#ae.caleb

---

"You're too nice to him, my wife would have made me sleep and sober up outside."

You chuckle at the taxi driver's remark. You were lucky to flag down a cab at this time in the night. The driver had asked you were you were going so late, and you had explained everything to him. You and Caleb had been giving each other the silent treatment for two days now. It was over something stupid. He had left one of his unfinished models lying around on the floor in your apartment and you hadn't seen it - you had ended up stepping on it - on accident, of course - but you had never seen Caleb so upset. It ended with him storming out of your apartment and no calls or texts from him for the last couple of days. You had thought about apologizing first, but had decided he was being childish and that he would approach you when he was ready. But it turns out that he had decided to drown his sorrows in alcohol. You had known that he likes to drink socially once in a while, but he's never been totally wasted before - not like this. You wanted to seem calm and collected, but inside, your anxiety is tearing you up. Is Caleb okay?

The driver slows down and pulls up to the bar. He meets your eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Go get him, I'll wait here."

You thank him, and head inside the bar. The glass door is already locked, but you knock a couple of times, and a staff member appears from behind the bar and lets you in.

"Sorry," he apologizes, scratching the back of his head. "We would have sent him home in a cab but he wouldn't tell us his address. He kept saying he wanted 'Pipsqueak'. He's a regular here so we really didn't want to let him wander home by himself."

You nod at the bartender. "Thank you. Where is he?"

He points at one of the corner booths with his thumb. You make a beeline for it, and see Caleb, lying across the booth's cushion. His cheeks are flushed red and he's snoring lightly, his hand gripping his phone.

You shake him gently to wake him. "Caleb, let's go home."

He groans and lifts his head slowly. "Please, leave me alone. I have... I have a..." His eyes open and they widen when they meet yours. "Pipsqueak," he whispers.

You place a hand on his cheek. "Let's get you home, okay?"

---

It was a mission to get Caleb in the cab, even with the help of the bartender. It's an even bigger mission to get him into your apartment building and up the stairs. But you manage to do it, and get him inside the apartment without incident.

Almost there!

You practically haul him to your room, and push him onto the bed. He flops onto it like a ragdoll, one arm and both his legs hanging off the sides.

You stare at him, hands on your hips, panting quietly. "Well, that can't be too comfortable."

You take a few moments to catch your breath before you decide to tackle his jeans and shoes - they come off easily enough, and then you get to work on his shirt. His eyes are still closed and he's muttering something softly, but you can't take the time to figure out what he's saying. You start to put on some shorts for him, but it's awkward and you only manage to get one leg in.

"Caleb, Caleb." You squeeze one of his knees to wake him again. "I need your help, sit up for a little bit."

This seems to rouse him and Caleb lets out a low groan and rises slowly.

"Okay, let's just get these shorts on."

Caleb is still for a few moments, and you think he's fallen asleep again while sitting up. But he mumbles something almost imperceptible, and you almost miss it. He's saying your name.

You look up at him from where you're crouching next to the bed, and meet his bloodshot eyes. There are tears forming at their corners.

You're startled - you're not used to seeing him cry. "Caleb? What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. You can smell the alcohol in his breath. "I was so stupid. I'm sorry."

A lump in your throat forms and you have to turn away before he can see the tears in your own eyes. You clear your throat before speaking again. "Let's talk about it in the morning, okay? Just get in the shorts and then we can go to bed."

Caleb nods, and pulls his shorts up so that they're on properly. You breathe a sigh of relief, and help him get under the covers of the bed.

You go about settling down for the night again, making sure the front door is locked, all lights are off, and placing a packet of headache medication and a glass of water on the nightstand next to Caleb's side of the bed.

You slide in under the covers next to him, and notice that he's still awake, his eyes struggling to focus on you.

"Pipsqueak," he mutters, his eyelids fluttering. "Please, don't be mad at me any more."

You smile at him, amused at the fact that he fought to stay awake to tell you that. You brush the hair away from his forehead with your hand and plant a small kiss on it. Caleb sighs, and he closes his eyes, surrendering to sleep.

---

You don't say anything as you climb into the passenger seat of Caleb's car. He watches you put your seatbelt on wordlessly. You look out the window as he pulls out and starts driving, afraid that if you look at him, the tears would just start falling. Your eyes glaze over as the buildings pass by, and soon they start to become a gray blur.

Your hands are on your lap, and you hadn't realized how tightly you were clenching them until Caleb reaches over the console and takes one of yours in his. His fingers find their way between yours, and he tightens his grip on your hand, clasping it gently. He gives your hand a soft pump, and you return it, your chest suddenly feeling a little lighter.

You both stay silent as he continues to drive, one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other still holding yours.

Caleb breaks the silence first. "You want to talk about it?"

You keep your eyes trained on the buildings outside. You shake your head in response.

"Okay, that's fine," Caleb says simply.

The buildings disappear as Caleb enters the freeway, and your gaze shifts to the setting sun in the horizon. Your head is still clouded by troubled thoughts, but they disappear briefly when you notice that Caleb drives past the exit he was supposed to take.

You turn to look at him, but he just smirks, keeping his focus on the road ahead.

"Relax, we're just going to take a little detour. It won't take long, I promise."

---

You're not sure where it is that Caleb takes you, but you end up at an empty parking lot underneath the bridge spanning the city river. Caleb exits on the driver's side, and in a few seconds, he's opening the passenger door.

He extends a hand to you. "Come on, I have something to show you."

You take it, and let him lead you from the car to the stairs at the bottom of the bridge. You follow him as he heads up the stairs, and steps onto the pedestrian walkway part of the bridge. Soon, you are met with a spectacular view. The sun has sunk well below the horizon, but the sky is still a deep purple, dotted by the first few bright stars of the night. The moon has also started rising, its reflection becoming brighter on the surface of the river. In the distance, you see the city skyline, the city lights just blinking to life.

You can't help but gasp, entranced by the sights in front of you. Caleb watches you take it in, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. The both of you stay there, leaning over the railing, watching as the sky becomes darker and the lights become brighter.

You don't realize how cold it has gotten - in your rush to get Caleb to come pick you up, you had forgotten to take a jacket. You shudder involuntarily, the chill settling deeper into your skin. Caleb is immediately removing his leather jacket, and then drapes it over the railing. He then removes his hoodie, leaving him just wearing his shirt. He passes the hoodie to you, and you take it, immediately putting it on. You pull it over your head and take a deep breath in. The hoodie smells like him - slightly smoky and sweet, like cinnamon. He puts his jacket back on, and you lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

"Thank you," you whisper, suddenly feeling the lump in your throat again.

He takes your hand, his thumb rubbing gently strokes into it. You feel him press his lips against the top of your head, whispering into your hair.

You had woken up the next morning, groggy, nauseous, and your throat absolutely parched. You had tried calling out to him. “Caleb! Caleb!” Silence. You had almost forgotten about the events of the night before. You groaned, got out of bed, and did the things that Caleb would usually do for you for yourself. That’s what the next few days for you are like. You fight the urge to call him, to text him, to ask him things, to tell him the random thoughts that pop into your mind that you think he'd want to hear. You didn’t want to admit it, but you definitely miss him.

Right now, you don’t even know why you were angry at him in the first place. You've convinced yourself that you were overreacting. And it’s taking everything in you not to pick up the phone and call him at that moment. The maintenance worker looks up from the system panel next to your front door and shrugs, and you’re tempted to roll your eyes. If he were Caleb, he probably would have had it fixed by now.

“Sorry, but there’s nothing wrong with the system. I’ve run the diagnostics and did a reset. Everything’s working as it should be.”

“Thank you for trying,” you sigh, opening the door for him. “Maybe the bulbs need replacing.”

The worker nods at you before leaving and tells you to call if you need anything else. You close the door behind him and decide to give the lights another try.

“Hey, system. Lights on.”

A few seconds of silence, then the system pipes up. “Lights are offline.”

You sigh again, then try flicking the manual switches. Up and down. Up and down. The overhead lights still stay off. You’ve had to rely on your floor lamps for lighting over the last few days. You thought it was a system problem, so you contacted the apartment complex’s maintenance department. The worker had just confirmed that the system is running fine, so it’s probably the bulbs themselves. But all of them? At the same time? All throughout the apartment? Caleb had been the one to install the last set of smart lightbulbs for you, so he’d be the next best person to ask.

You grab your phone from your back pocket and unlock it. Your thumb hovers over his name, and you take a deep breath, swallow your pride, and press on it. He answers on the first three rings.

“Hey, Caleb? Look, I’m sorry…”

—

“Just make me dinner, then we’re even.”

Wow, Caleb sure is easy to please. You’re walking back to your apartment, ingredients for hotpot in your arms, relieved and excited that you’ve finally made amends with him. He had sent you out with a list to buy ingredients for dinner while he fixed whatever needed fixing with the bulbs.

“I’ll be done by the time you get back,” he had said, ushering you out the door. “But take your time, don’t rush. Make sure you get the right cut of meat.”

You look through the list on your phone, balancing the bag in one arm. Yup, you have everything on it. The phone rings while it’s in your hand, and you answer it immediately.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice is tinny on the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

“Almost there,” you tell him, shifting the bag in your arm. “Maybe another five minutes?”

“Cool. I’m almost done too. I can help with making dinner.”

Caleb listens to you rambling your thanks and assures you that he’s more than happy to help. He hangs up, slips his phone into his back pocket before going back to work.

“Five minutes,” he mutters to himself. “Let’s finish this.”

He logs into your system panel and goes into your security settings. He accesses the security footage from your front door camera and the camera in your living room from two days after you had your fight. He smiles to himself as he watches himself on the screen, walking up to your empty apartment.

He knew you were going to be at work, so he had snuck into your place in the middle of the day. He had worked quickly and efficiently, making sure he was in and out of the apartment within five minutes. He had gone through all the rooms in your place with a step ladder and had unscrewed each lightbulb, just enough that they wouldn’t connect into the socket. They’d still be in their holders, but they wouldn’t work or turn on, and he knew they would probably drive you crazy. He’d only have to wait a few days, a week at most, for your call. And he was right. The moment he saw your name light up the screen on his phone, he knew he had won the battle.

In the twenty minutes that you’re gone, he has screwed all the bulbs back into place and he starts tinkering around with your system panel. He selects the five minutes of footage from the day he snuck in, and promptly deletes it. You’re never going to notice five minutes of security footage missing from a random day in the middle of the week, so he doesn’t bother replacing it. He exits out of the security settings, then tests the bulbs one more time.

“Hey, system. Lights on.” The entire apartment fills with light, and Caleb silently pats himself on the back. Now, all that’s left is for you to come home.

—

“It was just a system update,” Caleb mumbles through a mouthful of noodles.

“But I tried that!” you insist, slamming your chopsticks down onto the table. “I tried everything except replacing them.”

“Yeah, but did you also…” he rattles off so many technical terms that you start to feel nauseous, so you hold a hand up, and he laughs, taking it and interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Don’t worry,” he tells you, his thumb rubbing your hand. “I’ll start looking into smart bulbs that will integrate better with your apartment’s system.”

“What would I do without Caleb?” you sigh, starting to pick up your chopsticks again.

“I thought you said you didn’t need me,” he teases, continuing to rub your hand.

You wince. “That was the tequila talking.”