulled your jaw back to his gaze again. “because i’m going to make you.”

you opened your mouth to launch a scathing rebuttal, to tell him exactly where he could shove his arrogance, but the words never made it past your lips. because with a powerful lunge, caleb suddenly guided himself forward, sliding his thick, pulsing cock straight into your mouth! the sheer size of him was overwhelming, stretching your lips to their absolute limit and forcing your jaw to unhinge as he buried himself deep. “hmmph!” an involuntary moan escaped you, muffled by the heavy weight of him.

caleb let out a ragged sigh of relief, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief second as he savored the tight, wet heat of your mouth. he didn’t move to pull out; instead he stayed there, his free hand reaching out to give your cheek a playful caress. “be a good girl,” he whispered, eyes narrowing. “and take it well.”

and then, just like that, the colonel started to thrust, thrust, and thrust—his hips moving in a cadence that drove him deep into your throat! his other hand braced against the back of your chair, knuckles white as he tried to anchor himself, using the furniture to leverage the force of his movements. while you were forced to bob your head in time with him, eyes watering as you struggled to accommodate the relentless pounding of his manhood.

meanwhile, caleb was a moaning mess above you, his voice a breathless thing. “that’s it... j-just like that.” he grunted, words stumbling over one another as he forced you to keep up with his punishing pace. “suck it dry... don’t you dare stop...” he was trying to command you even now, but the cracks in his countenance were widening with every thrust. 

so this is the great colonel. all that black leather and discipline, and all it takes is a little bit of heat to turn him into a mess. if he wanted to lose control, you were more than happy to facilitate it.

instead of just taking him, you decided to take him apart. you squeezed your lips tightly around the length and began to twirl your tongue around the rim in a slow, agonizingly deliberate circle. you immediately felt the way his entire body jolted at that.

“ngh...!” caleb let out a loud, guttural grunt, his hips slamming into your mouth now with a desperate, uncoordinated force. he leaned into you so heavily that you had to tilt your head back at a sharp angle just to keep from being crushed, your neck straining under the weight of his need. 

he was so damn loud—the man who prided himself on silence and discipline was now making sounds that were almost animalistic.

“god... you’re such a... a good girl.” he gasped, the compliment sounding more like a plea than a praise. ”so good... keep doing that... please...”

his hand, which had been caressing your cheek, suddenly migrated upward to tangle his fingers deep into your hair. he formed a tight fist, his knuckles grazing your scalp as he anchored your head in place, forcing you to stay exactly where he wanted you. his eyes were squeezed shut so tightly that wrinkles formed at the corners.

he felt so good from your blowjob that he had to bite his lower lip hard, teeth sinking into the flesh while a series of rough groans tore from his throat. 

seeing him so close to the edge, feeling the way his fingers trembled in your hair, you decided to drive the final nail into the coffin of his composure. as you continued to work your mouth over him, you reached up, hands sliding around the base of his thick shaft. you began to stroke him, palms slick with your own saliva.

and because of that, caleb fucking chokes on his own cries, loud enough to echo in the chamber. he was panting heavily now, chest heaving as he looked down at you with eyes that were glazed and unfocused. “you... you’re a little devil,” he trembled, leaning down further. “a natural... a goddamn natural at this...” 

then, the dam finally broke. 

with a shuddering jolt that racked his entire frame, caleb erupted. 

he surged forward, his hips slamming against your face as he spilled himself into your mouth in thick, hot, unending bursts. the sheer volume of it caught you completely off guard! instinctively, your body recoiled, head jerking back to escape the overwhelming sensation, but he was still coming, still squirting and shooting toward you. 

you felt the hot liquid splashing against your cheeks, coating your lips, and even spraying across your chest. there were too much!

caleb slumped forward, his hands slamming onto the back of your chair to steady himself. he was gasping for air, his head hanging low as he fought to reclaim his breath. 

you slowly looked up at him, eyes wide and blinking through the stray droplets on your lashes. you didn’t want him to know that your mouth was full because of the heavy, salty taste of him coating your tongue. but you wanted to say something to mock him, to reclaim your victory—you couldn’t you were too busy trying to manage the sheer amount of him currently occupying your mouth, cheeks bulging slightly, hesitant to let it go.

you watch caleb finally lifting his head, clearing his eyes to regain even a sliver of balance as he stared at you.

“swallow it.”

instantly, you shook your head. you weren’t going to make it that easy for him, especially not after he’d just made such a spectacle of himself.

caleb’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint returning to his gaze. he leaned down, his presence once again overwhelming. “pick a struggle. either you swallow it right now, or i’m going to make you turn around.”

you didn’t have time to process the sheer audacity of his command before the instinct to obey or perhaps the instinct to avoid the even more humiliating alternative took over. you tilted your head back and swallowed, the thick, warm liquid sliding down your throat in one heavy gulp. 

ugh.

you nearly coughed, eyes watering as you fought to keep the rest of him down.

“satisfied now?” you glared at him once more. 

and the colonel could only give you a dog-like smile, zipping his pants back into place while he turned his broad back on you. 

“more than satisfied.” 

he retrieves the gun from where he’d place it down earlier, facing you again.

“until next time?”

life did not become bad, but it simply became scheduled. you learned how to live by calendars now, by meetings and reports and client dinners. your phone buzzed more often from work than from friends these days, and your closet slowly filled with silk blouses, neutral heels, and fitted office dresses instead of oversized hoodies and school event shirts. 

sometimes, you missed how easy everything used to feel. other times, you were grateful it no longer did.

“you’re thinking again.” you blinked and looked up from your untouched drink. across the table, your colleague and closest friend from work, tara, narrowed her eyes at you knowingly beneath the warm restaurant lighting. around the two of you, friday night chatter filled the rooftop bar while city lights glittered far below the building.

you laughed quietly. “i’m literally just sitting here.”

“exactly,” tara replied. “you only get that existential look when you start thinking about life.”

you rolled your eyes and finally took a sip from your drink. it tasted expensive and barely alcoholic, which felt very fitting for the kind of establishment your coworkers liked frequenting after successful presentations.

you leaned back into your chair with a sigh, letting their voices blur together briefly while laughter continued around the table. honestly, they weren’t wrong. the past year had been exhausting. being a corporate manager at your age sounded impressive on paper until people realized it mostly involved sleeping too little and carrying everybody else’s problems on your back, while pretending you had everything under control.

still, you liked the work, the independence, knowing you built this version of your life yourself. your phone buzzed suddenly beside your drink, bringing your eyes to it. 

it’s the family groupchat. 

your younger cousins were apparently spamming blurry photos from their movie night at your aunt’s house. one picture showed three of them wrapped together in blankets while another was just an aggressively close image of pizza. you smiled despite yourself.

tara noticed instantly. “family?”

“yeah.” you shook your head. “my cousins.”

“the little kids?”

“not little anymore,” you murmured.

that part still felt strange too. the youngest cousin who used to cry over scraped knees now posted dance covers online and borrowed makeup from you occasionally. another had recently started driving lessons. they were all growing too fast, stretching taller and louder and more complicated each year while you somehow stayed stuck remembering them as children.

maybe adulthood was just constantly realizing time moved without asking permission first.

—

the invitation arrived on a random tuesday night while you were half-awake in bed, still wearing your work blouse and scrolling mindlessly through your phone after answering one last email. you almost ignored it, thinking it was just another notification buried between work group chats, promotional messages, and missed calls from relatives... but then your eyes caught familiar words.

senior high alumni homecoming.

you blinked once. now you were fully awake.

the invitation opened into an elegant digital poster washed in dark navy and gold, far more sophisticated than anything your old student council could’ve designed years ago. beneath the formal lettering sat the event details neatly arranged across the screen. the venue, the date, the dress code... and then, at the very bottom says—

costumed masquerade theme.

you stared at the word longer than necessary. for some reason, it made your chest feel strangely light. below the poster, old batchmates were already reacting in the comment section. 

it had been years. years since senior high—since crowded hallways and sports festivals and summer evenings that felt endless back then. life after graduation moved too quickly for everyone. college separated people, and careers scattered them further. friendships became birthdays greeted through instagram stories and occasional “we should meet soon” conversations nobody had time to fulfill.

and yet, this invitation felt like somebody opening an old bedroom window after years. all at once, the memories from before drifted back in quietly.

you sat up against your pillows, phone glowing against the dark room while the city outside your condo windows stretched endlessly beneath the midnight sky.

would it really feel the same? you doubted it. 

everyone was older now, real adults. people had careers, licenses, responsibilities, and probably relationships too. the thought made something inside you shift faintly. still, despite yourself, excitement curled somewhere in your chest.

you imagined seeing your old classmates again after all this time, imagined hearing familiar voices you hadn’t heard in years, briefly becoming younger again just by standing in the same room together.

it sounded nice, dangerously nice. which was exactly why you hesitated.

for the next few days, the invitation in your phone stayed unanswered. you kept reopening the poster during work breaks only to lock your phone again afterward. every time someone new confirmed attendance, your curiosity deepened a little more. 

you were grocery shopping with your mother beneath painfully cold supermarket air-conditioning while your mother pushed the cart slowly through the produce aisle, occasionally handing you random items to place inside.

you trailed beside her absentmindedly while checking your phone again, seeing someone had just sent another reminder poster.

“three weeks left before the masquerade reunion!”

your mother glanced at you briefly. “what are you staring at?”

“nothing,” you answered.

she hummed suspiciously before tossing oranges into the cart. “you’ve had that same expression since yesterday.”

“what expression?”

“the one you get when you’re thinking too hard.”

you looked down at the invitation again. you could almost picture it already—old batchmates rediscovering each other beneath adulthood and years apart.

it felt like an invitation back to youth, just for one evening.

before you could overthink yourself out of it again, you accidentally pressed the attendance button.

confirmed.

your mother blinked when you suddenly looked so petrified. “what happened?”

you slipped your phone into your pocket. “…i think i’m going to a party.”

and that’s it. 

the night of the alumni homecoming arrived wrapped in gold lights.

the convention center occupied almost the entire upper floor of the hotel, glowing warmly behind towering glass windows while valet attendants guided cars beneath the entrance canopy downstairs. 

...you didn’t expect for the party to be this well-prepared and budgeted. from outside alone, the event already looked far more elegant than anything your old batch could have afforded years ago. adulthood really did strange things to people—apparently one of those things included having enough money to rent out ballrooms and pretend everybody had always been this sophisticated.

you stood before the large mirrored elevator walls one last time before stepping out onto the event floor.

you decided to dress as catwoman. the costume had started as a joke between you and tara during a late-night online shopping spree. but now, beneath the hallway lights of the hotel, you almost regretted how good it actually looked on you.

music pulsed through the ballroom doors ahead as hotel staff welcomed arriving guests. the moment you stepped inside, warm lighting and noise swallowed you whole.

the venue was enormous! massive chandeliers reflected gold across glossy floors while alumni crowded around cocktail tables beneath dim ambient lights, meanwhile the dance floor already held clusters of people as servers carried trays of drinks through the crowd.

and everywhere, everyone wore masks. beautiful, elaborate, confusing masks. half the challenge of the reunion seemed to be figuring out who anybody actually was. some people wore elegant masquerade masks while others committed entirely to themes and costumes dramatic enough to make identification nearly impossible. every few seconds, somebody somewhere would suddenly shriek after recognizing an old batchmate.

thinking about it, it was kind of genius. years changed people enough already, so hiding everyone’s faces behind masks only made the nostalgia feel stranger.

for a moment, you simply stood there near the entrance taking it all in. years ago, something like this would’ve overwhelmed you almost immediately. it’s too loud, too crowded. too many social expectations pressing against your chest all at once. but adulthood had apparently beaten professionalism into you. now, instead of panicking, you simply adjusted your clutch beneath your arm and moved forward calmly into the crowd.

look at you.

a functioning adult...sort of.

time moved strangely inside the venue, though. 

one moment you were laughing over old classroom stories and forgotten teachers, and the next you were standing beside an open bar while somebody from your old literature class passionately explained why he quit law school to start a café business instead. everywhere you looked, old versions of people kept appearing beneath unfamiliar adulthood. 

it felt a little like opening a time capsule only to discover everything inside had learned how to breathe on its own.

you drifted further into the venue eventually, drink balanced loosely in your hand while conversations came and went around you in fragments. the ballroom had grown warmer now from the amount of people filling it. for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy it. to exist inside this strange overlap between who you used to be and who you became.

“do you think caleb’s actually here?”

huh? 

your steps slowed. it happened so naturally your body reacted before your mind did.

“oh my gosh, wait, is he? did anyone see caleb?”

caleb.

the name landed against your chest with quiet, terrible familiarity. for a second, all the noise around you dulled.

instead of turning around, you stood near one of the ballroom pillars with your fingers tightening subtly around your glass.

“i think he is,” another woman answered excitedly. “someone said the guy wearing the nightwing costume might be him!”

...of course caleb was here. why wouldn’t he be? it would’ve been more strange if he wasn’t here. the realization should not have unsettled you this much after all these years, and yet suddenly your chest felt oddly tight beneath the fitted black fabric of your clothes. because if caleb was here... then, is the other also here? 

your thoughts stopped themselves before fully forming the name.

...zayne.

something you tried your best to bury after all these years... now had been brought up to the surface. it’s pretty naive of you to think that this wouldn't happen one way or another tonight, right? 

you stared blankly toward the moving crowd ahead while your pulse shifted unevenly somewhere beneath your ribs. it had been years since you last saw either of them properly, years since that unbearable summer, years since tangled confessions and emotions too large for any of you to handle correctly at eighteen.

years since you walked away.

would they look different now? what if you ran into them tonight? what exactly were you supposed to say after all this time? the thought alone made heat creep faintly up your neck.

you were no longer teenagers. no longer those messy, emotionally reckless kids orbiting around each other beneath suburban summers and friday night gatherings. 

adulthood had happened already, surely time had done its job. surely they had moved on.

“honestly,” one of the girls behind you continued with a laugh, “i still can’t believe i dated him.”

you blinked.

another voice groaned. “you dated caleb and survived? tell us everything.”

dated.

the word echoed unpleasantly inside your chest.

“oh please,” the girl laughed again. “it wasn’t that dramatic. we broke up because of distance after graduation. he was already flying all over the place for training back then.”

flying?

ah, right.

your parents did let you know a year ago that he had become a DAA pilot. somehow hearing it spoken aloud made the years feel even more real.

“he’s gotten more ridiculously handsome though,” another added. “if he’s really here tonight, maybe this is your chance to get back together.” their laughter then blurred afterward beneath the music.

you stood still for one second too long, before looking over your shoulder to see the face of the girl caleb had apparently dated.

did he really?

pfft, of course he did. why wouldn’t he?

he was caleb. the golden boy turned golden man. the kind of person people naturally loved. and yet, the image still unsettled something quiet and unpleasant inside you. before memory could drag you any further backward, you immediately resumed walking deeper into the ballroom.

enough.

your heels clicked steadily against polished floors while you lifted your chin and forced yourself through the crowd again. you refused to let old emotions creep back into your chest this easily after everything.

you were not eighteen anymore. you were a grown woman now—one who handled negotiations, presentations, and difficult people for a living. for god’s sake, you paid taxes and managed teams and owned matching dinnerware now.

get yourself together.

whatever existed between the three of you belonged to another lifetime already. tonight was only a reunion. nothing more.

you tried to shake the feeling off afterward. really, you did.

deciding you needed something sweet—or maybe simply a distraction—you wandered toward one of the longer dessert tables situated near the center of the venue. unlike the crowded cocktail area, this side of the ballroom felt calmer. at the center of the table, a large chocolate fountain cascaded endlessly downward in glossy ribbons.

okay, maybe adulthood never truly erased simple joys.

the fountain looked ridiculously good. you grabbed one of the small dessert cups from beside the table and leaned slightly forward, carefully positioning fruit skewers beneath the flowing chocolate. the scent of cocoa drifted warmly upward.

for a brief moment, you relaxed again.

and then—that feeling returned. just enough to make the back of your neck grow strangely aware. you straightened slightly, fingers tightening around the dessert cup as you sensed someone standing nearby behind you. not close enough to be inappropriate, but close enough to feel deliberate.

your eyes lifted instinctively...

to a man dressed in a nightwing costume stood only a few meters away, dark domino mask shadowing his face while he casually held a drink in one gloved hand.

tall, broad shoulders, dark hair. even the posture—

oh my god.

your entire body went rigid beneath your clothes.

shit. that had to be caleb, right?

your mind raced embarrassingly fast while the man remained completely unaware—or at least seemingly unaware—of the internal crisis currently unfolding beside the chocolate fountain.

okay, you were an adult. a very functional adult. this was not high school anymore. if that really was caleb, then the correct thing to do would obviously be acting normal. mature and emotionally unaffected. you absolutely refused to look like somebody still hung up on old teenage history years later.

hesitantly, you cleared your throat and turned toward him fully.

the man finally glanced up from his drink.

god, why did he still feel familiar even after all this time?

forcing composure into your expression, you offered him a polite smile. “…hey, caleb, how’ve you been?”

for a few long seconds, the man simply stared at you.... strangely.

his silence stretched enough to make heat slowly creep up your neck beneath the mask. behind the dark lenses of his nightwing costume, his expression looked almost alarmed, like you had approached him with deeply concerning information instead of a simple greeting.

your confidence began deteriorating immediately. why did he look so confused?

a horrible thought then crossed your mind all at once.

did caleb seriously forget about you now?

no, that was ridiculous! surely not to that extent. before you could spiral any further into your own embarrassment, the man finally spoke.

“…i’m not caleb.”

the ballroom lights shifted overhead at the exact same moment, finally illuminating his eyes properly through the mask.

hazel brown, not purple.

oh.

how did you even make that mistake?

“ah,” you muttered beneath a short embarrassed laugh. “i’m sorry, i thought you were somebody else.”

he really looks a lot like caleb...

the man stared at you for another second before chuckling lightly into his drink. “well, now i’m curious. you looking for caleb?”

you frowned. “no,” you answered perhaps a little too quickly. “i just thought you were... him.”

“ah.” the man nodded knowingly in a way that irritated you slightly. then he casually added, “i heard he wasn’t able to attend anyway because of his schedule.”

your fingers loosened around the cup. “is that so,” 

“yep, something work-related, i think.”

that made sense. pilots probably weren’t exactly known for stable schedules.

the strange tightness lingering inside your chest eased just slightly afterward. maybe because uncertainty felt worse than disappointment somehow. at least now there was an explanation, a clean one.

he simply wasn’t here.

you nodded politely. “well, thank you anyway.”

the man raised his glass toward you. “good luck finding whoever you’re actually looking for.”

you gave him one last embarrassed smile before immediately turning away. jesus, what an unbelievably humiliating interaction.

as you walked deeper through the ballroom again, you tried forcing yourself not to think about it too much. honestly, maybe it was better this way. you wouldn’t have to worry about awkward reunions or unresolved history suddenly resurfacing. caleb wasn’t here. and if caleb wasn’t here—then maybe zayne wasn’t either. 

you continued moving through the venue with quieter steps, eventually drifting toward the grand staircase leading upstairs to the hotel’s lounge area. unlike the crowded ballroom below, the upper floor looked dimmer and more intimate.

except, there was a crowd gathered near the lounge entrance.

you slowed, watching the way people stood clustered together around one side of the room, several guests leaned against the railings trying to peek through the gathering, while others whispered to each other with visible amusement.

your brows furrowed. what exactly was happening up there?

curiosity carried you upstairs before caution could stop you. most of the crowd, however, seemed gathered around one particular table near the center of the lounge. you stepped closer carefully, weaving between guests until the scene finally came into view.

a proper poker setup occupied one of the longer tables, cards scattered beneath the amber lighting while chips piled carelessly around half-finished drinks. several masked alumni sat around the table already looking halfway defeated.

and seated among them—was ghostface.

it’s not the ridiculous halloween-store version. this one looked… unfairly good.

instead of the long black robe usually associated with the mask, the man wore fitted black clothing that sharpened the broadness of his shoulders and arms, dark fabric stretching cleanly over muscle before disappearing into grey baggy jeans that somehow made the whole look even more attractive. black gloves covered his hands while the ghostface mask itself showcased its expression permanently frozen into that eerie open-mouthed grin.

you folded your arms while lingering near the edge of the crowd, attention slowly drifting toward the game unfolding before you.

“that’s like his sixth win already.”

“no seriously, this guy’s terrifying.”

soft laughter circled around the table, and the ghostface man only leaned back slightly in his chair, cards resting between gloved fingers with suspicious ease.

you watched another round unfold. and unfortunately, they were right. he was good, very good. 

he played patiently, almost lazily at times, like he already knew how each round would end before the others did. every movement looked deliberate, the way he shuffled chips, the way he held cards. even the way he sat there silently while everyone else talked too much.

you narrowed your eyes beneath your mask. okay, that irritated you.

because for as long as you could remember, you had always been good at card games. most especially poker. annoyingly good, according to several cousins and former classmates who stopped agreeing to play against you years ago. and now this ghostface man was sitting there collecting victories like he owned the table, so your competitiveness stirred before you could stop it.

you remained watching for another minute, then another.

the ghostface player revealed another winning hand.

“oh come on,” someone complained loudly. “this guy’s impossible.”

through the mask, ghostface only tilted his head in amusement.

that did it.

before you could reconsider, you stepped forward through the crowd. “can i play too?”the moment you stepped closer to the table, several heads turned toward you at once.

years ago, that amount of attention probably would have made your stomach fold into itself. you used to hate moments like this in school—the sudden awareness of eyes, the fear of saying something awkward, the feeling of being perceived too closely.

unlike everyone else who only glanced briefly your way, the ghostface guy seated across the poker table looked up at you and… stayed there.

one second, and two, and three.

his mask revealed absolutely nothing, which somehow made it worse. the frozen expression carved into ghostface’s face remained permanently unreadable while he simply stared at you in complete silence.

you resisted the urge to fidget beneath his attention. 

why did that suddenly feel intense? 

“is that okay?” you finally asked, gesturing toward the empty chair. “or am i intruding?”

for a brief moment, ghostface remained motionless. then—as though suddenly realizing he had been staring too long—he leaned back and nodded once.

“it's okay.”

your breath caught.

that voice...

you narrowed your eyes even more beneath your catwoman mask while slowly taking the seat across from him.

his voice is dangerously familiar, not enough for certainty, but just enough to disturb you. you settled into the chair anyway while the others around the table perked up at the possibility of fresh entertainment.

“oh thank god,” somebody groaned dramatically. “please humble him for us.”

“seriously,” another added. “this guy’s been robbing everybody blind.”

ghostface said nothing. he only lowered his gaze back toward the cards in his hands while the dealer reshuffled for the next round.

thankfully, once the game resumed, the mask itself stopped being distracting surprisingly quickly. maybe because ghostface rarely lifted his head fully while playing. most of the time, his attention remained lowered toward the table, gloved fingers handling chips and cards with calm precision.

the first few rounds unfolded carefully. you played cleanly, watching your opponents more than your own cards while the lounge buzzed around you. years of corporate meetings had apparently sharpened your poker face because some of the players folded too early against you. ghostface, however, remained annoyingly difficult to read. his movements were too controlled, too measured. 

you frowned while studying him across the table.

the game had somehow become quieter around the two of you, in the sense that your attention had narrowed toward the man seated across. somewhere along the way, the others around the table stopped mattering. it became a strange tug-of-war existing only between you and ghostface.

and annoyingly—he really was good.

the current round had gone sideways faster than you expected. one by one, the other players folded until only the two of you remained at the table, chips scattered between dim amber light and half-empty glasses.

you leaned back in your chair while mentally rearranging possibilities.

shit.

ghostface had cornered you beautifully.

your fingers tapped once against your cards while you forced yourself to think. if you folded now, you’d lose the round entirely. but if you pushed too aggressively and guessed wrong—ugh. your ego genuinely would not survive losing to this stupid masked man, especially not in front of an audience.

across the table, ghostface remained infuriatingly calm. it made you bite against your lower lip while studying the chips, trying to search for another angle, another bluff, another opening somewhere inside the round.

come on. think!

you glanced upward absentmindedly—then immediately looked back down—before your eyes snapped upward again.

because ghostface was staring at you.

... very openly.

his elbow rested against the arm of the chair while his gloved fist supported the side of his face, posture almost lazy beneath the dark clothing. yet despite how relaxed he looked, the attention directed toward you felt sharp enough to press against your skin.

and unlike before—he did not look away. it's like he knew exactly what position he had cornered you into and wanted to watch you struggle through it.

fine.

you stared back.

the lounge lights shifted overhead while the two of you remained suspended in this strange silent challenge across the poker table. the longer you looked, the more your eyes adjusted to the thin dark material shadowing the eyeholes of the ghostface mask.

and then, you saw them.

purple eyes...

faintly obscured beneath black fabric and low lighting, but unmistakably purple. for one horrifying second, your mind blanked completely.

wait. how common even were purple eyes? no, that wasn’t the correct question. how rare were they?

your pulse stumbled unevenly while you stared at him, but ghostface remained motionless, watching you. those purple eyes continued to pierce into your soul. now, the mask felt less anonymous than before.

your gaze dropped quickly back toward the cards in your hands.

don’t get distracted.

it did not matter who this man was. it did not matter why his voice sounded familiar or why his eyes looked dangerously recognizable beneath that mask. right now, there was only one thing that mattered:

you were winning this round.

you inhaled slowly and forced yourself to think again. and then—like a spark suddenly catching—you saw it. a narrow opening hidden beneath the way ghostface had structured the round. risky but possible.

slowly, you reached forward and pushed your chips inward. the table quieted, and ghostface tilted his head at your bold move.

someone nearby muttered, “oh this is evil.”

you finally lifted your gaze toward him again.“call,” for the first time all night, ghostface hesitated. it was barely noticeable, but very much enough.

the reveal came seconds later.

“no way.”

“finally!”

got you.

after being cornered for nearly the entire round, somehow—somehow—you managed to turn it around against him!

the moment your win settled in, the lounge around the table reacted instantly.

“she actually did it,” one of them laughed.

“our man got humbled,” another added, half incredulous.

you could feel the attention return to you again, lighter this time, less intimidating than before. your shoulders eased beneath the catwoman mask as you offered a small, polite smile. and then, you turned your attention back across the table toward ghostface. “that was a good game,” you smiled a bit wider. “you’re really good.”

that was a fact.

he didn’t respond though. 

ghostface remained perfectly still, head tilted slightly downward as if studying you through the black void of his mask. the silence stretched just long enough to feel intentional, like he was weighing something he had no intention of sharing with anyone else in the room.

you couldn’t read him, not even a little. then, after a beat too long, he lifted his hands and gave a slow, lazy clap.

once... twice... thrice.

“congratulations, miss poker,” he said at last.

you held his gaze for a second longer than necessary, because his mannerisms bothered you. it’s the tilt of his head, the stillness between movements, and even the way he spoke felt like something your memory almost knew but couldn’t fully grasp.

a familiar ghost of familiarity.

you swallowed the thought before it could form properly. instead, you let out a small breath and returned a light smile. “thanks,” you replied casually, as if none of this lingered beneath the surface.

you pushed back your chair and stood, smoothing yourself as the crowd began shifting around you again, some still talking about the game while others moved on to their own conversations. excusing yourself politely, you stepped away from the table, and as you walked past ghostface, you felt his presence remain still behind you. but you didn’t look back.

you weaved through the lounge crowd toward the hallway, heels clicking against the floor. you needed a moment where your thoughts didn’t feel like they were circling something you couldn’t name.

the nearest restroom sign came into view at the end of the corridor. it was blissfully quiet compared to the lounge outside.

the moment the door closed behind you, the noise of the party dulled into distant vibrations through the walls, softened enough for you to finally exhale properly.

you reached up and removed your mask. “ugh,” 

finally.

cool air brushed against your skin almost instantly, easing the slight warmth that had gathered beneath the mask throughout the night. for a moment, you simply stood there staring at your reflection in the mirror, fingers adjusting loose strands of hair that had shifted during the evening.

after using one of the cubicles, you washed your hands slowly beneath warm water, your thoughts inevitably drifting back toward the lounge outside.

toward... the ghostface guy.

your brows furrowed faintly at your own reflection, thinking about how... everything about him felt familiar. not just one specific thing, but everything. and then there were those purple eyes.

could it really be—?

no. the nightwing guy downstairs already said caleb wasn’t here. besides, years had passed already so people changed. maybe you were simply projecting old memories onto strangers because tonight had dragged too much nostalgia out of you all at once.

that had to be it.

you shut the faucet off firmly and shook the thought away before it could root itself any deeper.

it was just a man in a mask. nothing more.

composing yourself again, you slipped your mask back on and headed toward the restroom exit. except the moment you opened the door and stepped back into the hallway, your footsteps stopped completely.

someone stood just outside the women’s restroom.

him.

the one you were thinking about just now.

he leaned lazily against the wall several feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his grey jeans while one boot rested loosely against the baseboard beneath him. 

you blinked once.

did he follow you here...?

ghostface only turned to you and stared back silently.

you abruptly cleared your throat, forcing politeness back into your expression before the silence became strange. “are you waiting for someone?” you asked with a small smile.

ghostface tilted his head slightly at your question. after a pause that lasted just long enough to make your chest tighten again, he answered quietly, “yeah, i was.” voice muffled enough beneath the mask.

you tilted your head at him, still trying to keep the conversation light despite the strange tension gathering in the hallway. “there’s nobody else in the women’s restroom,” you pointed out gently. “whoever you’re waiting for isn’t there.”

ghostface stayed leaning against the wall for another second as he chuckled, low and dangerously familiar. “really?” 

your breath caught immediately.

there it is. that stupid laugh. warm, teasing, and unfairly boyish beneath all the black fabric and broad shoulders. the sound hit you harder than recognition should have, crashing straight into old summers, friday nights, basketball courts, laundry afternoons, and eighteen-year-old heartbreak all at once.

this is... caleb. 

you knew it now.

the hallway felt even more unbearably narrow around the two of you.

you wanted to run, to run before you lose whatever careful distance you spent years building between yourself and the past. “well,” you said carefully, “your ex isn’t anywhere nearby either. she’s downstairs.”

for the first time since you stepped outside the restroom, ghostface, or rather caleb, looked genuinely confused. “…my ex?” he repeated slowly.

you nodded once, trying to sound casual despite the heat climbing beneath your skin. oh god, you immediately decided this conversation needed to end before your dignity dissolved entirely. clearing your throat again, you stepped forward and gestured politely toward the hallway. “anyway, excuse me—”

you brushed past him. or at least, you tried to.

“y/n.”

you stopped, and the silence afterward felt strangely loud. slowly, you turned back toward him. and for some reason, the fact that he didn’t call you pips or pipsqueak or those silly childish names anymore lingered in your chest.

of course he didn’t. you were adults now, after all. 

grown people with careers and separate lives and years between you. maybe those childish nicknames belonged to another version of him entirely, another version of the three of you. maybe this only proved what you already suspected downstairs—they had moved on now. and maybe you were the only one still haunted by old things.

no, that wasn’t true either.

you weren’t clinging to the past. tonight only dragged it back into your hands unexpectedly. that was all.

your gaze lifted hesitantly toward him again just as he finally moved. slowly, he reached beneath the collar of his black shirt and pulled something free from underneath the fabric, revealing a dog tag necklace with a tiny apple charm attached near the chain.

it’s the one you gave him years ago when you were still taller than him as kids. he had laughed so hard back then. you remembered the exact sound. and now—now it rested against the black fabric of his chest like something treasured too carefully for too long.

so he still had it after all these years. 

“it’s me, dummy,” he says.

yeah, you knew.

maybe not the moment you first saw him near the poker table. but somewhere between the voice, the eyes, the way he stared too intensely, and the unbearable familiarity wrapped around every little mannerism he had—you knew.

your hands curled quietly into fists against your sides, because now that caleb was standing here in front of you after all these years, your body suddenly remembered too many things at once. “i know,” you murmured. “you always make things obvious.” 

deep down, you missed him. you missed caleb. standing this close to him again made something ache inside your chest.

you wanted to hug him, the kind where your face disappears into someone’s shoulder and years melt apart for a moment. and, now that you're thinking about that, you also somewhat hoped to see zayne around here and do just exactly that.

but adulthood had taught you restraint in places where younger versions of yourself used to act freely. so you stayed still.

caleb watched you carefully for a beat before fully turning toward you, one shoulder lifting lazily against the wall. “how’d you know it was me?” 

you let out a small huff through your nose, “i just do.”

that answer silenced him only briefly, but enough for you to notice. something shifted in his posture before he straightened fully, removing the ghostface mask completely with one hand.

and there—there he was.

he wasn’t the boy you remembered anymore, but a grown man.

caleb had always been handsome in that effortless, bright sort of way people naturally felt attracted to, but adulthood sharpened him into something almost unfair. his features had grown more defined over the years, jaw stronger now beneath the dim lighting, cheekbones sharper, even the bruises of exhaustion beneath his eyes somehow added to it instead of taking away.

he knew that too.

you could tell by the way he leaned casually against the wall afterward, completely comfortable inside his own skin. his grin tugged crookedly. “there she is, thought maybe corporate life killed your personality already.”

you only smiled back. “you’re the one dressed like a murderer at a school reunion.”

caleb barked out a laugh, warm and genuine. the sound echoed softly down the hallway.

“there she is,” he repeated quieter this time, almost to himself. you pretended not to notice the way his eyes lingered on you as he slipped his hands back into his pockets. “so how’s your family? your mom still forcing everybody to take leftovers home after gatherings?”

you smiled faintly despite yourself. “yes.”

“and your cousins?” he continued. “they still following you around like ducklings?”

you chortled at that. “they’re teenagers now. they barely acknowledge my existence.”

“that's tragic.”

you shook your head, still smiling. but somewhere in the middle of the conversation, something settled strangely inside your chest. caleb kept asking about everyone else, your family, your cousins, your parents. everything surrounding your life except—

you.

he never asked how you were. that tiny omission lingered heavier than it should have.

if this was how caleb acted now, then maybe he really had moved on already. maybe years were enough to soften whatever existed between the three of you back then, enough to turn obsession into memory and memory into something manageable. adulthood had a way of doing that to people, didn’t it? sanding sharp feelings down into old stories you only revisit every once in a while.

maybe caleb was normal now, maybe he had loved someone else already. maybe he went through heartbreaks and hookups and whole relationships himself while you stayed tucked away in a corner of his past like an old neighborhood photograph.

you swallowed and forced yourself not to linger too long on the thought. “what about you?”

caleb looked up. “what about me?”

“how’ve you been all these years?”

for a second, something flickered across his face. surprise maybe. as if nobody had asked him that sincerely in a long time. he grinned again, slipping back into that familiar warmth he wore so naturally. “good, been very busy you know.”

“wow, incredibly detailed answer.”

he laughed under his breath. “i mean, what d’you want me to say? i fly planes now. half my life’s in airports. i drink too much coffee. sometimes i forget what country i’m in.”

“that sounds mildly concerning.”

“it’s called occupational hazard.” his eyes stayed on you while he spoke, and it made something inside your chest feel unsteady in a way you hated noticing.

caleb still looked at people too directly. 

he continued talking afterward, telling you random pieces of his life in fragments. about long-haul flights, ridiculous passengers, getting stranded once because of weather conditions, and his coworkers apparently thinking he had anger issues because he got into arguments too easily.

“that part’s believable,” you muttered.

“oh, shut up.” his grin remained, but thinner now somehow. “i miss our neighborhood though,” 

the words were simple, but something about the way he said them made your stomach tighten faintly. he didn’t say he missed home, he didn’t say he missed being younger. he just said he missed the neighborhood.

you looked at him carefully, trying to understand what exactly he meant by it. or maybe—what exactly he was trying not to say.

caleb must’ve noticed your stare lingering too long because he straightened and gave you another crooked grin, this one almost sheepish beneath all the confidence he usually carried. “anyway,” he clears his throat, “i should probably stop hiding in hallways before people think i’m actually kidnapping women tonight.” he steps away from the wall afterward, clearly about to leave.

but before he could, you stopped him. 

“how’s zayne doing?”

caleb halted mid-step, and you watched it happen in real time.

the subtle dimming in his eyes, the way the looseness left his shoulders, as his smile slowly weakened at the corners before disappearing entirely. something restrained passed across his expression so quickly you almost missed it, held-back and quiet in the way real emotions usually were.

your brows knitted faintly together. for a second there—he looked like someone trying very hard not to let something show.

but the switch quickly flipped.

his smile returned so naturally that, if you weren’t looking directly at him moments earlier, you probably would’ve missed the crack entirely. “he’s good. a successful doctor now. annoyingly successful, actually.”

that sounded like zayne.

something inside you eased hearing it from caleb himself. you didn't doubt zayne’s success—you already knew what he became years ago through mutual acquaintances and scattered updates from families—but hearing caleb say it aloud made it feel more real.

you nodded. “that’s really good to know.”

caleb only hummed. 

but then, unexpectedly, he steps closer.

the movement was so unexpected that your body nearly reacted on instinct, feet threatening to retreat backward against the hallway floor. except you stopped yourself midway, tilting your head up at him instead with quiet confusion.

he was close enough for you to notice the faint shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes, close enough to catch the subtle scent of cologne mixed with something colder, cleaner.

your pulse stumbled once when caleb looked down at you before his hand slowly lifted.

and then, he patted your head.

it wasn’t really a pat, though. 

his fingers lingered.

they slid gently into your hair near your temple, brushing softly through the strands beside your ear before trailing lower down your shoulder with unbearable slowness. the touch felt absentminded on the surface, almost affectionate in a casual way, but there was something underneath it that made your body go completely still, something that lingered too long to mean nothing.

his eyes softened almost imperceptibly while his fingers slipped away from your hair. “you really grew up,” his voice had changed again, less teasing. “no longer the little scatterbrain i used to know.”

his hand dropped back to his side afterward. “you don’t have to worry about zayne too much, you’ll see him soon anyway.”

you blinked. “what?”

so he really isn't here, then? 

caleb tilted his head. “granny’s birthday. did they tell you yet?”

your mind stalled for half a second before realization hit.

oh right, granny’s birthday. the same granny who practically raised entire neighborhoods through force-feeding and unsolicited life advice. miraculously, this year, her birthday landed on a friday.

“she wanted everyone together again,” caleb continued. “same setup as before.”

you stared at him. “oh, you and zayne are going?”

caleb looked almost offended by the question. “of course we are,” he said. “it’s granny.”

—

the hotel lights had long disappeared behind you, now swallowed by distance and the slow quietness of the road.

your mind remained back there somehow, back in that hallway with caleb.

you sat behind the steering wheel with one hand loosely resting against it, the other drumming near the gearshift as the city lights blurred past your windows in streaks of gold and white. the catwoman mask had already been tossed carelessly onto the passenger seat beside your purse, abandoned the moment you got into the car, but the rest of the costume remained annoyingly intact against your skin.

you suddenly understood why actresses always complained about tight outfits during interviews. you adjusted uncomfortably in your seat while stopping at a red light, your thoughts drifting back unwillingly toward caleb again.

his smile. that stupid dog-like grin he gave you before disappearing back into the crowd with a “i’ll see you around, y/n,”

no longer pipsqueak, huh.

your grip tightened lightly against the wheel. you should stop thinking about him.

before your thoughts could spiral any further, your car suddenly jerked faintly beneath you, making your brows furrowed. then the engine made a strained clicking sound.

once, twice, before it died.

“…you’ve got to be kidding me.” the steering wheel stiffened beneath your hands as the car slowed awkwardly toward the side of the road. you managed to park safely beneath a dim streetlight, but when you tried restarting the engine again, the car only answered with another pathetic clicking noise.

you stared blankly ahead through the windshield.

for fuck’s sake. out of all nights.

you leaned back against the seat and exhaled harshly through your nose, fingers rubbing against your temple while frustration crawled into your chest. the road around you was unusually quiet this late at night, with only the occasional distant headlights passing every few minutes. after another failed attempt to start the engine, you finally groaned and grabbed your phone from the cupholder to call tara.

you dialed her impatiently while pushing the car door open.

humid night air wrapped around you the second you stepped outside. the heels you regretted wearing clicked sharply against the pavement as you walked around the front of your car, hugging your arms briefly against yourself while the phone rang beside your ear.

“come on, tara…”

the street remained mostly empty around you, lined with sleeping establishments and darkened storefronts that looked strangely eerie this late into the night. somewhere nearby, a dog barked once before silence swallowed the sound again.

and... headlights?

you looked up instinctively, only to see a dark car sat parked several meters behind yours on the opposite side of the road.

you were almost certain it hadn’t been there earlier. 

the vehicle remained completely still beneath the weak glow of a streetlamp, windows tinted dark enough that you couldn’t make out whoever sat inside. 

maybe it was nothing. maybe another driver had simply pulled over too? but something about it made your stomach tighten. your phone continued ringing unanswered against your ear while your eyes remained fixed on the unfamiliar car.

suddenly, standing out here alone in your stupid tight costume didn’t feel very smart anymore.

without thinking twice, you lowered the phone and quickly walked back toward your car. the moment you slipped inside the driver’s seat again, you locked the doors immediately.

you looked through the rearview mirror.

and the dark car remained there, watching.

or maybe you were only paranoid. you hoped you were only paranoid.

the sight unsettled you more the longer it stayed there. so you tried calling again, straight to ringing. but your frustration only tangled itself together with nervousness until your shoulders felt stiff beneath the tight leather of your costume. you then sighed heavily and lowered your phone. 

maybe you should just call roadside assistance instead. or maybe—

knock knock.

you physically jolted so hard your shoulder hit the seat. your head snapped violently toward the driver-side window, pulse instantly spiking into your throat.

and there—leaning slightly down beside your car beneath the dim streetlight—was a familiar face.

older, sharper.

the softness youth once gave him had long disappeared, carved away into cleaner lines and composed restraint. even through the shadows, there was no mistaking him. not the calmness in his expression, not the piercing emerald eyes staring directly at you through the glass.

zayne.

for a second, you could only stare at him blankly.

what was he doing here? and more importantly—why did this somehow feel exactly like something zayne would do? appearing at the exact moment your life tilted sideways without warning.

when your eyes met, you watch him straighten up and step aside.

was he really back in town now? 

your fingers tightened around your phone before you slowly unlocked the car door, the cool night air hitting your skin again the moment you stepped outside.

up close, the sight of him almost startled you a second time. you swallowed once and forced yourself to compose properly despite the strange tightness gathering beneath your ribs. 

there was no time to be overwhelmed. not here, not now.

you smiled politely in that careful adult way people did after years apart. the kind of smile exchanged between relatives reconnecting after too much time passed. “zayne,” you greeted softly. “it’s been a while. how’ve you—”

“what’s wrong with your car?” the interruption was immediate, clean and direct.

your words stopped midair, as the smile on your face faded before you could even help it.

huh.

for some reason, the bluntness stung more than it should have. you looked at him for a second, suddenly unsure where to place your hands or your voice or yourself beneath his attention. maybe adulthood really had made him colder, or maybe he was simply always like this and you only forgot.

“i—” you started awkwardly. “sorry, i just—”

“don’t be.” his voice wasn’t harsh. if anything, it was too calm. 

you blinked once before pressing your lips together tightly.

the silence stretched briefly between you while distant cars occasionally passed somewhere farther down the road. beneath the streetlight, zayne’s gaze flicked toward your vehicle again before returning to your face.

you finally cleared your throat. “uh, my engine suddenly stopped working, i don’t even know why.”

zayne nodded once. then, without another word, he stepped past you toward the front of the car.

you turned instinctively to watch him. and suddenly, embarrassingly, your chest tightened again. because it hit you all at once then—this was the first time you had been alone with zayne in years.

really alone.

without any family gatherings, crowded parties, and without caleb between the space separating the two of you. there’s just the quiet road and the warm night air. and zayne standing beside your broken car with rolled sleeves and tired eyes.

he leaned slightly over the hood of the car, brows furrowing in concentration as he examined something beneath the front light. his forearms flexed when he rested one hand against the edge of the hood, and the sight made your stomach twist in a way that felt deeply inconvenient.

seriously, what the hell was wrong with you tonight?

as if sensing your stare lingering too long, zayne looked back at you directly. the eye contact hit harder now that you were adults, less innocent.

quietly, with the same unreadable composure he always carried, he asked. “why are you out here alone this late?”

“there was an alumni homecoming,” you explained, hugging your arms a little closer against yourself while standing beside the car. “for senior high.”

zayne remained crouched near the front of the vehicle, one hand braced against the hood while the other adjusted something beneath it. he only glanced up briefly before returning his attention back to the engine.

“i attended the party,” you added after a second, suddenly hyperaware of what you were wearing. “which is why i look like… this.”

the corner of zayne’s mouth twitched faintly, enough to make your stomach betray you a little.

“i noticed,” he says.

you cleared your throat and stepped closer to the car, heels crunching lightly against stray gravel near the roadside. up close, you could smell faint detergent and something sterile clinging subtly to him beneath the night air, like hospital corridors and clean laundry somehow followed him everywhere.

it felt unfairly familiar.

you looked down at him. “you didn’t hear about the homecoming?”

silence.

“that means no, then.”

zayne hummed, entirely unbothered by your accusation. honestly, that tracked. he was always strangely detached from things happening around him unless someone physically dragged the information to his face. back then, people used to joke that zayne could probably miss the apocalypse if nobody updated him personally.

you opened your mouth to tease him again when suddenly—

“fuck.” grease smeared darkly against the cuff of his rolled sleeve and streaked lightly across his forearm.

instinctively, you moved toward the passenger side door. “wait, i have wipes inside—”

“it’s okay.” zayne said it so quickly that you paused mid-motion. he barely even looked at the stain. you stood there awkwardly for a second before slowly nodding and stepping back again.

silence settled afterward, the kind of silence that carried too many things beneath it.

you watched zayne work quietly for another moment. he really had changed... or maybe matured was the better word. oh — his phone is ringing.

buzzzzz!

zayne stopped immediately. with his clean hand, he pulled the phone out and glanced briefly at the screen before answering.

“baby?”

your body stilled, completely.

zayne turned slightly away while speaking into the phone, voice lower and calmer in a way that sounded unintentionally intimate beneath the quiet road. “yes, i’m still outside.” he paused. “no, don’t wait up.”

your throat tightened before you could stop it.

oh.

he had a girlfriend now. 

you stared blankly at the road instead, suddenly unable to figure out where to look. how? when? where did he even meet her? and more importantly—why did you care so much? the realization embarrassed you instantly. because what exactly were you expecting after all these years apart? that both of them would remain frozen in time waiting for you forever?

you swallowed and looked down at your hands. this entire situation felt strange and wrong somehow.

zayne was here late at night helping you alone on the side of the road while his girlfriend waited for him somewhere else. and you stood beside him in a skin-tight costume looking at him too much and thinking about things you absolutely should not be thinking anymore.

it made guilt creep slowly beneath your skin.

zayne ended the call not long after and slipped his phone back into his pocket. before he could return to fixing the engine, you stepped forward quickly and lowered the hood shut with a dull metallic thud.

the sound cut through the quiet road sharply, making zayne blink up at you.

then one of his brows lifted.

the expression was so familiar it almost threw you off balance. that look he had on his face looked exactly like his younger self again—the same boy who used to silently judge everybody with one unimpressed glance.

you pressed your lips together awkwardly. “you don’t have to fix it. i’ll just call for assistance or something.”

zayne remained leaning slightly against the car, grease staining his sleeve while he looked at you like you’d just said something ridiculous. “i can fix it.”

“yeah, but you don’t need to.”

“it's fine.”

you exhaled through your nose. “zayne, seriously, i don’t want to take too much of your time.”

his gaze stayed on you for a moment, and then he straightened fully, brushing his stained hand against his slacks without much concern. “the radiator hose is damaged. your engine overheated. it’s not something you should drive home tonight.”

you stared at him silently while he spoke, watching the way the streetlight caught faintly against the sharp bridge of his nose and the loose strands of dark hair falling near his forehead.

“It’s better if i drive you home,” he added calmly. “i’ll call assistance for your car afterward.”

your body stilled faintly at the offer. 

drive you home...?

the intimacy of it settled strangely beneath your ribs, because this wasn’t high school anymore. you weren’t teenagers stumbling through friday nights.

you were adults now. and being alone in a car with zayne at this age felt infinitely more dangerous than it would’ve back then. you swallowed once before the thought escaped your mouth. “…don’t you have a girlfriend?”

zayne paused, actually paused. his brows furrowed slightly as he looked at you with genuine confusion. “what?”

you immediately regretted asking.

ugh, you sounded insane now that you realized it. you cleared your throat and gestured vaguely. “the... call earlier.”

realization dawned across his face slowly. and then—to your complete disbelief—zayne almost looked amused. “my assistant? her name is baby.”

“…what?”

“baby jane,” zayne repeated calmly. “one of the assistants in the hospital.”

you continued staring at him.

that was the dumbest thing you had ever heard.

if this explanation came from literally anybody else, you would’ve laughed directly in their face and called them a liar. but zayne looked entirely sincere standing there. because zayne couldn’t lie to save his life. back then, he used to get caught hiding things within five seconds simply because guilt physically manifested on his face.

awkwardly, you nodded. “…oh.”

a tiny silence followed, then you noticed the look on zayne’s face. subtle but definitely there—mild amusement lingered quietly in his eyes while he watched you process everything.

your cheeks instantly felt warmer as you looked away. “well, that’s a ridiculous name.”

“everyone says the same thing.”

after zayne finished calling assistance for your car, the two of you stood awkwardly beside the road for a moment while waiting for the details to settle. it turns out that the dark tinted car from earlier belonged to none other than zayne. 

several minutes later, you found yourself slipping into the passenger seat. the interior smelled faintly like coffee and something distinctly him—subtle enough that you probably wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t sitting this close. zayne also settled into the driver’s seat beside you, adjusting the wheel before glancing toward you.

“are you cold?” he asked, fingers already reaching toward the air conditioning controls.

you shook your head. “i’m fine.”

he paused briefly before pulling his hand away again without argument.

you stared out the passenger window while absently rubbing your thumb against your phone screen. you still felt worried about your car despite everything. what if the repair became expensive? what if the engine problem turned out worse than expected? and on top of that—sitting in zayne’s car after all these years felt so odd in a way you couldn’t properly explain.

the silence between you wasn’t awkward exactly. it was worse. it was familiar.

you cleared your throat to distract yourself. “do you still remember the way to my house?”

instead of answering verbally, zayne simply opened his maps application. you stared at the glowing screen for a second before letting out a tiny huff of disbelief.

“wow,” 

“i remember the address,” he said calmly while typing it in. “not the route.”

that reminds you... back then, zayne used to remember everything about you—which snacks you hated, which route you preferred walking home, which pencil brand you always lost within two days.

he used to notice little things without even trying. but now he needed maps.

you looked down at your lap quietly.

this was good. this was normal. people grow up and move on. you were expecting too much from ghosts of adolescence that no longer existed the same way they once did. and, weren’t you relieved? if both caleb and zayne had truly moved on from whatever complicated mess existed between the three of you back then, then you could finally breathe properly too. you no longer have to carry that strange lingering guilt that followed you through adulthood like an unfinished sentence.

now, all of you could finally leave everything behind.

when the car stopped outside your house, relief and disappointment tangled together unpleasantly inside your chest. you unbuckled your seatbelt slowly and turned toward him with a polite smile. “thank you for driving me home. i really appreciate it.”

zayne nodded. “mm.”

you stepped out of the car carefully, heels crunching lightly against the pavement again. you were already halfway toward your gate when—

“wait.” your name left zayne’s mouth behind you.

you turned around and stilled at the sight of zayne stepping out of the car too. in his hands was a small cake box decorated with your favorite flowers tucked neatly around the ribbon.

where did that suddenly come from? and... is that for you? 

something about his composure became almost painfully awkward beneath the porch lights. “i heard about the reunion,” he admitted quietly. “but my schedule didn’t allow me to attend.” his tone remained flat in that very zayne way, but you caught it immediately—the subtle stiffness beneath his voice whenever he was embarrassed about sincerity.

it almost made you smile.

“so, i brought something instead.” he sounded like someone reluctantly explaining why he accidentally cared too much.

slowly, you stepped closer and looked down at the lettering written carefully across the cake.

“congratulations for getting promoted.”

you remember caleb texted you about your promotion months ago while zayne never did, but this felt exactly like the sort of thing zayne would do instead of sending a message. quietly remember just to quietly show up. quietly carry around a cake for god knows how long because he didn’t know how else to express congratulations properly.

you looked back up at him. “thank you for still remembering, zayne.”

—

after a few months of postponed plans, missed friday dinners, and relatives constantly saying “we'll be finally complete next time”, granny’s birthday finally came by.

your family arrived earlier than everyone else, mostly because your mother believed being late to family occasions was some kind of moral failure. by eight in the morning, you were already outside in granny’s front yard wearing house slippers and comfortable clothes, sitting on a small plastic stool beneath the shade while blowing balloons until your cheeks hurt.

from the open kitchen windows came the scent of garlic fried in oil, sweet spaghetti sauce simmering in giant pots, and the faint buttery smell of cake that somebody had already sliced prematurely despite strict instructions not to touch it yet. inside the house, the older aunts moved around carrying trays and arguing over whether the pasta needed more sauce while old love songs played from a speaker.

it felt so comforting, like childhood preserved in a glass jar.

your younger cousins ran circles around the yard while chasing each other with uninflated balloons, their slippers slapping against the fake grass. every few minutes one of them would come bother you for help.

at one point, one of the smaller cousins climbed directly onto your lap while you were tying ribbons around balloons, nearly making you inhale the entire thing from surprise. “oh my god,” you laughed breathlessly, pushing his forehead away. “you’re trying to kill me before granny’s birthday even starts!”

the child only grinned mischievously before stealing one of the candies from the nearby table and sprinting away before his mother could catch him. you watched him disappear around the gate with a smile still lingering on your face.

every now and then, the familiar metal gate creaked open again and another relative stepped inside carrying containers of food or grocery bags or wrapped gifts while greeting everyone.

and every single time, granny would brighten like sunlight itself. she sat proudly near the terrace in her favorite floral duster while greeting every newcomer as though they had returned home from war instead of merely driving fifteen minutes away. sometimes she forgot stories halfway through telling them. sometimes she repeated the same joke twice. and nobody minded.

somehow, granny had always been the center thread tying everybody together. without her, everyone drifted.

you noticed that more clearly now as an adult. how people got jobs, moved cities, entered relationships, built schedules too crowded for friday gatherings and random visits. the neighborhood no longer felt permanently alive the way it once had when you were younger. but today felt different—today felt like somebody, in this case, granny, had reached into the past and carefully stitched it back together for a few hours.

you finished tying another cluster of balloons near the gate before standing up to stretch your sore shoulders. immediately, one of your aunts shoved a tray of barbecue sticks into your hands on her way past.

“bring this inside please.”

“why am i suddenly unpaid labor?” you complained.

“because you’re unmarried and still useful,” your mother replied from somewhere behind you without even looking up. almost the entire yard burst into laughter at that, so you groaned while carrying the tray toward the tables, though the smile on your face stayed anyway.

and maybe that was the strange thing about coming back here. for the first time in a long while, adulthood felt far away. here, you were still just you. still someone’s granddaughter. still someone’s cousin. still the girl who grew up inside these walls.

the moment you stepped inside the house carrying the tray of barbecue sticks, you immediately regretted it.

“come here,” one of the older women called instantly, patting the empty seat beside her. another older relative leaned forward with dangerous curiosity already sparkling in her eyes. “so, when are yougetting married?”

oh no.

you forced out a polite smile as you carefully balanced the tray in your hands. “good morning to you too.”

that only made them laugh louder. within seconds, you found yourself trapped near the dining area while several elderly women interrogated you about your love life. somebody asked whether you were secretly dating, another asked if your standards were too high now because you were a corporate manager, then one uncle declared that women became “too intimidating” once they earned too much money.

you stared at him blankly while chewing your barbecue in silence. honestly, you would rather reorganize all the monoblock chairs outside one by one than survive this conversation.

thankfully, salvation arrived in the form of chaos. one of the younger cousins suddenly darted past you like a tiny criminal and snatched another barbecue stick straight from the tray.

“hey!” you yelped. 

the little girl burst into delighted laughter before sprinting outside barefoot while the adults erupted into noisy scolding.

“go catch her!”

“that child keeps stealing food!”

you did not even pretend to hesitate. “i’ll go,” you announced, already escaping toward the doorway before another marriage question could be launched at your forehead.

outside, you spotted the little girl racing across the front yard triumphantly with the stolen barbecue held high in the air.

“come back here!” you laughed, chasing after her across the grass. “you little thief!” the child shrieked happily and nearly reached the gate before—someone suddenly caught her mid-run.

two large hands lifted her clean off the ground like she weighed absolutely nothing, and the little girl gasped before bursting into giggles.

you stopped in your tracks.

even before your mind fully processed the uniform, the broad frame, or the sunglasses glinting beneath the sunlight—you already knew it was none other than your childhood friend.

they’ve arrived.

he stood there casually in his brown DAA uniform, one arm holding the laughing child against his side while the other stole the barbecue stick directly from her hand. “crime doesn’t pay,” he informed her seriously before taking a bite himself.

the little girl gasped in betrayal. “caleb!”

caleb only grinned around the barbecue. even after all these years, he still carried that same careless brightness around him. the uniform hugged his frame, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal toned forearms lightly browned from the sun, while the dark sunglasses somehow made his grin look even more radiant.

caleb finally turned toward you and smiled, crooked and familiar and terribly easy. “wow,” he drawled while lowering the child back onto the ground. “they got you working like hired staff already?”

you let out an embarrassed laugh despite yourself. “somebody has to do the labor around here.”

“yeah?” caleb tilted his head while looking you over openly. “you even look the part.”

your eyes widened. “what does that even mean?”

he laughed beneath his breath, clearly entertained by how fast you reacted. “relax, you look adorable.”

the word hit you stupidly harder than it should have. before you could recover, caleb already brushed past you casually toward the relatives gathering near the entrance. and just as instantly, loud greetings exploded from the yard.

“caleb!”

“you got thinner!”

“no, he got bigger!”

relatives crowded around him fussing over his arrival while younger cousins clung to his arms asking endless questions about airplanes and flying. and somehow, quite unlike you, he handled all of it effortlessly.

then, a quieter presence approached behind him. unlike caleb’s easy warmth, zayne arrived like winter air drifting through an open doorway. with a dark trench coat resting against his arm despite the sun, he wore an all-black clothing with a composed posture that remained untouched by the noisy chaos surrounding him.

he looked absurdly polished compared to the rest of the family bustling around in slippers and casual clothes. that only made him more familiar too.

his gaze found you almost immediately, quietly taking in the sight of you standing there breathless beneath the sunlight with messy hair, barbecue smoke clinging faintly to your clothes, and ribbons still tied around your wrist from decorating earlier.

your throat suddenly felt dry.

zayne gave you the smallest nod before moving past you as well, greeting the older relatives respectfully while they began fussing over him too.

and until lunchtime, you barely sat down. 

every time you thought you finally had a moment to rest, another relative suddenly needed help carrying something, reheating food, arranging chairs, or finding missing utensils. at some point, you became the unofficial runner of the entire gathering.

still, you didn’t really mind. there was something oddly comforting about the exhaustion. meanwhile, both caleb and zayne had become trapped in their own corners of socialization. every few minutes, you’d catch glimpses of them between rooms.

you saw caleb sitting comfortably among a noisy cluster of uncles and neighbors outside near the terrace, laughing easily while answering endless questions about work abroad. zayne, on the other hand, remained inside most of the time, seated neatly beside the older relatives who adored him for entirely different reasons. every auntie in the room seemed eager to brag about him to somebody else. zayne endured all of it with quiet patience, occasionally adjusting his sleeves while listening attentively whenever elders spoke to him.

by the time lunch was nearly ready, the heat inside the house had become unbearable enough that your head started hurting slightly. after setting down another tray of food onto the dining table, you exhaled and leaned toward your nearby aunt. “is there still cold water left?” 

your aunt nodded while fixing plates. “there should be some in the fridge—” before she could even finish speaking, you hear two chairs scraping against the floor at the exact same time.

you froze at the loud sound, only to see that caleb and zayne had both stood up simultaneously.

“i’ll get it,” caleb said.

“i can get it for her,” zayne spoke at almost the same time.

silence...

your fingers tightened around the empty glass in your hand. and there you go.

you felt eighteen again. 

caleb blinked first before glancing sideways at zayne with a crooked look of disbelief. zayne slowly sat back down first, though the faint tightening in his jaw betrayed him. then caleb followed a second later, leaning back into his chair while exhaling through his nose in amusement.

the younger cousins were very quick to catch on. of course they did. children always noticed first.

“they’re doing it again!” one of the young teenagers quickly blurted out from the couch.

another cousin burst into laughter. “oh my god, just like before!”

“right? they used to fight over helping her all the time!”

several older relatives started chuckling too, while others exchanged those suspiciously observant looks older people had whenever they sensed gossip material forming in real time.

you felt your entire face grow warm. “okay,” you interrupted, forcing out an awkward laugh. “i can just get water myself.” you escaped toward the kitchen before the conversation could worsen further, clutching your empty glass like it could protect you from humiliation.

behind you, the teasing unfortunately continued anyway. you opened the fridge and grabbed the cold pitcher of water with slightly unsteady hands. the cool air spilling from the refrigerator against your overheated skin felt heavenly as you poured yourself a full glass, trying to ignore the muffled conversations continuing from the dining area.

except certain words drifted into hearing range anyway.

“so, do either of you finally have girlfriends now?”

you paused unconsciously while lifting the glass toward your lips. outside, someone laughed, another relative joining in. “there’s no way handsome men like these stayed single this long.”

“what about exes?”

“secret children?” one uncle joked. the room then bursts into noisy reactions. you stared down quietly at your glass of water. and then—

“none,” zayne answered.

one of the aunties sounded genuinely shocked. “none at all?”

“i’ve been busy,” 

it sounded believable, painfully believable. of course zayne would sacrifice romance for career progression with terrifying efficiency—but then the attention shifted toward caleb.

“what about you?”

you waited absentmindedly for the obvious answer, because surely someone like caleb—

“don’t want one.”

“what do you mean you don’t want one?” somebody laughed.

caleb’s voice came easier this time. “just never wanted anybody enough.”

huh?

you hated that your mind immediately tried to interpret it. you forced yourself to drink your water while keeping your back turned toward the dining room.

they had both moved on obviously. people didn’t stay stuck on childhood feelings forever.

you had barely finished your glass of water when granny suddenly shuffled into the kitchen, drawn in by the noise and laughter echoing through the dining room. “why is everybody so loud in here?” she asked suspiciously, though the smile already tugging at her mouth betrayed her amusement.

“we were asking them why they’re both still single!”

“apparently nobody wants to date these two.”

the room erupted again into laughter. you closed your eyes briefly in secondhand embarrassment while setting your empty glass down on the counter. unfortunately, when you turned around—you accidentally made eye-contact with both caleb and zayne at the same time.

shit.

you immediately focused very hard on literally anything else.

before the room could spiral into even more teasing, granny suddenly clapped her hands together as though remembering something important. “oh! since you’re all just sitting there talking anyway, do me a favor, will ya.”

and just like that, every younger adult in the room developed selective hearing.

granny ignored them expertly. “haiya, the speaker outside stopped working again,” she said with a sigh. “the extra one should still be in the attic somewhere.”

before you could quietly escape the kitchen, granny’s eyes landed directly on you. “you,” you stopped yourself from reaching for the plates. “you were in the attic this morning, right? guide them.”

you turned. “…them?”

granny pointed directly toward caleb and zayne.

fuck?

being alone upstairs with the both of them is significantly more dangerous than it logically should! but refusing would only make everyone tease you harder.

you forced out a smile. “sure.”

eventually, the three of you walked upstairs together while the noise slowly faded behind you into muffled laughter. the old staircase creaked beneath your steps exactly the same way it always had growing up, and the familiar sound alone made something in you stir.

you tried to fill the silence before it became unbearable. “the attic’s probably messier now, granny keeps throwing random things there.”

“some things never change,” caleb replied easily from behind you. “including this house.”

you glanced back briefly, remembering once upon a time, this exact staircase had carried the three of you toward childhood conspiracies instead of polite adult conversations.

the attic door creaked loudly when you pushed it open, and warm dusty air greeted you immediately. the room smelled faintly like cardboard, old books, wood polish, and trapped summer heat. sunlight slipped through the tiny circular window near the ceiling, illuminating floating dust particles drifting through the air like tiny fireflies.

you could see boxes stacked everywhere of old christmas decorations, broken electric fans, bags of clothes nobody wanted to throw away, photo albums, and your forgotten toys.

all three of you simply stood there quietly.

you remembered rainy afternoons hiding here together to avoid chores downstairs, remembered flashlight games, remembered lying on flattened cardboard boxes while listening to rain hammer against the roof above you. the attic still carried traces of those years somehow, small ghosts preserved inside warm dust and old sunlight. except now, the air between the three of you felt... different.

heavier.

caleb wandered toward one side of the attic where several labeled storage boxes rested against the wall. he crouched near one marked with messy handwriting that literally read CALEB and laughed quietly beneath his breath. “wow, granny really archived my entire existence up here.”

zayne had already started scanning the room practically. “where is the speaker supposed to be?” he asked while looking around.

you shrugged. “i honestly have no idea. i was only here for extra chairs earlier.”

“how helpful,” caleb commented.

you shot him a look. “then you find it.”

he grinned without looking up from the box he had opened.

you exhaled before stepping farther into the attic yourself, carefully weaving between old storage containers while searching as the attic slowly filled with the sound of things being moved around.

caleb sat crouching on the floor near his old storage box while sorting through random junk he apparently used to own—old basketball magazines, tangled earphones, a broken handheld game console... “damn,” he muttered, holding up an ancient toy car. “i remember crying over this.”

you laughed while brushing dust off yourself. “you used to cry over everything.”

“excuse me,” caleb replied with fake offense. “i was just emotionally expressive.”

“you cried because i beat you at mario kart once,” zayne deadpanned from across the attic without looking up from the boxes he was checking.

caleb pointed at you as he looked at zayne. “because she cheated.”

“i didn’t cheat,” you defended.

“you absolutely cheated, you manipulative girl.”

you snorted before you could stop yourself, bending slightly to look through another box near the far wall, unaware that both men had unconsciously looked toward you at the same time until caleb suddenly spoke again. “heh, you still do that.”

you glanced back. “do what?”

“that thing when you bite the inside of your cheek.”

your lips parted, and without realizing it, you immediately stopped doing it. caleb smiled faintly when he noticed.

“you still remember that?” you asked carefully.

“yea, i remember a lot of things about you, miss poker.”

you quickly looked away and crouched beside another stack of boxes, pretending to search harder for the speaker. across the room, zayne finally straightened from where he’d been kneeling near an old shelf.

“so you cut your hair,” he suddenly said.

your hands paused before looking at him. his tone had remained completely neutral and observational, almost clinical. but somehow, hearing it from him affected you differently. you touched your hair absentmindedly near your shoulder. “a few months ago, yeah.”

zayne nodded once. “it used to reach your waist.”

caleb leaned back against the wall nearby, one knee propped upward while watching the two of you. “he noticed that immediately when we walked in earlier,” 

zayne’s gaze shifted toward him. “caleb.”

“what?” caleb shrugged innocently. “i’m just saying.”

you forced yourself to keep searching. “you two are still so dramatic.”

“we’re not dramatic,” caleb replied.

zayne adjusted his sleeves, turning to caleb. “you are.”

“says the guy who used to get jealous over card games.” caleb grinned wider. “remember that?” he continued casually, though his eyes remained fixed on zayne instead of you. “she used to sit beside me during poker nights and you’d stare holes through the back of my head the entire time.”

“because you always cheated.”

“again with the cheating accusations,” you muttered.

“you liked it when i let you win,” caleb now looked at you.

your heartbeat stumbled, because the way he said it didn’t sound playful anymore. it sounded personal. for some reason, your mind replayed the night of the alumni event, when you unknowingly played poker against him.  slowly, you stood upright again while clutching one of the dusty boxes against your chest. “i never needed you to let me win.”

caleb looked at you then, fully. the sunlight slipping through the attic window caught faintly against the gold-brown tones of his skin while dust drifted through the space between all of you. “i know,” 

nobody spoke for several seconds.

downstairs, you could hear someone screaming and laughing over karaoke lyrics.

and then caleb exhaled suddenly through his nose before speaking again, “you know what’s funny?” he rested his forearm over his raised knee, gaze lingering on you beneath lowered lashes. “i thought seeing you again after all these years would make things easier.”

your throat tightened. you should not ask, you absolutely should not. “did it?”

caleb stared at you for a long moment, then smiled. “not even a little.”

you stilled at caleb’s answer.

the words lingered strangely inside the attic, hanging somewhere between the dust-filled air and the slow heat pressing beneath your skin. for a second, you became painfully aware of the sunlight touching the side of your face, of the old floorboards beneath your feet, of the way your heartbeat had suddenly become embarrassingly noticeable to yourself.

and then you noticed zayne looking at caleb, but it wasn’t an annoyed look, wasn’t surprised either. it was quieter than that, like there was an entire conversation happening inside one glance alone.

something restrained passed between them before zayne’s eyes eventually shifted toward you instead.

you immediately laughed and shook your head, forcing lightness back into the room before the atmosphere swallowed you whole. god, they still had the same effect on you somehow. that alone irritated you a little. so instead of shrinking away from it, you turned toward caleb with a deliberately playful expression. “what? does that mean you still haven’t moved on yet?” it was meant to be teasing, something to defuse the tension. except the moment the words left your mouth, you watched caleb’s face slowly change.

there it was again.

that same crooked, dangerous little smirk he used to wear years ago whenever you accidentally walked yourself into his traps. he leaned further back against the wall behind him, eyes dragging slowly over your face before answering. “depends,” 

your stomach tightened instantly. before he could continue—and before zayne could speak either—you quickly cut in. “okay, i’m just gonna ask granny where the speaker actually is before we die up here.”

you turned around and headed toward the attic door before either of them could say anything else that would make your entire nervous system malfunction. the wooden floor creaked beneath your steps when you grabbed the doorknob quickly, twisting it while already half distracted by your own embarrassment.

but the knob didn’t move.

you frowned, trying again harder.

“huh?” you jiggled the handle again, now using both hands, but the old wood only rattled loudly beneath the force.

your brows furrowed deeper. “wait.” you pulled harder this time, but the door refused to budge completely. confusion now immediately shifted into disbelief. “are you serious?” you shoved your shoulder lightly against it before trying the lock again, only for the handle to stubbornly remain stuck in place.

behind you, you heard movement.

“what happened?” zayne asked.

“the door won’t open.”

caleb laughed at first like he thought you were joking, but the sound faded when you hit the door again with genuine frustration.

“i’m serious.” you knocked loudly this time, “hello?!” your voice disappeared beneath the thunder of karaoke downstairs. somebody was aggressively singing an old love song now, complete with cheering relatives and clapping somewhere below.

of course. of fucking course nobody could hear you.

you tried again anyway, knocking harder until your palm stung against the wood. “granny?!”you abruptly turned around. “do either of you have your phones?”

for one tiny second, caleb and zayne exchanged a look. and something about it immediately made suspicion flicker inside you.

zayne checked his pockets first before speaking calmly. “i left mine downstairs.”

your eyes moved toward caleb, watching the way he patted his jeans before exhaling through his nose. “mine too.” caleb had the audacity to look mildly entertained already. “guess we’re stuck,” 

“what do you mean ‘guess we’re stuck’?”

“relax, someone’ll notice eventually.”

“eventually?” you repeated incredulously.

the attic suddenly felt significantly smaller than before. way too small. especially now that you were hyperaware of everything again.

you swallowed.

absolutely not. there was no universe in which getting trapped inside an attic alone with these two men counted as a survivable situation. especially not when the tension between all three of you already felt thick enough to physically breathe in.

you crossed your arms tightly. “there’s no way.”

caleb tilted his head. “no way what?”

“no way i’m getting stuck up here with both of you.”

zayne looked away for a brief second, though not fast enough to hide the faint amusement threatening at the corner of his expression.

“wow,” caleb muttered. “that sounded personal.”

“because it is personal,”

“geez, pipsqueak, we’re not gonna eat you alive.”

your heartbeat stumbled traitorously at the nickname. so he still does call you that, huh? 

eventually, pacing around the attic stopped accomplishing anything except making you hotter. so with an exhausted sigh, you finally sat down onto the wooden floorboards near one of the storage boxes, crossing your legs beneath you while leaning your back against the wall. the longer the three of you stayed trapped up there, the warmer the space became.

there was barely any airflow at all.

the tiny circular window near the ceiling let in sunlight but absolutely no breeze, and the trapped heat had started settling heavily against your skin until even breathing felt sticky. 

you fanned yourself weakly using the corner of an old magazine you found nearby. “it’s actually so hot,” you groaned. “how is this room legally allowed to exist?”

caleb snickered from where he sat a few feet away against another stack of boxes. “who's dramatic now?”

“you’re sweating too.”

“well, i sweat beautifully.”

fair. he actually was sweating though.

caleb had always been the type to run warm easily, and now that the heat had thoroughly caught up to him, the strands of his dark hair had started sticking damply against his forehead and temples, the slight sheen of sweat along his neck catching under the attic sunlight whenever he moved. with a quiet exhale, he dragged one hand through his hair and pushed it back, exposing more of his forehead before unzipping his brown DAA jacket halfway down just to loosen it.

the movement pulled your attention before you could stop it, but you instantly averted your gaze—to where zayne is quietly settled.

zayne sat near the shelves, though the heat had clearly begun getting to him too. he rarely looked disheveled, so the subtle signs became painfully noticeable once you started paying attention; his sleeves had been rolled upward twice already, dark hair sat slightly messier now near his forehead. every few minutes, he adjusted the collar of his black shirt like the fabric had become unbearable against his skin. a bead of sweat also slowly slid down the side of his neck before disappearing beneath the collarbone of his shirt.

you glanced away while continuing to fan yourself. “summer’s getting really evil,” 

caleb tipped his head back against the wall. “if i pass out up here, tell people i died handsome.”

“nobody would say that.” you tugged lightly at the fabric of your shirt where it clung uncomfortably against your skin from the heat. honestly, at this point modesty felt significantly less important than survival. so before you could overthink it, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off over your head, leaving yourself in only your thin undershirt.

immediate silence.

you looked up instinctively and caught both men staring. not even subtly.

caleb’s eyes had visibly paused on you before he looked away first with a low exhale through his nose. zayne reacted faster, immediately turning his gaze aside and adjusting his shirt again.

“geez,” you muttered defensively. “don’t make it weird.”

“we’re not making it weird,” caleb replied too quickly.

you gestured vaguely toward them. “then take yours off too instead of suffering. we literally all grew up together anyway.”

caleb looked at you for a second before grinning slowly. “nah, you might die seeing my biceps.”

“you’re insufferable.”

to your surprise, zayne suddenly spoke from beside the two of you. “she’s right about one thing.” you blinked toward him, only to see that he had reached for the hem of his black shirt, pulling it off completely—completely shirtless!

your brain short-circuited. 

because unlike caleb, who at least still had clothes on, zayne had apparently decided modesty was optional now as well. the attic air suddenly vanished from your lungs, your eyes betraying you before you could stop them.

sweaty broad shoulders, defined arms, sharp collarbones damp from heat, and the... abs.

you instantly busied yourself with absolutely anything else—the dusty floorboards, the ceiling, the old christmas decorations nearby. anywhere except directly at zayne’s now shirtless body.

ah, spiritual enlightenment.

across from you, caleb immediately noticed. he leaned forward with visible amusement sparkling in his eyes. “why’re you looking away? thought we all grew up together.”

your face burned hotter. “shut up.”

“what?” caleb chuckled. “suddenly shy now?” while speaking, he shrugged off his DAA jacket completely too, leaving only the fitted white tank top stretched across his chest and shoulders, all sweaty. the heat had dampened the thin fabric slightly near his collarbone, and the sight of his forearms flexing as he tossed the jacket aside did absolutely nothing good for you. 

zayne peacefully folded his discarded top ontop of a storage box while watching the interaction unfold beside him.

“leave her alone,” he said to caleb.

caleb raised a brow. “why?”

zayne’s eyes shifted toward you briefly, calm and knowing. “she’s always been a scaredy kitten like that.” the familiarity of the remark hit you directly in the chest. years ago, he used to say things like that all the time too.

you frowned at zayne’s comment. “i am not a scaredy kitten.”

caleb laughed under his breath instantly. “yeah? tell that to your eighteen year old self, i bet my life she'd also just space out and stammer around.”

“fuck you.”

“it was funny.”

“you’re evil.”

caleb grinned. “and yet you still followed us everywhere back then.”

you opened your mouth to rebutt that immediately, only for the memory itself to betray you first. because annoyingly enough—you had followed them everywhere. the three of you used to move around the neighborhood like a tiny dysfunctional unit impossible to separate—summer afternoons spent biking aimlessly around streets, convenience store runs at midnight, and then hiding in this exact attic whenever adults downstairs assigned chores nobody wanted to do.

you smiled while shaking your head. “we were actually unbearable teenagers.”

“you were unbearable,” caleb corrected.

“says the one who somehow always ended up in neighborhood clashes.” you looked up to remember. “it was always at the... where was it again? oh right, the street four blocks away here.”

“and yet i survived.”

zayne spoke without looking up. “barely.”

caleb whistled. “and the one who always used to snitch spoke just now, finally.”

“who wouldn't snitch on a cheater.”

“where did that even come from? and why do you always say i'm a cheater?”

“because you are a cheater,” you and zayne answered simultaneously.

the three of you paused, before unexpectedly bursting into laughter together. real laughter this time, the kind that slipped out before anybody could control it. laughter made it easier to forget how much time had passed, made it easier to fall back into old rhythms.

you hugged your knees loosely against your chest while smiling. “i thought both of you would completely forget about me after college.”

the moment the words left your mouth, caleb glanced toward zayne briefly. “that was unlikely,” zayne said.

you tilted your head, now rummaging again through the photoalbums inside a nearby box. “why?”

“you were hard to miss,” caleb replied, walking toward you to crouch closer and look at the same albums.

your brows furrowed. “we barely even talked after.”

“didn’t mean we didn’t hear about you.”

you looked up. “…what?”

caleb looked up as well, meeting your eyes. “your... promotion.”

“ah.”

“congratulations, by the way,” zayne added calmly. “for also successfully advertising that one campaign your company did.”

your eyes snapped toward him. “…how do you know about that?”

zayne looked almost confused by the question. “you posted it.”

so they've been updated of you from afar, huh.

at some point during the conversation, both men had gradually moved closer without you noticing. caleb now sat near enough that his knee almost brushed yours, while zayne leaned against the wall beside you instead of across the attic, close enough for you to catch the clean scent of his cologne beneath the heat and dust.

suddenly, you remembered the lack of clothing again. you glanced at your own thin undershirt, and to zayne completely shirtless beside you, then to caleb in only a tank top with damp hair falling over his forehead. you cleared your throat quickly. “anyway, what about you two? you seriously never dated anybody?”

“why?” caleb asked lazily. “you curious?”

“normal people ask questions during conversations.”

“you first,” he replied.

zayne glanced toward you too, quieter but no less attentive. somehow, having both of them looking at you at once made the space inside your chest tighten. you tried to stay unaffected. “i already answered downstairs, i think. i have never been in a serious relationship in my life.”

“no serious relationships,” caleb corrected carefully. “that’s different.”

you looked down at your hands, shrugging. “i don’t know, i guess work just became easier to focus on.” that wasn’t the full truth. the fuller truth sat heavier beneath your ribs—that intimacy had always felt strangely incomplete after them.

after whatever the three of you had become all those years ago.

you let out a forced chuckle to lighten the mood again. “which sounds depressing now that i say it out loud.”

“it doesn’t,” zayne says, glancing down your chest, and back up your eyes. maybe it was the trapped closeness of the attic, but something about the way he looked at you right then made warmth slowly spread beneath your skin, a kind of longing stretched too thin over too many years.

caleb rests his chin against his fist. “so really no boyfriends, no exes?”

your face warmed beneath the attention. “why are you interrogating me?”

“because... it’s weird imagining nobody trying.”

you opened your mouth to deflect the conversation somewhere safer. “did either of you even find the speaker yet?” 

caleb groaned. “look at her running away.”

you ignored him entirely after that, standing up too quickly from the floorboards and dusted your hands against your shorts as if you were suddenly very determined to continue searching for the missing speaker—anything to keep yourself occupied. “if we actually find this thing, maybe granny will finally stop making me carry trays around.” the old wooden floor creaked beneath your steps as you moved toward another pile of boxes near the shelves. 

it almost grounded you. almost.

the moment you bent to check behind one of the boxes, you feel a hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, urging you to stop and look back.

you found zayne standing closer than you realized, close enough for you to notice the faint sheen of sweat still lingering along his collarbones and chest, catching the subtle rise and fall of his breathing. his grip around your wrist wasn’t painful, but it stopped you completely. “look at me,”

what’s gotten into him all of the sudden?

your gaze flickered everywhere except directly at him because he was still shirtless and because something about the expression on his face right now made your chest feel strangely full. “zayne—”

“look at me.”

so you did, and his eyes looked nothing like they did downstairs around the family.

this wasn’t the polite zayne. not the distant adult zayne carefully controlling every word. this looked much closer to the boy you used to know years ago.

his fingers tightened around your wrist, enough to slightly hurt. “you always do this,”

“...do what?”

“run away.” 

the words landed harder than they should have. you immediately tried pulling your wrist back a little, but zayne didn’t let go. behind him, caleb had gone unusually quiet. you could feel his presence somewhere behind zayne without directly looking, still crouched, still listening.

your throat tightened slightly. “there is... nothing to run away from.”

so they really haven't moved on yet, huh.

zayne gave you a look, one that felt almost cruel in how accurately it saw through you. “you are right now.”

“i was-... literally just looking for the speaker. doing what we’re actually here for.”

“you can do that while talking to us, can’t you?”

“well, whatever you both were talking about is weird.”

“weird?” he repeated quietly. his grip loosened slightly afterward, but he still didn’t fully let go. “y/n, you never changed. like before, and until now, all you’ve ever done is run away.”

your chest further tightened at his words, brows furrowing as you still tried to look somewhere else.

“after what happened, you just disappeared on us.”

you swallowed hard.

“and you stopped showing up.”

hearing it said out loud like this made it sound uglier than the version you’d told yourself all these years—that everyone simply grew apart naturally, that time passed, and that adulthood happened. but deep down, you knew. you knew you had distanced yourself on purpose after what happened between the three of you.

after that summer.

your voice came out smaller now. “things got complicated. you know that.”

zayne raised a brow. “so you left?”

the sunlight filtering through the attic window suddenly seemed painfully bright against the dust floating lazily in the air. “what was i supposed to do?” you asked exasperatedly. for the first time since grabbing your wrist, zayne hesitated. that tiny hesitation somehow hurt even more, because it meant he didn’t have an answer either.

behind him, caleb finally moved. 

you glanced toward him instinctively.

he still sat low against the floorboards, elbows resting loosely over his knees now while he stared somewhere toward the old shelves instead of directly at either of you. his expression looked incredibly unreadable, but his jaw had tightened faintly.

“you left us behind,” zayne breaks the silence again.

your eyes stung unexpectedly, whispering, “that’s not fair,”

zayne’s gaze softened for only a second before hardening again beneath restraint. “isn’t it?”

you hated this, you hated how small you suddenly felt beneath the weight of his stare, beneath the years sitting unsaid between all three of you. you instinctively shrank slightly backward, only for your wrist still trapped in his hand to stop you halfway.

caleb finally exhaled from behind zayne before speaking for the first time in several minutes. “zayne, don’t corner her.”

zayne looked toward him briefly. “i’m not.”

“you are.”

the attic remained painfully quiet after that. not truly silent—because downstairs, somebody was still butchering an old love song through the karaoke microphone while relatives laughed loudly between clinking plates and glasses—but up here, inside the heat and dust and years sitting between the three of you, everything felt suspended.

your wrist still tingled faintly where zayne had held it, but neither him nor caleb looked away from each other. somehow, being caught between their silence felt worse than shouting.

and then, zayne spoke, still calm. “do you ever think about that summer?” caleb’s gaze flickered toward him slowly. and zayne continued before either of you could interrupt. “we were kids, scared kids.”

your heartbeat quickened, you already knew what summer he meant. of course you did. there had only ever been one summer capable of following all three of you into adulthood like this.

“did you wonder once, caleb,” zayne’s eyes remained on him, steady and honest in a way that almost hurt to witness. “if we were brave back then, would something have happened?”

the question settled heavily into the attic air.

caleb didn’t answer. for once, he actually looked speechless. his brows slowly straightened while his lips parted faintly, like he almost had words but couldn’t quite force them out. and then, eventually, his eyes shifted away from zayne—and landed on you instead.

when your eyes met, you looked away immediately.

somewhere throughout the years apart from them, hidden beneath careers and distance and adulthood, you had slowly realized something terrifying. you never actually stopped wanting them, not one more than the other, not one instead of the other.

just them. just caleb and zayne—the boys who ruined every normal definition of love for you before you were even old enough to understand what love properly was. and maybe you could have buried that forever, maybe you almost did.

until today. 

zayne took another step closer. this time, he was looking directly at you. “can we have the answer now?” 

christ, you could hear your own heartbeat. it’s fast, loud, humiliatingly obvious. you were always afraid to admit it, but perhaps—a part of you wanted to cross that line now, to stop pretending none of this existed and to finally say something honest after years of repression.

your eyes flickered helplessly between them. and then—your wandering gaze accidentally caught something sitting atop one of the higher shelves across the attic.

you blinked out of yourself. 

wait. isn’t that the speaker? the stupid missing speaker? 

your restraint grabbed onto it instantly like a lifeline. before your courage could betray you completely, you took the first opportunity to escape. the moment zayne’s hand loosened from your wrist, you slipped around him quickly and pointed toward the shelf. 

“there!” you said too fast. “the speaker’s there.”

both men turned instinctively toward where you pointed, and you waste no time crossing the attic toward it before either of them could stop you again. your heart still hammered wildly inside your chest as you reached the shelf and looked upward. the speaker rested frustratingly high near the top, partially hidden behind old storage bins and random decorations.

“…seriously?” you stretched upward, but it’s absolutely nowhere near close enough. the shelf was too tall. you frowned while standing on your toes, fingers barely reaching for it. you glanced around desperately for something to stand on, but there weren’t any proper chairs nearby. before you could stubbornly insist on climbing higher onto the unstable boxes, caleb suddenly walked up behind you. 

“need help?” he asks.

you blinked toward him over your shoulder. for some reason, your brain completely failed to produce a normal response. you watch how caleb’s hair remained damp from the attic heat, dark strands falling messily over his forehead while his white tank top clung slightly against his chest and stomach. 

“i…” 

caleb’s mouth twitched like he noticed your sudden inability to function. without another word, he crouched down in front of you with one knee against the wooden floorboards and a broad back facing you. “c’mon,” he said while motioning over his shoulder. “get on.”

your eyes widened. “…wh-what?”

“you need height, pips, unless you wanna risk your life or sumthin.”

you hesitated. behind you, zayne stepped closer too, setting a box he’d moved earlier more securely against the shelf before looking toward you. “if you’re getting it, pass the speaker to me immediately after. it’s heavy.”

you nodded weakly.

okay. fine.

you swallowed once before carefully stepping toward caleb’s crouched form. “don’t drop me,” 

caleb laughed. “you wound me.” still, his hands steadied against your calves as you awkwardly climbed onto his back. the moment your thighs wrapped around either side of his neck, heat rushed violently into your face.

this was humiliating.

caleb stood up carefully afterward, and the sudden loss of ground beneath your feet made you instinctively tighten your hold around him. his hands then immediately gripped more firmly on your thighs to stabilize you.

large hands...warm palms... strong fingers pressing securely against the bare skin just below your shorts... 

you stared determinedly at the shelf instead.

focus! focus on the speaker, not on the fact that caleb’s shoulders flexed beneath your hold every time he adjusted his grip on you.“comfortable up there?” he asked, rubbing a thumb along your skin.

fuck.

“stop talking.”

“yes, ma’am.”

behind you, zayne cleared his throat once. “can you reach it?” 

you forced yourself to focus again and stretched upward toward the speaker stacked near the top shelf. this time you could finally reach it properly, fingers brushing against the dusty handle. “almost—” but then, something suddenly moved near your hand, making you freeze. the ticklish sensation of what might be something alive made you look closer, and see...

“A COCKROACH!” your scream ripped through the attic instantly, jolting violently backward on instinct. “SHIT—” 

caleb startled hard beneath you from the sudden movement. “what—?!”

“THERE’S A BUG—” you wiggled frantically trying to get away from it while caleb lost balance underneath your panicked thrashing. then, the speaker tipped dangerously over the edge of the shelf. thankfully, zayne reacted fast enough to catch the heavy speaker against his chest before it crashed onto the floor.

the problem was everything else, though. you were still screaming, while caleb was still trying not to drop you. and the next few seconds happened far too fast—caleb’s balance finally gave up.

CRASH!

you landed very hard against caleb’s chest as both of you crashed onto the floorboards together, the air knocking from your lungs. caleb grunted sharply beneath you from the fall, one arm instinctively wrapping around your waist to keep you from hitting the floor harder.

“are you okay?” he coughed.

“the roach—!” your heart still hammered wildly while you tried pushing yourself upright—until sudden sharp pain tore across your palm. “ah—!”

a splintered piece of wood had been sticking upright between the uneven floorboards where your palm landed during the fall. a thin but deep cut now stretched across the center of your hand, bright red blood immediately welling against your skin.

“shit,” caleb muttered, staring at you.

you winced hard, clutching your injured hand against yourself while still half sprawled against caleb’s chest.

he pushes himself upright quickly despite clearly getting hurt from the impact too. you only noticed now the way he’d scraped part of his arm against the floorboards during the fall, redness already forming along his elbow. he didn’t even look at it as his attention stayed entirely on you. “let me see,” 

you shook your head weakly out of reflex while pressing your wounded palm closer against yourself. “it’s fine—”

“you’re bleeding.” his voice came lower, more serious. the teasing undertone went gone instantly. before you could protest again, caleb carefully grabbed your wrist to examine the cut more closely.

his brows furrowed hard. up close, you could see the same shift in his face whenever he got worried about you, the slight narrowing of his eyes and the way his touch became gentler without him seeming to realize it.

meanwhile beside both of you, zayne had already set the speaker down safely. you heard quick footsteps approaching, then suddenly zayne crouched near you too, immediately reaching for your injured hand with frightening calmness.

“move,” he told caleb.

“i’m helping her.”

“and i’m a doctor.”

caleb clicked his tongue but loosened his hold enough for zayne to inspect your palm instead. now you sat there trapped awkwardly between them on the attic floor, breathing unevenly while both men focused on your injured hand. despite the pain, your face still burned hotter from the way caleb’s arm remained securely attached around your waist the entire time.

instead of dwelling on that, you observed the way zayne’s entire demeanor shifted the moment he properly saw the wound. it happened so naturally that it almost startled you more than the injury itself.

one second he had been the same restrained, unreadable man from earlier, standing in the attic shirtless with sweat dampening the edges of his dark hair. and then suddenly, the doctor in him surfaced so seamlessly that it felt like watching somebody step into their true skin.

you watch his posture straightening, expression sharpened. his fingers wrapped around your wrist with control as he tilted your palm toward the sunlight. fresh blood continued slipping slowly from the cut, bright against your skin before trailing down the inside of your wrist and arm in thin warm lines.

the wound pulsed really painfully, every heartbeat making it throb even harder, enough to make you wince again.

immediately, zayne’s eyes flicked upward. “does it sting or ache?” 

you blinked at him for a second. “both.”

zayne hummed under his breath before looking around the attic quickly, scanning the cluttered shelves and old boxes. his brows drew together—of course there was nothing useful here. no bandages, tissues, nothing clean enough. “we shouldn’t wrap it with anything dirty,” zayne murmured more to himself than to you.

you shifted against caleb’s chest, still painfully aware of the way his arm remained firm around your waist from behind. his body felt warm beneath yours, solid, breathing against your back despite the awkward position the two of you were still trapped in on the floor.

“it’s okay, i can just use my shirt for now and wash it downstairs later when someone notices we’re missing—” you stopped yourself when zayne suddenly moved, your breath caught when he leaned downward toward your injured arm. “…zayne?”

he didn’t answer, his gaze stayed lowered instead, almost avoiding yours. and then you felt it—the warmth of his tongue dragging slowly along the thin trail of blood that had begun slipping down your wrist. 

“z-zayne!” it made you flinch hard in shock, but his hand tightened carefully around your wrist to steady you before the blood could drip further. he still wouldn’t look at you, expression remained frighteningly focused despite the intimacy of what he was doing, dark lashes lowered while his tongue traced upward once more against your skin.

the sensation made your stomach twist painfully because it hurt and because it didn’t. because his mouth was warm and the attic was hot and your pulse was beating too hard beneath his touch. “you’re insane,” you whispered weakly.

that finally made the corner of his mouth twitch, but he still didn’t stop. slowly, carefully, zayne lifted your wounded palm closer toward his mouth. you could see the brief hesitation in his face this time, almost like he knew crossing this line would change things. 

but even then, his lips pressed softly against the center of your palm.

“hng—!” pain flared immediately when he applied pressure to the cut, sucking the blood from the wound to keep it temporarily clean. but the sting made your entire body tense. your free hand immediately grabbed onto the closest thing near you—

caleb.

you pressed backward against his chest hard enough that he physically stiffened beneath you. “it hurts,” you shakily breathed.

behind you, caleb let out the faintest grunt, low and strained. his arm around your waist tightened before he could stop himself. but you failed to notice completely—too distracted by zayne, by the overwhelming feeling of his mouth against your skin.

zayne’s eyes finally lifted toward yours then, emerald green, but darker now somehow. you had never realized before how intimate being cared for could feel until this exact moment. his lips remained close against your palm while his fingers held your wrist steady.

meanwhile behind you, caleb’s ears had gone bright red. but you still failed to catch on the visible effort it took for him not to move beneath the repeated pressure of your body pressing against him every time the pain made you squirm. you were sitting directly between his legs, half against his chest, and every small movement from you dragged against him in ways that were making his breathing increasingly uneven.

“nghh...” caleb’s grip flexed once against your waist. but before you could process that, zayne pulled back slowly from your injured hand.

your skin burned so badly it almost felt feverish, heat spreading up your throat and cheeks while your injured palm still throbbed beneath zayne’s careful hold. you stared at the faint sheen of blood left near his lower lip before he calmly wiped it away with the back of his hand. he inspected your swollen palm again with doctor-like focus despite the fact that he had literally just licked you off to suck your blood.

your breathing became uneven all over again, because you suddenly felt eighteen. painfully eighteen. back in that summer version of yourselves where standing between zayne and caleb had always felt like standing too close to a storm.

zayne tilted your wrist once more, checking the wound carefully. “the bleeding stopped,” he murmured, in which you nodded weakly to. but he stayed crouched close in front of you though, way too close. his eyes lifted toward yours. “can you still run away now?”

fuck’s sake, how are they this persistent?

you almost wanted to scream. why were they still like this? why were they still capable of unraveling you so easily after all these years? you swallowed hard and forced yourself to push back before you completely lost whatever remained of your sanity. “what if i don’t?” you retorted. the words slipped out before you could stop them. 

and the second they did—something behind you suddenly twitched hard against your rear. your entire body went still, feeling the solid and warm thing press against your bum, twitching ever so slightly.

is that... caleb? 

behind you, caleb sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, like he was physically struggling, and then he made a strained sound under his breath. you felt the arm around your waist flex harder for half a second before he abruptly loosened it like he’d finally remembered himself. “okay,” caleb muttered roughly from behind you. “get off me.”

you turned your head slightly in confusion, only to find caleb looking away toward the opposite wall with a deeply tense expression, jaw tight enough to visibly flex. the tips of his ears were brightly red, damp hair sticking messily to his forehead while sweat slid slowly down the side of his neck into the collar of his tank top. he looked both irritated and embarrassed at the exact same time, which somehow made him even worse to look at.

“you get—”

“seriously,” he muttered with a grunt, finally glancing at you briefly before immediately looking away again. “it’s hard.”

“i-i mean, it’s hard to breathe.” caleb quickly corrected himself.

zayne exhaled quietly through his nose beside you like he was holding back amusement. you stared at caleb in absolute disbelief while your brain scrambled uselessly trying to process what he’d just admitted out loud. 

so what you’re sitting on is his...

zayne leaned toward you again before you could recover properly from caleb’s admission. instinctively, you leaned backward to create distance—but all that did was press your body more firmly against caleb behind you.

that caused a strangled grunt escaping low from his throat, his hands instantly tightening around your hips hard enough to make you inhale sharply. “that hurts—” 

you tried shifting away again, but there was nowhere to go. there was zayne in front of you, and caleb beneath and behind you. zayne’s eyes flickered downward briefly at the way caleb’s grip dug into your waist before returning to your face. strangely, he didn’t look annoyed. if anything, he looked calmer now. certain.

the faintest flush had spread across the bridge of his nose from the heat, but his gaze remained painfully steady on you. “earlier, you asked what happens if you stop running.”zayne leaned closer still, one hand braced beside your knee against the floorboards. “prove it.”

you stared at him helplessly. “what? what do you—”

“prove you’re not running anymore. and if you can do that,” he murmured, “then we’ll leave you alone.”

you swallowed hard. after all these years, after all the distance and silence and pretending nothing happened between the three of you—they were still here, looking at you like this, wanting you like this. but deep down, you already knew something terrifying. you certainly didn’t want them to leave you alone. 

your teeth pressed lightly against your lower lip. “deal.”

it was now or never. if they wanted you so bad to prove them otherwise, then let them take it.

before you could stop yourself, your hand lifted toward zayne’s face, fingers curled against his jaw. for the first time since reuniting with them, you stopped thinking—pulling him toward you to kiss him.

it didn't feel rushed nor hesitant, it just felt like years and years of restrained tension finally colliding all at once.

zayne froze for barely half a second, then immediately kissed you back. harder. “fuck,”

his hand came up almost desperately to cradle your face, fingers spreading gently along your cheek and jaw like he’d imagined touching you this way too many times before. he kissed like a man who had spent years holding himself back. careful at first, then increasingly less careful every second after.

despite everything, there was still something achingly romantic about zayne. even now. even like this. his thumb brushed softly beneath your cheek while his mouth moved against yours, and the tenderness of it nearly undid you completely.

behind you, caleb exhaled shakily. “it’s so... painful,”

you had forgotten you were still sitting against him, pressing against him every time the kiss made you move unconsciously. this time, though, you didn’t pull away. if anything, your body pressed more firmly backward on instinct as zayne kissed you deeper. 

caleb physically tensed beneath you. his fingers dug harder into your hips. “fuck,” he breathed hoarsely, the sound barely registering through the haze that clouded your thoughts.

zayne tilted his head, kissing you slower now but somehow deeper, his grip on your face tightening when you instinctively kissed him back harder. your injured hand trembled weakly against his shoulder while the other remained curled near his jaw.

you could feel his breathing becoming uneven too, could feel the way even zayne—always composed, always restrained—was starting to lose control of himself.

behind you, again, caleb let out another rough exhale. his forehead dropped briefly against the back of your shoulder like he was trying to survive this somehow. 

you stopped trying to hold yourself back. maybe that was the most dangerous part of all this—not them, not the attic, not the years of tension finally collapsing into something tangible. but it was you finally letting yourself want them back.

zayne’s mouth left yours only briefly before he leaned closer again, “quite too much for someone who only wants to prove something, no?” breath warm against your jaw as he buried his face near your neck. the scrape of his breathing against your skin alone nearly made your thoughts dissolve. instinctively, your eyes fluttered shut and your head tilted slightly to the side, exposing more of your neck to him without even realizing it. and zayne’s lips brushed there once, slowly. a quiet breath escaped him against your skin, and the sound alone nearly weakened your spine.

but then reality crashed back in all at once. these weren’t boys anymore. they were men who had spent years wanting you, years imagining this.

before zayne could kiss your neck again, your hand came up against his jaw and pushed him backward firmly.

the movement startled him, his brows furrowed faintly as he looked at you, lips flushed from kissing. zayne genuinely looked caught off guard, and you stared back at him for one second.

if you were losing control tonight, you were at least going to make it fair.

“let me,” you leaned downward instead, toward him. but at the same time, your hips deliberately moved backward against caleb beneath you. you started to grind your ass against his crotch in a slow, circular motion, like you were drawing his name with your hips and his growing bulge as the material. 

instantly, a rough moan caught in his throat as his hands clamped harder around your hips, fingers flexing almost desperately against your skin. “more... a little more...,” caleb muttered under his breath, but you ignored him on purpose. which only made him grip you tighter.

you bent toward zayne and let your lips brush teasingly along the side of his neck, just enough contact to make him inhale sharply.

this time, you were the one watching him carefully, watching the way his composure cracked apart in tiny fractures beneath your touch.

zayne’s eyes lowered, lips parted slightly as you kissed just beneath his jaw once—soft and slow—and you physically saw the tension leave his shoulders, a quiet sigh escaping him, relieved.

beneath you, caleb gave up entirely. “you’re really g-getting bold, huh,” his head tipped backward while his grip on your hips grew bolder, guiding your movements against him with less restraint—every small drag of your ass against his bulge made his breathing rougher, hotter.

zayne stared down at you with slightly wide eyes, his breath hitching in his throat as you leaned forward to press your lips against the sensitive column of his neck. he couldn't believe the sheer boldness of you—the girl who had once fled from them was now claiming them like this. as your lips trailed a searing path down his bobbing adam's apple and over the sharp line of his clavicle, his eyes fluttered shut, and his hands, trembling with a mix of reverence and lust, slid into your hair.

with a low, commanding hum, you pushed against zayne’s chest, forcing him to lean back just enough to create a sliver of space. “lean back.” you say. 

as you moved, your lifted your bum from caleb's crotch, momentarily breaking the contact. instead, you descended upon zayne, your mouth finding the expanse of his chest. you began to leave a trail of blooming hickies across his skin, teeth grazing his pectoral muscles as you worked your way down the hard, defined ridges of his abdomen.

“you’re quite eager to prove it, aren’t you?” zayne murmured, watching the way you kissed him lower. 

and while you did that, your lower body continued its job on caleb. you were dry humping him through his pants with a rhythmic pace, driven by a hunger that had been denied for far too long. it made caleb into a moaning mess beneath you, his strength failing him as he braced one hand against the floorboards to keep from collapsing entirely. his other hand was white knuckled, gripping the hem of your tanktop so tightly the fabric strained.

fuck it, you were far past the point of teasing; the ache between your thighs became a sharp, demanding pulse that demanded satisfaction. driven by instinct, you slid your hand lower, trailing past the ridges of zayne’s toned abs until your fingers hooked into the leather of his belt. you were ready to tear it open, to strip him bare, but a firm, warm hand clamped over yours.

“what exactly are you doing?” zayne rasped.

you paused, fingers still curled in his belt, and you looked up at him with a defiant glint in your eyes. you intentionally stopped grinding your hips against caleb, leaving him momentarily unanchored. “funny,” you retorted, your voice a breathless purr. “for someone who kept on calling me a runaway, you're the one running away now.”

at that, a slow, amused smirk spread across zayne’s face, an expression that made your heart hammer against your ribs. “running?” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips before returning to your eyes. “you've finally caught me.” without breaking eye contact, he unbuckled his own belt with a decisive clink, tossing the leather aside to clatter against the floorboards.

you were already breathless, a thin thread of saliva glistening on your lip as you watched him. he unbuttoned his pants and shoved his underwear down in one fluid motion. and the moment his manhood sprang free, it nearly slapped against your cheek, a heavy, throbbing weight that made your eyes widen. 

he was... massive. 

“can you actually take this, y/n?” zayne whispered as he began to stroke himself, the rhythmic schlickof his hand against his skin echoing in the small space. he brings the head of his cock dangerously close to your eyes, teasing you with the scent of his musk.

an instinctive, heavy throb pulsed between your legs, and you felt a sudden, overwhelming rush of moisture. you were fucking incredibly wet, your panties clinging to you as you swallowed hard. but before you could find your voice, you felt a shift behind you. the floorboards suddenly creaked under a new weight.

you turned your head slightly, your breath catching in your throat. caleb was moving, his eyes glazed with a raw hunger as he knelt behind you. he was already unbuckling his belt, his movements frantic and desperate. “don’t think you're getting off that easy,” as he released his own huge cock, he leaned in. “how much can you even take from us, huh, pipsqueak?”

he didn't wait for an answer. his hands were suddenly on your hips, pulling your shorts down. when the fabric fell, it revealed your white panties, darkened and translucent from how much you were soaking. the sight of your drenched lace made caleb’s dick twitch violently. he didn't wait to strip you completely; instead, he pressed the hot, blunt head of his length against your entrance, rubbing the damp fabric of your panties against your swollen clit.

“still runnin’ away from this?” he grunted, a low, needy sound. “bet you can’t. you’re too wet.” a high, broken whimper escaped your throat, and your strength gave out, your body collapsing forward until you slumped heavily against zayne’s muscular thighs.

zayne reached down though, his fingers firm and warm as they hooked under your chin to tilt your head back. you were met once again by the intimidating sight of his throbbing manhood. you were too far gone, too lost in the heavy, wet heat of caleb’s dick pressing on you to offer any resistance. when zayne leaned forward, guiding his thick, pulsing head toward your lips, you opened for him instinctively. “open for me.” he pushes into your mouth with a slow force that filled you to the brim.

a soft, helpless moan escaped you around him, and a thin trail of drool escaped the corner of your mouth, glistening in the sunlight. you looked up at him through hazy, hooded eyelids, eyes wide and glazed with unadulterated lust. zayne let out a groan at the sight of you—his beautiful girl now wrapped around his dick. your hands reached up, clutching at the fabric of his pants as he wrapped his fingers around your head, guiding your movements to ensure you felt every vein of his length.

“that’s it... just like that. take it all, y/n. show me how much you want it.” his words came to you like a caress, but below, caleb let out a frustrated, needy grunt, his pace increasing as he felt you getting even wetter, the damp fabric of your panties sliding slickly against your clit with every heavy thrust of his hips.

zayne’s head fell back, his eyes squeezing shut as you began to suck him with a slow, rhythmic pace. he was fighting for control, muscles corded and straining as he fought the irresistible urge to simply slam himself into your throat. instead, he gently pushes his hips upward to meet your mouth. and when you finally took him deep enough that the tip of your nose brushed against the base of his shaft, an uncharacteristic, broken groan tore from his throat, his fingers tightening convulsively in your hair. 

“ahh, fuck,”

caleb watched it happen, and a sting of jealousy immediately came through him. he decided to silently reach down, his slender fingers hooking into the side of your soaked panty to shove the damp fabric aside, exposing your dripping, swollen entrance to the cool air. without a moment's hesitation, he positioned his pulsing cock at your opening and began to push.

you instantly gasped into zayne’s dick. 

“shhh, it’s okay,” he coaxed you.

but caleb hit a wall of resistance nonetheless. you were incredibly tight, your body still reeling from the shock of the sudden attention, and the sheer girth of him was overwhelming. he let out a strained grunt, muscles bunching as he struggled to force his way past your narrow walls. “you're...too small, too tight—” he hissed through gritted teeth, working hard to breach you, while above you, zayne remained a patient man, his hands steadying your head as he waited for your mouth to finally adjust to the weight of him.

to soothe the tension, you reached up to wrap your hand around the base of zayne’s shaft while your mouth continued to worship his tip. you began to bob your head in a frantic, fast motion, your tongue swirling around him with a desperate hunger. the sudden change in pace caught zayne off guard; he let out a choked, startled sound, nearly swallowing his own saliva as he gasped, “slow... slow down, y/n...”

you didn't listen. instead, you treated his massive length like a sweet lollipop, swirling and sucking with a playful fervor. and zayne could do nothing but revel in the sensation, his head tilting back as he shut his eyes tight, a thin string of saliva escaping his parted lips.

he tasted so fucking good in your mouth.

the sight of you so focused on zayne was the final straw for caleb. a low grunt erupted from his chest, before reaching down, his large hands clamping onto your hips with a bruising, painful grip that forced a small gasp from your lips. then, with a sudden surge of strength, he slammed himself forward, driving his entire length into you in one singular thrust.

shit.

“angghh!” you screamed, the sound muffled by the weight of zayne’s dick still filling your mouth. you were finally, blissfully full, but the sensation was immediately followed by a staggering shock. 

the moment caleb buried himself within you, he stiffened violently. a ragged, breathless gasp tore from his lungs as he felt his climax hit him with the force of a tidal wave. he was inside you, fully, and he was already coming.

“shit, shit, shit—” caleb choked out, his voice a  broken mess. trembling, his hips continued to thrust in a desperate, involuntary rhythm, but he couldn't stop. even as he pounded into you, he felt the hot, thick jets of his semen pulsing deep inside your womb, a continuous, unending stream that seemed impossible. 

how could this happen? he had masturbated to you a thousand times, always maintaining a disciplined control, but now, the mere feeling of your heat was undoing him. he couldn't even stop coming; it was as if your body was a vacuum, pulling every drop of his cum from him in one long, continuous release.

thwack! thwack! thwack!

seeing the way his thick cock disappeared into you with every frantic thrust, caleb let out a loud moan. “so tight f’me, you’re going to... kill me,” he hooked a powerful arm beneath your thigh, hoisting your leg high up onto his shoulder to tilt your pelvis back, allowing him to drive into you even deeper. “can you take this, huh? do you still wanna leave us behind after this, hm?” each time his tip slammed against your cervix, your eyes rolled back in your head, your vision blurring as you struggled to keep your grip on zayne’s dick.

but zayne was not about to let you find your footing. seeing caleb’s dominance, he instantly felt competitive. he wasn't just a spectator anymore. he reached down, his fingers tangling firmly in your hair to tilt your head back at a punishing angle, and began to pound his dick into your mouth with a relentless pace. “unghhh...” he groaned, matching caleb’s rhythm. “proving it well, aren’t you?”

at this point, you could do nothing but cry out, your voice breaking into a series of high, desperate moans and whimpers as the two men relentlessly pounded into you, claiming every inch of you as their own.

—

downstairs, life went on completely unaware.

the previous broken speaker suddenly crackled back to life, making the older relatives cheer in relief while somebody loudly complained that they were in the middle of a sad song before the speaker died. immediately, music flooded granny’s front yard again, echoing beneath the afternoon sunlight while barbecue smoke drifted lazily through the air.

children ran around the plastic tables with juice boxes in hand, somebody’s uncle was already tipsy enough to start singing off-key, one of your aunts kept scolding people for stealing food because apparently there were still some late visitors.

granny herself sat proudly near the karaoke television with the microphone in hand, it was only after a few minutes that she suddenly looked around the crowded yard and frowned slightly. “where are those three?” she asked.

one of the younger teenagers nearby nearly choked trying not to laugh. another one immediately elbowed him hard. “they’re probably still playing upstairs,” the girl answered innocently. except the snickering afterward completely ruined the lie.

granny narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “what did you children do?”

“nothing!” which obviously meant something.

eventually, after enough threatening looks from the adults, the truth slipped out in pieces.

they had planned on pulling a prank on the three of you by locking the attic. the plan to leave the three of you stuck there “for only a few minutes.” apparently, the younger cousins thought it would be funny after overhearing all the teasing downstairs earlier.

granny sighed so deeply it nearly sounded spiritual. “those poor children,” she muttered while shaking her head.

except she still didn’t go upstairs immediately, because one of the older uncles suddenly begged her to sing another song first. and like always, granny gave in.

and completely unbeknownst to everyone downstairs—something irreversible had already bloomed upstairs in the attic.

not a fight, not an accident, not even just old feelings returning. it was worse than that, warmer than that. something that had spent years quietly burning beneath distance and growing up.

something that had long been marking you under seasons of summer.

a sunburn.

—

your parents called it a “small gathering,” even though there were always too many slippers by the front door and too many soda cans sweating on every table. you liked those nights anyway, mostly because they never changed. and especially because you get to hear your aunties and uncles dousing you with compliments about how cute your eyes are.

but they also stayed in their own circles like planets orbiting each other, carrying paper plates and stories they had already told before. meanwhile, all the other younger children drifted wherever they wanted, forming temporary little worlds in corners of the house.

tonight, your world sat cross-legged on the living room carpet. or rather—two boys your age did. you watched them from the armchair nearest the staircase, your chin resting against the cushion while your legs dangled over the edge.

caleb and zayne were sitting side by side beneath the warm yellow glow of the standing lamp, completely absorbed in a puzzle game spread across the floor between them.

they looked nothing alike even back then.

the brown-haired one sat carelessly sprawled on his stomach with his socks mismatched and knees bent in the air as he kicked his feet behind him. he kept stealing pieces from the wrong pile just because he was impatient, humming nonsense under his breath while his hair stuck out in every direction.

“that one doesn’t even go there,” the one with round glasses says for the fifth time.

and the other could only grin at him without shame. “it could though."

“it literally cannot.”

“you wouldn't know that until we try!"

the black-haired one stared at him with the exhausted disappointment of a tired old man trapped inside a ten-year-old’s body. even as a kid, he already had that look about him.

neat posture... neatly combed dark hair... neatly folded sleeves.... he handled puzzle pieces like fragile scientific discoveries, turning each one carefully beneath the light before placing it down with precise certainty. 

you thought they were funny together. caleb was all sunlight, and zayne was all winter mornings. they truly were polar opposites, and yet somehow, they understood each other the most. somehow they still fit beside each other naturally, like they had always been arranged that way from the start.

“you skipped the steps again,” zayne muttered.

“because your steps are booooring.”

“or they’re efficient.”

“same thing.”

zayne sighed the kind of sigh adults usually made after paying bills, and it made you laugh quietly into the couch cushion. both boys looked up immediately at the sound you accidentally let out. it was strange, looking back on it now, how quickly they always noticed you.

caleb brightened first, he always did. “hey!" he called, pushing himself upright so fast the puzzle pieces scattered a little. “come help us!"

“are you losing?” you asked, eyebrows raising.

“we’re winning,” 

“you are objectively losing though,” zayne said, returning his eyes at caleb, as if he couldn't handle the eye-contact with you. 

you slid off the chair and padded toward them then, stepping carefully around abandoned shoes and empty juice boxes. the carpet felt warm beneath your feet from the heat of too many people inside your house.

up close, you could see the difference between them even clearer. caleb’s cheeks looked pink from running around outside earlier, and there was a grass stain near the knee of his jeans with a bandaid on his elbow from some accident nobody had witnessed, but everybody expected. zayne, meanwhile, looked untouched by chaos itself. except for one thing, as there was a tiny pencil mark on the side of his hand.

you pointed at it with a smug look. “hey, you might want to clean that off.”

zayne looked down at his hand like he hadn’t noticed, and caleb bursted out laughing. “wow, didn't know the genius makes mistakes too.”

zayne frowned. “it’s not a mistake, pencils transfer residue naturally.”

“that sounds so made up.”

“it’s literally science, you idiot.”

“better than a nerd.”

you sat between them, eyes following the rhythm of their voices. caleb shifted first to make space for you, all easy warmth and careless movement. your shoulder bumped against his accidentally and he froze for half a second before pretending nothing happened. zayne noticed, he always seemed to notice every single thing. his eyes flickered down once before returning to the puzzle board with suspicious concentration.

you, entirely unaware, picked up a random piece. "where does this go?” both boys leaned in immediately, and for one brief second, their heads nearly knocked together over your shoulder.

those friday gatherings still happened every month, or every other week, like clockwork. same houses. same families. same folding tables lined with food nobody waited long enough to cool down before eating. but growing up was sneaky like that. one day you were all sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the carpet arguing over puzzle pieces, and then everybody started drifting into different corners of the house without meaning to.

especially the three of you.

—

you woke up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

for a few seconds, everything felt soft around the edges. sunlight spilled lazily through the classroom windows, warm and golden against your cheek where you had fallen asleep on top of your folded arms. your vision blurred slightly as you blinked awake, eyelashes sticking together from sleep.

reality returned slowly after that. you're in your classroom, and it's a friday afternoon. you lifted your head with a sleepy frown, hair flattened embarrassingly on one side. there was a faint imprint of notebook rings pressed against your skin.

“seriously?” your voice came out hoarse. “you guys couldn’t wake me up?”

“you looked really dead,” one of your classmates answered from across the room.

another pointed a broom at you accusingly. “plus i didn't know you drool when you sleep. yikes.”

“i do not.” you rubbed your eyes with the sleeve of your uniform, still too drowsy to defend yourself properly. the classroom smelled like dusty chalk, floor cleaner, and afternoon heat trapped between old walls.

outside the windows, the sky had already started turning honey-colored. the prettiest part of school days. you slowly sat upright, stretching your arms above your head until your joints cracked. you pulled out the compact mirror from your bag with a sigh, and you see your hair looking freakingly terrible. one side puffed outward from sleeping while the other remained stubbornly flat against your cheek. you tried fixing it using only your fingers, but it somehow made things worse.

“wow,” it's ridiculous to think how you still look like this at the ripe age of eighteen. after gathering your things, you slipped your bag over your shoulder and stepped outside the classroom into the corridor.

you see students drifting through the pathways in clusters, as their laughter echo faintly between buildings while teachers carried stacks of papers toward the faculty rooms. somewhere in the distance, a whistle blew from the soccer field.

fridays always carried a different kind of tiredness, the kind wrapped in anticipation. normally, friday nights meant the gatherings. the usual routine. your parents dressing up slightly nicer than necessary with trays of food balanced carefully in the car. 

you exhaled quietly through your nose. for some reason, the thought exhausted you today. maybe it was because your body feeling strangely heavy, maybe it was the headache blooming faintly behind your eyes from sleeping awkwardly at your desk, or maybe it was simply one of those days where existing around too many people sounded unbearable.

you descended the school steps slowly, your fingers tracing absentmindedly along the strap of your bag. honestly, locking yourself inside your bedroom sounded much better tonight. and maybe a movie playing quietly in the background while the sounds of the gathering muffled themselves downstairs. you could already picture it perfectly.

a breeze passed through the campus grounds then, carrying the scent of cut grass and approaching evening. you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear and kept walking toward the school gates, still half-lost in thought.

“i swear, caleb and zayne are literally impossible to approach.” the words floated past you casually, lightly. like paper airplanes tossed through the air. you almost didn’t react at first.

campus gossip traveled fast enough that hearing their names wasn’t exactly unusual anymore. still, something about the sudden shift in voices nearby tugged gently at your attention, and before you could stop yourself, your gaze wandered toward the right wing of the campus.

and there they were. caleb and zayne, walking side by side beneath the amber wash of the afternoon sun.

unsurprising. 

you’d spent nearly your entire life seeing them like this. same neighborhoods, same gatherings, same schools. always somewhere within the same orbit as each other. and yet, every time you looked at them lately, it still startled you a little how much older they’d become. the boys from your childhood memories now had stretched into something sharper and more defined. 

caleb predictably moved through crowds without effort, the way sunlight slips through open curtains without asking permission. taller now—much taller than he used to be—with broad shoulders that filled out the blue-and-white varsity jacket hanging loosely over his basketball jersey, as he smiled at nearly everyone who greeted him along the pathway.

people really greeted him everywhere. a classmate waved, and caleb would grin immediately. someone from the lower years calls his name, and he would point at them in recognition with an easy laugh. even from far away, you could tell how naturally people gravitated toward him. he carried attention like he didn’t even realize he had it.

then there was zayne beside him, quieter. where caleb moved like warmth, zayne moved like still water.

he carried several books tucked neatly against one arm while balancing his phone in the other hand, his attention split somewhere between reading messages and listening to whatever caleb was talking about. his glasses rested low against the bridge of his nose, slightly crooked like he’d adjusted them too many times throughout the day.

his sleeves were rolled neatly to his forearms, posture straight despite the weight of the books. everything about him looked composed in that effortless way that somehow made him even more intimidating. still, girls glance at him when he passed, teachers greet him with visible approval, and underclassmen would straighten instinctively whenever he looked their way.

the smartest student in school and the athlete everyone adored—the popular duo.

honestly, it made sense. they looked unfairly perfect walking across campus beneath the falling afternoon light, like characters somebody specifically designed to make ordinary people feel underdressed.

you stared for maybe three seconds longer than necessary. you weren't exactly mesmerized, it's just that familiarity sometimes makes people pause. despite growing up beside them your entire life, you still didn’t really know them at all. you looked away first, adjusting your bag higher onto your shoulder and continued toward the school gates.

it didn’t matter anyway. the three of you were never actually close.

the evening breeze brushed lightly against your face as you quickened your pace down the sidewalk, already thinking about home, about your bedroom, about escaping tonight’s gathering before anyone noticed your mood.

—

by the time you got home, you went straight to your bedroom. 

downstairs, the gathering slowly came alive piece by piece. you heard doors opening, voices arriving, and laughter swelling louder. you could practically predict the entire night without looking.

you rolled onto your back and stared sleepily at the ceiling. honestly, staying hidden up here sounded perfect. your eyelids slowly began growing heavier. you were just about to fall asleep when—

*buzzzzz!*

your phone vibrated beside your pillow, making you abruptly open your eyes. with sleepy reluctance, you reached for it blindly.

the screen glowed against the dim room, and immediately, your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. because the notification said: a text message from caleb!

for a second, you genuinely thought maybe you opened the wrong chat somehow. caleb didn't really text you. sure, you had each other’s numbers. everybody did after years of family gatherings and school projects and parents insisting on “staying connected.”

but your conversations mostly lived in the realm of accidental politeness. text messages like... "happy birthday!", "can you send the assignment?", "your mom said dinner starts at seven." that kind of thing... which made the message sitting on your screen feel oddly out of place.

[18:49] caleb: "hey, wya?"

you blinked. your phone remained warm in your hand while you stared at the message. for some reason, your heartbeat suddenly felt embarrassingly loud in the quiet of your bedroom.

why would he message you that? it felt wrong, so you stared at the message again alongside his icon.

more laughter downstairs rose faintly through the floorboards, followed by the distant clinking of plates and someone calling for extra ice.

you hesitated, then typed back anyway.

[18:50] you: "in my bedroom."

you didn’t expect anything after that. you were already setting your phone down when—

*buzzzzz!*

your eyes flicked back to the screen so fast it almost startled you.

[18:50] caleb: "on my way."

“…on my way?” you whispered to yourself, sitting up so quickly your blanket slid off your lap.

what did that even mean? why would he come up? 

you swung your legs off the bed, already moving. you weren’t sure what you were doing, exactly. you just knew you were doing something. your hands started fixing things instinctively—pushing stray clothes deeper into the laundry basket, straightening a book on your desk that was already straight, and then shoving your charger under the pillow.

what does caleb even want right now?

a knock on your door sounded.

for a second, your brain refused to process it as anything important. it was as if your body had decided to pretend it didn’t hear it at all.

then, another knock, louder this time.

so you had no choice but to slowly reach for the door handle. still hesitating, you twist the doorknob, pulling the barrier open. 

"hey," and there he was standing in your doorway. 

he was taller up close—so much more obvious now than in passing. the hallway light framed him from behind, softening the edges of his varsity jacket and casting a faint glow around his hair. his arms crossed loosely over his chest, smiling. that easy, boyish smile that always made him look like he was about to laugh at something the world hadn’t said yet.

“why'd it take you so long to open?" he casually remarked, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

you didn’t respond. instead, you stared at him. "does mom know you’re up here?” 

caleb blinked once, before letting out a short chuckle, shifting his weight slightly in the doorway. "yeah, of course she does." 

you exhaled. "anyway,” you stepped back into your room, crossing your arms. "what even brings you here?” 

caleb followed you in without hesitation, not even a pause. his hand went straight to your light switch and flipped it fully on, bathing everything in warm brightness.

you turned your head sharply. “why did you do that?”

“uh, so i can see you.”

“you could’ve seen with the hallway light." 

you stared at him, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. he's already walking further in and glancing around your room. you sat down on the edge of your bed with a controlled sigh. “okay, talk. why are you here?"

caleb held up two fingers immediately, like he’d been rehearsing this. "actually, i'm here for two things.”

you narrowed your eyes. “why are there always ‘two things’ with you.”

“because life is balanced,” 

“that’s not even— never mind. go.”

he leaned back against your desk, shifting comfortably. "firstly, about the sports day fest.”

you blinked. "...that’s it?”

“yup."

you stared at him. "you came upstairs, into my bedroom, during a family gathering, just to ask me about sports day fest?"

“well, you’re on the committee, so why not personally ask you?" he grins. 

you leaned back, processing that for a moment. “okay, then, what about sports day fest?"

caleb immediately straightened, interest sharpening. "okay so,” he moves away from your desk and paced your room, “are we doing the same relay setup as last year?”

“probably revised,” you grabbed your phone from the bed, scrolling through your notes. “the committee’s still finalizing—”

“will we not get those ridiculous team shirts anymore?”

“yea, probably.”

“good,” he said instantly. “last year’s were damn tight.”

you looked up. “they were your size though?"

“way too tight,” he corrected confidently, stopping near your bookshelf and casually picking up one of your notebooks.

your eyes snapped up. “hey, don’t touch that.”

he already opened it. "hmm, why not?”

“because it’s mine.”

“so?”

you stood up again, walking over to him. "don't touch that, i said!"

he didn’t even look guilty. he was flipping through it like it was entertainment. "but this is just your committee notes,” 

“exactly.”

“huh, it’s very organized, i'll give you that,” he whistles. 

you reached for the notebook and took it back. “thank you, now stop touching things that aren’t yours.”

caleb shrugged, unbothered, and wandered toward your window instead. "anyway,” he continued, “are we still doing the obstacle course? because last time someone tripped on the tire thing and it was kind of—”

“caleb,” you cut in and pointed at him. “focus.”

“i am focused.”

“you’re touching my curtains.”

he glanced down, realized his hand was indeed messing with your curtain tie, and let it drop casually. “okay,” he said, stepping back. “i’m focused now.”

you returned to your bed slowly, sitting down again with a tired expression. "sports day is basically the same structure,” you explained more firmly this time. “relay, obstacle course, mixed games, but we’re adjusting the scoring this year though.”

caleb nodded, listening intently. you added, “and no, you can’t ‘fix’ anything last minute like you did last year.”

“that wasn’t fixing though,” he combed his hair back with his fingers. “that was improving morale!"

“by bribing your team with snacks?" you snorted. and he just smiles back, eventually he stopped pacing. which, in your experience, usually meant one of two things: either he was done being chaotic for now, or he had found a new kind of chaos to settle into.

this time, it was the former. he walked over and sat down on the edge of your bed across from you, causing the mattress to dip slightly under his weight. caleb leaned back on his hands, studying you for a moment in a way that made you suddenly aware of your posture, your hair, the fact that you were still wearing your slightly wrinkled shirt from earlier. “huh,” 

you frowned. “what?"

he tilted his head a little. “it’s been a while since i’ve seen you this close.”

you blinked once. "but you saw me earlier at school.”

“yeah,” he said easily. “but not like this.”

you didn’t ask what “like this” meant. you already didn’t like where it sounded like it was going. caleb squinted slightly, like he was comparing something only he could see. "you’ve really gotten shorter, it's like you're growing backwards.”

your face went flat at that. “i have not.”

“you have,” he insisted. “or maybe i got taller. either way, something changed.”

you cleared your throat, trying to avoid the tension in the air. you wonder if he's doing this on purpose, or if he could be a victim to it as well. "so what’s the second thing you're here for?"

caleb straightened himself, resting his elbows on his knees now instead of leaning back. "oh right,"

you waited as he glanced at you, then away, then back again, deciding how casual to make it sound. "well, i’m having a house party next week.”

"of course you are.”

he ignored that. "and a lot of people are coming, literally anyone you could think of, including zayne's clones." 

“also of course.”

caleb watched you for a second, waiting. but you didn’t say anything immediately. it wasn’t surprising, really. not for him. not for caleb. he was the kind of person who collected people without even trying, just by using his charm and looks.

you adjusted your position on the bed, fingers resting on your blanket. "i see," 

caleb’s eyebrows lifted a little at that.

you met his eyes briefly. “i’ll think about it.”there was a pause, as if he was reading your answer and deciding what to do with it.

then caleb smiled, not the usual one, but smaller. he shifted forward and reached out before you could react, pinching your cheek like it was an automatic reflex he didn’t even question. "then... i'll be happy if you come," 

you immediately recoiled. “ah—”

"think about it, okay?"

you rubbed your cheek consciously. “you didn’t have to pinch me.”

“i did,” he stood up now like the conversation was naturally ending. "it was necess-uh-ry, so think about it hard. if you aren't there, i'll burn my house and mom will blame you." 

"is my presence really that important?" you chuckled offhandedly, but the next thing that comes out of caleb's mouth was something you didn't see coming. 

"it is," he glances at you over his shoulder with a cheeky smile. "rest well and drink your meds, pipsqueak." 

and then, just like that, he leaves your room.

—

caleb’s house looked completely different at night, like somebody had taken the familiar shape of it and dipped it into glittering lights and loud music until it became something unreal.

you stood near the front gate for half a second too long, staring at the amount of cars lining up the street. you suddenly understood what caleb meant by “a lot of people.” apparently, “a lot” meant half the school population.

“come on,” one of your classmates laughed beside you, tugging your sleeve. “don’t freeze now—you're the one who dragged us here,"

when you followed them inside, just as instantly, warmth crashed into you. warm lights, warm air, warm noise. and lots of people everywhere! students crowded the living room shoulder-to-shoulder, conversations overlapping into one giant buzzing blur while music echoed through the walls loud enough to rattle your ribs. somebody cheered from somewhere near the kitchen, somebody else was already filming videos with flash on.

you stepped carefully through the chaos, trying not to bump into anyone.

honestly, it was kind of overwhelming. you adjusted the hem of your outfit nervously. you had spent way too long deciding what to wear tonight only to immediately regret every clothing decision the second you walked in. still, your classmates kept talking excitedly around you, so you tried to relax. somewhere in the back of your mind, one thought repeated quietly: where’s caleb?

you hadn’t seen him once since arriving. which, honestly, made sense. this was his environment anyway. of course he was busy.

you glanced around again, seeing unfamiliar faces moving endlessly beneath colored lights. then suddenly—your classmates disappeared on you. one moment they were beside you, the next moment somebody had pulled one of them toward the dance floor while another vanished into the kitchen crowd, and somehow the current of the party separated you from all of them without warning.

you came to a halt. fuck, where are they?

all you could see were moving shoulders, flashing lights, strangers laughing too loudly over music that kept swallowing every thought whole. panic flickered in your chest, enough to make your stomach tighten.

great. now you were alone.

you pulled your phone from your bag, already considering texting caleb, but then immediately paused.

no, he's absolutely unreliable right now. he was probably halfway across the house entertaining fifty different people at once.

you sighed quietly and slipped your phone back away. okay, fine, you could handle this.