Xela

He’d spent his teen years getting used to your skin, now at a point where it’s just an internal sting he can dispel with the knowledge that you’re doing better, that you’ve been better.

You haven’t covered around him in a while. The turmoil of that first time he ever figured sticks heavy in your memories but it’s been so long, and he’s grown so much. You forget it for the comfort of his skin against yours.

He’s laughing with you almost keeled over in his lap. It’s nine but the windows still coat the two of you in bleary yellows, softening your mind into a mushy mess that can’t help but laugh at every word said. The pair of you aren’t even sure what’s funny anymore, even the silence has you giggling to no end.

Caleb sounds so boyish like this. So unlike the man you reunited with. The colonel you’d thought to have swallowed your brother up, leaving behind a man you didn’t recognise. Now he’s here, body soft under yours and shaking with each chuckle. You’ve almost melted into the hazy hold of him when he stiffens before you can really succumb.

Your body follows suit and you look to see if somethings wrong. His gaze is too pointed, looking at something specific and when you follow it—

You’re up before he can say a thing. Running to your room and slamming the door closed.

You ignore the knocking, the begging, the pleading through the door. You fall asleep with the weight of your tears dried heavy on your lashes.

He can take the silvery far-faded scars that climb your arms, but this one is too new. Though a scar, skin healed over, it’s still too many weeks too new. It’s recent. You don’t want him to see you any different. You’ve worked too hard to make him trust you again.

When you awake with the room dark, only a slip of light from the door ajar, you’re under the covers, tucked too snug for the building heat. Though your face doesn’t feel tacky with sweat and tears like it should do, instead it’s clear and you’re sure you’ve been wiped down with a cloth. Your clothes are all there, but your body feels inspected.

He’s seen it all. You know Caleb. The memories of a boy, angry and lifting your top, searching for what you’ve done to yourself, now becomes the knowledge of a man, mature enough to hold his temper but not enough for his hands to keep to himself.

The day had passed anywhere appropriate for breakfast, but when you slink out your door to get to the bathroom, Caleb’s in the kitchen, cooking away like you’re just on time.

You’re hoping to quickly make it back to your room but as soon as you’ve finished, Caleb’s herding you to the table. There’s an eager smile to accompany the food he’s waiting for you to taste. You can’t snip his wagging tail so you sit and eat in silence, and he fills it with strangely normal convo.

He’s ignoring it. Caleb does that sometimes, likes to play perfect fucking family like the tension isn’t thick between the two of you. Normally it’s just when you’re being aggravating and he’s indulging you a little. But now there’s something serious you know should set him off, yet he’s sitting there all fervid, waiting for your praise so he can boast it back in your face.

You eat with minimal conversation, deciding to not give in. You won’t fight him on this. If he wants you to be the one that brings it up first, he’ll be waiting a lifetime. Though not much of a threat, you’re sure he can.

You’ve swapped out all your shorts for full length trousers and long skirts. Even when the fabric feels like weights pinning you to the heat, you’d rather not have a repeat of the day before, so you stick to the flustering garments.

Caleb’s noticed, of course not saying anything, but you can see it in the side glances he gives to you when you walk in. He talks to you the same, upbeat and cheery, but by the way his eyes flitter over you, he’s still searching. He’s looking at uou like you’re not fully clothed. Maybe he lost and gained more than an arm back then, maybe he’s got something sunk deep into his head, an eye that can see straight through cloth with how often it’s on you now. You feel like he’s peeling your pajamas from off your body.

Your conversations with him don’t last long. Caleb keeps to his patient brother act, his words merely suggesting the direction your conversations should go. He would never push. Of course not! Instead he’ll treat you like a spooked little animal that needs to be coaxed into his arms, before pinned down and ripped apart.

“It’ll be hotter later.” Theres no plans to be in the sun but your ac hasn’t been enough to keep the heat out. “You cozy in them jeans?” Caleb’s disproval speaks clear in his grimace.

If you weren’t ignoring everything you’d probably playfully call him a perv, maybe even do a little wiggle to show off the outfit he’s not keen on. Instead you turn your head and return to your book. It’s been a while since you last read it. Even if Caleb only has a few days left in Linkon, you feel it’s the perfect time.

You hear his sigh and the shuffling of clothes, Caleb unravelling your laundry to hang it up on the rack. The drier would do, but he says the sun should be put to good use. That your clothes’ll be sorted better with the breeze on the balcony, rather than the harsh spinnin’ heat of the machine.

Really, you’re sure he just wants to keep you in eyeline, hovering about wherever you are. It’s why you’ve kept out your room, uncomfortable with the way he’ll cling to the doorway as if to say hey! He’s not actually inside! He’s stalking you at this point. You can’t sit for a second too long in your own home without seeing Caleb in your peripheral. It’s suffocating that he won’t get any closer.

“I’ll close the blinds once the sun gets higher, alright?” He’s carrying the drying rack through your slide open doors, somehow his attention still turned to you. “Then we’ll put the dim light on so you can still read your little book.” He’s talking to you from the balcony now. You wish he’d just shut up or say what he wants.

“What’s it about anyways.” Caleb’s efficient when he needs to be, and he’s by your side before the doors can even slide all the way shut. You watch him reach out instinctively to shift your legs to make space, but he hesitates. It pisses you off.

“You’re not meant to disturb someone when they’re reading.” You huff, drawing your legs back in an attempt to kick at him. You don’t end up hitting him because instead of catching your legs like he normally does, he stays still, almost expectant. You just pull back in weird guilt and look away.

It’s been three days of this. Of his stuttered touches and subtle glances. His playfulness is all polished and clean, he doesn’t push the way you’ve become used to. It’s only been so long since you got your brother back, and even less for him to finally cave and show you what he’d been really feeling. You don’t like that he’s retreating. You know your stubbornness is feeding it, but you want his honesty back. You think you might die without it. The Caleb that is cruel and obsessive and grabs at you with no restraint and pours all his truth into your mouth to force yours out. Why won’t he just ask. Why won’t he just bring it up!

You’ve drawn back completely and sudden enough that Caleb actually startles when you stand. Your page number is lost with how quickly you discard your book and throw yourself into your room. Caleb’s footsteps follow but your door slams first.

“C’mon pips’, at least finish your book.” Why is he asking about the book? “You seemed really into it.” Why isn’t he asking about you?

You’re not hearing him. You yank your draws open and search frantically for something sharp. Anything will do. You’re not hearing him. There’s a glint in the corner of your cupboard and another along your desk. Everything’s being jostled and rummaged through. He hears you.

You’re torn away from your chaos and pinned to the wall.

Caleb looks at your for the first time with no hesitation or shyness. The orange in his eyes are so bright. The sun has set but Caleb remains. So hot against your skin where he holds you, so warm where his breaths become yours.

“What are you looking for.” He sounds so mad. You’ve upset him. “[Name]. What were you trying to do.”

You’ve upset your big brother. He’s finally looking at you.

It’s instinct when your body tries to pull out of his hold, but his grip just gets stronger. He has you held against his weight, the wall barely doing any of the work in keeping you up. With the way your body starts to crumple, you’re just dangling really.

“Were you trying to hurt yourself.”

You finally fall. Collapsing to the floor like he’d pulled your pins out, Caleb catches you just in time. Before your wrist can snap from the drop, or your body can twist onto itself, your brother has manoeuvred himself entirely to make space for you to rest. He has your head held close to his heart, your body enveloped by his. Though each sob makes you feel like you’re throwing up a part of yourself, you know your brother’s arms will keep you from breaking.

You don’t realise you’re apologising. For everything. For hurting yourself, for not telling him, for ignoring him for days, for making him take on such a big burden at such a young age, for taking all the apple flavoured lollies and only leaving lemon behind, for not asking for him, for not speaking to him, for not sharing half the life that belonged to him by birthright.

You’ve all but thrown up on him. There’s tears and snot and saliva soaking through his shirt. You’re hiccuping when you come down from your outburst, speech degraded into nothing but the sharp gasps and stabs to your ribcage.

You convulse in his arms and the hand that strokes your hair so gently. He’s saying something, you’re not sure what but the whispers keep your chest from banging any harder. You’d like to leave yours for his, you think, burrow deep into his chest and find sanctuary in a place you’re sure you’ve been before.

Eventually, breathing in your own spittle becomes nauseating and you pull away to gasp at some new air. You finally get a look at Caleb’s face, his eyes are glossed over and his eyebrows are fallen, but he smiles at you like the sun and nods to say it’s okay.

He uses his hands to wipe at your face, no qualms with getting any messier, and then playfully pinches at your nose with most the mucus gone.

You huff out a small giggle and you can feel the way his body melts with relief. You had upset him, you’re glad you now know.

“Gege, I’m sorry.” He’s carding his hands through your hair to untangle the knots and then he rests them at your words.

“I am too.” He resumes his combing, making sure to wipe away the stray tears that fall as the two of you settle. “Gege should’ve known.” He kisses at your eyelids. “I’m your big brother, I’m supposed to know these things.”

“I was being stubborn.” You shake your head, trying to take at least half the blame. He never lets you.

“And Gege was being distant.” Caleb closes his eyes and sighs. You can tell he’s annoyed with himself, frustrated with the way he’d gone about things. “I was being mean, wasn’t I?”

You nod and nuzzle back into his chest, carefully making sure to avoid the wet patch on his left. He snorts at that. You’re comfortable enough to stay honest. “I missed you.”

Caleb stills. You know exactly what he’s feeling. Your relationship is still fragile, only just having started to weave back into the rhythm of your younger selves. A childish duo of honest kids, wanting and needing so openly. Love had kept you truthful. So when the things you wish to say stay stuck in your throats, it feels a fundamental part of you is being carved out and thrown away.

“You won’t have to anymore.” Caleb holds you closer, you’ve never not belonged here “I won’t let you miss me.”

It’s not a promise he can make, neither can you. But even if it takes some time, and you know it will, you’ll return eventually. The two of you always do. You were made to.