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Losing a Loved One Together

You promised, and I believed you.

Blood.

There was too much of it.

Cale knelt beside your body, his hands trembling as he pressed down on your wound. His normally steady hands—capable of holding the weight of the world—were unsteady, desperate. His red hair, matted with dirt and blood, fell over his pale face as he gritted his teeth. He ignored the searing pain from overusing his ancient powers, focused only on you.

Your breathing was shallow. Too shallow. The life that once burned in your eyes, the spark that had always met his gaze with warmth, was flickering like a candle in the wind.

No, Cale muttered, shaking his head, his voice rough. No, don’t you dare. You said you’d be fine. You— He stopped, biting down on the words, his throat tight. His vision blurred. Damn it. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I already told you that your life is more important if you face some danger just run..

You smiled weakly, your fingers twitching as they reached for his hand. He immediately grasped them, holding them tightly, as if sheer will alone could keep you tethered to this world.

Cale, you whispered. Your voice was barely there, but it was enough. It made something in his chest cave in.

Don’t talk, he said, voice tight with restrained emotions. He didn’t care how hoarse he sounded, didn’t care that his usual calm façade was crumbling. His fingers clenched around yours, desperate, unwilling. Just—stay awake. The priest is coming. The potions—others will be here.

Your hand, once so warm, so full of life, squeezed his weakly. You always knew… You exhaled shakily. That I’d be bad at keeping promises.

Cale’s breath hitched. A harsh, bitter laugh escaped him, devoid of any humor. “And yet, I believed you.”

You had promised him you wouldn’t die.

That you’d stay by his side.

That no matter what war, what enemy, what curse, you’d find a way to survive.

You lied, he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You coughed, blood trailing from the corner of your lips, and he wiped it away with his thumb, his other hand still gripping yours like a lifeline.

He should be used to this. Death. Loss. The ache of watching something slip through his fingers despite all his efforts.

But it was you.

You, who had always stayed by his side. Who had always seen through his excuses, his indifference, his walls. Who had called him out when he was reckless, who had laughed when he complained about wanting a slacker life but still shouldered the burdens of an entire kingdom.

You, who made him feel something more than duty, something deeper than responsibility.

He had never said it. The words had always lingered on the edge of his tongue, buried under his carefully constructed walls. Because love—he doesn't deserve it everyone he loves dies now it's you but he still hope if he eventually said those three words...

And now, it was too late.

A shaky breath left you. Cale… I’m glad…

Shut up, he snapped, voice raw, but his grip tightened. “Don’t talk like you’re dying. You’re not—

Your fingers trembled in his hold. You were losing strength.

Cale’s breath hitched. A pit opened in his stomach, a dark void swallowing everything whole.

The potions. The priest. Someone—anyone.

But he knew.

Even with healing, some wounds couldn’t be undone.

The realization settled like ice in his veins.

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

You smiled—soft, tired, fond.

I’m glad I met you.

Your fingers slackened.

Cale froze.

The world went silent.

The battlefield, the distant sounds of fighting, the shouts of his allies—it all faded into white noise.

His hand remained around yours, unmoving. Unwilling.

A hollow breath left him. His throat burned. His vision blurred, not from exhaustion, not from pain, but from something he had long denied himself the right to feel.

Grief.

A weight, suffocating and unbearable, settled in his chest.

He didn’t move. Didn’t scream.

He just stared.

You were gone.

And yet, he still held your hand as if you weren’t.

Because letting go meant acknowledging it.

And Cale Henituse… wasn’t ready.

For the first time, he didn’t know if he ever would be.

..Damn it. His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. Damn it, damn it—

He couldn't even finish the sentence.

His body shook, though he didn't sob. Cale Henituse didn’t cry.

First "I Love You" — Cale Henituse x Reader

You had always known that Cale Henituse was a man of contradictions.

He called himself a slacker but never rested. He claimed to want a peaceful life, yet he stood at the forefront of wars, rebellions, and disasters. He insisted he wasn’t kind, yet his hands carried the weight of the world for those he considered his people.

And, of course, you knew that if there was one thing Cale Henituse absolutely did not do, it was expressing unnecessary emotions.

So, you had never expected an “I love you” from him.

Even after everything you had been through together—standing at his side through battlefields, tending to his wounds after every reckless act, and sharing quiet moments in between the chaos—you never thought he would say it outright. Because Cale wasn't someone who put his feelings into words. He showed them in his own way: in the careful way he ensured you ate properly, in the way his sharp eyes always found you first in a crowd, in the way he positioned himself slightly in front of you when danger was near.

And that had always been enough.

Until now.

—

The battlefield was quiet. The kind of silence that only followed after an overwhelming victory or a devastating loss.

You weren’t sure which this was.

Your body ached, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, but you ignored it. Your eyes were focused on Cale, who sat slumped against a broken wall, his usually pristine red hair damp with sweat and blood. His breathing was steady—thank the gods—but he was clearly spent. The ancient powers had drained him again, his body unable to handle their toll.

You crouched beside him, reaching out instinctively. Cale.

His eyelids fluttered open slightly, revealing tired but sharp red eyes. He stared at you for a long moment before sighing. You’re still here?

You frowned. Of course, I’m here.

A weak smirk tugged at his lips. I thought you’d be smart enough to run away from all this madness by now.

You rolled your eyes. And leave you to die in a pile of rubble? Not a chance.

Cale exhaled slowly, shifting slightly. That’s foolish.

And yet you’re the one who threw yourself into the heart of battle again, you shot back, voice tight with lingering frustration. How many times have I told you not to—

I know. His voice was quiet, but it held a weight that made you stop. His eyes locked onto yours, serious despite the exhaustion clouding them. I know. But I had to.

Because that was who he was. He would never sit back and do nothing while his people were in danger.

Your shoulders sagged, your anger fading into something softer—something heavier. You always ‘have to.’ And I always have to sit here and watch you get hurt.

Cale was silent.

Then, after a long pause, he spoke.

I don’t want you to get hurt.

You blinked. What?

His gaze flickered away, lips pressing together as if he was considering taking the words back. But then he sighed again, almost in resignation, and looked at you.

I don’t want you to get hurt,he repeated. I don’t want you to worry about me. I don’t want you to—He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his bloodied hair. It’s annoying.

Your heart clenched. You knew Cale well enough to understand that when he said annoying, he didn’t mean it in the way others did. He meant frustrating. He meant terrifying. He meant that the thought of you being in danger, of you worrying over him, made something twist inside him in a way he wasn’t used to.

Cale…

I don’t understand it, he muttered, almost to himself. “But every time I see you in danger, I— He cut himself off, his jaw tightening. I don’t like it.

You reached for his hand, gripping it gently.

I know.

Cale stared at your joined hands as if the sight was foreign to him. And maybe, in a way, it was. He had spent his whole life avoiding deep emotional attachments, keeping people at arm’s length.

But he hadn’t been able to do that with you.

Slowly, as if testing the motion, he curled his fingers around yours. His grip was weak but warm, grounding.

And then—

“…I love you.”

It was barely above a whisper.

Your breath caught. Your mind froze.

And yet, despite the quietness of his voice, those words echoed louder than anything else on this battlefield.

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs. Cale—

I don’t know when it happened, he continued, as if he hadn’t just shattered the reality you knew. His brown eyes locked onto yours, uncharacteristically raw and unguarded. I don’t know why it happened. A pause. “But it did.

Your fingers tightened around his.

He sighed again, tilting his head back against the wall. Annoying.

You let out a choked laugh. You keep calling it that.

“Because it is.” His eyes slid shut for a moment before reopening, softer this time. 'But… I still love you."

Your chest felt impossibly full, emotions threatening to spill over. Cale Henituse, the man who refused to let anyone in, had just laid his heart bare. And he had done it in the most Cale way possible—begrudging, frustrated, but undeniably real.

You lifted your joined hands, brushing a kiss against his knuckles. “I love you too.”

Cale blinked, as if the words were somehow surprising to him despite everything. Then he let out another long-suffering sigh, muttering, “Now we’re both doomed.”