because, really, hadn’t he always been the one looking out for you? protecting you? keeping you safe? who else could possibly deserve this moment, this first, if not him?

"come here," he said softly, his tone coaxing, the way you’d call a frightened bird to perch on your hand. he moved closer, bridging the distance between you before you even had time to think. his hand found your wrist, gentle but firm, tugging you just close enough that he could lean in. "i’ll show you," he said, his breath ghosting against your cheek.

and then he kissed you.

not softly—not like someone who was hesitant or unsure. caleb kissed you with the kind of intensity that left no space for doubt. his lips moved against yours like they’d been made for this, for you, and when he pulled back just far enough to speak, his voice was thick, trembling just slightly. "that," he whispered, his forehead brushing yours, "is how someone who loves you kisses you."

he didn’t stop there, of course. caleb wasn’t the kind to stop once he’d started. his fingers slid up to your hair, threading through it slowly, deliberately, as though you might disappear if he let you go. "all you have to do is trust me," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "let me take care of you. let me show you how this should feel."

his thumb brushed your cheek as he tilted your face toward him, his lips finding yours again, slower this time, deeper. his free hand settled on your waist, holding you firmly but gently, just enough to guide you where he wanted. "relax," he murmured against your lips, the word almost a command, though his tone was soft enough to make it sound like reassurance. "relax into me. you don’t need to think about anything or anyone else."

and you did. you trusted him, like you always had, letting the warmth of his hands and the steadiness of his embrace melt the hesitation in your chest. caleb felt your surrender—the way your shoulders eased and your lips parted just slightly under his—and it only made him hold you closer, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum.

"you always smell so damn good," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. you giggle, turning your head to glance back at him.

"must be the shampoo you keep getting in my eyes," you tease.

caleb grins at that, a little lopsided, his green eyes gleaming in the light. "hey, that’s an accident," he defends, mock-offended, even as his hands slide up to tilt your chin toward him. "you’re just a distraction. can’t help it."

just as the words leave his mouth, a dollop of shampoo dribbles down your forehead.

"goddammit," he mutters under his breath, his hands immediately cupping your face as you laugh through the sting. "sorry, sorry, baby," he says hurriedly, thumbs brushing under your eyes to clear away the mess, his touch soft and careful.

"it’s fine," you say, giggling through it, but his furrowed brow doesn’t ease until you reassure him again. "seriously, caleb, i’m fine."

other mornings, though, he’s not so sweet. he backs you up against the shower wall, his hands firm on your waist as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around him. the tile is slick under his feet, and he nearly loses his balance, but neither of you care. his lips find yours in a messy, desperate kiss, one that makes the world outside the bathroom vanish.

"careful," you mumble between breaths, half-laughing, half-scolding.

"i’ve got you," he replies, his voice low and certain. "i always do."

afterward, the bathroom feels alive with movement. caleb brushes past you on his way to the closet, his shoulder brushing yours deliberately as he plucks out his uniform. his eyes linger on you, watching as you fix your hair or drop your towel to the floor before stepping into your clothes. there’s something about the way his gaze lingers—not intrusive, but intense, like he’s committing you to memory every time.

"you’re staring again," you tease, turning toward him.

"can you blame me?" he counters, leaning casually against the sink with a razor in hand. he leans in as you pass, pulling you into his side with one arm, his shaving cream smudging faintly on your cheek.

"caleb!" you yelp, swatting at him, but he just laughs, tugging you closer.

"you’re so pretty," he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. his violet eyes meet yours in the mirror, and you can see the sincerity in them, the way his love for you is something he doesn’t even try to hide.

it’s not always soft, though. sometimes, it’s playful. like when he leans over the sink, toothbrush in hand, and starts making faces at you.

"your turn, cutie," he says through a mouthful of toothpaste, his eyebrows waggling dramatically.

you try to ignore him, but it’s impossible not to laugh when he crosses his eyes and scrunches his face up like a cartoon. you retaliate with your own ridiculous expression, toothpaste dribbling down your chin and onto his old t-shirt that you’re wearing.

"you’re ridiculous," he says, laughing as he pats your back when you start coughing from the laughter.

"pot, meet kettle," you manage to say, grinning up at him.

by the time you’re dressed and ready to go, caleb is leaning against the kitchen counter, travel cup in hand. "you’re beautiful, you know," he says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

"stop," you say, but the way your cheeks warm betrays you.

"never," he replies with a grin. he leans down as you pass, pressing a soft kiss to your temple and the cup into your hand. "love you," he whispers. "you’re going to kick ass today."

the furniture remained the same—too much hassle to replace—but you'd taken quiet, deliberate steps to erase him. gone were the photos of shared milestones, absent were his awards and accolades. the tangible pieces of caleb had vanished, leaving only the slowly healing void in your heart.

the physician had given you ample time to prepare your home for his discharge, clear instructions to recreate a familiar space that mirrored the fragments of his memory. but you’d balked at the thought of resurrecting the past. now the remnants of the last four years were still stored away in the recesses of your closet. 

selfish, perhaps. misguided, maybe. but a part of you refused to accept the accident—not just the memory loss, but the implausibility of it all. caleb, always composed, prepared for anything? reduced now to a vulnerable man clinging to fractured echoes of what was? 

it didn’t sit right with you.

you watched as his gaze drifted over the near-barren walls and mismatched artwork. his jaw tightened, barely perceptibly, lips parting as if testing words that refused to form. his shoulders rose once, twice, then sagged in quiet surrender before he turned to you with a smile so perfectly broken it felt like a carefully crafted illusion.

"still in the middle of some deep cleaning, huh? i appreciate you getting everything ready for me to come back home. why don't I help get it back in order?"

at the check-up, the physician warned you: patience was crucial. recovery couldn’t be rushed without risking setbacks. most cases resolved themselves with time, they assured you.

just be patient.

“i thought some of your favorites would help you remember” you offered instead, glancing over your shoulder quickly before turning your attention back to the stove. “it’s almost done.”

caleb didn’t respond at first as he sat down at the kitchen bar, still dressed in his sleepwear. he couldn’t have been up for more than a few minutes, likely just long enough to take his part of medication before arriving. the others would require a meal to go with them.

“i couldn’t have missed that much,” he said finally, voice laced with casual dismissal. “i don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

it was eerie, how easily he brushed off nearly a year of his life.

you set a cup of coffee down in front of him with a mishandled grimace. “this is serious, caleb. you can’t just report a wrong date and think everyone is going to write it off. ” it was becoming just a bit more than a little frustrating how light he took the situation. 

his hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could turn away. his grip was firm but not unkind, his thumb brushing absently over your pulse.

“i am taking it seriously,” he said quietly, his eyes steady on yours. “do you understand how troubling it is to hear you've lost months of time?”

“could have fooled me.” you mumbled under your breath, tugging half-heartedly at his arm.

“what was that?” his voice sharpened slightly. “it doesn’t help when you mutter.”

you exhaled sharply, meeting his gaze. “i said you’re not exactly helping yourself, caleb. It was okay at first to adjust. i know you were in pain, and it was jarring, but—” your voice cracked, the words caught in your throat. you cleared it hastily, averting your eyes. the physicians had warned you to avoid accusations, anything that might exacerbate his confusion or headaches. caleb’s expression tightened as he read the unspoken in your hesitation.

“but?” he pressed. his grip on your arm loosened, though he didn’t let go.

“it doesn’t feel like you’re trying to get better,” you said, wincing as you braced for his reaction.

instead, you felt the soft press of his lips against your temple.

“i don’t even know what ‘better’ looks like,” he murmured. “I’m doing what i was told. resuming routines. beyond that…” his thumb brushed your cheek as he trailed off. “you’ve got your orders too. sure you’re doing your part?”

you shoved at his chest, though there was no real force behind it. “that’s not funny.”

he didn’t laugh, though his eyes glinted with suppressed amusement. “okay okay, i know. it’s just... a lot to process. being told your life isn’t what you thought it was.” he sipped his coffee. “i mean, what could i have possibly missed?”

your gaze dropped to the mug, a relic of the past—the one you’d gifted him when he got his fleet position. “a lot, caleb. a lot.”

“well, they told me to take it one step at a time. i’m still processing it all. still can’t believe the news headlines”

“pretty sure you were told to not overwhelm yourself,” you countered.

he shrugged. “i binged all the new seasons of our sitcoms. i get bored.”

“and nothing triggered even the smallest memory?”

“it might help if you just told me what i’m forgetting.”

you stiffened, jaw tight. “you’re supposed to recall them naturally.”

caleb leaned back, studying you with quiet intensity. “then we just keep going as we were. i have you, and you have me. what else matters?”

“caleb…” your voice faltered, a lump rising in your throat. “that’s not—”

“i’m sorry.” his tone softened as he tugged you closer. “i know this is hard for you too. there are probably things you want to tell me…” his hands steadied you as he guided you onto his lap.

your faces were so close now that you could feel the faint heat radiating from him, a warmth that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. it struck you as almost cruelly ironic how, in a way, you were both reliving memories—but only you felt the hollow ache of the gaps between them. you could count every one of his dark lashes, each one a delicate frame to the deep gaze fixed on you. and then your eyes betrayed you, flickering downward to caleb’s mouth: light pink, nicely shaped, and far too familiar. you knew, if you gave in and pressed your lips to his, they’d taste soft, warm, and faintly of coffee.

“yeah,” you replied, though your voice was barely more than a breath.

“yeah,” caleb echoed with a faint, lopsided quirk to his lips. “just… give me a bit more time, okay? right now, despite the aches in my body, nothing has ever felt more right. it’s always been like this with you.” his voice softened, becoming something raw and fragile. “i wouldn’t trade this for anything. not even for the memories I’ve lost.”

“that’s not okay, caleb,” you said tersely, the words rising unbidden in your throat. “you can’t just disregard the past—or the future.”

his head tilted slightly as he studied you, something unspoken glimmering in his eyes. for a moment, silence stretched thin between you before, without warning, caleb stood up. you barely had time to react before you were flipped upside down, your world spinning as blood rushed to your head.

“caleb, what are you doing!?” you yelped, hands scrambling to clutch the fabric of his shirt in tight fists.

“just hang on,” he said, voice far too calm for the chaos he’d just unleashed.

he carried you the short distance to the couch with an unsettling ease, his shins pressing against the edge before he lowered you onto the cushions. a pillow fell to the floor in his wake, discarded like an afterthought.

in the shock of it all, you barely registered his hands threading gently through your hair, the sensation grounding you even as your mind reeled. his gaze traced the lines of your body as though committing them to memory, an intensity that made your breath hitch. caleb had always been intense, after all—a force that could bring everything in its path to kneel. that much hadn’t changed. but now, there was something else. a weight behind his actions, a shadow you couldn’t quite name.

he wasn’t holding you down, but his presence blanketed you, toeing the fragile line between comfort and constraint.

when his lips descended, it felt inevitable, like the pull of gravity. a soft, tentative brush at first, before returning with more intensity, more hunger, as if savoring the moment like a man starved. his kiss was familiar in all the ways that made your heart ache, every motion perfectly attuned to what you liked, what you craved.

when Caleb finally pulled away, you instinctively leaned forward, chasing the warmth of his mouth. but he had already shifted, his lips grazing along your jaw, leaving a trail of nips and feather-light kisses in his wake.

it was still caleb. caleb, who always knew exactly how to undo you.

your eyes fluttered open, stealing a glance at him as he kissed the curve of your neck. you weren’t sure what you were looking for—a sign, a clue—but all you saw was caleb. just caleb.

despite it all.

despite your suspicions.

he was okay.

and despite everything, the thought of losing him still felt unbearable.

caleb sighed softly, leaning back to look at you. his hand drifted to your face, a knuckle brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your chest tighten. you leaned into his touch without thinking.

“i’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “i always do.”

but while he could grit his teeth and bare the shift, he was worried you would ricochet off him, curl your arms around yourself and stare up at him with eyes that questioned him and an expression that told him you weren’t quite ready yet. caleb was always too much.

always too possessive, too obsessive. 

he couldn’t go too fast or put you out of your element; he simply had to wait for you to be ready, the time when you relaxed into him and let him hold you again.

perhaps even in the moment you would realize that you really couldn’t be ‘just’ friends, and accept there was only one true ending for you both. 

of course, occasionally upon greeting one another in public the two of you would share a quick embrace, but it was only long enough to acknowledge the span of time apart. caleb had tried to get his arms completely around you before you had the chance to duck back and shy away, only to no prevail. you would give this tight little smile and ignore the fact your face was warm to the touch. you would wave at him before retreating with your friends. jaw tight, and hands cold, caleb stood there watching you leave. 

eventually you would remember what it was like to be his, the memory too much to fight the crave.

the first threads of resolve fraying showed its signs when caleb sat next to you on the sofa at another gathering, his thigh brushing yours in the most innocent of manners. the neck of a cold beer was pressed into his palm, and while he laughed with somone sitting on the armchair to his left, you shuffled closer until his leg was completely touching you. the action shocked him so much that beer sloshed down his thumb and dribbled down the curve of his hand. 

out of the corner of his eye, he watched you. you had your thigh connected to his thicker one, and without hesitation at all, he moved his beverage to his other hand and used the closest one as an anchor around the back of the couch. you leaned into his touch. he tried not to play with the ends of your hair and breathed in deeply before focusing on the conversation around him. 

the first time caleb properly got you back in his arms you didn’t count. you were sliding down the smooth surface of a wall near the outside of the stale gathering of hunters and the starfleet, an unidentified man rested his hand against the dip of your hip, and caleb was rounding the corner with a glare in his eyes. the abrasive demeanor dimmed only slightly when he finally found you. 

“hey,” he snapped, the weight of gravity slipping precariously around his fingers, “back off.” it would take nothing to bring this man crumbling to his knees. but instead caleb’s arm found its way in between the small amount of space you had acquired during the altercation. lightly, it wrapped around your waist, curling you in close until you could smell the cologne radiating off his throat. 

in silence, caleb watched the man retreat as his chin dug gently into your collarbone. he waited for a moment or two, a breath and a second, before pulling away gently and tucking his thumbs behind both of your ears. 

“caleb.” he was watching your mouth move; he didn’t like the way it crumbled around a word and cracked another. it made a little more since now, how you’d slipped from his gaze. he’d imagine one to many flutes had been pressed into your palm, leading you astray and vulnerable. 

“you’ve indulged a bit, huh?.” he wrinkled his nose when you giggled into the curve of his neck and breathed hotly on his shoulder. “bubbly.” his arm still tightened around you when you giggled and acted like everything was okay. “i’m going to take you home, okay?" 

neither of you had any lasting obligations to any members left at the gathering, no one with the authority to stop him from carrying you away. it had been his intention to insure you were safe and tucked away before making his own trek to his house. a place that always felt too far when in comparison to once sharing a home. 

yet his feet didn’t take him far because it had been you who had reached for him, lips unmoving but grip firm as you dragged him into the neatly arranged sheets. and while caleb had not indulged nearly as generously as you, he was only a man with a heart weighted full of you. 

when you woke up the next morning, it was the placement of your bodies that resonated first. caleb was respectfully lying on the opposite side of the bed, only thing connecting you being the insistentent curl of your fingers around his wrist. his dress shirt loose against his back. with your head throbbing and eyes glossing over from the dull ache, you shuffled forward until your forehead was pressed to one of his shoulder blades. 

you hadn’t realized he had been awake. " feeling sick?” he murmured, rolling his neck to the side in preparation to get up and fetch you a glass of water. 

you tested your tongue for fuzziness and shook your head against the strong planes of his body. “no." 

momentarily, caleb looked over his shoulder to gaze down at you. when you looked back up, squinting only because of the sunlight, he turned onto his side and enveloped you in an embrace. his warm breath washed over your jaw and cheek. 

"hold me?” your question was muffled against his chest.

a soft, comforting chuckle rumbled deep beneath his sternum. he gently kissed the top of your forehead, letting his mouth linger there for several minutes. he breathed you in while you exhaled. 

“yeah,” he finally replied, shifting you down into his arms until your head was more securely tucked underneath his chin, “always and forever."

caleb stood below, watching you, his fingers curled around the edge of the counter like he was bracing himself. he was always like that—restless, like he could never quite settle, like he was waiting for something he couldn’t name. his dark hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it away with a quick, impatient motion, as if even his own reflection annoyed him.

the apple in your hand was too big, your fingers barely curling around the smooth, round surface. you turned it over, considering its weight, the way it felt cool and firm against your palm. for a moment, you hesitated, then held it out to him.

"here," you said, nudging the fruit toward him. "we can share."

he hesitated. he always hesitated when it came to you, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. his eyes flicked from the apple to your face, searching for something—permission, maybe, or a sign that this was real.

"you have to take a bite first," you added, your voice soft, almost careful, as if you were offering him something fragile.

caleb took the apple from your hands, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment—a fleeting touch that sent a shiver up your arm. then, he bit into it, the crisp sound of his teeth breaking the skin echoing in the quiet kitchen. his lips curled slightly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners, as if he had discovered something secret and sweet.

you grinned as you took it back, the apple now marked with the faint impression of his bite. "now we’re friends," you declared, as if the act of sharing had sealed something unspoken between you.

you and caleb grew up tangled in each other’s shadows.

he was the boy next to you at dinner, nudging his fork onto your plate to steal bites when josephine wasn’t looking. he was the hand gripping yours when the power went out, the voice beside you in the dark whispering, don’t be scared. i’m right here. his presence was a constant, as steady as the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

your memories of him are whole, solid, unshaken. but sometimes, when you tell stories, caleb listens with a look you don’t understand—like he’s waiting for something you’ll never say. like there’s something you’ve forgotten.

mostly, though, things between you are steady, predictable. caleb teases you. you roll your eyes. he leans against the kitchen counter, always eating something—an apple, a piece of toast, whatever josephine set out that morning. and when you come downstairs late, rubbing sleep from your eyes, he’s already waiting for you, passing you whatever was in his hands before you even ask.

"you always forget to eat something in the morning," he murmurs, his voice low and familiar, like the hum of a song you’ve known your whole life.

it’s such an easy thing to believe that you don’t question it.

spring was when he was teasing and light, nudging your shoulder with his, stealing your notebook and holding it above your head just to hear you whine. you’d chase him through the house, laughing until your sides hurt, until josephine scolded you both for being too loud. he’d grin at you, unrepentant, and hand the notebook back with a flourish, as if he’d done you a great favor.

"you’re such a jerk," you’d say, but there was no heat in it. you couldn’t stay mad at him, not when his laughter was so infectious, not when his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"only for you," he’d reply, and you’d roll your eyes, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered on you a second too long.

summer was when he was bold and reckless, grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the rain because he wanted to see how fast you could run, how much you trusted him. the world blurred around you as you sprinted, your shoes slipping on the wet pavement, your breath coming in sharp gasps. but you didn’t let go of his hand.

you never let go.

when you finally stopped, soaked and breathless, he turned to you, his hair plastered to his forehead, his grin wide and unapologetic.

"told you we’d make it," he said, as if the rain hadn’t been his idea in the first place.

"you’re insane," you replied, but you were laughing, and so was he.

autumn was when he was quiet and brooding, lying on the grass beside you, tossing an apple from hand to hand. the leaves crunched beneath you, and the air was crisp with the promise of change. you’d talk about nothing and everything, your voices soft in the stillness of the afternoon.

sometimes, he’d fall silent, his gaze distant, as if he were somewhere else entirely. you’d nudge him with your elbow, and he’d blink, coming back to himself.

"where do you go?" you asked him once.

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he handed you the apple, his fingers brushing yours. "nowhere important," he said finally, but you weren’t sure you believed him.

winter was when he was at his most unreadable.

the air was sharp and cold, and the world felt quieter, as if holding its breath. caleb would sit by the window, staring out at the snow, his expression still. you’d sit beside him, trying to draw him out, but he’d only shrug or offer a half-hearted joke.

"you think too much," you told him once, watching the way his jaw tensed, the way he stared at you like he was fighting himself.

"and you don’t think enough," he murmured back.

Yyu weren’t sure what he meant.

not then.

you remember when caleb bleeds for you for the first time.

it’s after school, the autumn air crisp and curling around you like ribbons of smoke. you’re walking home when a boy—a mean one, the kind who pulls ponytails and laughs when people trip—steps in front of you, a sneer twisting his face.

"hey," he says, "i heard you—"

you never hear the rest.

because caleb is already there, slamming into him, sending both of them crashing into the dirt. there’s a scuffle—messy, unpracticed—and then caleb is standing, knuckles split, breath uneven. the boy is curled on the ground, groaning.

you should be scared. but you’re not. because caleb turns to you, eyes wild, chest heaving, and the first thing he says is, are you okay?

you nod.

and he smiles, sharp and small, wiping his bloody hand on his jeans. "good," he murmurs, as if nothing else matters.

when you tell josephine what happened, she presses a damp cloth to caleb’s knuckles, sighing. "you can’t keep doing this," she says, her voice heavy with something you don’t yet understand.

caleb just looks at you, and you don’t understand the look in his eyes. not then.

you and caleb sat on the porch, the air thick with the lingering humidity. the stars were still present, a steady backdrop to the quiet between you. caleb was leaning back against the pillar, one leg propped up, his gaze upward. his hands were restless, tapping a rhythm against the wood, as if he were trying to quiet something inside him.

you watched him, the way his jaw tightened and relaxed, the way his eyes seemed to hold something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say. he’d been quiet all evening, which wasn’t unusual, but there was a weight to his silence tonight that made your chest feel tight.

"you’re doing it again," you said, breaking the stillness.

he glanced at you, his violet eyes catching the faint glow of the porch light. "doing what?"

"thinking too much," you replied, nudging his foot with yours. "what’s going on in that head of yours?"

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together. when he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost hesitant. "do you ever feel like… like you’re waiting for something?"

you frowned, tilting your head. "like what?"

he shrugged, his gaze dropping to his hands. "i don’t know. like there’s something you’re supposed to do, or say—and the longer you wait, the harder it gets."

you studied him, the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers flexed as if he were holding onto something invisible. "maybe you’re overthinking it," you said gently. "maybe you just need to… let it happen."

he looked at you then, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you thought he might say something. but then he smiled, small and fleeting, "maybe," he said, his voice soft. "but what if i mess it up? what if i'm not forgiven for it?"

"you don't have to worry about that," you said, your tone firm. "i'll always forgive you."

he didn’t reply. he just turned his gaze back to the horizon, his expression unreadable. you sat there beside him, the silence stretching between you, and wondered why the air felt so heavy, so charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

the kiss wasn’t supposed to happen like that.

it was after school, the air sticky and thick with the last stretch of summer. he was someone you liked—kind, funny, a boy who made you laugh. you don’t remember who leaned in first. but you remember the press of lips, the way the moment stretched too long and too short all at once.

and you remember caleb’s face when you came home.

josephine had seen it from the kitchen window, but she didn’t say a word. caleb didn’t either. that night, he sat at the dinner table, turning an apple over and over in his hands, rolling it between his fingers without taking a bite. the air in the house felt different—thick, weighted.

"you okay?" you asked him.

he didn’t answer at first. just kept staring at the apple, as if there was something carved into its surface only he could see.

then, finally—

"do you remember," he murmured, "what you told me when we were little?"

you frowned. "about what?"

"the apple," he said. "told me it was mine."

your brow furrowed. "i… don’t think that’s how it happened."

his lips twitched. not quite a smile.

"yeah," he said, voice unreadable. "you never do."

then he sank his teeth into the fruit, the sharp crack of it echoing in the silence.

you wake with a gasp.

your chest is tight, breath coming too fast, too shallow, like you’ve surfaced from something deep and dark and unending. the sheets are warm against your skin, tangled around your legs. there’s a weight beside you.

you turn your head.

caleb is there, asleep, his bare shoulders rising and falling with every breath. the soft glow of the bedside lamp catches the angles of his face, the curl of his fingers where they rest on the mattress—just close enough to touch you, but not quite.

your heart stutters.

it was just a dream.

just a dream.

but the taste of apples lingers on your tongue, and you don’t remember why.

the kitchen is quiet, morning light stretching long and golden across the countertops. you stand in front of the open fridge, staring blankly at its contents, your fingers tapping absently against the handle. you don’t know what you want.

caleb moves behind you, slow and unhurried, and when you close the fridge, he’s already reaching past you, plucking something from the fruit bowl.

an apple.

"here," he murmurs, holding it out to you.

for a second, the world stills. the light catches the curve of the fruit, glossy and red. you swallow.

"you should eat," caleb says, tilting his head. "you always feel better when you eat."

you take it, fingers curling around the smooth surface.

caleb smiles—slow, knowing. then, as if on instinct, he takes another apple for himself, rolling it between his palms.

"you know," he muses, biting into it, "people always blame eve."

you blink at him. "what?"

"for the apple," he says simply, chewing. "for taking the first bite."

the words settle somewhere deep inside you, curling like smoke.

"but," caleb continues, his violet eyes meeting yours, "the snake was the one who told her to do it."

he takes another bite.

the air feels thick.

you hold the apple in your hands, unmoving.

and somewhere, buried deep in your mind, a memory stirs.

the first time he met you, you were crying.

you were five years old, sitting on the kitchen floor, your tiny hands gripping the fabric of your dress as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. you didn’t remember why. you wouldn’t later.

but he did.

he had knelt in front of you, an apple clutched in his hands. it had been too big for your fingers, too round for your grip, so when he held it out to you, he made sure to hold the weight of it as his knuckles brushed against your wrist.

"here," he murmured.

you had sniffled, blinking at him, uncertain. “it’s yours.”

"you can have a bite first," he urged, voice quiet, coaxing.

hesitantly, you did, hands coming up to cup his. and when you let go, he took a bite too.

something settled in him then.

or perhaps is was more of the nagging worry that it was not okay. that this reality was a false pretense crafted in such a way that escapes even your realm of reasoning. 

both thoughts lead you to only one action, if only to ease them for a few moments more.

with a sigh, you turned off the water, letting the silence settle before padding barefoot toward the door. the apartment was dimly lit, the glow of the city outside filtering through the curtains. you hesitated in the hallway, one hand brushing the doorframe as you peered out toward the living room.

caleb was there as you expected, stretched out on the couch, his tablet balanced on his lap. he didn’t seem to notice you, his expression neutral, almost blank, as he scrolled idly.

it was mundane, as it had been the day before and the day before that. you lingered for a moment longer, watching the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers tapped at the screen.

you weren’t sure what you should even expect from him. he was still only a few weeks away from a tragic accident. the man couldnt hardly remember last week, let alone devise some crazy plan. it was just the proximity getting to you. it had taken effort to not be so obvious with your tension when he reached for you. 

now his touch came easier, and your comforts just as smoothly. 

it was all a performance. though perhaps you were projecting more than you realized. 

with a sigh, you turned back toward the bathroom. you had barely taken two steps when the sharp knock at the door startled you, freezing you mid-step.

curiosity tugged at you—visitors were rare, and given the circumstances, you knew there was a chance caleb might not immediately recognize who it was. from your place in the hallway, you watched as he beat you to the wall monitor, his fingers brushing over the screen to check the visitor.

relief flickered across his face, offering the semblance that it was at least a familiar profile on the screen. he smoothed his shirt, masking the brief tension in his shoulders as he moved toward the door. his gaze shifted briefly toward the hallway where you had disappeared to bathe. you had only a split second to move out of sight before his eyes could catch yours.

zayne stood in the hallway, composed and radiating quiet authority. caleb offered a relaxed smile as he stepped aside and said, 'come on in.'

the other man stepped into the apartment, his usual air of quiet authority evident as he closed the door behind him, the action deliberate and unhurried. his sharp gaze swept over caleb, as though assessing every detail with practiced ease.

caleb’s voice was light as he returned to the couch after letting zayne in. you watched from the shadows as he slid back into the cushions, retrieving his tablet as though trying to resume normalcy. you noted the way his shoulders seemed just a little too relaxed.

"a private visit from dr. zayne. what an honor. wonder how much this is going to cost me."

he hadn’t expected zayne’s visit—then again, zayne was always unannounced, a habit caleb found equal parts endearing and irritating.

zayne raised a brow, his expression unchanging. "was in the area. thought i’d stop by."

caleb’s smile was tight, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. "you sure it wasn’t an excuse to check in?"

zayne’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, a flicker of amusement breaking through his stoicism. "you’ve been through a lot, caleb. i’d be remiss if i didn’t." he stepped further into the room, setting his bag down on the counter. "and besides, i don’t trust you to follow your discharge orders."

"i’ve been fine," caleb replied easily, leaning against the back of the couch. "the physicians were clear, and i’ve stuck to the plan."

zayne’s gaze lingered, his sharp eyes catching details that others might miss. you shifted slightly in the shadows, knowing zayne’s concern extended to you as well—and that he didn’t approve of the arrangement, however necessary it seemed.

"how’s your head? any lingering dizziness? headaches?"

"nothing i can’t handle." caleb’s tone was dismissive, his body language relaxed. 

zayne crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he studied him. "and how’s the adjustment?"

caleb blinked. "what adjustment?"

"you know what i mean." zayne’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "living here. with her."

“don’t know what you mea .” caleb’s smile faltered for a split second before he recovered. "nothing is different. it’s familiar. comfortable."

"comfortable," zayne repeated, his tone neutral, but his brow furrowing ever so slightly. "she’s… accommodating?"

caleb nodded, his hands sliding across his pants. "she’s been great. really."

zayne didn’t look convinced. his gaze flickered to the hallway, as if expecting you to emerge at any moment. "you’re aware this isn’t sustainable. for either of you."

caleb’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. "i’m just taking it one day at a time. like the doctors said."

zayne’s silence stretched, heavy and unyielding. finally, he let out a quiet sigh. "i’m not here to lecture you, caleb. i just… want to make sure you’re okay. that she’s okay."

caleb’s lips curved into a soft smile, one that almost seemed genuine. from your vantage point, you could see the faint crack in that smile. "i appreciate it, zayne. really. but you don’t have to worry," he said, his tone easy—too easy.

zayne’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "and yet, i do."

caleb shrugged, his posture casual, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—something fleeting and inscrutable. "it’s not been without hiccups ... but we’re figuring it out."

zayne stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly. "are you?"

caleb met his gaze evenly, his smile unwavering. "of course."

for a moment, zayne said nothing, his eyes searching caleb’s face. whatever he saw there, he kept to himself, his expression remaining impassive. finally, he straightened, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves. "good."

caleb’s smile widened slightly, his tone light. "you’re really committed to this whole checking-up-on-me thing, huh?"

zayne’s lips twitched, a shadow of a smirk. "it’s in my nature."

caleb chuckled, the sound soft and easy. "and here i thought you’d outgrown the whole saviour act."

zayne’s gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained steady. "some habits die hard."

there was a pause, the air between them thick with unspoken words. finally, zayne turned for the door. "take care of yourself, caleb. and her."

caleb’s smile didn’t falter, even as zayne’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary. "always."

as the door clicked shut behind zayne, caleb’s posture shifted, his shoulders relaxing slightly. his fingers tapped idly against the armrest, a touch of indecision playing at his lips.

"sustainable," he muttered under his breath, the word tinged with amusement. his gaze flickered toward the tablet, the screen still dark. 

and for the briefest moment, caleb’s unassuming demeanor slipped, revealing a flicker of something else—something sharp and calculating. but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the image of a man quietly adjusting to a life he hadn’t planned for.

caleb remained on the couch, fingers tapping idly against the tablet resting on his lap. he wasn’t looking at it—his eyes were distant, lost in thought. you lingered by the hallway, hidden in the shadows, your breath held tight in your chest.

“you can come out now,” caleb said, his voice quiet but unmistakably directed at you.

you flinched, guilt prickling at your neck as you stepped out of the shadows, caught with nowhere to run. “i wasn’t hiding,” you said quickly, though the words felt weak, even to you.

caleb’s lips curved. “you weren’t, huh?” he tilted his head, gesturing toward the couch. “then come here.”

your feet moved before your mind could object, carrying you closer to him. he set the tablet aside as you approached, his gaze steady, unwavering. when you sank down onto the couch beside him, his hand found yours, his touch warm but firm.

“zayne always knows how to stir things up,” he said, his tone light but carrying an edge of something heavier. his thumb brushed idly over your knuckles. “he has a knack for bringing the past with him.”

“he means well,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. your eyes flicked toward the door zayne had left through. “he always has.”

“too well,” caleb murmured, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “remember when we were kids? he used to trail after us like a shadow, making sure we didn’t get into too much trouble.”

a laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, the sound tinged with nostalgia. “he always said we’d give him gray hairs before his career even started.”

“and we nearly did,” caleb said, his smile widening. “i think he still sees us as those same kids, running around without a care in the world.”

your smile faltered as the weight of his words settled over you. “things change,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him. “people change.”

“not everything,” caleb countered, his voice quiet but firm. “some things stay the same.”

you looked away, guilt tightening in your chest. “we were growing apart before…” the words slipped out before you could stop them, and you bit your lip, wishing you could take them back. “i mean, things were... different.”

“were they?” caleb’s question was gentle, but his gaze pinned you in place, making it impossible to look away. “or was i just too much for you?”

the air felt too thick, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. “you weren’t too much,” you said carefully. “you were just... you.”

caleb’s smile didn’t falter, but something shifted in his eyes. “i thought that’s what you liked about me.” he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “but i get it now. i’ve been thinking about it since the accident. about you, about us.”

“caleb—” you began, but he shook his head, cutting you off.

“let me finish,” he said, his tone soft but insistent. “the accident... it put a lot into perspective. it was like waking up to a world where nothing made sense except for one thing—you. not work, not the noise, not even myself. just you.”

you forced a smile, willing it to look natural even as unease coiled in your stomach. his words, while tender, carried a familiarity that sent a chill down your spine. you’d heard them before, felt the weight of them before. and you remembered how heavy they had become.

“i’m glad you’re getting better,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “really. but you don’t have to... prove anything to me.”

his eyes softened, his hand squeezing yours. “i’m not proving anything. i’m just being honest.” he paused, his gaze searching yours. “you look tired,” he said suddenly, his tone shifting. “you didn’t take that bath, did you?”

the change in subject threw you off balance, and you blinked at him. “i... no, i didn’t.”

he stood, pulling you gently to your feet. “come on,” he said, guiding you toward the bathroom. “you’ll feel better after.”

you followed him, his hand warm and steady in yours, the unease in your chest momentarily replaced by a strange, bittersweet comfort. the bathroom was quiet, the air heavy with the faint scent of soap and steam from when you’d run the water earlier. caleb crouched by the tub, testing the temperature before turning to you with a small, encouraging smile.

“let me help,” he said softly, his hands reaching for the hem of your shirt.

“i can manage,” you said quickly, stepping back. but his hands were already there, his touch gentle as he tugged the fabric over your head. there was something practiced about the way he undressed you, something intimate that made your heart ache.

when the two of you slid into the warm water, it was as though the weight of the conversation slipped away, replaced by the quiet hum of shared breaths and soft touches. caleb leaned back, pulling you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a loose embrace.

“i don’t want you to feel like i’m suffocating you,” he said quietly, his lips brushing against your temple. “i just want to show you how much you mean to me. how much you’ve always meant to me.”

you didn’t respond immediately, your fingers trailing absently over his arm. his words lingered in the air, heavy with both love and something darker, something you couldn’t quite name. outwardly, you smiled, leaning into his warmth, but inwardly, the unease crept back, reminding you of the man he used to be—and the one he still might be.

for now, though, you let yourself rest against him, the water lapping gently around you as the world outside the bathroom seemed to fade away.

“is this the famous apple soda recipe you’ve been working on?” caleb asked, gesturing to the glass with a lazy grin. “the one that’s supposed to be better than the store-bought stuff?”

you glanced over your shoulder, a smirk tugging at your lips. “it’s a work in progress. you like it so far?”

“it’s great,” he said, his voice too casual to be entirely convincing.

you narrowed your eyes, abandoning the shirt in your hands to face him fully. “liar. you haven’t even finished it.”

caleb held up his hands in mock surrender, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “caught me. it’s good, i promise. i’m just savoring it.”

“savoring it?” you echoed, crossing your arms. “it’s soda, caleb. not wine.”

he laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and picked up the glass. “fine, if you’re going to be like that…”

before you could stop him, he tipped the glass back and drained the entire thing in one go. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the motion drawing your attention for a fleeting moment. when he finished, he set the empty glass down and made a face.

“what?” you asked, suddenly defensive. “too sweet? too flat? be honest.”

caleb clutched his stomach dramatically before letting out a loud, unapologetic burp.

you groaned, unimpressed. “very mature.”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “perfect. it’s perfect.”

“yeah, sure,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your packing. “you just ruined the moment.”

“come on,” he said, still grinning as he leaned back against the headboard. “i mean it. it’s good. you’re going to make me write you a thank-you card for that recipe.”

you snorted, folding another shirt. “we’ll see.”

his laughter faded into a contented hum as he watched you work, the moment settling into a comfortable silence. you felt his gaze lingering, but you didn’t look back. you didn’t have to. caleb had always been like this—watchful, present, a steady presence in your life.

“did you ever think about going to college in sky haven?” caleb asked suddenly, his voice quieter now. “they’ve got some great astronomy programs up there. you’d love it.”

you paused, his words catching you off guard. “sky haven?”

he shrugged, playing with the corner of a photo. “you’ve always loved the stars. wouldn’t it be cool to study them from the city flying beneath them ?”

you bit your lip, thinking back to the countless nights you’d spent stargazing together in the backyard. “it’s tempting,” you admitted, turning back to your packing. “but i like the school i picked. i want to spread my wings, you know? you got to, and now it’s my turn.”

caleb frowned slightly. “i wasn’t that far away.”

you caught the edge in his tone but chose not to acknowledge it. “you are in a floating city, caleb.”

“it’s not the same,” he muttered, his tone petulant.

“it is,” you insisted. “and it’s good for us to… grow.”

his brow furrowed, but he didn’t argue. instead, he leaned back against the headboard, watching you fold another shirt. “just promise not to grow up too fast, pip-squeak.”

you smiled at that, a warmth spreading in your chest. “i promise.”

for a while, the silence between you felt easy, the kind of quiet that came naturally after years of companionship. but then caleb broke it, his voice intentionally lighter this time.

“so… you’ve got everything packed then?” he asked, nodding toward your suitcase. “no stowaways? no secrets?”

you smirked, shooting him a look. “what are you getting at?”

“oh, nothing,” he said innocently, though his grin betrayed him. “just wondering if there’s anything you’ve been keeping from me. like… oh, i don’t know, boys.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “boys?”

“yeah. you know, the kind who hang around, pretending to care about your star charts just to get your attention.” he smirked, his tone teasing but his gaze sharp. “you haven’t been entertaining anyone while i’ve been gone, have you?”

“caleb,” you said, rolling your eyes. “don’t be ridiculous.”

“is that a yes?” he pressed, leaning forward slightly.

“it’s a ‘none of your business,’” you shot back, folding another shirt.

his grin widened, but there was a new edge to it. “come on. you can tell me. have you kissed anyone?”

you froze for half a second, caught off guard. “what?”

“you heard me,” he said, sitting up straighter now. “have you?”

your laugh came out awkward, an attempt to brush off the sudden shift in tone. “what kind of question is that?”

“a simple one,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “yes or no?”

“why does it matter?” you asked, turning away to place a sweater in your suitcase. “it’s not a big deal.”

“it is to me,” he said quietly.

something in his tone made your stomach twist, and you tried to shake it off. “no, caleb,” you said, your voice light but firm. “i haven’t kissed anyone. happy?”

he didn’t respond, and when you glanced over your shoulder, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. before you could say anything, he stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he closed the distance between you.

“are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice low.

the air felt heavy, the warmth in the room suddenly stifling. you swallowed hard, forcing a laugh. “of course, i’m sure. why would i lie about that?”

he was close now, too close, his presence overwhelming as he reached out to gently grip your chin. “look at me.”

your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze, his dark eyes searching yours for something you couldn’t name. for a moment, you felt like you were frozen in place, the weight of his intensity pinning you there.

“i…” you hesitated, your thoughts a tangled mess. “fine. if it’ll get you to stop worrying…”

before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. it was fleeting, almost clumsy, but it was enough to leave your heart racing. “there,” you said, stepping back and forcing a smile. “now you have nothing to worry about. virtue officially protected.”

caleb blinked, stunned for a moment. then a slow, crooked smile spread across his face, one that made your chest tighten. he reached out, ruffling your hair like he used to when you were kids. “pipsqueak,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. "think you're so smart."

your cheeks flushed, the old nickname seeming misplaced in the moment. “you have to stop calling me that.,” you muttered, swatting his hand away.

“you’ve outgrown a lot of things,” he said idly, his gaze lingering on you. “guess i’ll have to come up with something new.”

you turned back to your packing, your hands trembling slightly as you folded another shirt. behind you, caleb chuckled softly, the sound light but carrying a weight you couldn’t quite place.