#caleb angst

He’d been mean the moment he came in with his tie half done, instead of his grey sweatpants and tank that he’d usually wear when he was going to stay the night. This smart attire he had on when he came in two hours later than he had promised — one that you usually would tear off anyway because it always fit him just right — was warning that there was nothing easy to happen tonight.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I know, baby, I kno—“ Caleb tries apologising for the nth time, pleading and guilt evident in his voice as his hands try reaching out to you again. You’re trying your best to not let your voice break as you cut him off, because you’re angry and you want that loud and clear, more so than you want him to know that he’s hurt you again. Feeling sad and hurt oddly also feels synonymous to feeling pathetic, and as someone who tries to mimic as iron clad grip on whatever’s left of her dignity, you play a facade of angry.

“It’s one night, Caleb! One night out of practically a month since I last saw you! And you couldn’t even spare me that.” You tried your very best, but your strongest efforts couldn’t even stop the break in your voice. “She calls you and immediately that’s the most urgent thing in the world for you.”

You get the gist of the story (his excuse) — the childhood best friend turned wondrous hunter of his had a favour to ask of him and his Colonel privileges. Hence, instead of clocking out when he was supposed to, he’d left work hours later to help whatever he could. As a result, he’d shown up to your place late and grossly overdressed.

You almost feel silly now, alike to a broken recorder. Because as he opens his mouth again, without a doubt trying to find a bridge between asking for your forgiveness and getting you to understand why exactly he had to do it, you feel the urge to ask him for the nth time: Why is she more important to you than I am?

Which you know, anyway, that he’ll deny. You won’t and don’t buy it.

It’s a cycle that you have tried to cut both yourself and Caleb from but the past months have proven to no avail. You feel the sadness and hurt bubbling up even further as the questions beg to escape from your mouth.

But beyond, sad, pathetic, hurt and anger? You feel exhausted.

His pleading voice, his guilt ridden eyes that are trying to meet yours, his desperate hands cupping your jaw, they all slowly quieten down to boil down to a single phrase in your head: I’m done.

The words that leave you next are not exactly the same, and they might even be worse. With a shake of your head, you take a step back, hands pushing Caleb away ever so gently, “We’re done.”

“W-What? Baby, no, what do you mean? We’re not, c’mon. Baby, let’s talk about this.” Caleb is spiralling, because yes, while this is a familiar dance you’ve both shared many times before, the waltz always ends in love-sick kisses and “never again” whispered in between your thighs. Never, this.

Truth is, Caleb is in love with you. That has never been a doubt he ever had. If it ever came down to it, he’d lay himself bare to and for you. Unfortunately, he is a man of many complexities. While he knows confidently that he is not in love with MC, he is thoroughly bonded to her in a way he wishes he isn’t. The two grew up together and survived many traumatic experiences together, and while he can try his best to explain this to you, until you’ve been caged in the laboratory like he and MC were, you’d simply not get it. He understands how it looks sometimes, and wishes desperately things were different but he’s also long dreadfully accepted his fate that he’d made a home on the bad luck of things.

Being in a relationship with you had always felt to be too good to be true. Caleb had always felt like an impending doom was due to come. You were too good, too beautiful, absolutely everything he had wished and cried for. It’d only be so long until this explodes into a doom, too. If only he’d realise sooner it was by his own hands.

He shakes his head, lips trembling as desperate hands try to reach out to you again. “We can work this out, I promise. Baby, please. I’m sorry — I.. I can change, please. You love me, right?”

“Of course I love you, Caleb. I am so in love with you, that’s the reason this hurts so much.”

You can no longer hold back the tears. “I love you so much as a person, Caleb. But I don’t like who you are as a partner.” Caleb swears he feels his heart drop into his stomach, and his jaw mirrors the emotion, his mouth agape as he listens to you. He realises he’s ran out of words. Respectable and admired as the colonel, dependable as a friend, unlikeable as a partner.

“I don’t like how this relationship makes me feel anymore. I feel insecure, and anxious. When you take hours to reply, I’m imagining you fucking and falling in love with her.” You almost choke on your words, the same words you feel so ashamed by. “And I’m not usually someone who feels that way. But your absence in this relationship, your presence in her life, it hurts me.” With a deep breath, as if to make it count, you say, “You make me feel so sad.”

Caleb feels like he doesn’t deserve to live. You’re slipping from his fingers and he knows that he’s the only one to blame. He thought he’d been able to juggle all the different roles in his life, but now realising that he simply cannot. For he is Caleb, and his life has been forged into misery. Who is there to blame, anyway? MC? EVER?

Caleb tries very hard to figure it out, but all roads simply lead back to himself.

The two of you stay silent for a very long moment, the only sounds the both of you hear are the sniffles and the sound of Caleb attempting to speak, but closing his mouth soon after.

At this point, both of you know there is nothing else to say. Tonight becomes the night you both discover the depth of your love for you. It looks very different for each of you, though.

You mistake Caleb’s silence for giving up. He’s not defeated - his limbs are begging him to crawl to you and beg. His heart begs his mind to cut ties with MC even, if that meant you would stay. Dedicate the rest of his life to you.

But, he’s well aware that his hands are tied and neither are things he can do without someone else getting hurt. He feels alike to a monster carelessly wielding a knife, no matter what he does, someone gets hurt.

If walking away tonight means that the knife stops pointing in your direction, he’ll gladly do so. So, he stays silent. Doesn’t fight for you because he believes he cannot give what you deserve, but doesn’t say anything in agreement either because he physically cannot bring himself to say it. If he opens his mouth, it’d only be the bile at the back of his throat that has already crept up from the hurt in his chest.

So, you break the silence.

Caleb’s heart sinks. He can’t. He can’t accept you with another man by your side. Even though you look happier than you have in months, everything in him resists your choice. How could you replace him? “I’m not replacing you,” you say, as if you’ve read his mind. “No one can.” “But you left me,” you continue, tears filling your eyes, “even though you promised you never would.”

You kneel down and place the flower bouquet on his grave. Your palm rests against the engraved tombstone while your heart is aching as tears fall onto the cold stone. “Do you wish to leave?” Zayne asks softly. “Yes, please,” you reply defeated.

From a distance, hidden safely between the trees, Caleb watches and listens to everything in silence while his frustration is clawing at him. He watches the two of you leave the graveyard together, hand in hand.

The wind rushes through the trees as Zayne’s gaze drifts toward the darkness where Caleb is standing. Directly toward him. Caleb freezes.

the truth is, caleb is in love with you.

or rather, he's loved you since the night he found you sitting alone on the rooftop, balanced at the edge. he remembers how your eyes followed the meteor shower, enchanted by each passing streak of light that danced across the sky.

you were so beautiful.

and when you turned to smile at him—when you realized he was there—you patted the space beside you and invited him to join. that was all it took for his heart to stutter. for his knees to weaken.

he was completely gone after that.

to caleb, you were always just gideon's friend, the girl trailing behind him at campus gatherings or laughing on the lawn. yet with caleb—apart from that night—you became a shadow, silent and withdrawn, distant even.

you never paid much attention to him, your gaze never lingering his way.

never with the same quiet intensity he reserves for you.

but caleb sees everything.

he notices the love flickering beneath your eyes and the way your laughter sharpens and cracks whenever gideon boasts about another girl drawn to him after a game.

caleb has committed every detail to memory.

and he’s certain you deserve more than someone blind to the way you shine in his eyes.

he despises the way gideon dismisses you. he loathes seeing you ready to hand your heart on a platter for him, only for it to go unnoticed.

caleb watches, frustration simmering at how his best friend remains oblivious to your feelings. how gideon would never—could never—begin to grasp the depth of your love for him.

it teetered on the edge of pure infatuation.

one night, when it's just the three of you together seated in their apartment surrounded by beer and cutwaters, gideon says the words you never wished to hear.

with another careless swig, he mentions he's seeing someone. a girl you've never heard of until now.

but caleb knows.

he's seen her after their games, waiting just outside the locker room. she was a cheerleader—dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. pretty? sure. but from the few words she's spared him, caleb knew there was nothing worth remembering.

but caleb has always had a preference.

you.

his gaze catches yours across the table and he notices it instantly.

the slight widening of your eyes, a flicker so subtle anyone else would miss it.

he watches as you pick up the can, downing another sip. then another. and another, laughing it off like it doesn't matter—like your heart isn't breaking right in front of him.

he's familiar with the feeling.

by the end of the night, all three of you are a mess and gideon offers you the opportunity to stay over, but you refuse without hesitation.

he doesn’t argue, doesn’t even try to change your mind. instead, he gives you a crooked smile and wishes you goodnight, his footsteps fading down the hall.

that alone says enough.

despite the amount of water you downed in attempt to wash away the nausea and vertigo, they're still very present and it nearly causes you to double over as you grab your sweater and bag from the entrance, pretending everything was fine, that you were fine.

caleb watches you, carefully.

he sees the tension coiled in your shoulders, heartbreak etched across your face. you're fighting so hard to keep it together. even the spark you clung to earlier has vanished completely.

"let me take you home."

the words slip out before his mind can catch them.

you look up, your eyes meeting his, amethyst irises so dark, you couldn’t find that usual speck of gold in them.

"you're not really in the position to drive, is what i mean," he adds quickly, almost tripping over himself. "not after chugging down six drinks."

he lets out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but it falls flat.

"well, neither are you."

"just stay."

"no thank you." your answer is swift.

"then i'll walk you." he's even quicker.

you narrow your eyes.

"it's fine, caleb. you don't need to, but i appreciate it."

"it'll put me at ease knowing you're safe."

his words hang heavy between you.

after a long moment, you let out a breath, trying to process not just his words, but the gravity they carry.

but exhaustion and heartbreak press down on you, and all you want is to let the tears fall.

you know he means well, even if you can't quite understand his reasons. not tonight, not in this haze.

so you surrender. you let your resistance slip away.

“fine. just this once.”

climbing the steps to your apartment, you fish out your key and swing the door open in one practiced motion.

caleb stands a few feet behind, hands buried in his pocket, bracing himself against the chilly air tonight.

"so this is where i leave you then," he says, his grin small, but sincere.

the effects of the alcohol in your bones settle into a full warmth that's now tolerable. your thoughts are no longer shrouded, but the vertigo stays, and all you crave is the oblivion of sleep to erase tonight.

"thank you, xia. i really appreciate it."

at last, your gaze finds him—soft and gentle. he overlooks the pain that loom behind them.

right now, you look at him the way you did that night on the roof.

like he's something solid, someone you can trust to keep you safe.

maybe that's what prompts him to say the words.

"you should forget about gideon, you know. he doesn't deserve you."

he regrets it right after, your expression twisting into something unreadable.

"yeah? well that's not for you to decide."

"it's not," he admits. "but if it's any consolation, i'm just saying you deserve more."

you don't respond right away. not like there’s anything you can say to that. so you just let his words linger overhead, take them in as they settle somewhere deep, and nod your head.

"goodnight caleb," you murmur. "thank you again."

caleb senses he crossed a line, so he holds back, offering no argument and no apology.

"goodnight."

he pivots, reminded that his walk home stretches fifteen minutes into the night and it'll just be him, alone with his thoughts and the quiet of the street.

but before he can take his first step, your voice calls out, stopping him.

"text me when you get home."

when he glances back, you appear smaller, half-shielded by your door, cheeks and ears tinged pink from the cold.

cute. he thinks.

"you'd have to give me your phone number for me to do that." he smirks.

you roll your eyes, stepping away from the doorway, and stopping in front of him. with your hand outstretched, fingers curling, you silently demand for his phone.

"wipe that smile off your face, xia. you're still not forgiven for acting like you know what's good for me."

"duly noted."

when you're done punching your number in, you hand it back.

"see you around?" he asks, but you only turn away, and as he watches, amused, you slip inside and close the door with a gentle click.

seconds later, he receives a text from a number he assumes is yours.

yeah, i guess i'll see you around - 2:19 am

he huffs out a quiet laugh, thumb hovering over the screen longer than it should.

and here i was under the impression you didn't wanna see me again - 2:21 am

the reply comes quicker this time.

don't get used to it - 2:21 am

caleb feels a quiet relief now that gideon doesn't stand as the link between you and him. at least, not these days.

he doesn't need gideon by his side for you to come over.

and maybe it’s simply because caleb's easier to be around now, for reasons neither of you can quite name.

he's observant, always has been. you knew that.

but he doesn't pry any more than he needs to. he just lingers, waiting for you to decide how much of yourself you're willing to give.

but it doesn't dull the ache. his presence can't fill the emptiness inside you.

and watching gideon with her—the smile reserved just for her—makes the pain of your unreciprocated love so much worse.

caleb notices this.

caleb offers to help.

and that leads him to become gideon's stand-in.

he takes you out, like before. that doesn't change.

but this time, he plays a different role. one that lets you lose yourself in the illusion.

every chance he gets, he's with you—drinking, dancing, enjoying yourselves in crowded bars or wandering along the river beneath the moonlight, always at your side.

and when gideon's girlfriend appears with bright smiles and obnoxious giggles, caleb is there, taking your hand in his, squeezing it tight to anchor you.

it becomes a temporary distraction.

but it never works.

your eyes still find gideon. your heart still longs for him.

especially when the night grows quiet and jealousy seeps into your bones, he gives himself to you in whatever way you need.

you tear the clothes off him, kissing him with a desperate fervor, as if you can't breathe without him. the intensity intoxicates him, urging him to meet your hunger with his own.

he parts his lips wider as your tongue finds his, surrendering completely. he savors it, cherishes every time you look at him, as if your heart truly belongs to him.

he pretends the marks you leave on him mean something more than borrowed affection, and when you unravel in his arms, and finally let him hold you through the night well into the morning, his heart swells with hope.

some nights, you let him kneel before you, darkened eyes with a glint of gold gazing upon you with so much devotion. he worships you, holds you as you shatter, pretending not to hear when you whisper gideon's name into the pillows.

he meets you where you are, even as it tears something apart in him.

with every ache and sorrow you carry, he tries to give you everything you seek, knowing none of it is truly meant for him.

never for him.

but caleb endures it all, because he was the one who volunteered to be the placeholder.

he put himself in this position.

still, caleb would rather gather the crumbs of your love than be left with nothing.

he'll choose his own fractured heart if it means holding you in his arms for one second more.

that the entire summer, you had trailed around zayne like a puppy, more infatuated with him than you ever with caleb.

and when you denied it—shouting he was wrong, begging him to give you the chance to work things out, insisting you loved him more than anything in the world—he only scoffed and rolled his eyes.

but with caleb, it's as if breaking your heart wasn't enough.

the final blow came when he tilted his head, eyes narrowing, as he told you that you and zayne deserved each other—that everything would be so much easier, that he'd be happier if you just made it official. it would lift the burden of your love from his shoulders.

and that was that.

what you didn't know was that he did it to protect you. because caleb xia didn't think he deserved you.

he thought that in you choosing zayne, everything would be better.

zayne could love you fully—without fear and without restraint. he wouldn't hurt you the way caleb might.

he was more mature, more emotionally available.

zayne could give you what caleb never could. he could be what caleb was too afraid of being.

now, drawn by the distant shouting and sharp clatter of a spoon against glass, he cautiously makes his way deeper into his grandmother's summer home, each step slow as he follows the noise down the hallway and through the arched doorway toward the living room.

that's when he sees you, eyes fixed on the television, absorbed by the drama of contestants he's vaguely familiar with—only because mckayla had ranted about it to him over call weeks ago.

you turn as you notice him standing in the doorway, hastily rising to your feet, blanket slipping from your lap and landing on the floor, your face twisitng into something he can only register as shock.

and for the trillionth time, his decision comes back to haunt him.

the candy cane slips from his mouth the moment he whispers your name—something he hasn't said in what feel like a century. it hits the floor, shattering into pieces. much like the composure he's barely holding together as he takes you in.

you're tad bit older now, shaped by both time and by life. by everything he wasn't there to see.

you must hate him. hate what he did two years ago. you have to—he hates himself for it. for making you cry. for making you believe your love was too much.

now, it's all he has craved. from the moment he watched you turn your back—27 months, 821 days, 19,704 hours, 70,934,400 seconds ago—it became the only thing that mattered.

but when the corner of your lips twitches upward and that familiar sparkle returns to your eyes—the one he grew up memorizing, knowing that it only ever appeared when you looked at him like he hung the stars in the night sky—his stomach drops, breath catching as you move slightly toward him.

you take a hesitant step towards him, almost second guessing yourself. like the words he said two years ago are echoing in your head, making you cautious.

maybe you still think he doesn't want your love. maybe you think he never did.

so he closes the distance for you, bringing with him the cold he has carried, both from the storm outside and from his own emotions he has held onto for so long.

he doesn't stop there.

he breathes you in—your scent, so familiar, so achingly reminiscent of home. not the place he's standing in now, but the one he found in you.

he sways you so gently, side to side, a grin breaking across his face, completely unfiltered and helpless. it's full of something he hasn't felt in years, and you let him have it.

you grant him this small, fragile chance to hold you again, just like before.

and yet, all he can do is mourn it. mourn the way it'll be over in seconds and those walls you both built will return.

and as the realization sets in, he knows he's right.

you clear your throat, tapping his shoulder to ask to be let go. he abides immediately, loosening his grip and lowering you until your feet touch the cool wooden floor.

"it's been a while, huh?" you say, taking a step back, creating distance between you and him.

for a moment, it takes everything in caleb not to reach for you again—not to reach out, to hold you in his arms once more. this time, he swears he won't let go.

he refrains from doing so, hands staying at his side, curled into fists.

"yeah...yeah. it has," he replies, words just barely leaving his lips.

it would be a lie to say it doesn't feel like the air has been ripped from his lungs, but you've always had that effect on him.

and you still do.