Tranquil Turbulence

For as long as you could remember, Caleb had been the only one you wanted.

He had always been there, through thick and thin, from childhood to now. When you tried to imagine home, his face, smiling and bright, inevitably surfaced in your mind’s eye. Countless nights you dreamed of the day when you could run off together, to a place only you knew. A place with a sprawling garden and a balcony and a view - a place where no one could disturb you or threaten you again.

When you grew up, those dreams faded into the background. Now you were busy chasing bigger dreams. Dreams of becoming a respected hunter. Dreams of making a life of your own. Even Caleb seemed to fade away. Until he didn’t.

Suddenly he was back in your life again, so much the same boy you’d fallen in love with— yet markedly different. Colder. Warier. But he spoke to you with all the warmth of his boyhood self as he wistfully recounted your childish dreams of your villa on the hill, of your expansive garden, of your solitude. He hadn’t spoken this way since you were small, still indulging your girlish ideas about the perfect life you might lead together.

The Caleb you knew had long since stopped accepting your advances.

“This was a mistake.”

That phrase kept taunting you even now, even despite Caleb’s insistence that whatever leashes that restrained you were irrevocably destroyed in that explosion.

It was too good to be true. You knew it had to be. The Caleb you still remembered had long been firm about keeping that boundary alive, even until he “died”. This was simply some side-effect of whatever drugs that clung to your system.

And Caleb’s hopeful demeanor faltered at your hesitance. At your dismissal.

“We can finally be together. In a place where no one can hurt us. Just like you wanted, Pips.” He told you, reaching out to pinch a lock of hair between his fingers.

You couldn’t get it out of your head. The rejection that had haunted you for almost a decade of your life.

This was a mistake.

—————

“This was a mistake. We— I— I shouldn’t have…”

Your hope faded as Caleb wiped his mouth and got up from your bed. His hands shook, his face still flushed - but his expression was pinched tight with regret.

Regret. Had you really been that bad?

Your heart clenched in your chest.

It had all started at school. Everyone was back from break and buzzing about all that they had been up to. Your friends were oohing and aahing over details about a date that another girl had been on.

“And then—!” She’d squealed, face tinted a delicate pink, “He kissed me!”

Your ears had perked up at that.

Your friends giggled and squealed about it, but it had you wondering. Now that you were in year 10, you’d come to realize just how much more experienced your friends were. Some were meeting boys, others had gone on dates, and now Hana had kissed a boy.

What had you done? Nothing. You’d felt a little embarrassed at the thought. No boys, no flirting, no dates, nothing. You hadn’t even had your first kiss yet.

Of course, you were saving it. That was the timid answer you gave every time someone asked. You just hadn’t found the right time, or the right person, to share it with. But then you felt a little lame. Everyone else was moving forward, growing up, branching out - yet you still felt like a child.

And so, after school, while Grandma was at the store picking up something she needed for dinner, you’d pulled Caleb into your room for a serious question.

“Can… can we practice kissing?”

The older boy had gone stock-still for several long seconds, staring at you as if you’d grown another limb. His voice had cracked a little as he choked out, “… What?”

“You heard me.” Your answer was a pouty little huff as you gave him a flat stare. “I’m already sixteen and I’ve never even come close to kissing a boy. I just…” you faltered then, playing with the hem of your shirt, “… I just want to make sure I don't mess it up when it does happen.”

He stared at you longer this time. You had started to get annoyed. But just when you were about to tell him to forget it, he’d spoken up. “And… you’re sure you wanna practice… with me.”

You folded your arms across your chest, raising an incredulous brow. “So I can practice with someone else?”

That had seemed to shake him out of it. “No, no, I—” he sighed. Closed his eyes. Tilted his head back. And then he stared at your ceiling for a few seconds before looking back down at you.

“It doesn’t leave this room,” he stated flatly. “And no telling Grandma.”

Your heart had lifted. You nodded. “No telling Grandma,” you’d agreed.

Caleb had seemed like an impossible weight hung off his shoulders as he shut your door and led you over to sit on the edge of your bed. His warm, warm hands grasped your shoulders, golden-purple eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitance.

The gravity of what you were about to do lingered in the air like his Evol. It fizzled with a strange sense of excitement - finally, finally, you would experience what it felt like to kiss someone.

He hesitated before it happened. His hands, always feather-gentle on your shoulders, held you like delicate spun glass. His gaze flickered down to your eyes, your nose, your lips - and he swallowed.

“You’re sure you want…?” He trailed off.

You hadn’t let him wait long. “Yes. Kiss me.”

His hand moved upward, along your shoulder, up your neck, to cup your cheek, thumb pressing a streak along your cheekbone before he brought you in.

His breath fanned along your face, warm, sweet with the apple you’d shared earlier. His eyes seared with something you couldn’t quite name, something that trickled down your spine and cast a shiver along your arms.

And the atmosphere seemed to hold its breath when you felt his lips, soft and minty-flavored, press into yours. Light as a sigh, barely able to be felt for the split-second before he seemed to grow bolder. He leaned in closer, his muscled thigh pressing into your own as his head tilted to better meet your mouth.

For one dizzy second, you couldn’t breathe. Caleb was everywhere - his touch, his lips, his cologne - and there was a quick static shock of panic that he was going to consume you whole.

But just as quickly as the kiss deepened, Caleb broke away, panting hard. His ears were burning red, half-lidded eyes as twin stars searing through your skin, pleasant and scalding.

Your heartbeat thudded against your ribs, loud and heavy.

And then he blinked, and whatever spell had befallen the room was shattered.

And he all but ran from you, face tinged with guilt and leaving you with a stomach full of rocks.

—————

After that, you had begun to pull away, little by little. Every time you went to be like your old touchy self, he would stiffen, and you would stop short. Caleb’s regretful frown still made your chest twist, even now. It had only gotten worse once he graduated and moved on to become a pilot with the DAA, and you were left behind.

For a while, you resented it. Resented him. But then the guilt would seep in, and you hated that you felt that way. Deep down, you’d known why he pushed you away that day; in the eyes of the law, you were both still Grandma's wards, and he made sure you knew what that meant. As if you could forget after that kiss.

Grandma hadn’t known what happened, but one look at your sullen self had softened her - and when you mumbled something about ‘boy troubles’, she made you some tea and a snack.

“You’re still so young,” she’d told you. “You might feel like giving up right now, but one day you’ll look back and see it as the bump in the road that it is. You still have plenty of time to find a nice young man.”

At the time, you couldn’t help the petulant, childish thought: but I want Caleb.

But your hurt ebbed away, slowly and surely. It became easier to deal with when Caleb went to Skyhaven, despite the startling emptiness. By the time you were out of university and had become a hunter, the topic of boyfriends was shoved in the back of your mind’s closet. Grandma had gently prodded you here and there, mentioning another childhood friend, Zayne, but you still didn’t feel ready to find someone. Every time you thought about it, you’d see Caleb in your mind’s eye and your stomach would twist. You didn’t want to risk rejection again, not from him or anyone else.

The explosion hadn't made your old griefs easier to face. Where before you’d thought you still had time to heal and finally talk about that kiss, now you were left bereft. Months passed in a blur. You practically sleepwalked through your days - until you finally managed to get ahold of yourself again. Your trip to the N109 had helped you finally give your head a good shake.

—And then Caleb came back. Not quite the Caleb you loved, but Caleb nonetheless.

And this version of your girlhood crush seemed to have come to the same exact realization that you had. Time wasn’t guaranteed. There was no ignoring your history anymore.

“I’m tired of playing this pretend-family game,” he’d snapped, nebulaic eyes practically aglow in the dark, even without lightning casting shadows across his face.

Had you still been sixteen, it might have made you swoon. Now it just hurt.

When will I push him too far?

When will he realize he’s making another mistake?

You’d cried. Not loudly, not dramatically - but he had registered the tears dribbling down your face.

Caleb’s harsh gaze had softened, and he had pulled you to his chest.

“This was a mistake,” you’d mumbled, shaking your head. “I— I shouldn’t have…”

His grip tightened on your shoulder. Whether he remembered the words you’d unconsciously repeated or not, he never let you know it. But he recognized the weight of them all the same.

“Give this a chance,” he’d pleaded. “Give us a chance. Don’t you want it? An opportunity to finally be free?”

You hadn’t responded to that. Your heart was throbbing in your chest with old wounds.

Even after weeks and months passed, your relationship seemed to stagnate. It was hard to go back to your old dynamic, no matter how much he prodded and treated you like he had before.

Mistake.

When would he suddenly realize he was making another mistake?

When would he realize he didn’t want you as anything more than that bright-eyed little tail?

Sometimes you thought back to your later high school years. You would reminisce about how jealous you used to be. Caleb had always been widely beloved and sought-after, especially by girls. Mothers would meet him and gush about how lucky his future wife would be (and not-so-subtly suggesting their own daughters ought to meet him). Your grandma’s friends would rave to her about what a wonderful young man she’d raised. Teachers would commend him as a shining example to others. And girls… girls tended to crowd about him, all smiles with their pretty faces flushed and their voices a soft lilt.

At the time, you had always sighed in relief when you saw (or heard) him reject their advances - but it was short-lived, as it always brought you back to your own rejection. Was he not into girls? Was he not into anyone?

“Guess I’m just waitin’,” he’d always say, nudging you with his elbow.

Now it seemed he wanted to do everything but wait. Even early on in your tentative relationship he was touchier, that familiar gaze searing with warmth and with the weight of things still left undiscussed.

“When will you realize… you don’t want this?” You whispered one night.

Caleb’s jaw clenched for a moment. And then he found your hand, his own warm flesh engulfing it. “I’m sick of ignoring what I want,” he said, voice heavy. “And what I want - what I’ve always wanted - is you. You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of having this.”

Still, that nagging little fear poked at the back of your brain. It poked uncomfortably even when you were together, reared its ugly head whenever things even seemed to go further than a hug. You would freeze up. Your mind would hit the panic button. You’d push him away, shakily muttering an apology and some half-hearted excuse. You’d try so hard to avoid the stunned surprise and the sullen flicker in his expression as he gently reassured you that it was alright.

It hurt. It hurt to be unable to even kiss Caleb. Now that you had the chance and the excuse to do so… your brain wouldn’t let you. And what hurt even more than your inability to be intimate was how he reacted. You wouldn’t blame him one bit if one day he finally snapped and broke up with you for being frigid. There was a fine line between innocently coy and just plain prude, and there were many nights where you lay awake worrying that you’d finally tipped too far in the latter direction. Some logical part of you knew that Caleb had stayed by your side in worse moments. But the part of you that was still a girl in love fretted all the same.

“What, wait, you haven’t even kissed anyone yet?” Tara’s wide-eyed stare stuck out in your brain. You knew she didn’t mean to be rude about it, but the incredulous tone of her voice made your guts churn and you to get defensive.

That kiss didn’t count. It hadn’t counted since the day Caleb hurried from your room, wiping the remnants of your favorite lipgloss from his mouth.

“We were teenagers,” he reminded you sometimes. “You were curious. I couldn’t… shield you from that kind of thing forever.”

I just wish it wasn’t you.

That thought nagged at you. The same response you’d read in his face, and the same thought that prickled in the base of your brain.

I just wish it wasn’t you.

It would have been easier if it had been some boy. Maybe a boy from one of your classes, or maybe a boy from the fringes of your friend group. It would have been easier if it had been a boy you hadn’t cared enough about, or a boy you’d never talk to again. Then at least you would have had Caleb to go crying to about an awful first experience.

But you hadn’t wanted any random boy. You still didn’t want a random boy. It had to be Caleb.

Deep down, you knew the reason. But some childish part of you refused to move on. The boy - now man - who would give you anything, had a limit. You were just a little too reluctant to cross it.

Whenever you saw him stiffen, whenever you saw him hesitate - you made a note to avoid whatever action caused that response. It was when you finally flinched away from a hug that it seemed to break him.

“Pips,” he started carefully, “did I… did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?”

“No.” You were quick to reply. You wrapped your arms about yourself and attempted a smile.

His gaze swept across you, and it was almost enough to get you to give in. Almost.

“… Then can ya look at me?” His voice grew quieter, more pleading.

Slowly, reluctantly, you did.

“You love hugs. You used to always want me to hug you. What happened?” He glanced down at his right arm for a second. “Did I lose control of my strength?”

“No.” Your voice came out more crumbly than you wanted.

“Is it me?” He tried to disguise the hurt in his voice with humor. “Do I need to shower again?”

You shook your head.

His facade fell. He got closer. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right? You can touch me. Unless…” he said more carefully, “you don’t like touch anymore?”

Your shoulders shook. Just a little.

“I— I can’t.” Your voice broke. Your lips wobbled as you looked back down at the floor. “I can’t get it out of my head. That kiss.”

Caleb’s surprise melted into something more solemn.

“I’m trying. But I— I just— I can’t touch you. Whenever I try, my brain just…” you made a wild gesture with your hands before slouching even more. “It just says… no.”

He reached for you. When his fingertips pressed into your shoulder and you didn’t move away, his palm joined them. Caleb had always run hot. Warmth seeped through your clothes all the way to your bones, but it didn’t ease your nerves.

You whispered, “I don’t want to do something you’ll regret.”

There came a very long pause.

You swiped your thumb across your lower eyelids, trying to get ahead of the pesky tears that were threatening to spill over as your words became a shaking ramble. “It’s stupid, I know. It’s stupid, I’m being stupid—”

Warmer arms enveloped you. Caleb tucked your face into his chest and pulled you into his lap. His hands seemed to tremble a little.

“It’s not stupid. You’re not stupid.” He squeezed you a little tighter and pressed his face into the crown of your head.

“I feel like it is.”

“No. No, Pips, you…” Caleb trailed off. He pulled back just enough to cup your cheek with one hand and tilt your face up. His own expression twisted with pain when he saw your tears. “… have you talked to anybody about this?”

You shook your head. “I don’t need anyone telling me that I’m— some kind of weird… broken person.”

“You’re not.” His voice got minutely firmer, and his eyes more earnest. “Not weird or broken. You’re— geez, Pips, why didn’t you tell me?”

Your voice dropped, not quite a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk about it anymore.”

Thunder grumbled across the clouds outside, in a bittersweet facsimile of the night you both finally breached that line. You didn’t move. Caleb didn’t move.

“I’m sorry…” your voice cracked.

“No. No, you’re— it’s,” Caleb let out a heaving sigh, one that twisted your heart with fresh agony. “It’s not your fault. I should have— I should’ve checked on you. I should’ve been the one to say sorry.”

It felt weird to be breathing. Caleb swiped away the moisture gathering on your eyelid.

“I was a coward,” he bitterly continued. “I didn’t think about how it made you felt. I was just— I couldn’t stop thinking about how much it made me want even more. And it… scared me. Because I wasn’t supposed to want you the way I did. And if Granny had found out…”

You could only imagine how mad she would have been. She already scolded Caleb for being so lenient in his boundaries with you well into your teenage years. If she had known it was he who had taken your first kiss…

… Actually, you didn’t want to think about it.

He muttered a cuss. “You’ve been holding onto that for all these years? You were hurting this bad, and— and you didn’t think you could tell me?”

“Because it was stupid,” you weakly defended with a shrug of your shoulder.

“Your feelings aren’t stupid, Pips. They never were.” This time it was Caleb’s voice that cracked, and the sound of it made your throat tighten again. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you feel like a burden on me. Y’know?”

You tried to believe him. But the traitorous voice deep in your heart made it so hard.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding you tighter. “I’m sorry, Pips, I’m sorry…”

Mistake.

You tried to swallow.