you were promised to caleb xia long before either of you learned what love meant.

the court calls it a reasonable arrangement. two kingdoms tearing down their borders, a bright future forged in marriage. you call him your husband in public, prince in private, and something distant in your heart.

still, he tries.

on quiet mornings, he walks beside you through the palace gardens, close enough that your shoulders touch. once, you briefly whispered your dislike of the early cold, and he draped his cloak over your frame against your protests.

“let your husband look after you,” he tells you gently. you wonder why he feels the need to keep up the facade when it’s only the two of you.

during councils, he asks for your opinions, patiently awaiting your answer. when advisers speak over you, he corrects them firmly. “my wife was speaking,” caleb states, leaving no room for argument.

it makes something delicate stir in your chest. a dangerous hope that something more was beginning to bloom between you both.

caleb is kind to you in the way men are when they know they owe you something they can’t give. because mc already has it.

she’s his knight, his childhood history he treasures deeply. while you were taught diplomacy, she was taught survival. where your hands learned to hold goblets, hers learned to hold blades. she’s always stood by his side proudly, protective and dependable even back then when you were still little. you remember watching them playfight with swords from inside the palace as you struggled to balance plates atop your head. the envy curling in your chest wasn’t just because you knew that caleb would undoubtedly choose her over you if he had a say, but because of how free she seemed. out there, moving with purpose, while your value was found in the art of staying as still as you could, both in speech and form.

you tell yourself this is enough. that being chosen by law is still being chosen. love is not the same as stability, and stability is what keeps kingdoms alive. that matters, right?

the ball is meant to celebrate unity. chandeliers blaze, music sways, and you move through the crowd as you’ve rehearsed countless times. caleb dances with you first, as is expected of him. his hand on your waist is warm and steady, unlike his eyes. always drifting away to check the room, always searching for her, you reckon.

unbeknownst to you, caleb curses in his mind at his embarrassing attempt to keep his composure. you look unbearably gorgeous, and he has no idea how to stand in front of you without betraying how nervous you make him.

“it must be difficult, no? to be the other woman in your own marriage,” comes the whispers from behind lace gloves as you pass by the other guests. you scoff inwardly at the audacity of their feigned delicacy. 

the lady beside her snickers, “if that female knight weren’t from a lowly family, i am certain prince caleb would have asked for her hand instead.”

it stings, even though you’ve long known that yourself. hearing it spoken outside of your own mind only solidifies the doubts you try so hard to bury.

the palace garden offers a brief reprieve from the stuffy space. flora decorated the bushes, their colors muted in the moonlight.

“princess,” caleb approaches carefully, a slight crease in his brow, “are you all right?”

you exhale through your nose, his presence only putting you more on edge. “i needed some fresh air. you should go back inside, i will follow shortly.”

the prince doesn’t know why your curt dismissal seemed to pierce through his chest, but he knows he won’t be going back without you. he followed you here the instant mc reported that you had left the ballroom. caleb had asked her to watch over you tonight, as he knew his eyes alone wouldn’t be enough with aristocrats demanding his attention. attention he’d much rather devote to you.

“very well,” he says decidedly, “then let us leave altogether. i can see you’re spent.” his hand reaches for you, hovering in the air as he waits to envelop yours. 

you blink, “caleb, we cannot simply leave. we have responsibilities to-”

“you are my responsibility,” he cuts in, eyes narrowing a bit. 

“i am more than capable of taking care of myself,” you interject, heat rushing to your cheeks, “i know you think i’m useless past the influence and wealth that my name provides, but i try. i merely follow orders because it is my duty. not because i don’t know any better.” the words are bitter, misdirected. you wince when caleb doesn’t seem to mind, no offense or judgment in his gaze. 

his fingers gently close around your wrist, thumb caressing your pulse. “that is not what i meant, forgive me. and you are nowhere near being useless,” his hold on you softens, “i admire you for enduring the court’s expectations, since i know what it’s like to be bound by obligation as well,” he pauses, his voice deepening, “but above all else, ensuring your happiness is my top priority.” 

“titles, duty, everyone else… they can wait,” caleb murmurs sincerely, “you, cannot.”

it’s always the same routine. someone nudges caleb’s shoulder, someone else bumps mc into his side, and then immediately it’s all “oh my god just date already”. karaoke nights where they queue love songs as a joke, parties where they always end up shoving the two of them onto the same couch, cafés where they insist caleb takes mc’s order because it’s boyfriend behavior.

you’re usually right next to caleb whenever it happens. always. like some recurring sitcom gag. but it’s only naturally so, since the two of you are close as well.

he walks you home after late hangouts (even though his place is on the other side of town). he texts you random things, memes he thinks you’ll like, asking you if you’ve eaten, “made it home yet?” at late hours. he grabs napkins before you even ask, always has a charger in his backpack in case your phone dies, silently moves so you get the better seat.

you don’t let yourself believe it means anything. caleb is kind. caleb is thoughtful. caleb does this for everyone, right? that’s why he’s earned the older brother title in the group after all. 

so you shrug it off.

then one night, the teasing shifts from mc and caleb, to you.

you’re all crowded around a table, drinks half-finished, giggles hushed and warm, when one of the girls turns to you with wide eyes. “wait. you’re still single?”

another chimes in immediately, nodding tipsily. “right?! there’s no way someone hasn’t tried to lock you down already.”

you laugh weakly, waving them off, but they’re relentless. scanning the group like they’re drafting teams. “what about xavier?” someone says. “he’s cute, right?”

it was late and your mind was fuzzy, tired from the long day. you decide to entertain them just to get it over with. you hum, “yeah, xavier’s my type.”

the girls lose it. squealing, clapping, already planning imaginary dates.

you don’t notice caleb go quiet in the corner, his grip tightening around his beer can.

the arcade outing a few days later is… strange.

caleb is suddenly everywhere xavier is. challenging him to racing games, shooting games, basketball hoops. “best of three.” “no, again, that one didn’t count.” he’s smug, relentlessly competitive.

xavier goes along with it, amused and unknowing to caleb’s true intention. everyone else is too busy having fun to notice. everyone except you.

because caleb keeps glancing at you after every win with a small smirk on his face like he’s got something to prove.

later, when no one’s paying attention, he stops at a claw machine. the one with the plushie of a character you once mentioned liking weeks ago.

he feeds it coin after coin. misses. curses under his breath. tries again.

later that night when it’s just you two again, he shoves the plushie into your hands like it’s nothing. “here. you said you liked this.” he looks away huffing, stretching his arms a bit. “got it on the first try.”

you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“hmm,” you say, tilting your head. “i think i want a xavier plushie instead.”

caleb holds his breath. he stares at you for a full second, jaw tight, then turns to walk away.

you grab his sleeve, giggling. “hey, hey! i’m kidding,” you step closer, holding the plushie. “you’re really bad at being subtle, you know that?”

he exhales, shoulders slumping. “... shut up.”

you smile, soft and warm, and he finally looks at you again, jealous, flustered, hopeful all at once.

you’re close enough to caleb to feel his heart, yet never close enough to keep it.

it’s cruel in a way. because you swear he knows. you’re sure he’s aware of the way you tilt towards him, the gravitational pull he has on you. you figure he doesn’t mind, since he lets you.

he lets you stay close, following him around. you consider the day well spent if you spent it with him. especially when you make him grin in that boyish way, his eyes shaped into crescent moons and warm like sunlight. how sick it makes you feel, knowing you’ll be left starving for more and he wouldn’t be able to give it. 

your body momentarily goes numb when he casually drapes an arm over your shoulders, lingering there a breath too long as if he can’t bring himself to pull away just yet. there’s people all around you at this party, your friends and their friends, others you recognise by face. but caleb continues to stay next to you like none of them are worth his time. 

until she shows up and he’s right beside her, helping her out of her coat. he whispers something only the both of them can hear, probably teasing her because she instantly rolls her eyes and pushes against his chest. he grins. it doesn’t look like the regular one he shows you. no, this one is reserved for mc. not boyish, but manly. 

another drink goes down your throat attempting to drown the knot that has twisted tightly in your stomach while caleb laughs across the room. it burns. everyone comes together to orbit around him, and your world spins enough to really picture him as the sun, the center of everything else that could never compare to his brightness.

later that night, he frowns at your drunken state. your name comes out mellow from his mouth, fixing a strand of hair behind your ear without thinking twice. he holds it back for you as you’re leaning over the toilet, emptying everything you had. you wonder if it’s from the alcohol or the nausea of seeing him with other people. 

the piercing midnight air feels warmer when he walks you home afterwards. just for a moment, you can imagine what it means to have him.

every time your fingers ghost over his, your pinky hooking over the other, your throat itches with the wish to speak. but before you can muster the words, he shifts away giving you that smile. the one that says we shouldn’t. 

the shame consumes you whole as you take a big step to create some distance, almost tripping on an icy patch of pavement if it weren’t for him holding onto your waist. 

“careful now, don’t want you falling face first,” his laugh rumbles in his chest. then his hands are back in his pockets before you can register they were ever on you at all. 

“i know,” you know.

reading between the lines isn’t necessary when it comes to caleb, because he’s the one to keep drawing them again and again. the ones he’s adamant about never crossing.

after all, you two are good friends. he likes having you around. you’re safe. you’re dependable. but you’re also not stupid. you know you should walk away, stop pawing at a door he’s never going to open.

but you don’t. you didn’t decide to offer him your heart with the hope he’ll give his in return. you just really like him, simply put. and maybe it’s unfair, but it’s your burden to carry, not caleb’s. 

in a crowded place, he won’t have to search around. violet orbs find your familiar ones before he could even enter the room, bound to you beyond the physical realm. he looks at you like it’s the first time he’s seeing you and the last time he’ll ever get to.

“hey, pretty,” he hums, eyes tracing you in the gentlest way, not hunting but reverent, a worshipper kneeling before the altar. you never felt like a prey under his gaze.

caleb holds you with hunger, the same thing that consumes him. 

his touches are intentional, not out of unconscious habit. he wants to feel you, so he does. his hand steady on your back as you walk. the slow circles he rubs on it while you lean into him. the way he pulls you snug against him, as if the space between the two of you hurts more than suffocation itself.

but no matter how desperately he presses onto your skin, his palms are nothing but a barrier, unable to reach deeper, past the flesh. longing for something his hands can’t give.

caleb is a man of few words, but his actions bleed through.

some people take notes on their phone to remember things about their partner, but caleb’s unimpressed. he doesn’t need all that when you’re already stitched into the very fabric of his being. flowing in his veins, settling deep in his bones.

he’s attentive, listens to what you say, and what you don’t. gives you space when you’re unresponsive, but still hovers around, filling the silence somehow to remind you he’s here. he’ll wait.

and when you come back to him with an apologetic look, he doesn’t even make you feel bad. he gathers you into his arms, warm and safe, whispering “it’s alright, i understand,” into your hair.

you’re sweet in a way he can’t quite fully grasp. not naive or innocent. just genuinely, naturally kind.

like when he does something for you, whether it’s something as simple as walking you home or adjusting your hair out of your coat, you always offer him a soft, “thank you, caleb.”

and that single phrase undoes him every single time.

he should be used to it by now, but it never fails to catch him off guard. you’ll watch with barely contained amusement as he freezes for a split second, eyes widening as if no one had ever thanked him for anything his entire life. and he never needed them to. it’s always been his duty to protect, to serve, without ever asking for anything back. 

you remember the first time you thanked him for something small. he passed you a mug, his fingers tingling when they brushed against yours. then the tips of his ears actually turned pink, muttering something along the lines of, “don’t mention it, it’s nothing.”

but it wasn’t ever just nothing to you. not when it’s caleb. you wholeheartedly believed he deserves to be appreciated, and you promised to never miss the chance to do so. 

sometimes you really hone in on him, pinning him with your warm eyes, deliberately whispering the words carefully, “thank you, caleb, really.” and poor caleb, what else can he do other than look away with a shuddering breath, his cheeks heating up because his stubborn heart is suddenly thumping louder.

he does things for you without even realizing it. carrying your things against your protests, walking a bit ahead so he can shield you in busy crowds. not because you need him to or because he wants to impress you, but because it’s simply instinct. to him, taking care of you feels natural the same way breathing does. 

god forbid someone uses the wrong tone, let alone speaks ill of you. he’ll step forward with one hand guiding you behind him, voice calm but biting at the edges, “watch it.” 

(he’d burn the world down if it meant keeping your hands warm for a moment. but he’d never say that to you.)   

it’s the worst when you thank him for things he doesn’t even do for you directly. you notice his effort in his work, or acknowledge him for his kind nature towards other people. it warps his mind how you see him the way no one ever has. he’s believed for so long that no one ever will.