He's the guy every girl dreamed about. The tall, hot, sporty, and popular type that they write books or make movies about. The type of guy that everyone wants to be with or be like.
He was perfect in every annoying way: with his stupid smirk, stupid handsome face, stupid hot body, and even more stupid puppy dog eyes he got when upset about something in specific. Those same beautiful violet eyes that only ever looked at her. The girl who never even noticed those same eyes looking longingly at her—who never noticed she was the only reason for those beautiful sad eyes. Eyes that only saw her.
All while yours looked at him. While he watched her by his side, you noticed the way his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than a normal friend’s would. But of course, you’d know that seeing as how you were their friend. Friends with Caleb Xia and Mikayla Coleman—better known as MC. And while occasionally you were able to push those feelings you had for him aside to be his friend, when you lay in bed at night all you can do is think about those captivating lavender orbs of his. And oh, how it hurts your heart knowing he would never look at you the same way he looks at her. So you bury those feelings deep, never acting on them to keep your friendship alive. Better an unrequited love than a broken tie. And you told yourself that, believing it.
Until they land on you.
This big beautiful eyes. And when they do, it's like the universe is suspended. When they look at you, you hope that they look at you the same way they looked at her. Even when your insecurities scream out, you can do nothing when they look at you. You can do nothing to stop the feeling of falling over the edge of the cliff you've tried so hard to stay on.
He is just as every bit dreamy as you could have ever imagined. He is every bit the romantic you imagined the love of your life to be. How sweet, caring, and patient he is with you. How he seems to have you all figured out. It’s a bliss so pure you wonder how you ever lived without it.
And there is nothing you can do when those same eyes you fell for long ago leave you. There is nothing you can do when he chooses her. Those loving orbs that seemed to hold the galaxy in them. They looked at you, even if only for a moment. But you knew not to be greedy.
For those eyes were meant for her, and her alone.
————
A/n: i was listening to sad songs, Intercambio Injusto by Ivan Cornejo came on, and I just couldn’t resist the temptation to write out this.
idk how to get rid of this but ig lemme know if it’s okay??
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two halves of an apple / caleb x non mc reader
tags: vague timeline, kinda non-canon, friendships, reconciliation, fluff, some childhood recollections, non-consensual kiss (!!!)
word count: 7.8k
notes: part two of two halves of an apple.
summary: you return to linkon and run into both mc and caleb after avoiding them for so many years.
drowning in the sound of a bustling city, rustling leaves, and laughter from children racing down the sidewalk, you hear your name spoken in a gasp. "is that really you..?"
despite the silent voice in your head screaming at you to run, you turn away from a flower display and find yourself staring at half of a pair you dreaded to see.
"mc," you keep it casual, smiling as best as you can. "hi."
her mouth falls open like she wants to say something. instead of saying the first thing that comes to mind, she stomps over to you.
"hi?" she repeats in a hiss.
a whiff of her perfume washes over you the moment her set of feet are in front of yours. it's a terribly familiar scent that takes you back for a second— back to the past where everything was once okay.
but that second passes too soon, and you're left with the version of a girl you left behind.
"you disappeared on us years ago and that's the first thing you have to say to me?" her hands fidget in the space between your bodies. you can tell she wants to reach you— hold you, to shake you silly like she used to, or maybe to pull you in for a hug, but she does none of those things.
there's an invisible wall preventing her from getting any closer.
you smile sheepishly. "i know."
"i'm sorry," you apologize. something too casual, but real nonetheless. "i didn't mean for us to meet like this."
"i bet you didn't want to see me again at all," she huffs all too quickly, only to pause the moment she hears herself. you see her deflate in real time.
her shoulders loosen and the glare strung up on her face falls. "no, sorry," she groans, "this isn't how i wanted this to go."
"i missed you," she says in a quivering voice.
the way she looks at you is similar to the little girl that would always seek you out for comfort. you can feel your heart ache without permission.
"i missed you too." you admit, internally scolding yourself for being too honest, too soon.
you're unable to take your words back no matter how much you want to, because she was quick to tears before either of you knew it.
"hey…" you step towards mc, hands steadying and firm on her sides. just like you did when you were small children, you brought her in close to your chest. you held her carefully between your arms, a squeeze softer and less forceful than the ones caleb gave.
"it's alright. i've got you." you whisper as you hold her close.
you guide her to the side, the two of you standing under the awning of a flower shop. her face is buried in the crook of your neck, every hiccup and sniffle a ticklish vibration against your body.
mc's hands grip onto the front of your shirt like a child unwilling to part with their favorite person. "i'm so glad you're back," she says, her voice wet and shaky.
she repeats your name through sniffles. it takes you back to when you were children. the way she says your name reminds you of the nights she would hold onto you in a dark bathroom illuminated by only a dimly lit candle, chanting the name of a ghost three times, scared out of her mind with her hands clutched onto your clothes.
the candle flickers a few times, prompting mc to scream from behind. "i'm scared, i'm scared!" she cries out your name between high-pitched shrieks, trying to disappear from the world by burying herself into your back.
"you're such a scaredy-cat," you giggle, the outline of your face visible thanks to the glow of the candle.
"do i need to remind you that you were the one that wanted to do this?"
"no, i know— but i'm scared! what if a ghost actually shows up and kills us!?" she whimpers, "i'll never get to eat caleb's braised chicken wings ever again if i die!"
mc accidentally pushes you against the sink, letting out another ear-piercing scream when it creaks. "what the heck was that!?"
your cheeks ache from the big smile dominating your lips. you slip your hand down and gently take her hand into your own. "relax, silly."
"don't be scared." though smiling, your words are gentle and comforting. "i'm right here."
"I'm here," you whisper in that same reassuring tone. your hand rests flat against the back of her head, holding firmly to balance her out.
she eventually calms down after a minute or two, cheeks flushed from a mix of shame and embarrassment. the shop owner steps out to check on you two and after assuring him that you were both fine, you bought a bouquet of flowers to apologize for the inconvenience. without wasting anymore time, you handed the bouquet to mc and whisked her away to a nearby park.
"what are you doing back in linkon?" she asks, fiddling with the flowers on her lap. her hair sways in the sweet summer wind. her hairstyle is different, you notice.
unconsciously, she scoots closer to you on the bench, the side of her thigh flush against your own.
"my aunt is currently hospitalized at akso." you explain, not at all bothered by her closeness. "i wanted to make sure she was okay and keep her company."
you don't know when she had breached the wall you had up earlier, but she did. the fact that she could still manage to do that was something short of a relief. otherwise, this reunion would have turned out completely different.
"what?" mc sits up straighter, surprised by your lack of urgency. "your aunt is sick?"
you shake your head quickly. "no, no, no." you hold out your hands just in case you need to catch her again.
"she's not seriously sick. she just overworked herself and needs some time to recover." you explain.
"you know how she is. she's an overachiever that doesn't see the warning signs until it's too late." you let out a tired, but affectionate sigh.
that makes mc giggle. "i remember her. i'm glad her cafe is still going strong."
"too strong if you ask me." you chuckle in response, effected by her good mood. "she was just hit with a new wave of popularity thanks to this one influencer—"
out of nowhere, a familiar voice sounds from nearby.
"pipsqueak, there you are!"
you swear you can feel your heart physically drop into your stomach.
caleb walks towards the bench, somewhat out of breath from his jog to find mc. "i was wonderin' what was taking you so long."
he glances at you briefly, only to look away not even a second later.
"did you run into a friend on your way back—" cutting himself off, he does a double take, frozen in his tracks.
it finally dawns upon him.
"you…" he doesn't say your name, but you could tell he was one second away from it. you heard the first syllable on his tongue for a split second until he swallowed it down like bitter medicine.
caleb's eyes fall upon yours and a swarm of emotions swirl about within them. a party of shock, hurt, anger, disbelief— all of it battles against each other, twisting his face into an expression you can't quite read.
"you're back." he says. it's not a question, but a statement.
he sounds almost… horrified.
"yeah." you try a smile that doesn't quite fit. regardless, you wear it as best as you can.
seeing caleb again has your heart in a chokehold.
he hasn't changed much, if at all. his cheeks are still freckled and his eyes are still as complex as undiscovered galaxies. you see the boy from your childhood overlap with the man standing before you, and it drags you through the mud of your memories. the perilous seas that you had desperately clawed your way out of threatens to pull you right back in at just the sight of caleb.
you swallow the knot in your throat, speaking hurriedly, "i'm not here for good, so i promise you won't see me around for long—"
"no." caleb finally settles just a step away from you. "you make it sound like i want you gone when that isn't the case at all."
confused, your eyebrows furrow.
he continues, "mc and i seriously missed you." he glances at the girl in question. "didn't we?"
catching his drift, mc nods eagerly. "linkon isn't the same without you," she says with a childlike grin.
you smile knowingly, a calm washing over you, cleansing the panic that weighs heavy on your bones.
they're ganging up on you, knowing what to say and how to say it in order to make you soft. it's a little manipulative, but that just goes to show how much remains unchanged even after all these years apart.
shaking your head fondly, you sigh, "i'm sure you two managed just fine."
"you don't know that," caleb says, sitting down beside you.
your ears tingle from the obvious bitterness in his soft voice. he was clearly holding something back and his words weren't his only tell. the way his eyes dart around awkwardly, refusing to find refuge on the sight of you, made it apparent he was struggling to keep his cool.
you found yourself agreeing with him, doused in a hint of shame. "you're right."
you didn't really know how they were after you left. it couldn't have been easy on them. the three of you were once everything. it was no fault of their own that it all fell apart. you were the cause of the fracture.
however, you remain confident that it was a needed split.
"c'mon, guys." mc sighs, bumping against you just enough to make you bump into caleb. "it's been so long since we've been together."
she leans over and exaggerates a frown meant to guilt both you and caleb. "can't we get along? even for just a little bit?"
caleb loses the battle instantly. he holds his hands up in the air, smiling helplessly.
"alright, alright." he agrees.
you nod when mc waits for your answer.
"thank you both!" she laughs loudly, eyelashes fluttering with each beat.
your heart squeezes as you stare at her.
you had spent so long pretending that mc and caleb weren't an integral part of your life. time and time again you had tried to convince yourself that you didn't miss them— that you couldn't if it meant finding true happiness, but how was it possible to just erase all those years of history with them?
you couldn't even think without bumping into a piece of them.
whether that was a good or bad thing, you didn't know. their existence haunted you in every way possible and, somewhere down the line, that became a guilty pleasure of yours. the thought of them had brightened up the days where you felt nothing but empty and alone.
you were destined to find your way back to them and today just happened to be that day.
"how long will you be staying in linkon?" mc asks. she has an arm twisted around your own and you easily find yourself melting into her.
"a few weeks," you think of your answer while speaking, "maybe a month?"
"you don't sound too sure." caleb mumbles on your other side.
you force yourself not to look at him, squeezing against mc just to ground yourself.
"i'm only here to visit my aunt and help out with her cafe." you absentmindedly toy with mc's fingers. "if she gets discharged early, i might just go back home."
the thought of you leaving again makes mc flinch.
"we should hang out while you're back in linkon." she says after gathering her thoughts. "do you think you can make some time for us?"
you nod. "of course i can."
you can't imagine that your short stay in the city will 'fix' things between the three of you. that sounds unrealistic. you're not even sure if you have the right to mend what you willingly broke, but if mc is taking that step, then so are you.
caleb be damned.
"thank you so much." mc gives your arm a hug.
then, as if remembering something, she abruptly stands up on her feet. "there's a new boba place that opened up nearby!" she spontaneously announces.
"you guys stay here while i go get us drinks!" she flashes you and caleb a grin. leaving you no time to think, she stuffs the bouquet of flowers onto caleb's lap and runs off in a hurry. she's faster than you remember. you're a bit flustered.
…
you shift an inch away from caleb.
silence is quick to settle in the space mc left behind.
for a moment, you believe it'll stay like this until she returns. you mildly hope that's the case, because you didn't want to hear what caleb had to say. none of it would be good. running into them was already taxing enough.
luckily, caleb really doesn't say anything. not for a good few minutes, at least.
"that disappearing act of yours…" he finally speaks up, clearing his throat to continue, "it really had us worried."
he turns his head to the side, staring at you. you avoid his gaze, feeling it hot on your skin.
"why did you do it?" he habitually leans towards you. "was it… because of what happened between us?"
"no!" you answer too quickly.
clearing your throat, you repeat, "no."
"it had nothing to do with that." you say, despite both of you knowing otherwise.
"then why?" he frowns deeply. "why did you just leave without a word?" he hurriedly grabs your hand. "mc was devastated when she realized you had left. it took us so much time and effort to pretend like you didn't just abandon us. do you know how much i—"
caleb cuts his rambling off short with a tight frown on his lips. letting out a big sigh, he releases his grip on your hand and slumps into the back of the bench.
"sorry," he groans. "that isn't what i wanted to say," he mumbles. "not yet at least."
you blink slowly, your eyes landing on his crumpled up stature. he had every right to get mad at you— to confront and condemn you, and yet he wasn't.
"mc isn't the only one that missed you, you know." his eyes fall into yours.
your lips quiver, the corners twitching subtly.
caleb and mc are too similar. despite having every right to get mad, they held back, wanting to welcome you with open arms before anything else. perhaps they would have treated anyone else differently, but it's because it's you that they had to be careful. you had rounded their sharp edges as a child. they couldn't hurt you even if they wanted to— which, of course, they didn't.
"you two really haven't changed at all," you chuckle, painfully endeared.
he sits up slowly.
"you too," he whispers, watching as your laughter quiets down and your lips press into a small smile. he looks at you as if years of you are flashing through his head.
neither of you speak for a few minutes. there's a million things left to be said, but none of that matters right now. it feels better to just sit here and pretend as if everything is okay.
if you feel his hand lay atop your own, you pretend not to.
"heeeyy! you guys!" mc calls out your name as she finally returns with an armful of drinks. your hand slips out from under caleb's as she draws closer.
getting onto your feet, you go to meet her halfway. she grins at you, out of breath, but proud of her haul. "you're gonna love what i got you," she says through gulps of air.
"why don't you take a second to catch your breath first?" you chuckle, brushing a few sweaty strands of hair out of her face. "let's sit back down," you suggest.
before you could help mc back onto the bench, caleb is behind you, blocking your path. he shakes his head, grinning. "mc's place is nearby. we should just head over there to catch up."
"caleb," mc gasps, "that's the best idea you've ever had."
you stare at her. "you moved out of josephine's place?"
"just call her 'gran' like you used to." caleb guides you both by the back. "gran would be sad to hear you call her by her name."
"yeah! our gran is your gran!"
your eyes curl from rising cheeks. "okay."
"we're gonna have such a good time at my place," mc says, giddy with excitement. "caleb can cook us dinner and we'll play some games together!"
"wait a moment now— i never agreed to be your personal chef."
mc ignores him. "here, try this." she hands you a plastic cup. its ice rattles from the unsteady movements between her steps. "i saw this flavor on their menu a while ago and thought you'd like it."
taking the drink, you smile. "i also saw this one menu with things i think you two would like. it's at this one restaurant not too far from here."
"you thought about us too?" mc asks with eyes blown wide.
"of course i did." you catch her hand and twine your fingers between hers. "i never stopped."
mc swallows down a broken whimper.
"you're gonna make me cry, you jerk…"
"c'mon, no crying." caleb pets you both on the tops of your heads.
"we're gonna have a good day before we open that can of worms, aren't we?"
"yeah," you and mc agree.
she giggles, tightening her grip on your hand. with a glance back at caleb, he easily falls into your steps as well. he robs you of your newly acquired drink and replaces it with his hand, holding you captive between him and mc.
you exhale quietly, a warmth filling into your chest.
none of you bring up the elephant in the room for the rest of the night. it's definitely a difficult subject to approach, and mc seems more in favor of leaving it all behind, but you know you will all have to confront it eventually. going back to how things used to be is impossible considering how much everything has changed.
but you figure that's a conversation for another time.
after that night at mc's place, you gave them your new phone number and promised to keep in touch. sometime within the next few days, they begged to visit you while you helped out at your aunt's cafe until you eventually agreed.
you wondered if they had nothing better to do with how often they lingered.
"are you really only here for another few weeks?" mc asks, slumped over the table, pouting while she stares at you from across the way.
you walk over and stand beside their table.
"that's the plan," you affirm.
"hmm." her eyelids squeeze shut, face twisting as she thinks long and hard. "how can i get you to forget that plan?"
you snort, "very funny, mc."
"i'm being serious!" she pushes her upper body off of the table, her head snapping up to catch you by your eyes. "why can't you just stay in linkon for good?"
"i wasn't lying when i said it's not the same without you," she sighs.
your lips squirm awkwardly. "hey, don't be like this—"
before you could properly finish your sentence, the watch around mc's wrist starts beeping alarmingly. she gasps and jumps out of her seat without any hesitation.
"i'm sorry, i need to handle this!" she presses a few buttons on her watch and gives you one last look. "this conversation isn't over, okay?"
"okay, okay." you nod. "just be safe."
mc is out of there within seconds. she's always been something akin to a whirlwind and that seems to be even more the case now that she has become a hunter. it worries you how often she's on her feet.
"she'll be alright," caleb says as he stands up. "she trained a lot to get to where she is. you've got nothin' to worry about," he assures you.
you acknowledge his words with a brief glance and a subtle smile. it's still awkward with him, but he's trying. you're trying, too. it's just difficult to be alone with him.
"your shift is over in a few minutes, right?" he pats you on the head. "i'll take you home."
"no, it's okay, i can…" your words die on your tongue once you catch sight of caleb's expression.
the corner of his lips are curled downwards into a small, out-of-place frown. and his eyes— those sweet lavender eyes of his have always been the cause of your undoing. how could you ever deny him when he looks so much like a dog begging for treats?
even when you convince yourself that you've healed from him, that your heart no longer gravitates towards his existence, you're proven wrong with just that stupidly cute look on his face.
"fine," you relent, both frustrated and ashamed of yourself. he still has the ability to make you weak and pathetic.
what was all those years apart even for?
caleb grins at you. you would think he had just won the lottery with how bright he shines, but no. he's just glad to get you back home safely.
"go ahead and finish up, yeah?" he sits back down. "no rush."
he doesn't wait on you for long. you clocked out, sent your aunt a quick text, then found your way back to him.
"ready to go?"
"yup."
he's right behind you like a dog on a leash.
your aunt's house, which is where you were temporarily staying at, is within walking distance. you didn't need your car and caleb didn't either, since he crashes at his childhood home or at mc's place.
"it's pretty hot out today." caleb comments, only a step and a half away from you.
you hum. "it feels a little humid, don't you think?"
"why do you say that—"
as if on cue, he feels a few droplets hit his nose.
"huh?" he stops walking and you turn back to look at him.
"what's wrong?"
"i thought i just felt something." he mumbles, looking up at the clear sky.
the two of you stop and ponder for a second. then, you understand.
"it's raining," you gasp, palms up.
the warmth of the sun paired with the light rainfall fills you with a sense of childlike wonder. "caleb, look!" you laugh, bright and wide. "it's raining!" you repeat.
caleb chuckles, not yet saying anything. he can only stop and stare, time seemingly slowing down just for you. the child version of you, so unabashedly captivating, appears right before his eyes in this moment. the you with toothy grins and rosy-red cheeks, a ghost he still associates you with, that would always follow behind him like the shadow of a shadow.
look at you now.
you have become the sun swallowing him whole.
"aww." you frown as soon as the downpour comes to an end.
"it was fun while it lasted, wasn't it?" he ruffles your wet hair. "looks like someone got a nice shower out of it," he jokes.
glancing down at your clothes, you grimace. your shirt is sticking uncomfortably to your body and even the slightest hint of wind makes you shiver.
"gran's place isn't too far from here." his hand curls around your wrist, but his grip is loose. he seems afraid you'll pull away if he holds on too tight.
"let's head over there and get you a dry set of clothes," he suggests.
"i can't have you gettin' sick."
you hum in agreement. getting out of these wet clothes is too good of an offer to pass up. judging by the satisfied glint in his eyes, he seems pleased with your response.
he guides you along with a considerate pull, his pace kept slow and steady— completely opposite to the reckless way he would pull you along when you were children. he's changed and it makes you wonder to what extent.
"here we are." he says as you cross the threshold into the house.
the smell of cinnamon and flowers greet you like a warm hug, taking you back to some of your most precious memories. if you looked close enough, you could see the faint outline of children running to and from, the thump of their footsteps loud against old wooden floors. you had forgotten just how much of your childhood was spent within the walls of this house.
you walk further into the house, hand tracing the back of the living room couch, taking it all in. "this place hasn't changed at all…" you whisper.
walls with framed pictures, some of which featured you, trinkets on shelves, fresh flowers in vases… it had all stood the test of time. everything seemed exactly as it did in your memories. you were starting to think you had traveled back in time.
"you know gran doesn't like changin' things up too much." he walks over to a nearby closet and pulls out a towel. "even though this place is clearly in need of renovations," he mumbles.
he wordlessly spins you around and drapes the towel over your head, drying your hair with careful hands. you keep your head hung low, not wanting to meet his gaze, and he notices that. it's your most obvious change yet. when you were younger, your eyes would sparkle as if he hung the stars in your skies whenever your eyes would meet.
now, you seemed to fear his gaze.
he lets out a tiny sigh.
"i'll go get you somethin' to change into."
he scurries off in a hurry, and when he comes back, he has a handful of your old clothes.
your eyebrows raise up in surprise. "what are those doing here?"
"what do you mean?" he laughs, the question sounding so silly to him. "you've stayed over more times than i can count. of course you left some of your clothes behind."
"oh." you gingerly take the pile from him. "there's more than just this?"
he nods.
"then maybe i should take it all back with me—"
"no," he quickly cuts in. "there's no problem with leaving it here. you might need it for next time."
"sun showers are rare." you point out. "i don't see this happening again anytime soon…"
he shrugs, smiling lazily. "don't you worry your little head off, yeah?"
he then nudges you towards the hallway bathroom.
"now go get changed. i'll make you something warm to drink."
eager to get into dry clothes, you make your way to the bathroom. getting dressed doesn't take long, so you find yourself waiting for him back in the living room, still in awe of how this house has stayed the same.
walking in from the kitchen, caleb slides onto the couch next to you. "here you are." he hands you a warm cup of your favorite tea. your hands freeze against the cup, the drink both a familiar and foreign sight.
you had stopped drinking this specific brew because of how much it reminded you of caleb.
"rough day?" caleb sat on the edge of your bed with his hands carefully wrapped around a mug. he holds it to you and you take it eagerly despite his careful warning.
"rough is an understatement," you huff, blowing softly against the steaming liquid goodness of your favorite drink.
he chuckles. "what is it this time? did the stuck-up english teacher get on your nerves again?"
"worse." you give him a look. "it's the tutor my mom hired."
"what?" he frowns. "what happened?"
"he's just… a jerk." you shrug. you take a sip of the tea before continuing, "it feels like he's always criticizing me. he makes me feel stupid."
"you're not stupid." caleb quickly says.
"you and mc are the smartest people i know." he says, because he could never compliment you without also praising mc. even if she wasn't present in the conversation.
you smile wryly. "thanks, caleb."
and a piece of you shrivels up a little, but you ignore it. just as you always do.
"a penny for your thoughts?" his shoulder presses against yours. he doesn't quite put his weight on you, but the bump is enough to rip you out of your thoughts.
"just thinking about the past." you respond.
he falls quiet at that.
"y'know…" he trails off, hesitant to segue into the topic he wants to delve into.
you sip your tea. "hmm?"
it takes him a moment before he starts, "when you left, i realized just how much i took you for granted."
"i mean— you were always so patient with me when we were kids."
he rubs the back of his neck. "i was awful to you back then, wasn't i?"
"yeah." you snort, "whenever we played house, you were always the dad that was about to divorce me and take our daughter away."
he groans, knowing you would bring that up. "i know, i know…"
he sets his cup down on the coffee table to free his hands.
"i was always such a jerk to you." he mumbles, fiddling with a seam on the side of his pants. "especially that night at the park," he says almost too quietly.
he lets out a large sigh.
"i really regret how i spoke to you back then."
his head snaps in your direction and after gathering enough courage, he says, "i am so sorry for how i acted that night. i was just… scared. i didn't want things to change between us."
his hands curl into fists as he waits for your response.
staring at him, you can't find any words to say.
you didn't expect to talk about this today.
the night you confessed to him without really confessing— it had left a terrible tear in your heart that took years to sew back together. the fact that you were rejected was second to how he had belittled you. how he robbed you of your words and spat in your face.
stupid.
he had said.
confessing was stupid. your feelings were stupid. you were stupid.
that's how you took his words even if it wasn't his intended purpose.
and it took time to heal from that.
it also took hurting them to heal.
you take in a deep breath and slowly welcome the words you had momentarily lost.
"back then…" you swallow nervously. "you didn't even give me a chance to speak." you remind him.
"do you know how much that hurt?"
his shoulders tense up, almost reaching the sides of his face, but he doesn't dare look away from you.
"you and mc were my everything. my world revolved around you two." your eyelashes flutter in an attempt to ward off an oncoming onslaught of tears. "it was hard to leave you guys behind, but that night— it really changed everything."
his hand slowly rises to the side of your face. he cups you by the cheek, guiding you back into his lavender seas.
"i know," he whispers.
you exhale shakily.
"and yeah— maybe i should've spoken to you first. maybe we could have figured it all out, but i don't regret leaving." you say. "i like who i have become without you."
"i can tell." he says through a lopsided smile. "you're different."
"you look good like this," he adds.
you pause for a moment.
"i missed you." you speak through a sad smile. "so, so much."
his thumb brushes against your lower lashes. "i missed you too," he doesn't hesitate to say.
this time, he doesn't include mc in his words. you notice that right off the bat. it's not that he has forgotten her— because who could ever do that? not you, and never him.
rather than forget her, he simply sees you.
for the first time ever, maybe.
"i don't think things will ever go back to how they were," you admit, cowering into the palm of his hand. your voice is small and shaky under a vast array of emotions.
you don't want to disappoint him or give him any false hope. returning to caleb and mc was a guarantee, something fated and inevitable, but you have not returned in the same form. you couldn't give them the same love you did in the past. all you had to offer was the version of yourself you had carefully, painstakingly nurtured.
and even then, you weren't forking yourself over on a silver platter.
this was not you falling to their feet. it was you firmly planting yourself by their side as an equal.
"i know," caleb says, smiling so softly it's almost hard to bear. "and i understand why." he chuckles, "it's all so different now, isn't it?"
"it is."
you take in a deep breath.
"caleb." you say his name like it's a word in a different language. it's clumsy on your tongue from all those years you have gone without saying it.
but his eyes flash with something and he's staring at you as if it's music to his ears.
he licks his dry lips. "yeah?"
"i'm sorry for the way i left." your fingers ghost against the back of his hand, steadying yourself in a way, because an apology is a vulnerable thing.
he wants to assure you that you didn't need to apologize, but with just a glance, he sees how important it was to you. had it haunted you for so long that you needed to say it without even expecting forgiveness? that leaves him with a heavy heart.
"it's okay," he whispers, bringing your face in close. he rests his forehead against yours and watches as your eyelids flutter closed, relief softly washing over you in waves.
"i'm sorry too." his eyes droop shut as well, eyelashes fanning against your browline.
you giggle in response, tickled from both his eyelashes and relief. he joins you not even a second later with light and airy laughter warm against your lips.
since then, things have gradually smoothed over between you, caleb, and mc. you had your own conversation with her and many promises were made. you had cleared up much of your schedule for this trip and decided to dedicate it to catching up with them.
they really kept you busy.
you visited new and old places with them. you watched a new movie at the old movie theater, got ice cream together at a newly opened shop near your aunt's cafe, and even visited that one family-owned restaurant that knew you three by name and order. it was different now, but this happiness felt the same as it did before.
this perfect, familiar happiness. the one that came from lying on a bed beside someone, wind pouring in from the open window, bringing in the scent of summer. happiness from the sweet, tangy taste of dark red cherries.
"you look exhausted," caleb murmurs, fruit-stained fingertips tracing the side of your forehead down to your chin. he rests on his stomach while you are on your back.
you keep your eyes closed, enjoying all the sensations that surround you. caleb's touch included.
"i am," you admit, words too soft against the chirping cicadas and rustling leaves of the trees just outside the window.
caleb hears you though, and acknowledges your tiredness with a puff of laughter.
"first a walk around the mall, then a few hours at the arcade… you didn't really need to do all that just for mc," he says as he shifts onto his back. "it's no wonder you're pooped."
you would smile if you could. unfortunately, you don't even have the energy to do that.
"i promised to spend time with her whenever i could," you mumble. it takes you a minute before you speak again. "i wanna make it all up to her."
"then…" he turns his face to the side, his cheek flat on the sheets of his bed. "why haven't you made any promises to me?"
it sounds like he's talking through pouty lips. unable to help yourself, you take a peek at him.
yup. he's pouting.
you suddenly have enough energy to smile.
"what do you want, caleb?"
he blinks a few times. he wasn't actually expecting to get a promise out of you so easily. "i'll… think about it."
"this is the only promise coupon you get, so you better make it count." you joke.
his head bobs up and down, face scrunched up into a serious expression. "i'll definitely make the most out of it. just you wait."
your eyelids droop again and he goes back to watching you. he can't get enough of you. nothing could compare to this peace and he would do anything to keep you this way.
"hey," he pokes your cheek, "i have a question."
you sluggishly blink in his direction. "hmm?"
"if mc and i were both drowning, who would you save?" he asks with a silly grin.
"what?" you giggle quietly, bewildered by the sudden question.
it doesn't take you long to play along.
"i'd save mc because you're like a monk seal," you say in one breath, proud of your answer.
"what?" he shuffles closer to you, one eyebrow raised higher than the other. "what the heck does that even mean?"
you giggle and close your eyes, refusing to elaborate.
"hey, c'mon!" he laughs. "answer me!"
you don't answer him.
that afternoon passes, and so do many others.
eventually, your aunt fully recovers and your vacation nears its end. mc and caleb had been preparing in advance for your leave. they hosted a lovely gathering at josephine's house and even convinced you to have one last sleepover with them. you easily agreed, wanting to make this departure a smooth and gentle one.
caleb had cooked your favorite foods for dinner, and josephine baked some cookies and pies— both of which could be packed away for you to take back home. meanwhile, mc had given you many gifts. your luggage had nearly tripled in size from all that they gave you, both literally and figuratively.
it had been such a successful farewell party that it had mc passed out on the couch by the end of it. you had to fix her position so that she could sleep properly.
caleb had walked in on you tucking mc in like a baby. it made him chuckle.
he minds his volume, his voice kept at a low hum, "you always did like babying her."
"says you." you retort while fixing some of mc's hair.
you can't face him yet.
you can tell that there's something unspoken lingering between you and caleb. it's hard to pinpoint exactly what it is, but it's there. you're almost scared to acknowledge it out loud.
he gives you no opportunity to avoid it any longer, because he soon has you caught by the wrist.
"wanna go for a walk?" he thumbs the heartbeat beneath your skin. "i'm not tired yet."
you try rejecting him with a gentle, "i'm too tired…" that soon dies when the moment he equips his stupid puppy-dog eyes.
you groan. "let's go."
"thank you." he beams.
his grip slips from your wrist down to your hand. his fingers slot into the space between yours, and he squeezes tight so that you can't escape.
he locks the door on his way out and you drink in the sight of the sleeping neighborhood. you and caleb walk side by side down the road. you can only make him out thanks to the streetlights and full moon's silvery glow.
you pass by the houses of neighbors you grew up with. you even pass by your old house. your parents moved away around the time you left, opting to go traveling before fully retiring someplace in the countryside. you couldn't even recognize the house because the new owners had remodeled the entire thing.
noticing how you lingered on the thought of your old home, caleb speaks up.
"weird, isn't it?" he stops for a minute, glancing backwards a few times. "you and your parents had left so suddenly that by the time it fully sank in, someone was already tearing the old place down and making somethin' brand new."
he hesitates before whispering, "it kinda felt like you were being erased."
his words sink into you like thorns of a rose. you feel bad for being a little happy at how much that impacted him. it was a beautiful and tragic thing.
"i haven't been erased yet." you tighten your fingers against his. "you guys brought me back."
his eyes grow warmer on yours.
"we did, didn't we?"
"yeah."
the front lights to your old house flicks on, startling you both. wanting to avoid an awkward conversation with a stranger, caleb breaks into a mild sprint.
"come on!" he whisper-shouts, stifling laughter that could wake the entire neighborhood.
you hurry towards him. "wait for me," you respond in a similar tone.
he waits, and when you're by his side, you two race down the road at the same pace.
somehow, you end up at the park with him, sitting on that same bench from all those years ago. only, this time, you're both so different. you and caleb have both grown from years of lessons learned.
it doesn't hurt to be back at where it all began.
caleb leans against the bench, panting quietly. his gaze never falls from you.
he can't explain it, but there's something so captivating about the tint of red on your cheeks. or the way the moonlight gives you this ethereal shine. or how your soft gulps of air makes his head tingly.
he had noticed it since you had come back, but this unnamed pull had only become stronger the more he had spent time with you. he was starting to fear it. if this was what he thought it was, how insulting would that be to you? to the years you spent trying to escape from this— from him?
it's unfair to you.
and yet he still reaches for you, unconsciously, but with a desire. it isn't set in stone. he still needs to fully make it out, to cross the t's and dot the i's. he should do the right thing in the right order…
"caleb?"
but when you look at him with your calm, kind eyes— the only ones he's ever known, all logic seems to leave him.
"what are you…"
cupping your cheek, he pulls you in close without a second thought, pressing his mouth to yours in a deep and searing kiss. he hears something unlock inside him.
you gasp in surprise, the sound muffled, "mmph!? caleb…!" you react instinctively, tearing your lips away from his. "stop it, why…"
he leans in again, swallowing your words. his other hand snakes behind your head, pulling you impossibly close. you feel like you're drowning in him.
"stop!" you knock your fist against his chest and push him away. rubbing your mouth, you stare at him with wide eyes, visibly shaken.
he comes down from it immediately.
"i—" shame burns hot red across his face. "i'm sorry. i— i really don't know what came over me!" he says in a panic.
your eyebrows furrow. "you don't know?"
he gasps, "no! that's not what i mean!" shaking his head, he takes you by both hands. "i know why i did it, i promise. i just didn't mean to do it so suddenly." he swallows.
he brings your hands up to his face and presses it against his forehead. "please," he begs for reasons you don't know.
"i'm sorry," he says on repeat.
the night air fills with his soft-spoken apologies. he has successfully marked your memories with another unforgettable night. honestly, you were starting to believe that this, too, was inevitable.
maybe you weren't meant to escape him. he was always going to pull you right back in many times over, all in different ways.
"the promise coupon," caleb says after running circles around in his mind.
he gazes at you from behind your knuckles. "…can i use it now?"
your lips purse. you toy with the idea of denying him, only to recognize that this could be the start of a new cycle.
so, again, you give in.
"okay."
"promise me—" he speaks too fast and accidentally chokes on his own words.
he clears his throat, determined to see this through.
"promise me that you'll give me a chance." he nuzzles against your fingers. "one last chance."
"caleb, i don't…"
he speaks again before you could properly respond.
"i know you might not believe me, but there's something here." he kisses your knuckles. "i was scared before, but now i'm not. i want this."
"i want you," he whispers into your skin, "and i want you to want me…"
taking in a deep breath, you realize that your heart and head are in two different places. your silly, stupid heart thumped loudly, straining against the threads that kept it whole. meanwhile, rationality demanded you avoid this obvious trap. this was a one-way ticket back to those murky waters. you weren't confident you could make another escape if you fell back in.
you were given the illusion of choice, it seems, because you have come full circle despite all your efforts.
"caleb," you start with a sigh.
he interrupts you with another 'please'.
annoyed, you free one of your hands and pinch his cheek. "shush. let me speak."
he agrees with a slow nod of his head.
your face softens. "is this really what you want to use your promise coupon on?" you ask.
"yes," he answers within a heartbeat. his gaze grows hopeful, expectant.
"fine." you murmur, rubbing the pads of your fingers on the skin you pinched. "this is seriously your last chance, caleb. i mean it."
"really?" he perks up.
his hands release you in a hurry, but he doesn't leave you without his touch for long. he instead wraps his arms around your body and pulls you in close. "thank you," he says in a relieved tone of voice.
"i promise to do right by you. i'll treat you so good you'll never think about leavin' me ever again," he says all at once.
the smile on your face is involuntary. you really had no control when it came to him.
"just so you know," you shift backwards, putting some space between you two. "this doesn't mean you're my boyfriend yet."
he nods his head in understanding.
"i'll earn that title before you even know it," he says. he holds you again, and you let him.
silently, as you lean against the warmth of his sturdy embrace, you promise yourself that this is the last time you'll let your hopes and desires take the lead. this is both his last chance and yours.
In which... Reader, who is an enjoyer of the Love and Deepspace otome game, is isekai'ed into the LADS universe after an accident out in the ocean on what was supposed to be a relaxing beach vacation. Well... nothing more relaxing than eternal slumber, I suppose.
With your memories still intact, you make it your mission to not get involved with the whole storyline and avoid the main characters this world revolves around. You'd hate to be wrapped up in whatever mysteries you left unsolved in your not completely looking into all the lore of the game when you played it. Getting involved would just mean a whole lot of trouble you don't think you'd ever agree to.
Well, it’s definitely easier said than done. Especially after finding out you’re a Lemurian.
~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I'm not usually one to write, but I got the idea and I just had to write it down before it escaped me. I've been loving all the non MC reader fics, especially when MC is just the diva she is unapologetically.
I'd love to see what other ideas some of you may have on this. I'm thinking of making reader a nursing student and she meets Raf in the hospital after one of his episodes where he goes too long without sleep and nutrients, landing him in the hospital for some time as he regains his sight.
SUMMARY: You have shared too much with Caleb— your childhood in middle school, your restless teenage years in high school, and the sleepless nights that came with training at the DAA. Through every phase of your life, you’ve loved him. Quietly. Desperately. While he loved someone else.
So you learned to endure it.
You swallowed your feelings and tucked them away in secret letters never meant to be read—letters inked with heartbreak, feverish longing, and fantasies too raw to speak aloud. From crooked handwriting to elegant script, each page was a confession of the love you hated to carry, the ache you never outgrew. And when Caleb vanished from your life after graduation without a word, you buried those letters in a box, and the box deep within yourself.
Years later, fate intervenes.
Caleb returns—broader, bolder, devastatingly handsome. And strangely focused on you. His touches linger too long, his eyes see too much, and his smile says he knows exactly what you’ve been hiding. He looks at you like you’re the one he’s been waiting for—and you can’t tell if it terrifies you or tempts you more.
You try to pull away. You’ve spent too many years surviving without him to fall now.
But Caleb doesn’t let go.
Because now that he’s seen the truth—every broken sentence, every filthy fantasy, every whispered ‘I love you’ you never dared say out loud—he’s not just here to catch up.
He’s here to chase you down.
And he won’t stop until you’re his.
WORD COUNT: 11.1k
NOTES: Takes place after the Main story supposedly ends. This happens far in the future. Caleb is older here, 28–29 maybe. Reader is NOT mc, keep that in mind. In this scenario mc is with another LI.
You used to love love.
Not just the idea of it—but the ache of it. The promise of it. The giddy, schoolgirl butterflies and the midnight hopes whispered into your pillow. Love was the secret language of your world, threaded through songs you hummed under your breath, the romance novels dog-eared to your favorite passages, the ink-stained pages of letters never sent.
You believed in love the way children believe in magic.
But you grew up.
And love? It grew fangs.
Now, you love to hate it.
You hate how it made a fool of you. How it made you wait and yearn and burn in silence, hoping he’d look your way and see you. Not as a friend, not as a childhood companion, but as someone worth reaching for. Worth choosing. But he didn’t. He never did. Caleb’s heart was always spoken for.
So you buried your own.
You’ve become good at pretending. You laugh at romance now, scoff at declarations, dismiss affection with a curl of your lip and a joke that lands just bitter enough to be believable. You’re not heartless—you’re just tired. Of hoping. Of hurting. Of wanting things that were never yours to begin with.
You fill your time with things that don’t require soft emotions. You keep your hands busy and your mind busier. You hum lullabies to yourself when the silence grows too sharp. You sleep with the light on sometimes—not out of fear, but because the darkness reminds you too much of waiting for someone who never came back.
And still…
Despite it all…
Sometimes, on quiet nights when your guard slips, you wonder what it would be like to be loved out loud.
To be wanted so much it’s terrifying. To be chosen first.
You don’t dare admit it aloud. You barely let yourself think it.
Because if love ever finds you again…
You’re not sure if you’ll run away from it—
Or straight into its arms.
You hear his voice before you see him.
Low. Smooth. A little deeper than you remember. It cuts through the background noise like gravity pulling everything toward it—pulling you toward it. You freeze mid-step, your spine going taut like a wire drawn too tight. You know that voice. You’ve heard it in dreams. In memories. In the echo of unsent letters you’ll never admit you still read.
You turn slowly.
And there he is.
Caleb.
Older. Sharper. Beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair. His body is broader now, sculpted with strength and silent discipline. His jaw is dusted with scruff. His posture, relaxed but alert. And those eyes—still storm-silver and searing, but steadier somehow. Knowing.
He sees you.
Really sees you.
And for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you standing there like a collision waiting to happen.
A beat passes.
“...It’s been a while,” he says, and God—he smiles.
That same crooked, devastating smile that used to undo you in a single heartbeat. But there’s something different now. Less boyish charm, more… reverence. Like he’s looking at a relic he thought lost forever and can’t quite believe is real.
You swallow, throat tight. “Yeah. A while.”
There’s so much you could say. So much you want to say. About the years. The distance. The versions of yourself that broke and rebuilt in his absence. But your mouth is dry and your thoughts scatter like startled birds.
Caleb steps forward—close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of metal and pine and something unmistakably him.
He looks you up and down slowly, like he’s taking inventory of everything time tried to steal.
“You look…” His gaze softens. “You look like trouble.”
You scoff—too sharp, too fast, your defense mechanisms kicking in like old habits. “And you still talk like you’re trying to land a date in a bar.”
His grin flashes wider. “Would it work if I was?”
God, he’s flirting.
Like you weren’t just background noise to him once. Like you didn’t spend years trying to scrape his ghost off your ribs.
You narrow your eyes. “Why are you here, Caleb?”
He leans in, the air between you charged, crackling. His voice drops—lower, rougher.
“Because I missed you.”
You blink. That wasn’t the answer you expected. Not from him. Not with that look in his eyes—part hungry, part haunted, all real.
And just like that, the careful walls you’ve built start to shake.
You hear the door creak open behind you before the sound of his footsteps catches up.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Caleb says, his voice deeper, richer than you remember. “You look... different.”
You don’t turn around immediately. The skyline looks safer than his face.
“Yeah, well. Years pass. People change.”
“Some people stay exactly the same,” he murmurs. “You still lean to the left when you’re uncomfortable.”
You whip around, heart doing a traitorous little jump when your gaze lands on him.
God. He’s unfair. Broader shoulders, sharper jaw, that golden tan that makes his white shirt look criminally good on him. His smile has mellowed into something more potent—less boyish charm, more devastating man.
You cross your arms. “You’re observant now. That’s new.”
He chuckles. “I’ve always been observant. You were just too busy avoiding my eyes to notice.”
Touché.
He walks closer—too close—and you catch a whiff of his cologne, spicy and dark, like danger disguised as comfort. His gaze drops to your lips for half a second too long before returning to your eyes with a glint that spells trouble.
“How long has it been?” he asks softly.
“Since you ditched our entire friend group without a word? Or since I gave up hoping for a message you never sent?”
His jaw tenses. “I deserved that.”
“You did.”
There’s a beat of silence between you, thick with all the things you’re too proud to say and all the things he suddenly looks desperate to.
You retreat into the safety of the couch, motioning for him to sit across—but no, of course not. Caleb drops beside you, hip pressed against yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“What about Emcee?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek. “You two live happily ever after or what?”
His brow furrows. “Emcee? God, no. That was over before it ever started.”
Your heart skips. “Oh.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m not.” Lie. “Just surprised.”
“Good,” he says, leaning in, his voice a husky whisper. “Because I didn’t come here to talk about her. I came here for you.”
Your breath catches. You laugh, shaky and forced. “Wow, Caleb. You’ve upgraded your flirting. What happened to your legendary cheesy pickup lines?”
He grins. “I could still use one, if you’re nostalgic. But I figured you’ve grown out of tolerating my bullshit.”
“Smart of you.”
And yet, the way his knee brushes yours every few seconds isn’t helping. Neither is the way his hand hovers just a little too close to your thigh when he reaches for his coffee.
You’re not sure what’s worse—that he’s this charming now, or that it’s working.
Later that night, after he leaves with a promise to “see you soon” and a gaze that lingers like heat, you retreat into your sanctuary.
Your room. Your old dresser. The box tucked under the drawer like a dirty little secret.
The letters.
Every one of them stained with years of aching want and unspeakable need. A catalogue of your descent into hopeless longing, from childish hope to fevered fantasy. The kind of thing no one should ever read.
Especially not Caleb.
But fate, of course, doesn’t care what you want.
The first time he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, it's under the guise of helping you with groceries.
“I’m perfectly capable,” you snap, snatching the bag from his hands.
Caleb just laughs, leaning in. “I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to help.”
His knuckles graze yours. You pretend not to notice. He pretends not to notice you pretending. Bastard.
—
The second time, you’re at your favorite café, the one with the uneven chairs and the cinnamon drinks he used to gag over. You’d brought him there as a joke, once. Now he takes you there seriously.
He’s seated too close, his thigh pressed against yours like a quiet claim.
“So,” he says, turning his head toward you. “No boyfriend? Fiancé? Star-crossed lover waiting in the wings?”
“None of your business.”
“That’s a no, then,” he says smugly, sipping his drink.
You glance at him, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you asking?”
“Just making sure I’m not stepping on any toes,” he murmurs, then adds, “when I kiss you.”
Your heart slams into your ribs. You scoff, rolling your eyes so hard they might get stuck. “You’re not kissing me.”
“Not today, maybe,” he says easily. “But eventually.”
You hate how warm your cheeks get. You hate him a little more for noticing.
—
The third time is worse.
You’ve both had a bit too much wine. Not drunk, but soft around the edges. He’s on your couch, lounging like he belongs there, like the time between now and then never happened.
He watches you over the rim of his glass. “Why do you keep flinching when I touch you?”
“I don’t flinch.”
“You do. Like you’re scared I’m not real.”
You take a sip of your wine and stare straight ahead. “I’m just trying to figure out what you want.”
His voice goes quiet. “You.”
The word hits you like a punch.
“You wanted Emcee for years.”
“I was stupid for years.”
You meet his eyes. They’re clearer than they’ve ever been—focused, almost painfully sincere.
“That’s convenient,” you say coldly.
He sets his glass down, leans in. “No. It’s fate finally letting me try again.”
His hand reaches up, brushes your cheek with maddening tenderness. He’s so close you can feel the heat of his breath.
You freeze. The ache in your chest roars to life again. This is everything you ever wanted—but you don’t trust it. Not yet.
You turn your head. Just barely.
Caleb’s jaw clenches, his hand falling away.
He sits back without a word.
—
The fourth time, it’s raining.
He brings you a coffee, his hair damp, his hoodie soaked at the shoulders.
“You didn’t have to walk in this weather,” you mutter, taking the drink anyway.
“I wanted to.” His smile is lazy, but his eyes are sharp. “You’re still not letting me in.”
“Would you trust someone who vanished for years without a word?”
His smile falters. Then, to your surprise, he nods. “I wouldn’t. But I’d want them to fight for the chance to be trusted again.”
He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a familiar-looking charm—a bent paper star you made him in high school.
That might be the worst thing he’s ever said. Because it means he felt something. Because it means you weren’t the only one suffering in silence.
Because it means he’s telling the truth.
You excuse yourself before your throat gives way to the sobs you refuse to let him see.
He doesn’t follow.
But he waits.
He always waits now.
And that’s more dangerous than any of his old pickup lines.
You agree to go with him to the observatory.
Big mistake.
It’s late, the sky smeared with stars and promises, the air just crisp enough that Caleb offers you his jacket before you can even pretend to be cold.
You don’t take it.
So, naturally, he just drapes it over your shoulders anyway, like you’re his.
“It looks better on you,” he says, voice quiet as your fingers clutch at the sleeves that still smell like him.
“Don’t start,” you murmur, but there’s no real bite to it.
“Start what?” His smirk is all mischief. “Being nice? Can’t help it. You bring it out of me.”
You roll your eyes and turn your gaze to the sky, but he keeps watching you like you’re the constellation he’s been chasing all his life.
“I used to come here when I missed you,” you admit without thinking, and immediately wish you hadn’t.
The silence that follows is so sharp it could cut glass.
“When you missed me?” His voice is different now—serious. Dangerous. “How often did that happen?”
You laugh, tight and brittle. “Only every time I breathed.”
His head tilts slightly, like he’s not sure he heard you right.
Then: “Say that again.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll use it against me.”
He steps closer, slow and purposeful, until your back meets the cold railing. His hands cage you in, one on either side of your body, his expression unreadable but intense.
“Do you really think I’d take something that precious and weaponize it?”
“I don’t know what you’d do anymore.”
“Then let me show you,” he says, and for a terrifying second, you think he’s going to kiss you.
But he doesn’t.
His lips hover just beside your ear, the warmth of his breath teasing your neck.
“I dreamt of you too, you know. Every damn night.”
Your knees nearly buckle, but pride is a stronger drug than longing.
“Then why didn’t you do anything?” you whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes burning. “Because I was stupid. And I thought you didn’t feel the same.”
You snort. “Well. You were wrong.”
“I know,” he growls. “I know that now. And you’re still keeping me at arm’s length.”
“Damn right I am.”
His smile is tight, hungry. “Fine. You want to make me work for it? I’ll work.”
“I want to be chased, Caleb. Not collected.”
He steps back, hands raised in mock surrender, but his grin is pure trouble.
“Then run, sweetheart. I’ll catch up.”
You hate him for knowing exactly how to undo you.
And maybe you hate yourself more for wanting to be caught.
It’s late. The kind of late where even the shadows seem to sleep.
The old piano room is still your secret solace—dusty, dim, filled with forgotten echoes and dreams you never dared to say out loud. The acoustics are perfect. No one ever comes in here anymore.
Except for one person.
You don't hear him at first. You’re too wrapped up in the song, the way your voice trembles on the high notes, the keys trembling beneath your fingertips. It’s the kind of melody you never intended anyone to hear. Especially not him.
I didn't opt in to be your odd man out
I founded the club she's heard great things about
I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath
Your voice breaks. You close your eyes, breathe, keep going anyway.
I stopped CPR, after all it's no use
The spirit was gone, we would never come to
And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free
Silence. One, two, three beats of it. Then—
“You always did sound beautiful when you were sad.”
You jump.
Caleb leans against the doorway like he owns the place. Like he owns the air in your lungs. Like he owns you.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he adds, smile lazy, eyes sharp. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
You blink. “You heard that?”
“I always do.”
Of course he did.
You feel your cheeks burn as he strolls in, gaze never leaving yours. “That song… it’s new?”
You clear your throat, try for nonchalance. “Just something I was playing around with.”
He hums. “Right. Totally not about anyone in particular.”
You bristle. “Did I say that?”
“Nope. But you don’t have to. You forget—I know your voice. I know when it’s for fun. And when it’s ripping you open.”
You glance away, fingers tapping nervously on the ivory keys. “You're being dramatic.”
He kneels beside the bench. Just like that, he’s too close again. Always too close.
“You used to do this all the time,” he murmurs. “Sneak away to sing where no one could find you. You didn’t know I followed.”
Your heart stutters. “You never said anything.”
“Why would I ruin it?” His gaze darkens. “Hearing you like that—it was the only time I ever got to feel like you needed something.”
“I didn’t sing those songs for you,” you lie.
Caleb tilts his head, eyes locked on yours. “Then why are your cheeks red?”
You shove away from the piano, muttering, “You're insufferable.”
He follows, not missing a beat. “You’re blushing, songbird.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
You stop. He almost slams into you.
You glare up at him. “You think you’re so clever.”
He leans in, smirking. “No. I think I’ve waited too long to be this close to you, and now that I’m here, I’m not backing off.”
The worst part? Your hands are trembling. Your knees are weak. And still, somehow, you want more.
But pride wraps around your tongue like a noose.
“You heard the song,” you say, voice low. “That’s enough.”
His eyes flick down to your lips. Then back up. He’s not smiling anymore.
“No,” Caleb whispers. “It’s not.”
You should have locked the damn drawer.
You don’t even know what made you check—but something prickled at the back of your neck the moment you stepped into your apartment. Like something sacred had been disturbed. And when you see the box in Caleb’s hands, your heart stops cold.
No. No.
His head lifts as the door shuts behind you.
And your world implodes.
He’s seated on your couch like he’s carved from stone, the soft golden lamp beside him casting long shadows across the muscles in his jaw and the heartbreak in his eyes.
He’s holding your soul in his hands.
The letters—dozens of them, hundreds, years of ink and agony and lust and grief—you recognize the crooked childhood handwriting, the shaky, angry teenage confessions, the flowing script of your adult longing. Pages of you. Laid bare.
Your breath catches. Your throat closes.
“I—That’s not—You weren’t supposed to—” Your voice cracks. Your knees are trembling.
Caleb stands, the box still in his grip. He looks wrecked.
“I read every single one,” he says softly.
“Put them away,” you whisper, voice hollow. “Please, just… put them away.”
“I can’t.”
You turn to bolt, pure instinct.
And that’s when gravity betrays you.
A weight presses against your body—not crushing, but firm, immovable, inescapable. His Evol.
Your hands fly to the walls, to the floor, anywhere to push back, but you’re floating. Held in place. Suspended in the moment you never wanted him to witness.
“Caleb—!”
“I need you to hear me,” he says, moving closer. Slowly. Carefully. Like approaching a wounded animal.
Your back hits the wall.
He stops just inches from you, eyes devouring every inch of your face. His expression is ravenous, pained, like he’s starving and terrified that the meal in front of him will vanish if he breathes too hard.
“I didn’t know,” he says, his voice ragged. “I never knew.”
You shake your head. “You weren’t supposed to.”
His hand lifts. Hovers near your cheek. “I’ve been walking around blind, thinking I lost you back then. But you never stopped… You loved me. You loved me so much it hurt.”
Tears gather hot and fast in your eyes. “Caleb—don’t—”
“And I was in love with you,” he breathes. “All this time I thought I was chasing someone else, but it was you. It was always you.”
You look away. “You didn’t want me. You wanted her. You chose her.”
“I didn’t choose anyone,” he growls. “I was a coward. I ran. I shut you out and let you carry all that alone. I thought I was protecting you.”
“You weren’t,” you whisper. “You were destroying me.”
The look in his eyes breaks something in you.
“I memorized your words,” he says quietly, his forehead leaning gently against yours. “Every line. Every wish. Every desperate, filthy, aching thing you wanted to say. I felt all of it. Like I was there with you, through every goddamn year I missed.”
You tremble, caught in his pull, aching with the need to believe—but terrified to let yourself fall.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you whisper.
“I’m not asking you to,” he murmurs. “Not yet.”
His fingers trail lightly over your waist, your hip, anchoring you. The Gravity around you loosens just enough for your feet to touch the floor again, but you don’t move.
His mouth brushes against your temple.
“I just want to earn you. All of you. Like I should’ve from the start.”
You don’t kiss him.
But you don’t pull away either.
You can’t.
Because suddenly, you're not cold anymore.
You’re burning.
He stays.
Even when you tell him to leave—quietly, then louder, then with trembling fingers pressed to his chest like a warning—Caleb stays.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.
“I should’ve been here years ago,” he murmurs. “Don’t you get it? I’m not leaving again.”
You shove him.
He barely budges.
You shove him again.
This time, his hands catch your wrists mid-motion, fast, firm—calm.
You freeze. His skin is warm against yours, calloused where it should be gentle, familiar where it should feel foreign. Your pulse spikes in your throat.
“Let me go,” you say, breathless.
“No.”
Your breath hitches.
“No?” you echo.
His voice drops. “Not until you stop pretending you don’t want me to stay.”
You glare up at him, furious. “You think a few words and a couple of pretty promises erase everything?”
“No,” he says again. “But I’ll keep proving myself until they do.”
You twist out of his grip—nearly—before he suddenly pulls you in.
And for one terrible, brilliant second, your bodies align like they’ve been waiting for this moment your whole lives.
His eyes search yours.
And then, Caleb whispers, “Tell me to stop.”
You open your mouth.
But nothing comes out.
So he kisses you.
Not a soft, hesitant brush of lips.
It’s a claiming.
It’s all the years you spent alone, writing down your agony like confessions to a God who never answered. It’s every fantasy you denied yourself, every moment you watched him look at someone else and wished it were you. It's him—finally, truly, desperately—here.
Your fingers fist in his shirt like you’re angry, like you’re clinging to something you swore you’d never need again.
And when you break apart, gasping, forehead pressed to his, you say—
“I hate you.”
He smiles, soft and ruined. “I know.”
“I hate how much I wanted that.”
“I hope you did.”
“I’m still not making this easy.”
Caleb’s lips trail down your jaw, his voice a low rasp. “You’ve never made anything easy, sweetheart. That’s why you’re worth everything.”
And still—
Still, your heart trembles with the weight of old wounds, and you pull back just enough to see the truth in his eyes.
“You’ll have to fight for this,” you warn him.
His hand finds the back of your neck, possessive and reverent. “Then prepare to be relentlessly pursued.”
You never agreed to date him.
But apparently, Caleb’s taking “relentless pursuit” as a blood oath.
He shows up at your place the next morning with coffee—your actual order, down to the way you like the foam. He doesn’t say how he remembers. You don’t ask.
That night, he texts you at 2am.
Bastard: Thinking about that song you sang. Thinking about your lips too, but that’s not important (it is).
You throw your phone across the bed.
The next day, he’s waiting outside your building. Leaning against his hoverbike, all long legs and low-lidded eyes and that grin. You think he’s here for some kind of mission.
Nope.
Just here to take you to lunch.
“Don’t say this is a date,” you grumble.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, offering his hand. “But hold on tight anyway.”
You hate how your fingers slide into his like they belong there.
—
Caleb doesn’t just flirt. He weaponizes charm like he trained for it.
He gives you compliments with the kind of intensity that makes it hard to breathe.
“I love your voice. Especially when you don’t realize you’re humming.”
“You roll your eyes the same way you used to when I beat you in training. It’s kind of adorable.”
“You don’t have to pretend around me. I know what you sound like when you're honest. I miss that sound.”
He touches you too often. Hand brushing your lower back when he walks past. Fingers grazing yours when he hands you something. Sitting just a little too close on your couch, his thigh pressed against yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You hold strong—for a while.
Until he stays over one night, after watching some late-night sci-fi re-run and falling asleep on your couch like a smug golden retriever with abs.
You try to nudge him awake.
You fail.
Hard.
He catches your wrist in his sleep, pulls you down half-on top of him, murmurs your name like it’s a secret prayer, and buries his face in your neck.
You don’t sleep.
Your body is screaming.
But your heart?
It’s terrified.
—
When morning comes, you wake to him cooking in your kitchen like he belongs there, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair a mess, singing your song under his breath.
You freeze in the doorway.
He sees you.
And smiles.
Like you’re not the one who spent ten years hiding a love that almost broke you. Like he’s not here to crack it wide open.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Caleb says softly. “Stay.”
You almost do.
But you don’t.
Not yet.
You think you're doing a good job keeping him at bay.
You’re not.
Because Caleb is everywhere now.
He’s in your kitchen again, humming off-key as he steals bites from your cooking. He’s draped across your couch like it’s his favorite place in the world. He’s in the way he looks at you like you invented gravity, like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.
You keep your walls up.
But he keeps coming.
Like he knows you’re lying every time you act unaffected.
—
One night, after a long mission and even longer silence, he shows up unannounced. Eyes shadowed. Mouth grim. Shoulders tense with something unspoken.
You open the door.
He doesn’t say a word—just walks past you, breath ragged.
You follow him into your living room. “Caleb?”
“I thought I lost you again,” he says, voice low.
Your stomach drops. “What?”
He turns to face you, and it’s like the air shifts. Thickens.
“I heard your name over the comms. Brief moment of static. No confirmation you made it out. Just radio silence.”
You cross your arms. “I made it out fine.”
“I didn’t know that,” he snaps. “And for a second, I thought—” He cuts himself off, jaw tight.
You exhale. “I’m used to people not checking in.”
“I’m not people.”
He stalks closer.
You step back.
He follows.
“I don’t care how many times you push me away. You don’t get to disappear on me.”
“And what am I supposed to do?” you throw back. “Pretend like none of this hurts? Like I didn’t bleed for you in silence for years while you played hero somewhere else?”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Your voice cracks. “Because I can’t let myself fall again, Caleb. Not if you're just gonna walk away when it gets hard.”
He grabs your wrist.
Not rough. Just certain.
“Look at me.”
You don’t.
So he tips your chin up with two fingers.
His eyes are burning.
“I am not going anywhere. I don't care how long it takes. You can scream, you can run, you can tell me you hate me. I’ll still be right here.”
“Why?” you whisper, eyes glossy. “Why now?”
“Because I’ve loved you longer than I even understood what that meant,” he breathes. “And I’m done pretending I don’t want every single part of you.”
His other hand slides to your waist, slow and reverent.
Your breath hitches.
You can feel his heartbeat through your palm. Fast. Desperate.
The heat between you is unbearable.
One tilt of your head and you’d be kissing him again.
You want to.
God, you ache to.
But instead, you whisper, “This changes nothing.”
He leans in, nose brushing yours.
“Wrong,” Caleb whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “It changes everything.”
But he doesn’t kiss you.
Not this time.
He lets you go.
And it’s infuriating—because now you want him even more.
The first thing you notice is the light—soft gold spilling through your curtains, catching on floating dust motes, warming the edges of the sheets tangled around your legs.
The second thing you notice is the heat.
Not the weather. Not the blanket.
Him.
Your breath stills.
Because Caleb’s wrapped around you like he owns you.
Which—he doesn’t.
He shouldn’t.
And yet here you are, cocooned in his arms, his entire body molded to yours like you were sculpted to fit him. Your head is pillowed on his chest, right over the steady, heavy thump of his heart. One of his hands is buried in your hair, fingers gently tangled, the other gripping your waist in a possessive clutch that hasn’t loosened even in sleep.
You remember falling asleep with your back to him.
You do not remember signing up for this full-body cuddle trap.
Then there's his thigh—wedged between your legs like it lives there.
Your cheeks burn.
“Okay,” you whisper to yourself. “Time to get out before you completely lose your mind.”
You try to slip away quietly.
You wiggle.
No movement.
You nudge his hand.
His grip tightens.
You try prying his fingers from your waist. It’s like wrestling a bear. A warm, unfairly smug bear.
You let out a frustrated sigh and attempt to roll away—but the second you shift, Caleb lets out a low, sleepy groan. His body shifts with yours, tightening the hold, his thigh sliding higher. His lips brush your neck, parting slightly—
And then he nibbles.
You whimper.
It betrays you instantly.
That quiet little sound. The one that escapes before you can swallow it.
Caleb hums. The vibrations rumble through his chest, into your cheek.
And then—
“Mm... morning,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and delicious.
You go still.
“Caleb,” you say, your voice a warning.
His lips find your pulse point. “You smell good,” he slurs, still half-asleep, tone thick with something dangerous.
His thigh rocks just slightly forward. Pressure, heat.
You squeak.
His arms tighten like steel bands.
He’s caging you in.
“C-Caleb, get off—this is—this is not appropriate!”
Another sleepy groan. His lips ghost along your jaw. “You’re so warm.”
Your brain short-circuits.
“You’re dreaming,” you say, trying desperately to breathe like a normal person. “This is a dream. You’re dreaming. Let me go.”
He chuckles—chuckles. A deep, lazy sound against your neck. “If I’m dreaming, I’m never waking up.”
Then his hips shift. Just barely.
But enough.
“Caleb!”
His eyes snap open.
You expect guilt.
What you get is heat.
Raw, focused, and dangerous.
He blinks once. Then twice. Then—
His hand slides from your waist to the small of your back. His nose brushes yours.
“I was trying to be good,” Caleb murmurs. “You have no idea how hard it’s been.”
You do, actually.
Because it’s been hell for you, too.
You’re seconds from giving in—completely, helplessly—when you shove at his chest with both hands and scramble out from beneath him.
Caleb just smirks from the bed, messy-haired and golden in the morning light. “What? You gonna pretend you didn’t enjoy that?”
You throw a pillow at his face.
“Out,” you snap.
He catches it effortlessly. “No breakfast first?”
You march to the door.
“Fine, fine. But next time?” He swings his legs over the edge and stands, gaze searing into yours. “You’ll beg me to stay.”
You slam the door in his face.
It doesn’t stop your knees from buckling.
It happens fast.
Too fast for logic. Too fast for the walls you’ve spent years constructing around your traitorous heart.
One moment you’re arguing—again. Another stupid quip from him, another reckless flirtation that turns your blood to fire. You’re trying to hold on to the last shred of distance between you, snapping something half-hearted and defensive—
And then Caleb moves.
He grabs your wrists, spinning you with dizzying ease, and slams them gently but firmly against the wall. Your back hits the cold surface. His body follows.
You gasp.
His eyes meet yours.
They are ravenous.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Caleb says, voice low, feral, shaking with restraint. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to devour you.”
Your breath catches.
And then he kisses you.
Hard.
Not sweet. Not tentative.
Possessive.
Like he’s claiming what was always his.
Your body jerks with the force of it, your wrists still caged in his hands above your head. You try to twist free—not to escape, but because it’s too much, all-consuming, desperate.
He doesn’t let you go.
He presses closer instead, chasing your mouth with his own, drinking in every gasp, every shuddering moan you try to swallow.
You break away for air—just for a second—and he follows, mouth trailing your jaw, nipping your throat, sucking a mark into the skin just below your ear.
“Caleb—” you manage, but it comes out a whimper.
His pelvis grinds into yours, deliberate and aching. The friction draws a strangled sound from your throat.
“Oh god—”
“That’s it,” he groans against your skin. “That sound. I’ve imagined it every night. Every. Damn. Night.”
His hands leave your wrists—only to slide down your arms, your sides, until they’re clutching your hips like he might fall apart if he lets go. He lifts you onto the wall, thigh pressing between your legs, grinding again.
Your fingers tangle in his shirt, yanking him closer even as your brain screams to stop this.
But your body?
Your body is already his.
“Tell me to stop,” Caleb breathes, forehead pressed to yours, chest heaving.
You don’t.
You can’t.
There’s no pretending anymore. No wall to hide behind.
Because the truth is—he touches you like a man starved, but worships you like you're divine.
His lips return to yours, slower this time but no less intense, and it feels like every missed moment, every unsent letter, every buried ache is burning through the kiss.
His self-control shatters.
And you let it.
Because there’s no going back now.
There’s a moment—barely a breath—after that kiss.
His forehead presses to yours, both of you trembling, not just from adrenaline but from something deeper. Something that feels like standing on the edge of a cliff after running your whole life just to avoid the fall.
He whispers your name like a secret, like a vow. It breaks you a little, how he says it. Like he’s tasting the weight of it for the first time.
Then he moves.
Your legs wrap around his waist without thought—instinct meeting inevitability. You're holding on to the only thing in the room that feels real. He lifts you as if he was made to, the heat between you palpable, a pulse that beats beneath your skin, echoing every missed chance and quiet longing.
The kiss deepens. Desperate, molten, tasting of years swallowed down and swallowed whole. His hands are everywhere—anchoring, memorizing, shaking just slightly from how hard he’s holding back.
He carries you through the house like a man possessed. Not with lust, but with ache. The bedroom door shuts with a thud behind you, and suddenly the air is full of promises, unspoken but heavy. When your back meets the mattress, he follows—solid and unyielding. Not crushing, but overwhelming in the way only someone you've loved for too long can be.
His weight is warmth, his gaze all hunger and reverence. His hands slide beneath your clothes, not to strip, but to feel. His palm over your heart. His fingers brushing your ribs like counting the years apart. Every touch says: I missed this. I missed you.
“You still gonna pretend you don’t want this?” he murmurs, his voice low, scraping over the tenderest parts of you.
You try to breathe out a laugh, but it catches on something in your throat—emotion, maybe. Want, definitely.
His mouth presses to your skin in a trail that’s less possession and more devotion. His touch follows, mapping you slowly, like he's rediscovering a land he once called home. You feel yourself arch into him, answer him without words, because words were never big enough for this.
He whispers things you’ll remember later—soft confessions and raw need laced with regret for every year wasted. You shiver when his breath touches your skin, when his fingers slide across bare inches you didn't mean to offer but couldn't deny.
And then... silence. Not because the moment ends. But because it begins.
Everything else fades.
There are no sharp lines, only sensation—heat and trembling limbs, quiet gasps, and the way your fingers fist into his shirt like you’ll fall apart without him there to catch you.
You lose time in the haze of it. In the rhythm of closeness, of skin against skin, of hearts beating so loud they drown out thought. You feel unraveled. Revered. Completely undone. Not by action, but by intent.
After, when the quiet stretches between you and your breath finally slows, he doesn’t let go. He stays draped over you, face buried in the crook of your neck like he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he opens his eyes.
“This isn’t over,” he says. His voice is hoarse, a whisper etched with everything he’s never said aloud. “I’m not letting you go. Not this time.”
And for the first time, you let yourself believe it.
Not because of what just happened.
But because of everything that didn’t need to.
You lost track of how long ago the sun set.
The air is heavy with heat and sweat, your skin slick against the sheets. You’re boneless, trembling, lips swollen from kisses too deep, too desperate. Every nerve is raw. Every breath you take shudders.
And Caleb?
Caleb is still going.
He hovers above you, eyes dark with something starved—like he’s been waiting his whole life for this and now that he has you, he doesn’t know how to stop. His hands roam as if relearning the shape of you again and again, like the memory alone will never be enough.
“We’re not done,” he murmurs, brushing hair from your damp forehead. “Not yet.”
You try to protest, but all that leaves you is a soft, aching sound.
He smiles—soft, wicked, reverent.
And leans in to kiss you like it’s the first time all over again.
You're floating.
Barely conscious, held together by the fragile thread of Caleb’s body wrapped around yours, his breath a soft rhythm against your neck.
Your limbs are jelly. Your thighs ache. Your lips are kiss-bitten and bruised, and you're so sensitive that every inch of you shivers when he so much as adjusts beside you.
And yet—even now, even after hours—he won’t stop touching.
Not in the same feral, frantic way as before. No. Now it’s worship.
He kisses the curve of your shoulder, the back of your neck, your spine. His fingertips trace lazy, possessive patterns into your hips. He murmurs things—some unintelligible, some far too intimate.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers against your skin.
“I missed you.”
“I’ll never let you go again.”
You’re too tired to reply. Your voice is hoarse from screaming, from moaning his name over and over, but your heart responds like a bell rung too hard. It throbs.
Eventually, he gets up—only to return with a warm towel, water, a fresh shirt. He tends to you with gentle hands, murmuring apologies each time you flinch from how sensitive you are, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your temple, your knuckles.
When he finally slides into the shower with you, your body instinctively leans into his. The water is hot, soothing, washing away the sweat, the stickiness, the evidence of your complete and total unraveling.
But not the ache. Not the possessiveness.
He sits on the tiled bench and pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling him, head tucked under his chin. You’re exhausted, wrecked—and he’s still hard beneath you.
You give him a look that’s half horror, half disbelief.
He smirks, eyes dark and gleaming. “I told you, I’m not finished.”
“Caleb—”
“I owe you,” he says, voice dipping low. “For every year I didn’t touch you. For every time you cried over me in silence. For every word in those letters I should’ve read sooner.”
Your breath hitches.
And then his lips descend again—slow, tender, reverent. As if he’s trying to memorize this version of you, water-slicked and trembling in his arms, yours at last.
Back in bed, you collapse into his chest, body boneless, heart hammering.
And just when you think he’s finally done—
He shifts again.
Rolls you beneath him.
“You’re not going to let me sleep?” you rasp.
His fingers trail down your body, between your thighs, making you jolt.
“No,” he breathes against your ear. “You’re not sleeping until I’ve claimed every inch of you. Until you can’t think of anything but me.”
You should tell him to stop.
You don’t.
Because the truth is: every part of you belongs to him already.
And now?
He’s going to make sure you never forget it.
The morning after feels… dangerous.
Not because you’re in any real peril—but because it’s blissfully quiet, and the man who wrecked you within an inch of your life is humming softly in your kitchen, shirtless, wearing nothing but sweatpants slung far too low on his hips, looking like the devil himself in domestic drag.
You barely make it through the doorway, each step a careful negotiation with gravity and sore muscles. Your thighs ache. Your back aches. Everything aches. But the moment Caleb glances over his shoulder and smirks at your limp?
Oh, you want to punch him.
Or kiss him.
Or both.
“You’re up,” he says, voice as smug as the day is long.
“I tried to stay asleep,” you deadpan. “But someone kept me up all night.”
He chuckles—low and wicked—and sets a mug of coffee on the counter for you.
“Consider it payback.”
You squint at him. “For what?”
His eyes drop to your hips, the curve of your throat, the faint marks blooming on your skin like war medals.
“For every letter you wrote and never gave me.”
Your stomach drops.
The mug clatters slightly when you set it down too fast.
You’d almost forgotten. Almost managed to push aside the mortifying knowledge that he read everything.
And yet, here he is—utterly unbothered, possibly turned on, casually flipping pancakes like he didn’t spend the night wrecking you with the very fantasies you'd penned in lonely bedrooms and late-night heartbreak.
“You read them all,” you say, not quite a question.
He looks at you over his shoulder. “Memorized. Studied. Jerk—”
“Do not finish that sentence, Caleb.”
He only grins wider.
You try to be casual, sip your coffee, lean against the wall like you’re not reliving every desperate, depraved word he’s now got locked and loaded in that beautiful head of his. But he’s already watching you too closely. Reading you like one of those letters.
“There's one you missed,” you murmur before you can stop yourself.
He freezes.
Slowly, slowly, he turns. “Where?”
You bite your lip.
“The drawer by my bed. Bottom one.”
He’s gone before you even blink.
Your heart is pounding.
By the time you stumble after him, he’s already sitting on the bed, letter in hand. It’s the last one. The one you wrote when you thought you’d never see him again. It was raw, feral—filled with longing so thick it could drown you.
He reads it silently. His jaw tightens. His Adam’s apple bobs hard.
When he finishes, he just looks at you.
You’re not sure what you expect.
But you do not expect him to throw the letter down and stand up like that.
“I’m going to ruin you again,” he says, voice low. “And this time, it won’t stop until you beg me to believe you’re mine.”
Your knees buckle.
But he’s already crossing the room.
Already crowding you against the wall, hands gripping your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until your back hits wood and your legs wrap around him like muscle memory.
“Caleb—” you gasp, but he silences you with a kiss that’s pure possession.
“No more running. No more letters.” He grinds against you, voice rasping. “You want to scream my name? Do it now. Right here. Where I can answer every word.”
And you do.
God help you, you do.
—
You don't know how you made it through round... whatever number that was. Your body's a puddle, your skin still humming, but Caleb is finally calm. Sated, for now. The hunger in his eyes has simmered down into something deeper—something dangerous in its quiet intensity.
He’s seated now, bare chest gleaming faintly in the afternoon light, legs spread with an unmistakable air of ownership. You’re half-draped across his torso, wearing one of his shirts that swallows you whole. He holds you with one arm looped securely around your waist, the other hand delicately unfolding that last letter. The most intimate one. The one you never meant anyone—especially him—to see.
You try not to squirm as he reads it again, slowly, as if committing every line to memory.
You can feel his eyes on the page—but his attention is on you.
“You wrote this two years ago,” he says softly, thumb brushing idle circles against your inner thigh. “I was at the edge of the solar belt. Couldn’t sleep that night. I felt… off. Like I was missing something.”
You glance down, ashamed. “Don’t romanticize it.”
“I’m not,” he replies simply. “I’m aligning timelines.”
Your heart stutters. His hand stills.
“Do you want me to stop reading?” he asks, genuine this time.
You consider it. Swallow. Then shake your head.
He nods, kisses your temple.
Another beat of silence. The room smells of skin and paper and sunlight.
Then, quietly, with a low chuckle, he murmurs:
“I should have known,” he mutters, “you liked being chased. You always did, even as a kid. Remember all those games of tag?”
You remember.
And you remember how he’d always let you win—just enough—before pulling you back into his arms with that sly smile of his, the one that made your heart race and your stomach flip.
You squirm, face heating. “That’s different.”
“It was always you,” he says softly. “Even when I didn’t know what I was looking for. I’d follow you through fields, parks, school halls. You’d run, I’d chase. Every time.”
His voice dips, husky but no longer carnal. “You were never hiding from me. You were waiting for me to catch up.”
Your throat tightens.
“And I did.” He sets the letter aside. “Finally.”
The intensity softens into something almost unbearably tender. His fingers curl beneath your chin and tilt your face up.
“No more letters,” he murmurs. “If there’s something you want… tell me. If you need something… I’ll listen. If you feel too much—good. So do I.”
You try to look away, but he won’t let you.
“You’ve already stripped yourself bare,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. “Now let me carry the weight.”
And just like that, your defenses crumble—slowly, quietly, like a dam leaking at the seams.
You rest your forehead against his. His lips ghost over yours. There’s no urgency. No fire.
Just heat. Banked and waiting.
And when he pulls you closer, tucks you against his chest, and lets out a slow breath—you swear you can feel his heartbeat echo your own.
The world outside is quiet, but inside your home, chaos reigns.
“Hey! Give that back!” you shout, laughing breathlessly as you chase after Caleb, who’s casually sauntering around your kitchen—your kitchen—holding your favorite coffee mug high above his head like a trophy.
Bastard.
“This?” Caleb grins, the morning light making his messy hair look unfairly golden, like he just strolled out of a dream. “You mean our mug now. Community property.”
“That’s not how this works!” You make a wild grab for it, but he just shifts it higher, smirking like he’s enjoying this a little too much.
Maybe it’s the fact that he’s only in a loose pair of joggers, the drawstring barely tied, his chest bare and warm and still a little damp from his earlier shower. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing in the world worth teasing, worth chasing. Whatever it is, your heart flutters violently in your chest.
“Caleb, I swear—” you lunge for him again.
He catches you effortlessly, laughing as he spins you around until your back is pressed against his chest, trapping you in his arms. The mug dangles in front of you tauntingly. His scent envelops you—fresh soap, coffee, and something that’s just him.
“Say please,” he whispers into your ear, his breath warm, sending a shiver racing down your spine.
You wriggle in his arms, only managing to grind yourself back against his hips in the most scandalous way. Caleb’s arms tighten, his low groan rumbling against your back.
You freeze, heat flooding your cheeks. Damn him.
Caleb chuckles, feeling the way you stiffen. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire this early in the morning.”
“You started it,” you mutter, glaring over your shoulder.
He grins lazily, shameless. “I’ll finish it, too.”
Before you can retort, he finally, finally relinquishes the mug, setting it gently on the counter. You think you’re safe—until he sweeps you off your feet in one effortless move, carrying you bridal style toward the couch.
“Caleb! Put me down!” you yelp, pounding your fists against his chest, but he’s unbothered, humming a tune under his breath like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“Shhh. We’re doing Sunday properly,” he says, plopping down onto the couch and settling you firmly on his lap, caging you in with his arms. “Coffee. Couch. Cuddles. Mandatory.”
You open your mouth to protest, but his hand cups the back of your head, gently guiding you to rest against his shoulder. His touch is slow, deliberate, almost reverent.
You can feel the tension humming between you—thick, electric—but somehow, it doesn’t feel urgent. It feels… safe. Warm. Like you could fall asleep right here and Caleb would keep the whole world away from you.
You sigh, feeling your body relax against him despite yourself.
“This isn’t fair,” you grumble.
“What’s not fair?” he asks, voice low and teasing as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“You being so… so…” You gesture vaguely, words failing you. How do you describe this? Caleb being infuriating and sweet and annoyingly perfect, all wrapped up in one stupidly handsome package?
“So what?” he presses, feigning innocence. His hand strokes lazily up and down your spine, his touch feather-light.
You groan into his chest. “Everything.”
He laughs—really laughs—and the sound rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating against you. You can’t help the small smile that creeps across your face. You hate how easy it is to be soft with him. How easy it is to fall harder when you promised yourself you’d be careful.
“You’re stuck with me now, sweetheart,” Caleb says, dropping his forehead against yours, his eyes shining with something raw and unspoken. “Might as well get used to it.”
Your heart thuds painfully against your ribs, and for once, you don’t have a snarky reply. Just this—this impossible, chaotic, beautiful morning. His arms around you. His laugh in your ears. His heartbeat steady beneath your hand.
Maybe you are stuck with him.
Maybe you want to be.
And when Caleb presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips—tender, warm, unbearably sweet—you know you’re completely, hopelessly, irreversibly his.
And judging by the way he smiles against your mouth, he's known it all along.
Your lunch is burning.
You know it is—because you can smell the faint scent of charred vegetables—and yet, you can’t do anything about it.
Because Caleb.
Because Caleb, who has one arm lazily wrapped around your waist, caging you against the counter, a spatula abandoned nearby. Because Caleb, who keeps murmuring absolutely mortifying things against your ear in that deep, smug voice of his, his lips brushing your skin with every word.
Because Caleb, who somehow—somehow—has memorized every single humiliating word you ever wrote to him.
You try not to die of embarrassment right there.
“You know,” Caleb drawls, his voice a slow purr against your ear, “you were really dramatic back in middle school. I believe it went something like—” he clears his throat exaggeratedly, clearly having way too much fun, “‘Dear Caleb, I hate you so much I hope you trip and fall into a mud puddle in front of the entire school. Maybe then you’ll stop being so full of yourself.’”
You groan, shoving your sleeves over your face, mortified. “Stopppp.” You’re basically trying to melt into the counter at this point.
But Caleb’s laughing, warm and delighted, peeling your sleeves down to expose your burning face. He lives for this now, clearly. Every time you squirm, he looks like he’s won the lottery.
“And then—then,” he continues gleefully, ignoring your protests, “in high school, when I got a little popular… You wrote, ‘Congratulations, Prince Charming. Maybe one day you’ll notice the loyal commoner you left in the dust. But no worries. I’m totally fine. Totally. Absolutely fine. Not like I ever cared anyway.’”
He recites it with dramatic flair, clutching his chest like a wounded lover. You are dying inside.
“Oh my God, Caleb,” you hiss, trying to hide your face again. “Shut up! I was, like, fifteen! I didn’t know anything about anything!”
He laughs again, low and fond, his chest vibrating against your back. “You knew enough to break my heart, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and you feel the serious undercurrent beneath all the teasing—the raw affection.
You twist in his grip, attempting to shove him away, but he just effortlessly manhandles you into his lap instead. One strong arm loops around your waist, the other sneaks into your hair, stroking it slowly, tangling his fingers through the strands.
You pout at him, cheeks still on fire. “You’re so annoying.”
His grin softens into something devastatingly tender. His eyes burn bright and molten as he stares at you, like you’re the only thing in the entire world.
“Not done yet,” he murmurs.
Your stomach drops.
You already know what's coming. The worst part.
Caleb leans down, nuzzles against your temple, and in a low, sinful voice, whispers, “And then there were the ones where you couldn’t stop thinking about me at night.”
You jerk, mortified, but he tightens his hold on you, trapping you snug against him. His lips graze your ear.
“You had so many thoughts about me,” he says, voice dropping impossibly lower. “About what you wanted me to do to you. About what you wanted to do to me.” He chuckles darkly when you squeak and try to wriggle away.
“I can quote those too, if you want,” he teases mercilessly. “Maybe I should start with the one where you described me tying you up with my DAA-issued tactical belt—”
“CALEB!!” you shriek, smacking his chest as he throws his head back laughing.
You bury your face in his shoulder, absolutely vibrating with secondhand embarrassment, whimpering, “I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die.”
“No, you’re not,” he says, pressing kisses to your hairline, your forehead, your temple, over and over again until your trembling subsides into quiet giggles. His arms are warm and unrelenting around you.
You risk peeking up at him—and freeze.
He’s staring down at you with a look so filled with adoration it physically steals the air from your lungs. His hand cups your jaw so gently it makes your heart ache.
“You’re my life,” Caleb says, voice rough with feeling. “You’ve always been my life. You just didn’t know it yet.”
You blink up at him, stunned, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest.
Slowly, shyly, you rest your forehead against his, your hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palms.
Caleb exhales shakily, as if the moment is too big even for him.
The smell of burnt food lingers, the sun pours golden light across the kitchen, and you sit there, tangled up in him, the most chaotic, beautiful, utterly yours thing you’ve ever had.
“Guess I’m stuck with you, huh?” you whisper, a teasing glint in your eye.
Caleb’s smile turns crooked, boyish.
“Forever, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
And then he kisses you, slow and deep and soft, like a promise he’s waited a lifetime to keep.
—
Later that night, you're curled up on the couch together, tangled in a heap of limbs and fluffy throw blankets, a low movie playing in the background.
You’re half-dozing, feeling deliciously warm and safe against Caleb’s chest, his heartbeat lulling you into a haze. His hand strokes lazily through your hair, fingertips dragging slow, lazy patterns against your scalp.
You’re just about to slip under completely when—
"Sweetheart?" Caleb’s voice, deceptively casual.
You hum in response, not even bothering to open your eyes.
"What's this? Another letter?"
You tense immediately.
No.
No no no.
Your eyes snap open in horror just in time to see Caleb, that absolute devil, pulling out one of the more battered, worn pieces of paper from somewhere.
You gasp, trying to grab for it, but he holds it way above your head, smirking like the cat who caught the canary.
"Caleb!" you shriek, flailing. "Put it away! You can't—!"
He just laughs and pins you down easily with one hand on your waist, straddling your thighs to trap you in place.
“I think the people deserve to hear this one,” he teases, that wicked glint in his eye. “Specifically, me.”
He clears his throat dramatically while you writhe helplessly beneath him.
"‘It’s not fair,’" Caleb reads aloud, smirking as he drags his gaze down your squirming body. "‘It’s not fair how he fills out his uniform. How his gloves tighten around his fingers. How I can’t stop thinking about what those hands would feel like on my skin. How I dream about him tying my wrists, whispering filthy promises against my neck—’"
"CALEB!!" you wail, smacking your hands against his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him. Your face is boiling hot.
But Caleb, the menace, the absolute menace, just grins wider, loving every second of your humiliation.
"And it goes on," he says gleefully, ignoring your mortified whimper. "‘How I'd let him do anything to me. How I'd beg him to lose control. How much I crave him, every breath, every heartbeat, like I'm dying of thirst in a desert and he's the only water I'll ever want.’"
Your soul tries to physically leave your body.
You slap your hands over your face, wishing for death.
"Please," you moan into your palms, "Caleb, please stop—"
But he just chuckles darkly, leaning down until his nose brushes yours, his voice dropping to a sinful murmur.
“You really should have mailed this one, sweetheart,” he says, eyes smoldering. "Would’ve saved us a lot of time."
You whimper, still hiding your face. He peels your hands away from your burning cheeks gently but firmly, making you meet his gaze.
Caleb’s smile turns unbearably tender as he cradles your flushed face between his palms, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones.
"I memorized every word," he says softly. "Every single one. They're engraved into me now. Just like you."
Your heart stutters painfully in your chest.
You can't look away from him—those devastating sunset eyes drinking you in like you hung the stars.
He dips his head lower, kissing the corner of your mouth, slow and reverent.
“You’re mine,” Caleb murmurs, voice rough with possessiveness and love. “You always were.”
You melt completely, boneless in his hold, helpless against him—as you’ve always been.
"Caleb..." you whisper, voice trembling.
He smiles that slow, infuriating, dangerous smile—and promptly starts tickling you, laughing when you shriek and try to wriggle free, your earlier mortification forgotten in a burst of chaotic laughter and flailing limbs.
You scream his name, half furious, half in love.
Caleb just laughs like it’s the happiest sound in the world.
It’s late.
Not the deep velvet of midnight, but that quiet hour when the world seems suspended in hush. The city hums softly beyond the windows, and the room is awash in the muted amber of a bedside lamp. You're tangled together beneath the sheets—not in passion this time, but in something far more dangerous.
Vulnerability.
Caleb lies on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching you with that look again—the one that's too tender, too knowing. His fingers trail lazily across your arm, like he can’t stop touching you even now. Like he’s making sure you’re still here.
“I should’ve reached out sooner,” he says.
You stay quiet. Not because you're angry. Because you're afraid of what might come next.
“I didn’t date her,” he adds, so casually it nearly slips by.
You blink.
“What?”
“She wasn’t mine,” he says. “Never was. I thought…” He hesitates. “I thought she might be the only person who could understand what I was becoming. The training. The pressure. But it was never romantic. Not even close.”
Your throat feels tight. You shift, pulling the blanket up like armor.
“Then why didn’t you call? Or message? Or—anything, Caleb? You just vanished.”
He exhales, slow and jagged.
“I was afraid,” he admits.
You glance up, surprised.
He stares at the ceiling, jaw clenched. “Not of the missions. Not of the fleet. I was afraid that if I talked to you, really talked to you, I’d drop everything just to be near you. I was already teetering. One video call and I would’ve been done for.”
Your heart twists painfully.
“You idiot,” you whisper. “I would’ve taken you. In any form.”
“I didn’t want you to take less of me.” He looks at you then, eyes bare, voice rough. “I wanted to be worthy of what you wrote in those letters. Of the way you looked at me when we were kids.”
You want to scream. Or cry. Or maybe just bury your face in his chest until the years melt away.
“You were worthy, Caleb. You just… didn’t believe it.”
A silence settles. Not heavy. Just real.
He pulls you closer. One hand cradling your head to his chest, the other tangled in your fingers beneath the sheets. You listen to his heartbeat again.
Stronger now.
Steady.
“For the record,” he murmurs, “when I read the one about the lake—when we were sixteen—I nearly lost it. I remember that night. I didn’t know what to do with the way I felt back then.”
You squeeze his hand. “You pushed me into the water.”
“You screamed my name so loud, half the neighborhood heard.”
You smile despite yourself.
Then softer, quieter:
“I used to dream about that moment, you know? If you ever found the letters. If you ever came back.”
“And now that I have?”
Your smile fades. You tilt your head up and find him waiting. Bare. Present.
“I don’t want dreams anymore,” you whisper.
“Good,” Caleb says, leaning down until his lips barely brush yours. “Because I’m not leaving this time. And I don’t need letters. I have you.”
And when he kisses you, it’s not a claim.
It’s a promise.
The shuttle touches down with a soft hiss, and before the hatch even fully opens, you're hit with the scent of your hometown—familiar, grounding, sweetened by nostalgia. The air is different here. Softer. Like time slows down just enough to let you breathe.
Caleb steps out behind you, his duffel slung lazily over one shoulder. His eyes sweep over the old landing port, the cracked pavement, the overgrown grass curling at the edges of fences long forgotten. He doesn't say anything for a moment.
Then, quietly: “It’s smaller than I remember.”
You huff a laugh. “Because we’re bigger now.”
He looks at you—really looks. “You are.”
There’s a weight to those words you don’t touch yet. Not here. Not now.
The town unfolds before you like a photograph—faded but warm. You walk the familiar streets side by side, shoulders brushing, passing your old school, the corner store where you used to pool pocket change for sweets, the park where you’d play tag until dusk.
“I remember this tree,” Caleb murmurs, stopping beneath the one with the warped trunk. “You used to climb it like a gremlin.”
“You fell out of it once,” you remind him. “Cried for hours.”
He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you didn’t leave my side.”
A beat of silence.
“You always stayed,” he says.
You glance at him, the late afternoon sun haloing his profile. “You just didn’t always notice.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, his hand brushes yours. Then lingers. Then takes it fully.
You don’t let go.
The path takes you past your childhood home. Your heart kicks up. The windows are still the same. The porch swing still crooked. You half expect to hear your mother calling you in for dinner. Caleb pauses beside you.
“I remember sneaking out through your window,” he says with a crooked grin. “You made me carry that squeaky chair so we wouldn’t get caught.”
“You always stepped on the wrong floorboard anyway,” you mutter. “We always got caught.”
“Worth it,” he murmurs. “Every single time.”
You don’t speak again until you're standing at the edge of the lake—the one you wrote about. The one where you screamed his name across the water. It looks just like it did then.
The sun dips low, painting the surface gold.
You watch the light scatter across the waves, lost in thought.
“I didn’t know you loved me then,” he says, voice quiet. “But I felt it. In every laugh. Every fight. Every stupid dare. I felt it. I just didn’t have the words.”
Your throat tightens.
“I didn’t either,” you say. “So I wrote them instead.”
He turns to you slowly. “No more letters,” he whispers.
Then, gently, reverently, Caleb cups your face.
You close your eyes.
The kiss is soft this time. Not a promise or a possession. Just a memory, coming full circle.
Just two people who finally stopped running.
NOTES: guys I'm so embarrassed, I can't believe I posted the unedited version!!! I didn't like how instead of talking through their issues these two went to bang instead, AHHH this is so embarrassing!!!
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‼️Caleb x reader. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!
Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely doesn’t stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.
“Can’t we just enjoy the moment without making things complicated?”
word count = 5.3k
i poured my soul into this pls be kind 😭
masterlist | part 2
The fresh scent of flowers lingered in the air as a cool breeze rushed past you. You tucked your hair behind your ear, gripped your bag tighter, and glanced at the university entrance.
A nervous breath escaped your lips. “Here we go.”
Laughter and chatter filled the air, students scattered across the school grounds. Some waved goodbye to their parents, celebrating their child’s first day at the country’s top university. Others rushed toward their friends, voices overlapping in a symphony of excitement.
“Do you even know the way to your class?” a concerned voice rang out.
“Pfft. Pa-lease! I can find my way around on my own,” the other answered confidently. “You, on the other hand, should not be late to your class, up-per-class-man.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating each syllable.
His laugh overtook all the others in the area. “Right, right. Text me when you get to your class, pipsqueak.” He smiled and ruffled her hair.
“Ugh! You’re messing up my hair!” she groaned, swatting his hand away.
She pushed him—harder than she realized.
A sudden force knocked into you, sending you off balance. Your stomach lurched—before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you, steadying you in place. A shriek escaped your lips.
“I’m so sorry!” he blurted out, pulling back just as quickly.
You pushed him off, steadying yourself, ignoring the faint trace of his cologne still lingering in the air.
“Oh my god, I didn’t see you!” A girl rushed forward, grabbing your hands like she’d known you forever. Her enthusiasm pierced through your ears, but her wide-eyed concern softened the frustration building in your chest.
“Are you okay? That was my fault!”
Your eyes met hers—bright, warm, and completely sincere.
“…Yeah, I’m fine.” The irritation dissolved as you took in her worried expression. “It’s okay.”
She beamed, relief washing over her. “I’m Michaela. What’s your name?”
It was history from then on.
•
You found out she was in the same year and major as you, and you became best friends almost instantly. Naturally, that meant getting close to him too—Caleb, as he introduced himself.
You also learned that you shared the same minor with him, so despite everything, you’d be seeing him in class.
It is another mundane day. You get to class and put your bag down on a seat, plopping your body down on the chair. A sigh leaves your lips as you look at your phone to check the time.
8:45. Having a class this early should be illegal.
You put your earphones on, hushing the quiet of the room with a faint song. You close your eyes as you wait for the others to reach.
“You’re early, kiddo,” his hand on your head pull you out of your daze. Your eyes shoot open and is met by a large yawn.
“I cant afford to be late again. I’m one mark away from failing the morning classes,” you groan as you tug off your earphones.
A sheepish smile tugs at his lips as his hand lingers a little too long in your hair, ruffling it just enough to mess it up before pulling back—slowly, like he enjoys the way it falls back into place.
He settles into the seat next to you, elbow propped against the desk, body angled toward yours.
“You need someone to wake you up in the morning?” he teases, his voice dipping just enough to make it sound like an offer.
“Are you offering?” you tilt your head, raising a brow.
Caleb grins, lazy and amused. “I wouldn’t want my shortcake failing a class I’m in,” he muses, tapping a knuckle lightly under your chin. The touch is fleeting, barely there, but enough to make your breath hitch. “Who else would I have to mess with?”
You’re used to the nickname he has given you now. It used to annoy the shit out of you, how he used to tease about you being below his shoulders or how you have to tiptoe to reach for something— shortcake, that’s where the name came from. You scoff, swatting his hand away. “Wow, I feel so valued.”
He chuckles, low and effortless, settling into his seat. “You should. I don’t just give my attention to anyone, y’know.”
“Oh? So I’m special?” You flash him a smug look, crossing your arms.
Caleb tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “Mmm… yeah, let’s call it that.”
He leans in just slightly, just enough to invade your space but not quite touch. His lips quirk up as he lowers his voice just for you to hear.
“…Or maybe I just like how cute you look when you get all flustered.”
You blink, heat creeping up your neck, but you refuse to let him win.
“So you admit it,” you say, keeping your tone light and teasing. “You think I’m cute.”
Caleb laughs, leaning back like he’s completely unbothered. “Shortcake, I’ve been saying that since day one. Keep up.”
His confidence is so insufferable you can’t help but roll your eyes. “God, I feel bad for all the freshmen falling for your charm.”
“Falling for it?” He raises a brow, smirking. “You say that like you’re not included, sweetheart.”
The nickname makes your stomach do a stupid little flip, but you mask it with a scoff. “Please, I’m completely immune to your antics.”
“Uh-huh.” Caleb leans in again, resting an elbow on the desk while watching you like he’s amused by a private joke. “Is that why your ears are turning red?”
Your hand immediately flies to your ear, and Caleb bursts out laughing.
“Wow,” you deadpan. “Upperclassmen really are the worst.”
“Aww, but I’m your favorite, aren’t I?” He tilts his head, smiling like he already knows the answer.
You roll your eyes at him. “Your confidence is getting to your head.”
Caleb’s hearty laugh fills the room, his presence naturally drawing attention. More students trickle in, filling the seats, and as expected, the weight of lingering gazes settles around you.
The girls steal quick glances at the man beside you, their whispers barely concealed. The boys, on the other hand, greet Caleb with easy familiarity, taking their places around him like it’s second nature.
It’s nothing new. You’re used to it.
“Hey, Yn,” a voice cuts through the chatter.
You glance over as Matt slides into the seat beside you, grinning.
“Hey, Matt,” you reply, offering a small smile.
“You coming to the party tomorrow?” he asks, leaning in just enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne.
Before you can answer, Caleb hums beside you, loud enough to interrupt.
“What party?” he asks, resting an arm on the back of your chair like he’s settling in for the conversation.
Matt glances at him, unfazed. “The one at James’ place. Pretty much everyone’s going.”
Caleb nods slowly, then shifts his gaze to you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “And here I thought shortcake wasn’t the party type.”
You scoff, crossing your arms. “I can be fun.”
“Oh, yeah?” Caleb smirks, tapping a lazy rhythm against the desk. “Guess I’ll have to see it for myself, then.”
You raise a brow. “Wait—are you going?”
Caleb shrugs, his smirk never faltering. “Wouldn’t want my shortcake getting lost in the crowd, would I?”
Matt laughs, shaking his head. “Man, you’re acting like she needs a babysitter.”
Caleb tilts his head, looking at you like he’s thinking about something. Then, with obnoxious ease, he says, “Nah, just wouldn’t want her getting scooped up by some guy with bad intentions.”
Matt raises a brow. “And what, you’ve got good intentions?”
Caleb grins. “Not at all. But at least she knows mine.”
The room erupts in laughter, but your heart stumbles over itself for half a second.
Because there’s something about the way he says it—like it’s a joke, but not entirely.
You roll your eyes, forcing a smirk. “Right. So you’re just going for me, huh?”
Caleb doesn’t even blink. “Why do you look surprised?”
And maybe it’s just your imagination, but for a moment, his gaze lingers, just a second too long.
Matt scoffs, turning his attention to the professor entering the room. “Text me once you’ve made your mind, Yn.”
“Sure,” you answer, unaware of the furrow crawling its way up Caleb’s face. However, you don’t miss the way Caleb’s fingers stop their lazy tapping against the desk.
The class went by agonizingly slowly. You twirl your pen in your hands, scribbling stuff down to keep yourself from knocking out. The next thing you know, you feel a poke on your cheeks.
“You better get up before people see your drool,” Caleb smirks.
You quickly covered your face and wipe off the drool as Caleb laughs. You furrow your brows, feeling the embarrassment crawling up your face.
“I didn’t drool!”
“Sure, sure, whatever you say, shortcake,” he chuckles.
You both left for your next classes and the day quickly came to an end.
•
“You going to the party tomorrow?” You ask MC as you walk out of the campus.
She ponders for a second before answering, “Nah. I’m not big on parties and have so much work piling up,” she whines. “You should go, though! Have fun for both of us.”
Her sheepish smile never fails to bring one to your face as well. “I’m still deciding too.”
MC suddenly stops in her tracks, an excited gleam sparkles in her eyes.
“Are you free today, though?”
“Yeah… Why?” You suspiciously eye her.
Before you know it, you are at the mall, arms linked with hers as she weaves through the racks of clothes. “I just need one dress,” she says. “Fifteen minutes, tops.”
You should’ve known better.
It’s been forty five minutes and counting.
You dont mind, really. Shopping with her is familiar, easy. She’s the type to hold up dresses in front of you and make you spin for her, laughing as she debates which colour would fit her best.
And then her phone buzzes.
As soon as she unlocks it, her smile grows wider.
You dont even have to ask who it is.
She taps on her phone, giggles, and shoves her phone in your face.
Caleb [5:36 PM]: wya?
MC [5:37 PM]: Shopping. Why?
Caleb [5:37 PM]: Need me to carry your stuff? ;)
MC [5:37 PM]: You know me too well
“Caleb’s coming,” she beams.
You nod. It isn’t really anything out of the ordinary.
Unsurprisingly, a few minutes later, he’s here.
He slides into the store like he belongs there, like he already knew exactly where MC would be.
“Alright,” he sighs, grabbing the bags from her hands with ease. “What am I hauling this time?”
MC beams at him, poking his side. “A gentleman and a mind-reader. No wonder all the girls want you.”
The Caleb smirks, like it’s a well-worn joke between them. The joke mirrors the one you had with him this morning. But somehow, the interaction feels much… different.
Deeper. Warmer.
Like it belongs to them.
You watch as MC doesn’t hesitate to press a dress against Caleb’s chest, measuring the colour against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t joke, doesn’t make a big deal out of it.
Like it’s always been this way.
Just like the way he doesn’t just carry her bags— he takes them before she even asks. The way he doesn’t just respond— he already knows what she’ll say. The way she doesn’t have to tease to get a reaction— he’s already looking at her like she’s the only thing in the room.
And you— watching. Like you always do.
Eventually, MC disappears into the dressing room, leaving you and Caleb alone.
“Having fun?” Caleb drawls, lazily shifting the shopping bags in his hands. His gaze falling onto you for the first time this evening.
You huff, crossing your arms. “Oh, the best time. Watching you two be so disgustingly in sync is exactly how I wanted to spend my evening,” you joke. But somehow, it stings a little.
Caleb laughs, light and amused. “What, jealous I didn’t offer to carry your stuff too?”
You raise a brow, feigning thoughtfulness. “Maybe I just wanna see if I get the same VIP treatment.”
His smirk wides, “You want me to spoil you, shortcake? Should’ve just said so.”
It’s easy, the way he flirts with you. But it’s just that— easy.
MC steps out of the dressing room, and immediately— probably unconsciously too— he straightens.
“Thoughts?” she twirls.
“Get it.” His response is instant.
MC laughs. “What do you think, Yn?”
You smile, pushing the uneasiness down. “You’re pretty in everything you wear, MC.”
“You got a good eye, Yn,” Caleb adds, his eyes never leaving her. “It looks good on you.”
The warmth in his voice is undeniable.
It’s the way he doesn’t say it playfully, doesn’t throw in a teasing nickname, doesn’t smirk.
It’s the way you fall into the background.
The ride home was unbearably normal. MC chats away about weekend plans, upcoming assignments, something funny she saw on TikTok.
Caleb hums along, adding in a sarcastic comment here and there. His eyes are glued on the road sparing a few glances her way.
You sit at the back seat, nodding at the right moments, but your mind is already made up.
You need a break. From this. From them.
From him.
So when you see Matt’s notification—
Matt [7:03 PM]: You coming tmr?
You don’t even hesitate.
You [7:24 PM]: Yeah
•
The bass thumps against your chest the moment you step inside. The air is thick with laughter, sweat, and the sharp bite of alcohol.
You exhale, rolling your shoulders back.
You’re here to forget.
Forget the way he looks at MC like she’s his entire world. Forget the way your own heart stupidly flips when he looks at you.
“Yn! You finally show up!” Matt calls out to you as you maneuver through the thick crowd, pulling you into the group he is in.
“Guys, this is Yn,” he introduced you to the group. “Hi!” you shout through the music, a nervous smile crawls up your face.
You’re not used to this setting— the alcohol, the mingles, the thumping of music, the proximity, the lights and colours. Every thing is making you drunk, even before you’ve touched any alcohol.
One of the guys whistles. “Oh! You’re that third wheel between Caleb and Michaela!”
Hah.
The third wheel.
“Forget it, we’re here to have fun tonight!” someone else chirped in as he handed you a drink. You’re not sure what it is— it’s not like you care anyways.
“Yeah,” I force a smile as you drown the drink. The alcohol stings your breath, its heat slowly goes down your chest. You slowly exhale, welcoming the warmth that spreads through you.
The alcohol burns, but it’s a different kind of ache—one that numbs instead of sharpens. It’s exactly what you need.
You roll your shoulders back, forcing yourself to relax.
Forget it. Forget him.
The music pounds through your veins as Matt laughs beside you, clinking his drink against yours. “That’s the spirit.” He’s a bit too close. You can feel his body pressed against yours.
But maybe thats what you want right now.
You let yourself sink into the noise, the bodies moving around you, the way everything blurs at the edges. Someone pulls you into a conversation, another offers you another drink, and soon enough, you’re laughing at something you barely even hear. Bodies push and pull, you sway with the beats, lost in the moment, the lights, the colours, the intoxication.
For the first time in a while, you almost feel—
“You didn’t tell me you were coming, shortcake.”
Your stomach drops.
That voice—smooth, amused, effortlessly familiar.
Your entire body tenses before you even turn around.
And when you do, there he is.
Caleb.
Standing way too close, a drink in one hand, the other shoved lazily into his pocket. His hair is slightly tousled, his sleeveless shirt making it impossible not to notice the way his toned arms shift as he leans in.
But none of that matters.
Because Caleb doesn’t go to these parties.
Everyone knows that.
And yet—he’s here.
Your jaw tightens as you glance at him, forcing a smirk. “Didn’t think you liked these things.
He grins. “I don’t.”
Your brows knit together. “Then what are you doing here?”
He hums, taking a slow sip of his drink before tilting his head at you. “What do you think?”
Your grip tightens around your cup.
He’s messing with you. Like always.
And you should ignore it, should walk away before you let him ruin this night for you—
But you don’t.
You can’t.
Instead, you match his energy, your own lips curling into a smirk.
“Well, hope you’re not expecting me to entertain you,” you quip, voice light, teasing. “I’m actually busy.”
“Busy, huh?” He raises a brow, clearly amused. His gaze flickers past you, scanning the group you came with.
Your pulse quickens.
He’s not jealous. You know that.
But the way his eyes narrow just slightly, the way he lingers—like he’s assessing something, calculating something—
It almost feels like he is.
And for some stupid, reckless reason, you want to test it.
So you shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “Yeah. Matt has been real good company today.”
Caleb’s laugh is slow, deep, and entirely too amused.
“Interesting,” he repeats, nodding slightly. “Guess that means I should try harder, huh?”
Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the music.
“Caleb!”
A girl stumbles forward, eyes wide. “Oh my god, I didn’t think you’d actually come!”
Heads start turning. More people flock toward him, pulling him into their circle.
And just like that—you’re being pushed back.
You watch as Caleb greets them with that easy, sheepish grin—the one that makes everything look so effortless. The crowd bombards him with the same teasing remarks as always.
“Damn, what happened? Where’s your girl tonight?”
They don’t need to say her name. Everyone knows.
MC.
She’s not here. And somehow, Caleb being here without her is more surprising than him being here at all.
But he doesn’t seem bothered. He just chuckles, shaking his head.
“She doesn’t need me today.”
The words shouldn’t mean anything. But they do.
But before you can even process it, his gaze shifts and
Lands on you.
And his next words knock the breath from your lungs.
“Besides,” Caleb muses, voice light, playful, teasing— “Someone else probably needs me more right now.”
The crowd erupts.
“Ooooh, damn! Who’s the unlucky girl getting swept off her feet while your girl isn’t here to keep you in check?”
Caleb’s smile grows. Slowly, lazily.
He tilts his head, feigning innocence.
“What do you mean, unlucky?”
They laugh. They cheer.
You stand there, watching, feeling every single emotion crash into you at once.
Because they’re joking. Because he’s joking.
But somehow, you cannot muster a smile up your face.
He probably saw your face, or the look in your eyes, or probably the way your lips seem to tense a bit more.
He quickly finishes the drink in his hand, and someone quickly hands him another.
“Thanks,” he flashes a warm smile to the girl who hands him the drink as he reaches for it, brushing his hands softly against hers.
She’d probably replay the scene over and over for the next week.
His eyes finds yours once more before swiftly slipping out of the group of people.
You quickly turn away, desperate to vanish somewhere.
Anywhere.
Today was supposed to be a day without him.
However, your body betrays you. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s the lingering sting of his gaze, perhaps it’s just him. The world tilts, and before you can catch yourself—
A strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his chest and stabling you on your feet.
“How many drinks have you had?” His voice low, edged with amusement, but there’s something else in it, something almost concerned.
You barely process his words because his chest is against yours, his breath warm against your temple.
You exhale, hands instinctively gripping his shirt as you try to steady yourself— not just from the dizziness, but from everything else.
Too close. He’s too close.
And he knows it.
His grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens, his fingers pressing just slightly against the curve of your waist.
“You good?” he murmurs, voice dropping just a little lower.
You swallow, ignoring the way your heart pounds against your ribs.
“I’m fine,” you manage, but your voice betrays you— it’s softer, breathier than you meant it to be.
Caleb smirks.
“That so?”
He doesn’t let go.
Instead, he leans in just a fraction closer, eyes flickering down—to your lips, to the way your breath hitches.
It’s a game. You both know it’s a game.
“I heard people say you were looking for a distraction,” his voice dips, low and deliberate. His fingers trail lightly along your spine, just enough to make you shiver.
“Was Matt a good distraction?”
A pause.
His thumb brushes against your hip.
“Or do you want something more… intoxicating?”
Your breath catches.
All you can feel is the thumping of your heart against your ears, his low voice teasing your pulse, his warmth consuming you.
“I see the way you react to me,” he murmurs.
His fingers tighten, pulling you closer, his lips barely grazing your ear now.
“The distraction you want… it’s a distraction from me, isn’t it?”
His hand trails up, brushing the exposed skin of your arm.
“You don’t have to say it,” he muses, eyes glinting.
Your hands clutch at his shirt, unsteady, breathless.
“You like this, don’t you?” Caleb murmurs, his voice impossibly smooth, seductive.
Your throat tightens, but you don’t pull away.
You don’t deny it.
You can’t.
And he smirks, because he knows.
“Good.” His lips ghost over the curve of your jaw, not quite kissing, just enough to tease.
“Because I like yours too.”
His voice dips lower, slower— almost like a confession.
The world spins, but this time, it’s not from the alcohol.
Your grip on his shirt becomes tighter, if it’s even possible. He leans even closer, his breath warm against your lips, hovering— teasing, testing, waiting.
For you to pull away.
For you to stop him.
But you don’t.
You close your eyes, letting him consume you. He closes the distance his lips pressing into yours with slow, unhurried intent. There’s no rush, no urgency— just a deliberate pull, like he wants you to feel every second of it.
His hand on your waist tightens, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath catch. His other hand finds the curve of your jaw, tilting your face up, deepening the kiss like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips.
He moves— presses deeper, pulls you closer—
And deliberately, it turns hungrier. Slow, but consuming.
Like he’s claiming you— if only for this moment.
His teeth graze your bottom lip, a light tug, a silent dare.
Your fingers snake to the crevice of his neck, pulling him in like you don’t want this to end.
You somehow find a way to a secluded corner, and he pushes your back against the wall. He rests his arm on the side of your head, balancing his weight on the wall as his other hand rests protectively at your waist. His lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your neck. His teeth grazes your skin, earning gasps and small involuntary noises from you.
His lips drag along your pulse, slow and teasing, a deliberate contrast to the heat pooling between you.
You don’t even realize your fingers are tugging his hair, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you steady.
Caleb chuckles against your skin, the sound low, smug— satisfied.
“You sound so sweet,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the spot just below your jaws.
“Caleb…” you breathe. “What does this mean?” The air suddenly turn thick as the words slip out before you can stop them.
Maybe it’s because you don’t want to believe that the one towering you right now is simply using you as a distraction from the girl he longs for. Maybe it’s because you want to hear an answer that would put the pit in your stomach at bay. Maybe you want to hear a lie that’ll at least make this moment feel more real. Or maybe you’re just too drunk on everything.
You swallow. “What are we?”
You feel his smirk against your skin before he nips at it, just enough to make your breath hitch.
His hand on your waist tightens, grounding you, holding you in place as he trails even lower. Then he exhales a quiet laugh— low, breathy, like you’ve asked something ridiculous.
His lips brush your ear.
“Why do we have to be anything?”
He leans back just enough to look at you, and there’s something in his eyes— something unreadable, something you wish you could hold onto.
“Isn’t this enough?”
His fingers trail up your arm, slow, lazy, desperate. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”
Your breath catches.
His thumb strokes along your jaw, coaxing you, soothing you. “I know you like this,” he murmurs, his voice a slow, dangerous drawl.
And then—he smiles.
That same playful, easy, charming smile.
Like this is just another game.
Like it isn’t breaking you apart.
“Just enjoy it, shortcake.”
He kisses you again before you can respond.
“Don’t over complicate things.”
You should say something, you should fire back—
But then he sucks at the sensitive skin near your collarbone, and all that escapes you is a sharp gasp.
He chuckles again, pleased. “That’s what I thought.”
His hand slides up your side, slow, lingering—like he enjoys the way your body reacts to him.
Like he enjoys this.
And somehow, that’s what makes your stomach tighten the most—
Not just his touch, or his lips, or the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go—
But the way he seems to want this as much as you do.
Like for once, he’s here with you.
Not her.
You let that thought sink in, drown in it, just for tonight.
Because tomorrow, this moment won’t exist.
But then, the dream came to an abrupt pause.
PING
The sound cuts through the haze, through the heat, through everything. Caleb stops whatever he was doing. His hands leave your body, his warmth fades, leaving you a breathless mess against the wall.
He exhales, sweeping his hair back as he pulls out his phone.
Your eyes fall to his lips, the way it’s a bit swollen with smudges of your lipstick faintly staining him.
Then— a smile.
Not the teasing, cocky smirk he likes to throw your way. It’s a warm, heart-wrenching smile that reaches his eyes.
You don’t need to see the screen to know.
MC.
“I gotta go,” he murmurs, eyes still glued to the phone, fingers moving quickly as he types.
You don’t say anything.
You cant.
“Don’t get home too late, shortcake,” he states, eyes still on the phone.
Without sparing you a glance, he turns away and disappears into the crowd.
And you—stupid, foolish you—
Just stand there.
Waiting for something that was never yours to begin with.
•
You force your eyes open only to be met with light piercing into your eyes. You are not sure how the night ended, or how you managed to pull yourself home. You shot up, quickly checking the time.
8:45. Fuck.
You push yourself from the bed, ignoring the pang in your head.
Running into class, you quickly open the door, heaving as you scan the room for seats.
“Yn!” a voice calls out.
You turn to the source, and sure enough, it’s him.
He pats the empty seat beside him. “Here.”
You hesitate.
For a second, just a second, you think maybe he’ll say something. Maybe he’ll acknowledge what happened last night.
Maybe he’ll give you something.
But Caleb just leans back in his seat, grinning like always. Like nothing happened.
Like his hands weren’t all over you.
Like his lips weren’t on yours.
Like he didn’t leave you standing there, breathless and alone.
“C’mon, shortcake,” he drawls, patting the empty seat beside him. “I saved you a seat.”
You swallow, legs moving before your mind can catch up, and you take the seat.
And he smirks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes like he wasn’t out ruining you the night before.
He’s joking.
Laughing.
Acting like last night was nothing.
Like you’re nothing.
And you force yourself to laugh along.
•
The day goes by like any other day. You find yourself sitting with MC and Caleb, grabbing dinner at a nearby restaurant you frequent as soon as the day ends.
“So… how was last night?” she asks.
You pause, unsure of what to say. “It was okay,” you finally say. “I was a total mess.”
“Caleb told me he dropped by. Did you guys meet there?”
“No,” he answers. “There were too many people, I wouldn’t have been able to find shortcake there even if I was sober!” he jokes.
A pit builds in your stomach. You’re not sure of what to feel, how to react.
So you smile.
“True.”
MC drabble on, talking about how she suddenly had an urge for a late night meal and Caleb was kind enough to bring one to her in the middle of last night.
“I didn’t ruin your fun, right?” she turns to Caleb.
“You know I have the most fun with you, pipsqueak,” he chuckles, pinching her nose.
Oh. So that’s why he left.
They probably talked more about useless stuff. You can’t really comprehend what the conversations are about anymore. You excuse yourself, blaming it on the hangover and saying that you drank a little too much last night and need a sleep.
The moment you step out, the weight in your chest collapses. Your fingers tremble as you clutch your bag tighter, as you force your legs to move, one step after another, out the door, down the road, through the crowd.
Everything feels too bright, too loud, too much.
MC’s words echo in your head.
“I suddenly had an urge for a late-night meal, and Caleb was kind enough to bring me one.”
Your stomach twists.
That’s who he belongs to.
Not you. Never you.
You don’t even remember the walk home.
It’s a blur—like the rest of the night, like every moment you spent trying to convince yourself you were anything more than temporary.
By the time you come to, you’re curled up in the corner of your room, knees pulled tight to your chest, the darkness swallowing you whole.
You feel empty.
Not just sad, not just hurt—hollow.
Like last night never even happened.
Like you never even happened.
Your fingers tighten against your arms, nails digging into your skin as if pain could anchor you to something real.
But nothing about this is real.
You were a moment.
A passing indulgence.
A warm body for him to hold when the one he truly wanted wasn’t there.
And the worst part?
You let him.
Because even if it wasn’t real, even if it was just for a second—
At least for that moment, he was yours.
PING
Your phone lights up.
Caleb [7:04 PM]: I’m free tonight
Caleb [7:04 PM]: You didn’t eat a lot earlier
Caleb [7:05 PM]: You want porridge?
Caleb [7:07 PM]: I’m coming over
You stare at the screen until the phone dims once more.
PING
MC [7:10 PM]: UGH I have to stay late at the library tonight
MC [7:10 PM]: Some last minute thing came up with my group project
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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