Hydrate don't diedrate

You decide to stay up. The full moon is out, beaming through clear skies, and leaving little work for your lamp as you kneel beside the flower beds. You pick up a clay pot housing a budding flower and tilt it just enough to see the automatic watering spell drawn on the bottom of the pot. Licking your thumb, you smear parts of the spell to nullify it. Tomorrow the kids will work on filling in the original spell.

You're sure they'll figure it out quickly—they're smart kids, after all. The only ones you're worried about are the twins and Isaiah. They'll be too busy trying to figure out how to turn the pot into an elaborate prank, but you could never fault their creativity.

"Working hard as always."

Your hands retreat into your cloak on instinct, reaching for the palm quire tucked away in your inner pocket. With ease, you flip to a page where a defensive spell is pre-drawn. All you need to do is aim and close the circle. Only, the person you find on the other side of the fence sends a cold shock through your body.

"Leave now or I'll call the Knights," you say, leaving your voice devoid of any emotion despite the ache in your chest as you glower at the Brim Hat lingering by the fence.

"I know you wouldn't."

It's strange how so much can change in so little time. Only two months ago, you stitched up his pointed hat after the twins' fire ball prank got too out of hand and left a crater in the field behind the atelier. He sat at your side the whole time, arm resting against yours as you worked. The two of you settled in a peaceful silence, basking in the summer sun while the kids worked on fixing the field under Rafayel's semi strict supervision.

You blamed the summer heat for the warmth crawling up your cheeks as Caleb leaned in to praise your careful stitch work. His fingers brushed the valley of your knuckles, slipping your hands together in a swift movement, forcing you to stall your work. "It's no wonder you're a talented witch. You've got such steady hands."

You rolled your eyes, but made no move to remove your hand from his. Instead, you gazed into his violet eyes and leaned in to place a quick peck on his lips. "Do you want your hat fixed or not?"

His stunned expression melted into an easy grin as he hummed, "mhmm."

You tapped the tip of his hat against his cheek, ignoring the way he leaned in. "Then stop flirting and let me focus."

"You started this," he teased, eyes flickering down to your lips.

"Did n- mph!" He pulled you into a deep kiss, silencing your argument. His hat falls from your hands as you thread your fingers through his hair instead.

The memory burns.

As you look at the man before you, clad in dark robes and a brimmed hat that covers the eyes you once knew, it get harder to breathe. You want nothing more than to run up and tear that stupid hat right off his head. It doesn't suit him. It never will.

"I could scream, and Zayne will be out here in a second," you threaten, though, it holds no real weight. You turn your head. It has always been hard to lie to him. Even now, when he has betrayed everything you thought you knew about him. You find it too easy to want to forgive him, especially when he still looks at you like you were the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Maybe things would be easier if he just let the Knights Moralis erase his memories—even if that meant forgetting you and everything you shared. It'd be so easy to capture him, shout for Zayne, and have him taken away, yet you don't move an inch.

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"You should have stayed away." You wish your voice held more conviction instead of teetering off into a quiet waver.

"But I can't," Caleb admits. He reaches for you with his ink stained hand. Intricate sigils permanently etched into his skin cover the expanse of his hand and lead up his arm. You can't quite tell exactly what he has drawn onto himself without being able to look closely. But even when you had the chance to study it, you couldn't comprehend anything other than horror.

"I miss you," he whispers, now. His touch is warm, just like that summer day memory permanently etched in the corners of your mind and heart. And you still can't find it in you to pull away. "So much."

Your mouth twists into a frown as traitorous words dare to form on the tip of your tongue. So, you stay silent, letting him inch closer, allowing his hand to travel over your shoulder and neck.

"I know you don't understand why I'm doing this, and you don't have to."

You didn't understand then—and you don't understand now. You never will.

A mysterious illness befell you last winter, leaving you bedridden and weak. Everyone in the atelier was worried. The children kept you company when they could, telling you about all the new techniques they learned that day. Zayne and Rafayel took turns visiting you throughout the day in an attempt to keep your spirits up.

But, Caleb was a constant at your side. He refused to let you be alone for a second. He hand fed you breakfast, lunch, and dinner despite your insistence that you were strong enough to feed yourself. He held you tightly in his arms as he carried you to the restroom when your legs wobbled. He stayed with you though the night, pulling you to his chest and letting you fall asleep in his arms.

As the days passed, you found yourself slowly getting better. You were able to get out of bed, spend more time with your students, and bask in the sunlight rather than the stuffy four walls of your bedroom. But as you got better, the less and less you saw Caleb.

Reclusive and seemingly always tired, he lingered in the shadows longer. You figured it was hard for him watch as you deteriorated, but now that you were better, he could finally relax. A hopeful and foolish thought.

When you decided enough was enough and he couldn't keep hiding away in his room, you barged in one night to find him hunched over his desk. Crumpled paper was scattered around the room and pools of ink stained his desk. He held a wand in one trembling hand.

"What are you doing here?" He didn't sound surprised, just tired. The exhaustion had sunk into his bones and rotted him inside out.

Your eyes darted to the uncovered arm resting on the table. Circles of ink covered his unnaturally pale skin. The ink swirls and blurs on his arm like it's alive, siphoning the life from his arm.

You rushed forward and gripped his arm, nails digging into his pale flesh, now forever scarred by his foolishness. "What have you done to yourself?" You voice trembled with both fury and panic.

There was a cold, hollow look in his eyes as he regarded you with silence.

Your hand scrubbed over the ink, scrubbing, hoping that it would disappear with the motion and it was just a cruel prank. But you both knew his choice was final and nothing would ever be the same.

It's hard to look at him beneath that brimmed cap.

"I just want you to be happy," he admits.

"How can I be? When you're throwing everything away, and for what?" Your body is so tense it aches and sways. All you want to do is grab him by the shoulders and shake whatever ridiculous ideas he has in his head, scream your heart out and beg him to rethink his decisions. "Please—just stay. We'll find a way to fix this together."

His eyes waver on yours, eyes glossing over. His breath catches in his throat.

"I… can't." He shakes his head. The hesitation on his face dissolving into resolve, hardened and nothing like the gentle violet eyes of the man you love. "I'm sorry it has to be like this. You deserve so much more than me."

Caleb lunges and clamps his hand around your mouth, forcing you to the ground and pinning you with his body. He smothers your voice and brings a palm quire toward your eyes. The dark hands of his spell reach toward you with spindly fingers that latch onto your temples.

Your back hits the grass and cold, harsh realization claws at you, dragging you under, as the spell begins to work its magic on your mind. This isn't the first time he's done this, is it?

Your words are muffled behind his hand that refuses to let you scream. How could you?

"If only you could understand," he whispers as the edges of your vision blur and fade until there is nothing left but him twisted with anguish. "If saving you means my body rots away, I hope there's nothing left for you to mourn."

Your body grows weaker, slipping into unconsciousness. Like ink washing away, images of tonight—flower pots, moonlight, a brimmed cap—blur and fade into nothing until there is only a blank canvas.

—

"Hey! Hey, wake-y wake-y, teach!"

"You think they're dead?"

"Don't say things like that!"

Gentle hands coax you out of your slumber. Heavy, fluttering eyes open to six familiar children peering down at you, a mixture of worry and relief on their faces.

"Are you alright?" Hands belonging to caring green eyes ease you to a sitting position. "Careful now. Did you collapse?"

You groan, "I-"

What remains of your memory are fragments of moonlight and warmth blossoming on your hand. You stare down at your open palm as if you could concentrate hard enough to bring that fleeting warmth back.

"I think I… fell asleep out here."

Zayne's cold hand moves to cup your cheek as he examines the far away look in your eyes. "Is the new medication making you drowsy?"

"Um," you think, but all that comes up is blank.

Rafayel stands to the side, analyzing the area with quiet scrutiny before clapping his hands and drawing the childrens' attention. "Why don't you all help them inside and get breakfast started?"

The twins are the first to hop up, exclaiming at the same time, "I'll start the fire!"

The children along help you stand. They guide you back to the atelier while Zayne and Rafayel stay behind.

Rafayel doesn't waste time before pointing his finger at Zayne. "Isn't your whole job to—oh, I dunno—watch?" he hisses. "So things like this never happen?"

Zayne doesn't let his expression give anything away. He lowers Rafayel's hand and replies with steady ease, though his heart is anything but. "He's concealing himself from my spells."

"Obviously," Rafayel drawls, rolling his eyes toward the drifting, scattered clouds. "We have to tell them he's been visiting."

Zayne glances toward the kitchen window where you're lifting Tara up so she can reach for bowls. Your smile is light, tired, and doesn’t light your eyes the way it used to before Caleb left. "Carefully,” he replies slowly. “It won’t be easy."

The purple haired witch sighs. His head is beginning to ache. All he wants is a long soak in the bath. "Our old friend really is an idiot."

A/N — was this just an excuse to write caleb w a full sleeve? maybe……… i hope this au makes everyone go and read/watch witch hat atelier bc it’s so amazing i need everyone to enjoy it

because caleb is still caleb. he just looks a little different now from how many different times he’s been folded into what someone else needs

the context they’ve set up from different POVs truly make this read like a funeral. they create such a warm image of who caleb was when he was a DAA pilot

and it’s all very genuine, it’s hard to deny that caleb was genuinely this nonchalant guy who loved to cook for for his friends

we see him being the sun he’s always described to be. people are drawn to him and orbit him. he is a main character, even if he himself only has one main character in his life and it isn’t himself

and then of course they completely take this away from us, shattering this picture perfect image of DAA heartthrob with the new, cold, hated colonel of the farspace fleet

it makes it feel like that old version of caleb is dead. or maybe it never existed. but that’s not true.

multiple times in this anecdote they show us once again—caleb’s whole world revolves around mc. and that’s sweet and cute and we love our down bad puppy, but it’s also so toxic and incredibly sad

for this same reason he scored lowly on his mental health exam (pathless realm) and was recommended for psych evals.

his sense of self is completely wrapped up in mc—likely a trauma response to the constant state of fight or flight he had to live under as a child, needing to protect his little sister constantly while he was just a boy

i feel caleb himself barely knows who he is. he’s never had a chance to really be a child/teenager and then discover himself. so when he’s continuously folded and creased into different shapes, it’s hard for him to be able to recognize and know who he is.

his constant is that he is mc’s gege. that’s the one identity he cares about and trusts.

the way the DAA speaks about the farspace fleet and the colonel himself are really bitter and depressing, for good reason. everything they say about him is true.

caleb doesn’t have an attachment to earth, or even the world he lives in. in lucid dreams he said “if the world comes to an end, we can just move onto the next”

he only cares about mc. his duty is to protect mc, not the land beneath the sky.

he holds no reverence for the deepspace tunnel. when asked what the dangers of the job included were he literally could only say “it’s hard to get home.” he also almost died in the deepspace tunnel (which i want them to dive deeper into the horrors he experienced during this incident).

how can people like gideon and patrick understand caleb and recognize him when he can’t himself even really say who he is?

and i think the fold that left the deepest crease, the change he had to make that most obscured his perception of himself and his self identity, was becoming the colonel of the farspace fleet.

this was almost all but forced on him. of course he is willingly playing puppet (when he himself is the puppet master) but at the same time it’s not really his choice. he HAS to do this

he’s had to do things he promised he would never do again (locking mc up). he’s also done things i don’t think he’d normally do (not stopping mia’s death).

but again it’s not that this isn’t who he is. this is him to his core. mc’s gege, protector. someone who would and DOES do ANYTHING for her. but it’s like being this person has left wounds on himself that refuse to heal because every time they scab over, they get picked raw again.

it’s interesting. the caleb described in crease, DAA heartthrob, bright sunny xia yizhou. that is him. but so is that same colonel that made horrendous decisions in HCW (horrendous and flawed, yet…necessary)

neither was a facade and neither was a product of circumstance. both these versions of him are like EXTREME personifications of his best and worst traits.

it’s undeniable though, caleb DID put on a front in painful signal. at least in the chinese dub, you could actually hear the inflection in his VA change when it was just gideon and himself

he could barely let mc in, the most important person in his life. if he’s going to let anyone else in, it won’t be easy. after becoming the colonel—he’s folded to a near unrecognizable state and the creases of who he used to be (paperapple, DAA heartthrob, fun sunny caleb) are faded and just remnants of who he USED to be.

but they’re still there.

i hope that gideon and patrick, and caleb too, won’t give up on each other.

caleb has always been depicted as sunshine, as the sun itself. there’s so many moments where he is described as glowing as the sun shines on him—the sun itself is drawn to him.

but this is the first time (off the top of my head) that he is depicted as shadowed, as dark and not a source of light. it very much evokes the feeling that that bright caleb (sunshine caleb, DAA heartthrob) is gone and what’s left is the bitter cold remnants that is the colonel of the farspace fleet

but…he still brings undeniable joy and light to people who knew him and also DIDN’T know him. gideon and his juniors can laugh and feel lighter because of him—because of who he was

but he is still that person to the people he allows that rare chance (which is only mc now).

another, more positive, way to look at it is how said, in which caleb doesn’t let the creases that have formed define who he is and his fate and future.

caleb is a chameleon, he can and will adapt to any situation he’s but in because he has no other choice. he doesn’t have the luxury of leaning on someone (he won’t allow himself to) or breaking down because he has a family he needs to protect.

so while some people may look at him, mourn who he was, and come to terms that he’s not that same person, i’d rather look at it as he IS that person. he just looks a little different now.

same sheet of paper, just folded differently.

i really hope that we will get to see more of gideon and patrick and maybe caleb letting more people in. it really hurts to see people regard the colonel in this way. but its understandably difficult for them to understand that the caleb they knew (calming, encouraging, bright. summer’s day) exists. but so does the ruthless, unforgiving, cold colonel of the farspace fleet.

The first voice you hear is not your own. Your mouth has not moved, cracked lips remaining chafed shut. Other than your own ragged, unsteady breaths, it was the first sound to grace your ears.

"Don't worry. You don't have to be scared."

Is that what it is? This heavy oppression inside of your chest? Fear was its name?

But what is it you are afraid of when you know nothing? How is it possible to fear what you do not know?

"I'm right here. Look."

When you do not turn to look at it, the voice brings itself to you. Padded floors shuffle underneath a weight. The wall is painted black from a large, looming shadow.

The fear in your heart is not exacerbated by the figure's approach. Whatever it was, it is not the root of your fear. This much is instinctively understood deep inside of your being.

The black shape on the wall is abruptly overcast.

Suddenly, it has a face. A body just like you. It is not only a voice but a solid, tangible thing. A fellow existence inside of the void.

"See? You're not alone."

Though it is like you, this thing is not your mirror. It's mouth is twisted in a fond smile, a warm expression meant to bring comfort. Trying to put the cornered animal of the room at ease.

"Do you remember who I am?"

Perhaps this thing doesn't know better than you after all. You do not even remember who you are. How could you remember another?

The silence it receives is it's answer.

"That's okay."

Those little hands stuck onto your body are lifted up. Warmth seeps through your skin. The first of its kind.

"My name is Caleb. I'm your gege."

That word sparks something. Not a true feeling, nor a memory. Just an unnameable balm soothing the wrenching of your heart.

"Gege?"

Beyond the walls of your prison, a scream bleeds through the poorly cushioned soundproofing. High-pitched, raw, someone that could not be much older than you keening in unimaginable pain.

Caleb doesn't react to it. So you don't either. Instead of acknowledging the agony of another, he chooses to carefully squeeze your chilled fingers with his.

"It means we're family."

When you wake up, there is nothing.

No trace of a memory. No familiar surroundings to bring comfort. Deep in the recesses of your mind, your identity is lost to you.

But you are not alone.

A boy bravely holds your hand in his, the leader of an expedition. His head is held high, marching ahead determinedly.

Though he is brave, his gaze is weary. Purple eyes follow the elderly woman accompanying you. She guides him, while the boy guides you without question.

"Don't be afraid. From now on, we'll be a family."

She acknowledges the child's apprehension with grim acceptance. It doesn't surprise her. All she can do is smile.

Smile, and try to earn trust she doesn't deserve.

"Does being a family mean we'll never be apart?"

The hand squeezing yours tightens. Smooshing sweaty palms together, holding you to himself in a bind. It isn't painful, so you don't bother fighting it.

Without anyone addressing you, that empty head of yours drifts off again. Sunlight spills through thin white curtains, splashes of yellow hitting dusty wood floorboards. Have you been here before? Have you ever been anywhere?

All you know is that right now, in this bright, spacious place, it is warm. Warm, and not lonely.

"Yes. Starting today, I'll be your grandma."

The woman's title mattered little to Caleb. All he needed to hear was that first 'yes'. The only family he can never bear to part from is the young girl holding onto his hand, absently picking her chapped lips.

"Who are you again?"

The same young girl that doesn't have a clue who he is.

Of all the times you've lost your memory, this one has to be the most merciful. The months the two of you spent in the labs will haunt him for the rest of his life.

At least one of you will be spared from that pain. Even if in the process, your memory of him was taken as well.

"It's okay if you've forgotten. I'll remind you."

It's not so bad. He's made your acquaintance more than he's able to count. As long as this is the last first introduction, he won't let the confusion in your gaze bring him down.

With a radiant smile, the boy's eyes gleam like sunlight.

"My name is Caleb. I'm your gege."

It doesn't take long for you to come into your own. All your seedling needed to sprout was a safe spot to grow. Somewhere your blank slate could be colored in with vibrant crayon scribbles and loopidy spirals.

Every budding seedling needs a green thumb tending to it. Gran wasn't terrible. But she isn't good either. She works, puts food on the table, acts as your guardian when the situation calls for it.

Though she does a fine enough job keeping the two children alive, Caleb is the one who steps up to the plate and raises you.

"Gege? Why are my knees leaking?" You trudge into the kitchen. Dirt is smeared all over your adorable cheeks, evidence of a good playtime outside.

"Did you fall?" Caleb sets the plate he was scrubbing into the sink.

"Uh-huh."

"Your knees are scraped. That makes them bleed. Come on, I'll put band-aids on the cuts."

"The Hello Kitty ones?"

"Pinky promise."

It's not like you've ever accepted another type of bandage. Either way, he's happy to oblige such a simple wish. After being locked in white padded rooms for most of your lives, splashes of color are tiny blessings.

"Okay."

Content, your feet shuffle over the soft carpet, following him into the bathroom. Sitting on top of the toilet lid, your leaky knees are wound up with cutesy pink in no time.

Whenever there are buildups in allowances, you'll yap his ear off until he concedes to bringing you on a trip to the corner store.

It's quite jarring for all the adults in the neighborhood. A little girl skipping down the street with carefree strides, the only thing keeping her from leaping off into space the slightly older boy lacing their fingers together.

Both young. Too young to be spotted in public without supervision.

"Did you come here by yourselves?"

The owner of the store had been very tolerant for the first minute of your stay. Eyeing the glass entrance of her shop, waiting for a grown-up to walk in and join the ankle biters browsing her isles.

"Yes ma'am."

"It's not safe to be out on your own. Did your parents tell you it was okay? Do you know their phone numbers?" Her hands are occupied. Balancing on a short ladder, extending to the tips of her toes for a cardboard box.

Once she gets down, she'll certainly be giving the parents of these two children a word or two over the phone.

"Ugh," she grumbles. The corner of the box is just out of reach from her fingertips.

"Don't worry." The so close yet so far away box lifts up on its own. A swirling orange-blue glow cradles the bottom, floating it in midair.

For a second, it's a beautiful sight.

She's held witness to the sheer power evolvers possess plenty over her lifetime. But the unexpectedness of it all captivates her, closely watching its path over her shoulder, soaring toward the front counter.

Wham! The moment is abruptly ruined.

With a loud, reverberating clash, the bottom of the box slams down next to the register. Instead of a bright, pretty orange, the color of the boy's evol has darkened.

Now, it's more reminiscent of blood red.

Everything inside remains unharmed. Caleb didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble. Especially since this is the place you always go to get your favourite snacks. All of this was in the name of proving a single point.

"I'm her gege. I can protect her."

His evol's extent is unknown, even to himself. But there is a hungry volcano that broils beneath Caleb's surface. He is willing, happy even, to crush grown men under gravity's merciless weight if they so much as dare to touch you.

So no, Caleb isn't afraid to take short trips to the corner store with you, sacrificing his allowance to your hungry tummy. Not as long as he's there too, forever keeping you safe.

It's the responsibility brought with his title.

Though Caleb insists he's able to hold the fort down by himself, Gran drags to two of you along when she pays her friend a house visit.

Doesn't she know how draining it is for you to meet new people so soon? You've barely adjusted to the surroundings of home as is.

He's managed to keep you outside for the most part. The place was a decent car ride away from Linkon. It's less modern out here, open fields instead of packed city skyscrapers.

It's nice watching you stretch those fragile wings. It puts him at ease, seeing you have so much freedom.

"Gege! Help, help!"

At ease, until the moment you come running to him, fat tears dripping off your cheeks. Little fingers dig into his sleeve, pleading him to come along.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" His eyes frantically take you in, trying to source the cause of the disturbance. He doesn't spot blood, nor one of the numerous pesky insects he's fascinated by but make you squirm.

"You have to save it, please!"

You drag him through the grassy backyard, pulling him past the entrance of a large red barn. An old tractor, chopped wood logs, dusty cobwebs, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

"Squeak... Squeak..."

Until the two of you reach the far edge, tucked away in a shady corner.

Maybe Gran's friends were just a scummy reflection of her own past. Or perhaps all adults grow up to be this cruel.

A mouse. Small enough to fit in the cradle of Caleb's palm, sunk deep into an adhesive glue trap. Terrified, but too exhausted to keep fighting its slow demise.

"It's suffering," your voice trembles next to his ear, watery eyes locked on the helpless creature.

"You have to help it."

Caleb knows how to fix everything. It's not even a question in your mind whether or not he has a solution for this too. A way to save the poor mouse that's tugging your soft heartstrings.

It's dying cries eat you alive.

Caleb watches those weak thrashes in silence. Your tears wet his shirt, warming his skin through the fabric. It's a struggle to pull his eyes away from its dying suffering.

"I have an idea. Stay with the mouse. I'll be back in a second."

Gran and her friend are caught up in a chat. He's able to slip past them into the kitchen, nosing through the man's cabinets. A bottle of vegetable oil is pulled out of a high shelf with the helping hand of his evol.

"Stand back. It might run at you once it's free."

Keeping his distance, while keeping you tucked safely behind his back, Caleb does the hard work of releasing the mouse. Yellow oil drizzles from the cap, a slow waterfall of grease pouring over the trap.

Unlike Caleb warned, the mouse doesn't spring for freedom the moment its glue clutches are dissolved. Rescue won't be as simple as a catch and release.

"Never do what I'm doing."

Fearlessly, Caleb reaches out his bare hands. Oil-sticky fur coats his fingertips, lifting the mouse off of the cold ground. Though most mice would become skittish getting raised in the air like this, it hardly reacts to the manhandling.

"Squeak... Squeak..."

"It's okay, little mousey," you coo in response to it's pained wails, wishing to help any way that you can.

"You're with my gege. He can save you."

After hearing words like that, Caleb won't allow himself to fail. As long as you believe in him, Caleb thinks he could do anything.

"Do you remember how difficult it is for you to get out of bed in the morning?"

You tilt your head. Usually he's teasing you when he mentions how reluctant you are when forced to wake up.

"Mhm."

"Mousey is the same way. If we give them a minute to wake up, I'm sure they'll feel all better."

Eyeing the rodent's breathing, you trail Caleb, following him outside of the barn.

"Squeak..." Mousey's beady eyes flutter closed. Weak, it snuggles into the cup of Caleb's palm. The warm Sun and fresh air heals it better than any medicine.

Little buckteeth nibble their way through soft sandwiches. A dry tongue licks water droplets off of whiskers. The two of you are happy to sacrifice your packed lunches in the name of rehabilitation.

"Squeak, squeak."

"Squeak squeak!"

"Are you trying to talk to Mousey?"

"Uh-huh. Do you think they understand me?"

"I think so. I guess that makes you... A pipsqueak."

By the time Gran is packing her stuff into the car, beckoning you to get ready to leave, Mousey gives a bit of a wiggle. Tired, not right as rain quite yet, but well enough that Caleb is hopeful for a fighting chance.

"Say bye to Mousey, pipsqueak."

"Squeak squeak!" You're a little sour that Caleb didn't let you pet Mousey. But you won't let a grudge get in the way of a sweet farewell.

Paws tremble for the first second they meet dirt. Standing on wobbly legs, Mousey slowly works up the strength to move.

One moment, it's burrowed in grass blades by your feet. The next, that furry body disappears into the bushes, darting out of sight.

"Do you think Mousey is going back to their family?"

"Mice live in colonies. So Mousey definitely has someone waiting for them nearby."

Walking to the car, picnic basket in hand, your head lays down on his shoulder.

"I hope they have a gege like I do."

Caleb doesn't really know where his instinct to raise you come from. He never had a mother or father of his own to learn from.

All he knows is that he doesn't like to see you in pain, so he heals you. He doesn't like seeing you go hungry, so he feeds you. He doesn't like seeing you sad, so he makes you laugh as often as possible.

Everything is normal now; whatever 'normal' is. You have a family, something neither of you could have hoped for back then. Someone reliable to turn to for all of life's problems.

A big strong gege.

Quietly watching the trees disappear in their peripheral, driving back into the big city, Caleb hopes that so long as you're happy and by his side, things never have to change.

When Caleb wakes up, there is a storm.

He isn't fully conscious, hauling himself out of bed, tossing ruffled blankets to the side. Floorboards creak underneath his bare feet, chilling his skin. Trudging to his bedroom door, he heads into the hall.

Caleb doesn't think to knock before pushing your door open. If there's a storm, you must be scared. You're never able to sleep through them peacefully.

Eyes closed, he slips into bed alongside you, taking up the free space.

"Caleb? What're you doing?"

The confused tone of your voice shocks his system like ice water, finally pulling him from the lingering haze of sleep. He peers at you through the darkness.

"It's pretty loud out there. Aren't you scared?"

"Nope. It's just a little rain."

The blanket draped over Caleb's hip is tugged away. Robbing his protection from the cold night air.

"I'm too old to sleep with my ge because it's storming."

In your teenage years, for the first time, Caleb's role as your gege pushes him away from you, instead of holding him closer.

"You sure?"

"Mhm. Go back to bed, Caleb."

Suddenly, Caleb feels like he's the one who needs to crawl into someone's embrace to be comforted. The thunder roaring outside rumbles in his ears, rattling him deep in his core.

Has he been the childish one all this time? He's always believed family was the closest possible bond. So why now are you pushing him away?

Oh, how lonely it is to be a family. That stormy night was no fluke. The older you get, the more you learn without him at your side, this dreaded distance only continues to grow.

Caleb sees it now. His eyes have been opened. Family is a weak word. Whether by blood, or by adoption papers, a familial connection is flimsy.

Shared trauma, shared childhood, no shared blood, but intertwined souls all the same. None of it matters in the grand scheme of things. Old homes get left behind. Time marches endlessly forward.

Aren't you just as afraid as him? Why aren't you reaching for your gege's hand? Don't you know he would take it?

If you remembered what he remembers, would you fight for a place in his life, the way he fights to have a spot in yours?

"What's with the long face, pipsqueak? I'm just going to Aerospace Academy. Shouldn't you be happy for me?"

"But it's all the way in Skyhaven! What if I suddenly crave your braised chicken wings?"

Caleb knows you'll miss him. But he's greedy. It isn't the way he wants you to.

"Oh, don't be too sad. He'll be back for the holidays. And when he is, I'll make him cook for you everyday," Gran attempts to comfort.

Astatic apple trees rustle, gentle breezes weaving them in a dance. A few miles down, a train is chugging along to its designated stop. Soon, he'll be in a far away place.

Phone calls and holidays. That's all that's left now. Hour long family get-togethers, before you're exchanging painful goodbyes all over again.

"If I see it's not with you next time, you'll be sorry," you warn, clasping the necklace, your gift to him. For that split, blessed moment, when your warm breath tickles his ear, it feels like a hug.

A dog tag is what Caleb brings with him to Skyhaven. But behind him, he's left his entire heart.

Damn everyone who made him become naive. Family will always drift apart, as is fate. The reason he had to rightfully stay by your side is now the wedge that stands between you.

Once upon a time, a little girl grabbed his hand and made Caleb a big brother. When she had no one, he became that someone. Gave her a family. Someone to talk to, to hold, to love.

"Gege, I'm scared."

She gave Caleb a family too. Together, neither of you ever had to feel lonely again.

"Don't be afraid. I'll always be by your side. I promise."

Once upon a time, Caleb had been selfless.

That Caleb had lost his way. Questioned himself, his relationships, his past. All of them left unanswered when that young man walked headfirst into a fiery demise.

That Caleb is buried six feet underground.

"Caleb, you shouldn't be like this. You're supposed to be my gege. My most important family member."

Even his offer to fulfill any request isn't enough to please you. A maze of houses to keep you hidden. Safe from those who want to use your power for their own selfish gain.

As your brother, he is pushing every unspoken boundary.

"Gege?"

But if he is your most important anything, can't you have it in your heart to understand him?

"Your biggest mistake is believing I would be willing to play your nice gege all the time."

Lightning flashes through the dark, barren room. It illuminates your defiant expression. Though you try and appear brave, an undertone of fear glimmers in the captivating pools of your eyes.

"These kind of family house games... I've been tired of them for a long time."

How could those cruel words ever dare to escape his lips? He's fallen so, so far. The Sun is long out of reach. With melted wings, he plummets deeper into the ocean's hungry waves.

Your brother is drowning.

Forgiveness coupon for Caleb. Valid for one hundred years.

And he's a childish fool still.

Hurting you is painful. More than anything Ever has done to him.

Nothing more than a coward, he slips the yellow sheet of paper into your pocket before your departure. There isn't a single crease or tear in the coupon. He's kept it close to his heart for so long, waiting for the day it's strictly necessary to hand it over.

It doesn't matter. If he's Caleb, your gege, anything. Please, no matter who he is, just let his weary soul crawl back home to you.

Gifts from you are worth more than gold. But now, he finally has a good reason to cash it in.