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cosmoszyn · 2 months ago

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a decade | caleb.

synopsis: two years apart and a decade of loving him, caleb returns to your life again through a spontaneous roadtrip and shared bottles of alcohol that leads to unearthing the uncertainty of your feelings.

content: caleb x nonmc! reader, little hurt/comfort, light angst, feelings are hard and confusing! third and final part of the seven years series. a LOT of drinking and alcohol involved.

part one / part two

word count: 7k

cross posted in my ao3

It is an unusually chilly night, the scent of spring permeating in the air. You wrap your arms around your slightly shivering body, shifting your weight to your other foot. You exhale, glancing at your wristwatch. The bus is fifteen minutes late, again. Since the news about the train undergoing maintenance, you have never gone home before 10 pm. Before you can even release a sigh, a navy blue sports car slows its acceleration and stops across you. With furrowed brows, you take a step back from the curb, senses heightening. The window rolls down.

“What are you doin’ here?”

Oh.

You catch a glimpse of his curled lips and the shine glazing in his eyes. Then you cock your head to the side, looking at him like he grew three heads.

“I work here, dummy.”

There was a pause.

“...Right. I knew that.”

His reply remains in the howl of the wind as you merely stare back at him as if to say “Of course you do, dumbass,” but his eyes avoid yours and instead fixate on the leather of his steering wheel. He bites the inside of his cheek as you refuse to reply.

He whips his head back to your direction and with a beat of silence, he speaks again, “You got a ride home?”

You blink at him slowly and turn your head to the huge blue sign beside you with a bus printed across it, “What do you think, Caleb?” You reply, turning back to him. In the shadow of the night, you make out the faint tinting of his ears and cheeks.

With a sheepish grin and a hand rubbing the back of his head, he says, “Just get in. I’ll get you home.”

You hesitate.

A thousand options run through your head. A myriad of scenarios flashing before your eyes. And the memory of him lying supine in the cold tiles of your kitchen floor two years ago surfaces again. Getting in that car seems like a bad idea. No–the worst idea you’ve concocted ever since you got drunk and confessed to him three years ago. But you’ve been waiting for the bus for fifteen minutes now. It seems it won’t even arrive at this point.

And so, with a sigh, your trembling hands reach to the passenger door and climb in.

You could feel him staring at you. You ignore it as you drop your bag to your feet and pull the seat belt beside you, locking it in place.

“Get driving, then,” you demand jokingly, looking at the emptying street across you. He gives you a chuckle, “So bossy.”

He shifts the gear and picks up the acceleration. The sound of the engine and heater enclosing the small space.

It was silent.

Suffocatingly silent.

The streetlamps guide the way of the dim road. And yet it feels too dark.

While Caleb maintains the speed of the vehicle, you could barely contain the hastening beat of your heart against your ribcage. You want to clutch your chest and breathe heavily to rid of the smothering air between you two.

This is a mistake.

It hasn’t even been a minute but you already rack your brain of excuses to get out of the car.

You forgot something at the office? No, he’ll just wait outside for you.

You want to grab a meal instead? It’s certain he’ll just come with.

You need to pick something up at a friend’s home? He’ll definitely drive you there,

There is nothing.

And you can even barely get a word out before you hear the sound of windows rolling down. You glance at your side, welcoming the fresh air, calming your pacing heart.

“You seem restless,” he speaks.

Of course he knows.

Of fucking course.

How could he not? When he spent most of his college and early adulthood reading you. He consumed eight years of his life studying you.

Like you were a test he wants to pass with flying colors.

Like there was nothing else in the world that mattered aside from learning you.

And yet, two years ago, in his intoxicated state on your kitchen floor, he ruined everything you two built around.

Well. You ruined everything you two built around, three years ago.

Or maybe it was him, confessing his stupid, non-existent feelings towards you?

Whatever, semantics. It’s just the same either way. Both decisions end up where you are today.

You don’t reply back to him, just a small nod.

Despite the wail of the wind and the steady hum of the vehicle, you could still feel the strangling silence.

With a click of a tongue, you reach his radio. Your fingertips hover over the screen of his car while Caleb steals glimpses of you from his peripheral.

“Whatever song that plays on this will answer my fate on my lovelife,” Caleb suddenly says before you can tap on the radio, eliciting a snicker from you.

“Oh so you want to play that game huh?” You say, “Alright then. What song will describe Caleb’s fate in his lovelife?” You press the button.

Now shut up and drive (drive, drive, drive)

Shut up and drive (drive, drive, drive)

Caleb chokes on his spit and you cackle, hands clutching to your sides.

“Sucks to be you,” you say in between fits of giggles and Caleb just alternates his gaze between you and the road with an amused smile tilting on his lips. “Well, how about you?” He says, reaching for the button. You swat his hand away and he just grins.

“Oh please no thanks!” You protest.

“Oh no, no. We need to hear yours too.” He reaches for the radio, “What is her fate in her lovelife?” He says, turning the station randomly.

So I’ll wait for you, love

And I’ll burn

Will I ever see your sweet return?

Oh, will I ever learn?

Oh-oh, lover, you should’ve come over

‘Cause it’s not too late.

The laughter dies in your throat. The reverberating sound of the riffs of the guitar, hard beating of the drums, and the raw longing from the vocalist catches you two off guard. You squirm in your seat uncomfortably as the air between you thickens.

Caleb clears his throat, “Want to just connect your phone to the bluetooth?”

“Yeah. Sure,” you murmur, taking your phone from your bag.

He removes the radio and taps on the bluetooth option of his car as you connect to it successfully while scrolling through thousands of playlists. He glances at your brightly lit phone and your squinted eyes as you try and settle for a mood for the evening.

“How about that playlist we made in college?” Caleb says.

You purse your lips and hesitantly, you reply, “...I deleted it.”

“Oh. Right.”

There was a brief pause.

“But how come I can still listen to it?” He replies with a raised brow. “I dunno,” you respond blankly. “Must be an error.”

He hums, ignoring the dull ache in his heart.

You deleted the playlist.

Something you two cherished while tolerating the agony of four years in college. He tries to ignore it. He wills himself to. He tells himself, he deserved it.

“When?” He asked, listening to the random playlist you played.

“Huh?”

“Did you delete it.”

“Oh. Two years ago.”

“Oh.” He shrugs. “Okay.” You notice the tight grip he has on the steering wheel and his shoulders tensing.

You two neither exchanged words after that. And you knew everything had been a mistake the moment he pulled up from the curb and greeted you with that warm smile you were oh so familiar with.

He could still tug at your heartstrings the same way he did the first time in your freshman year, when you asked him if the class he was in was Calculus 1. He gave you a nod and a polite grin, “Yeah! You can sit beside me,” he said. With hesitation, you sit beside him. And for some odd reason, he hands you his registration card with ease and precision, like you knew each other for years.

“Check if we have the same classes together,” he says casually. You could only nod obediently, perplexed at the situation as you pulled out your registration card squeezed between your binder. He leans over to your space as you compare your schedules.

“It seems we have the same schedule,” you say under your breath. And it appeared like he cheered.

Since then, you two would do everything together–despite begrudgingly avoiding his company initially. He was a strange man, you thought. But in the end, he came into your life, rather forcibly. And for some reason, even in the most mundane of things, you find yourself in his presence. Enroll in classes, join the same organizations, study the same subject, assist your juniors, even become officers of the organization you were in. It went as far as juniors calling you the “couple” of your organization. You two deny the claim profusely, settling on the term “twins,” instead.

Four years of college and eight years of him. And you never saw him remotely look at you romantically.

With bated breath, Caleb speaks, pulling you out of your trance, “Wanna go to Whitesand bay?”

You stare at him incredulously, “At this hour?”

He shrugs, “It’s only 8 PM.”

“At this hour?” You parrot.

“What? It’s a Friday.”

You continue to stare at him skeptically.

“We can grab a few drinks too on the way there,” he persuades.

“By drinks, you mean alcohol?”

He bites the inside of his lips, “Yeah, why not?”

“And then you will drive back home?”

“Huh? I mean yeah but I won’t drive while I’m drunk! I’ll get some sleep before we head home.”

You narrowed his eyes on him, “There are no hotels near Whitesand bay.”

“My car has plenty of space,” he says confidently with a smirk.

You roll his eyes at him. “Call yourself Caleb the gloater with your boastfulness,” you scoff, followed by a series of sounds imitating the noises a goat makes.

Caleb only laughs at your teasing,

“So? What do ‘ya say?” He asks.

You look at the passing buildings by your side, the gush of wind sweeping the hair across your face. You tuck a chunk of strands behind your ear and with a sigh, you turn to him.

“You know what? Fuck it.”

Minutes later, you find yourself under the buzzing overhead lights of a convenience store, across the fridge of alcohol with a wide array of bottles displayed.

“What should we get?” Caleb asks, his hand against the glass door and arm outstretched. You ignore the flex of his biceps that is inches away from you. “Beer?” Caleb asks, “Not in the mood for that,” you say.

“Surely not tequila.”

“Do you want to die?”

“As if that wasn’t your go-to drink in college.”

“College.”

He only chuckles then glances at the bottommost shelf. “How about this? We used to drink this a lot together when we’d hang at your apartment,” Caleb says, opening the door, and grabbing a bottle.

You stare at the vodka-based drink with lime and ginger beer, waves of memories flooding over your senses immediately. Especially tracing back to that one, freezing winter night at your apartment in your last year of college, sitting across Caleb on the floor. There was a pink tint on his cheeks and ears, something unusual from him since he never flushes this red when you drink.

“Come on, cheers,” you said, clinking the bottle against his. He sent you a half-hearted smile before you noticed his downcast gaze. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You ask him, throwing him a quizzical look and your fingertips ghosting over his shoulders. Caleb shakes his head, “It’s nothin’, pips.”

You frown at him, “It’s not nothing when there’s clearly something, Caleb.”

He just chuckles with obvious hesitation and his fingers draw imaginary apples on your floor. He gulps, “It’s really nothin’,” he says but he exhales when you remain quiet, “But…” His eyes flitted across yours which makes your heart increase in speed. Under the dim glow of your warm light and the scattered papers on the couch, you have learned the past four years that being with him just felt right. When he would get sick and had to skip class, being alone felt nauseatingly wrong. And everytime you would spend your nights with him, it would always feel like a missing puzzle piece that you didn’t even know you needed made its way to your incomplete life. You admire the freckles on his cheeks, his chapped lips slightly parting and curving into a smile and his hair slightly disheveled from the amount of times he ran his fingers through it.

You were deeply, completely enamored by this man.

And you’d like to think that the universe was built around you two.

“She’s just back, pips.”

The beating of your heart paused. The snow on the outside seemed to momentarily freeze your world altogether. Caleb sensed your confusion, which he misconstrued with forgetfulness rather than a heartbreak.

“The childhood friend I was always talking to you about. She’s back.”

Your world split in half.

You clear your throat as you hear the buzzing lights of the convenience store again with Caleb looking at you expectantly, a bottle still in his hand.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s just have that.”

With a nod, Caleb returns the lone bottle and effortlessly grabs the 6-pack from the lowest shelf with one hand. You ignore the heat forming in your cheeks as he walks over across the aisles of the store, one hand holding the pack of alcohol and the other grabbing chips you two enjoyed in college. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, unsure of what to do in this unexpected situation.

Half an hour ago you were just complaining about the transportation system and now you’re back with the man you’ve longed for in years.

And your infatuation towards him is still the same as ever. Noting how in all of his 6’2” glory, the shadows of his muscles behind his white tee still manages to show and the veins in his hands protruding at the amount of items he is holding, all the while he refuses to let you hold anything.

“Hey,” he calls, slightly looking to his side to catch your attention, “Sorry but can you get us a bottle of water? We’ll need it for sure.”

You don’t even need to be told twice. You nod and hurriedly escape from the grasp of his insanely good looks.

Minutes later, you two find yourself back in his car.

“I’ll send you my half of the bill,” you insist.

“And I’ll return it back to you. As I said, it’s fine. I’ll cover it,” Caleb argues, locking in his seatbelt in place.

“Who is this man talking to me? In college he would force me to pay the fifty cents I owe him,” you joke, leaning against his polished seats.

“That was in college, pips. I earn good money now. Let me treat you,” he gloats.

“Oh right, treat me with what? Alcohol and junk food?”

“And water. Duh.”

You laugh. And for a second, everything felt like it was back to where it was. How it all used to be. Music echoing across the small enclosure of his vehicle, wind gushing in the open windows, and his hands aching to reach in your warmth.

The night continues on as Caleb skillfully drives through the empty streets. The faint sound of the forgotten playlist plays in the background and the howl of the wind accompanying you two. For a moment, you blatantly watch Caleb yawn beside you, his hand covering his stretched lips. You turn away when his mouth closes.

Half an hour passes by and you find yourself drifting to sleep, your head cocked to Caleb’s side. He catches a glimpse of your peaceful state, his lips slightly curving upward. He fights the urge to brush the stray hair away from your cheek.

It has always been like this.

Caleb beside you.

Whether in loud and colorful spaces or in tranquil and intimate positions. Despite being apart from you for the past two years, he somehow, in some way, found his way back into your already busy life. As if to tell you that he refuses to be a fleeting moment.

That he was there to stay.

No matter what.

And it doesn’t matter if you think of his presence as a blessing or rather a pest that you couldn’t get rid of, he frankly doesn’t care.

He is there to stay. He knew that the moment you entered the doors in the classroom in college.

He drives to Whitesand bay at a steady pace, often finding himself avoiding the potholes and slowing the acceleration at the speed humps. Despite that, he always finds a way to glance over your sleeping figure.

Another half an hour later, the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore filled your ears, stirring you in your sleep. Caleb gradually applied the brakes in his car, until it came to a complete stop, cutting the engine. He turned his gaze to you, curled up in the passenger seat. He presses his lips together, eyes softening at your state, contemplating whether to disrupt your peaceful sleep. He releases a soft exhale as his hands reach over to you, pausing for a moment in sheer hesitation.

“Hey, pips,” he whispers, his breath fanning your cheeks as he slightly nudges your shoulder. “We’re here.” Your eyes fluttered open from the movement, slightly stretching your body away from him.

Through the windshield, a thin slice of the dock is visible, along with the stretch of the ocean. You sit up straight, blinking to get a hold of your surroundings, darting your gaze to Caleb who is looking at you expectantly–with the most doe eyes you have ever seen on him.

You shake your head to get rid of the drowsiness and thoughts away, exiting the vehicle with a light slam of the car door beside you while the brunet follows suit.

You wrap your arms beside you as you lean beside his car, the wooden planks of the dock beneath you creaking with every step you take.

You marvel at the glistening dark blue waters in front of you, the moonlight rippling against the waves crashing against the shore beneath the dock. You hear the sound of the trunk being slammed closed behind you as you rub your eyes blearily, a yawn escaping your lips.

“Hey pips.” You turn your head to Caleb. He pats the hood of his car, a blanket hovered over it. He props himself up to the hood, leaving some space beside you. You slide next to him as he hands you an already opened bottle of alcohol.

“Cheers,” Caleb says, clinking your bottles together.

Your lips meet the opening of the glass, chugging the alcohol, feeling the cold liquid slither down your throat. Caleb lets out an exaggerated exhale of satisfaction.

For a moment, everything felt right.

“So, how are you doin’?” He opens, eliciting a chuckle from you that sounded more like just an exhale.

“You should’ve started with that hours ago, Caleb,” you reply, side-eyeing him.

“Better late than never, right?” He replies with the same boyish chuckle he had in college. Your heart skips a beat.

You turn your gaze to the ocean. “Just fine, I guess.”

“Just fine?” He parrots.

“Hmm. Yeah. I’m doing fine.”

He scoffs, “Come on you’re sellin’ yourself short.”

You turn to him, cocking your head to the side in confusion but before you could express it verbally, he speaks as he stares at you with owlish eyes, “You’re on literal magazines and billboards across the whole damn city of Linkon. It’s a surprise the cashier from the convenience store didn’t recognize you.”

It was your turn to scoff, “Oh please. That little thing? I’m just doing my usual nerd shit at work.”

“I never thought doing nerd shit would warrant you in huge billboards on highways, pips,” he says teasingly with a grin.

“Oh please! Don’t tell me that when you’re what, one of the highest ranking pilots at the Deepspace Aviation Administration at the age of 25?!” You exclaim exaggeratingly, waving the bottle in the air. He laughs, “It’s nothin’, I swear.”

He tries to hide the disbelief written all over his face with laughter, surprised that you know that he’s a high ranking pilot at the DAA despite having no connection. He tries. But the curl of his lips in amusement is betraying him.

“It’s nothin’, I swear!” You mock him and you two laugh together, the sound resonating in the quiet air. As the laughter dies down, you take another swig of the alcohol, already downing it to its half. The tangy taste sits in your tongue and the icy cold liquid crawls in your throat with a stinging sensation. You remember the first time you drank alcohol with Caleb.

It was the evening after midterms season, or as you two like to call it–hell week. The grades were just announced in your campus portal and as two eager, overachieving students that you both are, you decided to check it together in a shared space in your apartment. Upon loading into the website, you quickly skim through the courses and its corresponding marks. As your eyes file through the last subject, you let out a sigh in relief. Passed. But just as soon as you realize your passing grade, Caleb speaks, “Want to get drunk?”

Caleb almost dropped out of the Dean’s List.

Just .1 shy away from being dropped from the roll.

And within ten minutes, Caleb has already set up the first ever drinking session between you two.

“No, but seriously, how have you been?” A voice pulls you out of your reminiscence. You watch him warily, his eyes refusing to meet yours while he chugs down his drink, “It’s been two years without contact,” he continued, followed by a shaky laugh. He wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand and places it back in the space between you two, just mere inches away from yours.

You let out a sound of contemplation, “Well,” you begin, ignoring the desperation laced in his tone, “I got promoted to two positions higher than what I used to be.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And I got in magazines because of work, as you already know.”

“Yep.”

You trace your fingers over the print of the alcohol bottle, ignoring his watchful gaze at you, “And I finally travelled somewhere outside of Linkon City for once.”

“Hm? Where have you been?” Caleb asks with his head tilting to the side, propping his left knee up and resting his elbow. “Chansia City?” He continued.

You shake your head. “No.”

You press your lips together in a thin line and with a heavy breath, you say, “Skyhaven.”

Caleb feels like he’s been dumped with ice cold water.

“Skyhaven?” He repeats.

“Yeah.”

He swallows, “When?”

You down your alcohol, emptying the bottle, “Hm. A little over two years ago? Probably some time in October.”

“October? You mean two months after we…”

Ignored each other deliberately?

Fought?

…Broke up?

“Yeah,” you just reply. Caleb continues to stare at you, but this time, with wide, owlish eyes and mouth slightly agape. You refuse to look at him and instead stare at the thick clouds obstructing the full moon.

“Why were you in–”

“Can you get me another beer?” You say, shoving him your empty bottle. “And get some chips too. I’m famished!” You joke.

Caleb observes you for a second before giving you a slight nod and sliding off the hood of the car.

You never meant to slip that you went to Skyhaven, you just thought he wouldn’t ask further questions. But you must’ve forgotten how relentless Caleb could be when learning things about you. After all, this was the man that asked you about your schedule the moment you sat your ass down beside him on the first day of meeting him.

When he returns, your arms wrap around your legs and your chin settles atop of your knees with your eyes looking at somewhere distant over the horizon.

“Here,” he says, handing you a cold bottle. You murmur a thanks and as soon as you take the drink, both of you guzzle down almost half of the alcohol in sync. He opens the bag of chips effortlessly and places it between you.

Before you can even change the topic, he says, “Why were you in Skyhaven?”

You catch a glimpse of him.

Which was a mistake.

You see regret lingering in his eyes, his flushed cheeks, and quivering lips. Like he was on the verge of demanding all answers from you and the universe for your falling out.

You turn away from his stare. You nestle deeper in your knees, “Nothing. It was for vacation,” you say.

Caleb waits.

He knows there’s still something in your words.

“Well, initially it was for vacation,” you continue, “But… I think deep inside, I was looking for something familiar,” you murmur.

“Something?” He asks in clarification.

“Someone,” you correct. Caleb had to physically tear his eyes from you, gravitating instead to the rusting freighters floating in the distance. “In hopes that maybe I would… bump into him,” you muttered, as if the person you were talking about isn’t getting drunk beside you.

He remains silent, counting the buoys he could spot. You take a sip of your alcohol.

“And… Get him back? I don’t know. He was never mine, anyway.” You whisper the last sentence under your breath, hoping he didn’t catch it.

Of course he did.

Caleb feels like his heart is clawing its way across his throat. Ignoring it, he takes a sip of his beer.

You chuckle uneasily, “God, I’m already tipsy. I’m still a lightweight even after being trained by you.”

Caleb’s first mistake of the night, he notes, was looking at you the moment you said those words. Your eyes are glassy, your cheeks red, lips slightly parted and curled up in an intoxicated smile, and your composure is already driven by the alcohol.

“I didn’t know you were in Skyhaven back then,” he said.

“Of course you don’t, dummy! I never told anyone. Just our HR,” you reply, slapping his shoulder playfully.

“But you could’ve told me. We could’ve–”

“What? Fix things?” You cut him off with a frown. “Impossible. We could’ve never fixed it. Not then, not now, and not later.”

It was his turn to scowl. “What do you mean not now and not later?”

“What? I’m just telling the truth, Caleb.”

“Then don’t say that,” he says, begging. “If that’s the truth then I don’t want any of it. I don’t care if college has been dead for six years now or if we lost ourselves along the way. I hated being away from you.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have shown up to my doorstep, drunk out your mind, and almost cried on my stupid kitchen floor two years ago,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Caleb groans, rubbing his temples with his fingers before drinking another shot. “I was stupid, okay?”

“Was?”

“...I am stupid.”

“I know.”

Silence engulfs the two of you again, only the sounds of the waves from the sea filling the empty space.

“Look–” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair, “Even before I got drunk at your doorstep, I was already regretting things between us.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “What do you mean regret? Which one?”

“Letting you handle all the burden of being alone,” he murmurs.

And you recall the month leading up to his drunken confession. After realizing how much he waited for his childhood friend to come back and how you saw the yearning stares he gave to her, whether through a screen or in person when he introduced you to her, when he was certain no one else was looking, you knew you had to save yourself.

You thought drunkenly confessing your feelings a year ago would set you free from the iron grip he has on your heart. You were certain you had been okay since that intoxicated revelation of how you have loved him since college. But every single time you see him longing for someone that wasn’t you–it tears you apart. And so, you decided that you’ll take a month-long venture in moving on. It was just a short journey, just enough so you’ll get rid of any romance in your system. It started with short texts to nothing at all, too fixated in your career and always on do not disturb. Then, it was bailing on dates that involved only you two. If Gideon was there, you’d come–god forbid you’re left alone with Caleb.

But unfortunately, Caleb didn’t take it well. He thought you were ending everything. He thought you were throwing away seven years of your friendship.

Hence, the intoxicated, faux confession of him loving you.

After he was rejected by his childhood friend.

Leading up to complete and absolute falling out.

Which was not in your initial plans.

“Burden?” The word nearly sounds like a laugh and you shake your head, “Caleb, please. I was just in love with you, I wasn’t dying.”

“But you left.”

“So?”

“It’s the same thing.”

You look at him with furrowed brows, “You are so dramatic,” you laugh and he follows suit, emptying the alcohol bottle.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly, “I just miss moments like this more than anything.”

You ignore the dull ache in your chest, “I’m sure you do.”

He sighs for the umpteenth time tonight. “I think of you in the most mundane things I do,” he confesses.

“Like what? Getting drunk? You make me look like an alcoholic,” you joke.

He shakes his head with a laugh, “No,” he says as your lips reach the rim of the bottle, “Like when I make instant noodles and I instinctively reach for two packets because you don’t like the way you make them,” he says. Your eyes slightly widen.

“Or when I read reports, I reach for a pen that’s your favorite color to comment on it.”

He takes a big swig of his drink.

“Sometimes when I see a new cafe in Skyhaven, I would think about asking you to come with me, only to find out I don’t even have your number saved anymore.”

You blink, feeling the gush of the salt air tangle in your hair. The crease between your brows deepens.

“Caleb…” You drawl, turning to him with a frown, “Why are you telling me this?”

He turns to you.

“If you’re telling this to make you feel better about not loving me back after eight years, I will be the first person to tell you that it’s not your fault that you didn’t love me back.”

“No, I–”

“You don’t have to apologize for not loving me back either. It’s just the way it is, Caleb!” You almost exclaim, “We’re just friends and I have long accepted that,” you continue, inching closer to him with tears welling up in your eyes, “It’s time you do too.”

The sound of waves sloshing around the dock envelops the situation. The light from the streetlamp illuminates your skin as you forcibly try to restrain yourself from reaching out to him.

With a shake of your head, you exhale a deep breath and look away. “Sorry,” you begin, “That was a bit dramatic.”

“No, don’t be,” he replies.

“Yeah.”

Caleb chews on his bottom lip. “You want to finish another bottle or you’d rather sleep inside?” He asks.

You fiddle with the neck of the bottle, “I think I’d sleep this off. The alcohol is getting to me,” you say.

Moments later, you find yourself in a situation that the you two years ago would find baffling. Laying inside your college friend’s car, with the seats on recline and him being inches away from you. You could feel the waves of the ocean lulling you to sleep despite the hammering beat of your heart against your ribcage, and with closed eyes, you try to.

You ignore the cramped space you are in.

You deny the subtle confessions Caleb was declaring to you.

You ignore the stares you could feel on your side.

Ignore. Deny. Ignore.

“We could get arrested for this,” Caleb whispers behind you.

“For sleeping in a car?” You reply, eyes still shut.

“For parking in a no park zone.”

“Just bribe them with your big pilot money. I’m sleeping here.”

“I didn’t expect those words to come out of your mouth,” he replies.

“And you won’t expect the next one either.”

“What?” He says, watching you turn to your side and face him, nuzzling your cheek on your hand and eyes screwed shut. “Shut the fuck up,” you whisper back, “Emphasis on the fuck and shut,” eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Alright.”

But shutting the fuck up is something Caleb somehow can’t do when he’s lightheaded from the alcohol.

“I missed you.”

You hum.

“I missed the silence between us.”

“Then I beg of you to shut up. I miss the silence too,” you grumble.

He ignores your protest.

“Won’t you ask why I’m in Linkon?” He asks

“To torment me, probably. I don’t fucking know.”

“That’s one thing.”

You don’t reply, relishing on the couple of seconds that Caleb has his mouth zipped.

“But I wasn’t in Skyhaven in October two years ago.”

Your heart could leap out of your throat.

“Pips, I was in Linkon the moment you were in Skyhaven.”

Like he couldn’t make it any more clear.

“I waited outside your office every day. All the restaurants you enjoyed. The cafe shops. Everywhere.”

Caleb’s second mistake of the night was when he saw how you slowly opened your eyes when his words fell from his mouth. He could see the way your lips fall into the deepest frown and your brows creased together with a fury of ten years of loving him.

“Again, Caleb, why are you telling me this?” You ask, seething.

“What?” He asks, dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to tell me all of this, Caleb. Everything has happened already. Everything,” you begin, sitting up straight. He follows suit.

“I drunkenly declared to you my love and you outright rejected it. A year later, you visit me, intoxicated and you declare the same shit, right after you got rejected?” You scoff, “Come on, Caleb. I’m not stupid. Please.”

He looks at you, bewildered.

You feel the rush of heat in your cheeks and ears. Your fingernails clawing against the fabric of your jeans.

With a sigh, you shake your head, feeling the impending headache loom over you. “I know you missed me, Caleb. And I understand, trust me. ‘Cause I missed you too, I missed us,” you begin, slumping your back against his leather seat, refusing to look at him any further. “But nostalgia is a liar. You keep visiting the past but no one’s there anymore, Caleb. I’m here and you’re here. And we chose different things and that’s fine. We have to move on eventually.”

“No but I just hated how I said all those terrible things to you–”

“Me too! I hated having to let you go,” you confess, your voice cracking but no tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “But let’s face the truth, Caleb. It’s what we needed.”

The man across you remains silent while you heave a deep breath, alcohol coursing through your veins, and you know what he’s doing.

He’s studying you intently. Again.

With a click of a tongue, you shake your head, plopping your body back to the reclined seat, laying on your side facing him.

“I’m getting dramatic again. Goodnight, Caleb. And I expect you to shut up for real.”

The moon hangs bright in the sky, with sparse clouds littering around it, and a handful of stars accompanied the satellite with their soft light. A couple of rusting freighters and dimly lit buoys are still floating in the distance, with the soft sounds of waves continuously lapping against the pier. The tick tick tick from the hazard signal of Caleb’s vehicle is akin to a metronome.

He still sits upright, studying your steady breathing and eyelashes fluttering across your cheeks. Swallowing thickly, he leans back into the seat. He instinctively curls into the radiating warmth lying beside him, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to doze off. But the pacing beat of his heart deemed it fruitless. Fluttering his eyes open and rubbing the intoxication off, his breath hitches at the sight of you.

With your hands tucked under your head as a makeshift pillow and your chapped lips caused by the harsh weather slightly parted, he finds himself staring at your serenity.

Caleb inches closer to your face, clamping his mouth shut to avoid his breath fanning you awake. His vision is still dazed from the alcohol and his mind is almost short-circuiting from exhaustion. The cold air from the slightly ajar windows whizzes through the two of you, causing you to twitch. He flinches at your sudden movement, eyes widening at the possibility that you would rouse from your sleep. But instead, you snuggle deeper in your arms, sighing blissfully.

Caleb contemplates, slowly blinking. And with the courage of ten years of being with you, he reaches over your sleeping figure, tucking the stray strands of hair behind your ear.

He softly calls your name.

Once.

Twice.

“What?” You grumble.

“I’ll shut up for real,” he says.

“Then do it. Don’t say it.”

“But I need your help in doing it.”

You peek at him with one eye open. “Help you shut up? It’s like telling me to hang the stars in the sky,” you say.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Both your eyes fly open, startled by his words.

“Do me a favor and kiss me,” he casually says. You grimace, shaking your head. “You’re just drunk, Caleb. Jeez don’t say things you will regret–”

“You think two bottles of that beer will get me drunk?” He raises a brow at you and tilts his head knowingly.

Touche.

“You say nostalgia is a liar,” he continues, “Then help me move on from it then. Make me realize it’s not real.”

He sits up once again and you follow suit.

You chew your bottom lip in contemplation, darting your stare from the steering wheel, to the shift, and back to your lap.

“Just a kiss?”

He nods slowly.

You gulp.

Another mistake is about to be made, you mentally note. And you swear this is going to fuck up your friendship and you’re just inebriated, this is just the alcohol talking nonsense, and you’re certain you’re demolishing all the stability you’ve built in your life but–

“Fuck it.”

Caleb didn’t have to be told twice.

Within seconds, Caleb slowly leans into you, “Here I go,” he mutters. You nod at him, your breaths shallow and fanning his face as his hand reaches to your cheek. With his trembling fingers over your skin, he presses your lips together–the feeling of his chapped lips against yours, slowly moving along the rhythm of the waters. Despite the tenderness of it all, you were caught off guard with the sensation, but eventually, you relax under his touch. He feels the rapid beating of his heart against his chest as you carefully slip his actions in sync.

Your heart both sinks and swells at the feeling of his warmth radiating against you, your hands grip onto his shoulder as the two of you continue to glide your lips against each other. He trails his fingers from your cheeks to your chin, gripping it tight before slightly pushing it downward, urging you to part your mouth further. He slides his tongue against yours as his other hand reaches for the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. You let out a small whimper, your hands shaking as you try to hold ground yourself back into reality.

Your nails claw through the fabric of his shirt, earning a groan from Caleb between your mouths.

Unable to keep the wild thumping of your chest at bay, you pull away from him before he can push himself further into your space, avoiding his gleaming irises. You pant heavily, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“There. That ought to shut you up.”

Caleb almost laughs in between his heavy breathing.

But you lean back into the seat, turning your back against him.

He feels his heart sink to his stomach.

“I don’t want to hear another word from your big mouth, Caleb,” you say jokingly. “You better keep your promise.”

And for the first time in the long night, he was quiet. Of course, he kept his promise. Not until the words slip from his tongue, “I think you’re still wrong. Everything I’ve felt about us has always been real.”

But you no longer heard it with the soft snores coming from your slightly parted lips.

Hours later, after a pathetic convenience store breakfast, and the heat of the morning seeping through the car windows, you two find yourself threading through the highways and avenues of the city again.

Laughs were shared in the small enclosure of his vehicle, complaints about a splitting headache were echoed, random catching up were made, and even sob stories about how life treated you two during the years you’ve been apart were declared.

For some reason, the air still hangs thick–but this time, with more uncertainty than ever. But it’s okay, you tell yourself, with your head leaned back onto the seat of his car and his hand sometimes ghosting over yours, you tell yourself that it’s fine.

Because once this is all over, when you’re back in the comforts of your apartment, you’re certain that whatever Caleb feels about you will come to fruition the following days. Whether he’d come to your doorstep with flowers in hand or just through random texts like a friend, it won’t hurt you.

By the end of the day, he was still the Caleb that you cherished in college. And you were content with either outcome fate decides to give you.

a/n: hope you guys liked this :") tbh i didn't want caleb taking the route of blatantly confessing his love because i could never wrap my head around the concept of loving someone after yearning after a different person for years.

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! pls share some love <3

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koaflower · 2 months ago

Note

Can you do Sae x reader x Rin? The brothers are fighting for her love.

All’s Fair in Love & War

pair. rin itoshi x afab!reader x sae itoshi

genre. explicit. graphic smut. ANGST. aged up characters.

includes. dom!sae, love triangle, fwb, cheating, voyeurism, penetration, rough mirror sex, toxic relationship, rin yearns for you. NO happy endings.

synopsis. sae knows. of course he knows. but his own brother, of all people?

a/n. hi anon!! thank you so much for asking! i didn't know what genre you wanted so i did all of them heh... if you wanted a fluffy, silly love triangle, you came to the wrong person bc this ruined me (i cried 3 times while writing this) :D

word count. 5.3k

10.10.19.

It was dark outside. The same empty sky you were met with the night Itoshi Sae left for Spain. No moon, no stars, just the incessant sound of crickets chirping and the rush of water padding against a hollow creek.

Everything was quiet. Too quiet. You missed his familiar presence beside you. How the moonlight cast its faint glow across his face, and his eyes sparkled in wonder as he pointed up at the stars overhead. You could hear his laughter like a gentle breeze, reminding you over and over the names of the constellations that frequently slip your mind. Maybe he is there, halfway across the world and looking up at the same starry sky.

Your knees are pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself as the wind pricks at your skin. Four years. It had been four years since Sae left for his training regime in Europe. As time went on, he called less, his replies became more distant, and eventually, all forms of contact fizzled out. Still, you waited, telling yourself his phone was simply confiscated or he needed time to himself.

And in a week, he’ll be home. Back in Japan, where you can fuss over him from a close distance, and he can look at you with that same playful affection.

The floorboard creaks, and you feel a soft, heavy weight settle upon your shoulders. You pull the jacket around yourself, a quiet sigh leaving your lips and billowing into the night air in a puff of white smoke. You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

“It’s cold,” he says, though he doesn’t make any attempt to leave, opting to settle in this moment with you instead. This is the third night Rin has found you like this, and despite his usual nonchalance and disdain for much of everything, he’s concerned. “Can’t you sulk inside?”

“You didn’t have to join me,” you reply, eyes casted downward. This was a state you liked—a vulnerability that belonged only to you. His brows crease, annoyed by the brevity of your response.

Neither of you speak, basking in the familiar silence. He sat here with you on most nights, sometimes in complete silence as your breaths mingle with the crisp air. After all, what was there to be said? Rin missed his older brother, and you missed your boyfriend.

“Do you think he misses us?”

It was a question you’d asked yourself frequently, an incessant thought that plagued you during the bouts of loneliness.

Rin was quiet for a moment, his eyes flitting up to the seamless dark sky. There was a small gleam in his eye, a hopeful light that hadn’t diminished despite his dwindling relationship with Sae.

“Yeah,” he replies. “He does.”

He has to.

A tense silence follows, and he rubs his thumbs together, a sort of nervous habit he hasn’t been able to shake since you were children.

“Yeah,” you whisper after a while, a small smile forming on your lips. It makes his stomach churn, the quiet longing etched onto your expression.

He shifts his body closer until your arms touch, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. This was the only way you slept these days, with the comfort of his presence.

He’s quiet before his voice finally cuts through the silence. “You miss him a lot, don’t you?”

A huff parts your lips.

“Every day.”

09.9.21.

The sheets crinkle beneath you as you stir, and your hand subconsciously reaches for the body beside you. It's cold. Maybe as cold as that night two years ago.

Magenta hair, striking teal eyes, and an athletic, lean stature. You could’ve recognized him anywhere, but he was different. Older. More jaded. There was no warmth in his gaze, only a mask of cold indifference.

Foolish. To think time wouldn’t change him. To think devotion would be enough to anchor him to you.

Slim fingers cascade through your hair, combing through the years of heartache with sullen familiarity. But it did little to soothe the guilt gnawing at your chest.

When your eyes flutter open, you’re met with the same brilliant blue—a color so deep, you almost lose yourself in its depths. Its loneliness.

But you knew better.

Knew better than to mistake an eclipse with a sunrise. And it was Rin Itoshi’s eyes gazing back at you.

He watches you wake, his expression blank save for the barely noticeable furrow of his brow. His hand continues its gentle ministrations, fingers tracing a path through your hair before coming to rest on your shoulder.

The sun was already high, its light spilling through the window and casting a warm glow over the room. It was almost midday, yet neither of you moved, as if prolonging the intimacy would chase away the unease.

You can’t hide the disappointment etched onto your face—the slight downturn of your lips and subtle droop of your eyelids.

The change is small, almost imperceptible, but he’s memorized the language of your face, and disappointment is a dialect he knows too well.

And yet, he understands. He knows what it means—that you wish it were Sae’s body pressed so close to yours, Sae’s fingers threading through your hair. You wanted more, and it was his responsibility. Always his, to fill the empty spaces his brother left behind.

“Y/n,” he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips, as if testing the syllables. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

Why?

Maybe it was the uncertainty. The pleasant memory of what was and the quiet, unspoken possibility of what still could be.

It wasn’t fair to him. Hell, it wasn’t fair to Sae, this twisted carousel where you yearn for one person yet seek comfort in another. A part of him found you selfish, but he could never really hate you for it.

No matter how cruel it was.

“Why wait?” he asks. His face remains unchanging, but his grip tightens ever so slightly. “For someone like him.”

Someone like Sae.

Rin adjusts himself, slowly sitting up until the covers pool around his waist. His bare chest is lean, chiseled from years of training.

You don’t answer, gaze fixated onto a specific point on the duvet where his hand fists the wrinkled linen.

He lets out a quiet scoff, frustration flashing in his eyes before it’s replaced with a resigned melancholy.

“I’d give you more than he would.”

It’s true. You know it’s true. And maybe that’s the most unfortunate part of it all. To cling to the ghost of someone’s past and let the present slip through your fingers.

“I know,” you reply.

So simple. So vague.

He loathes the way you use him, a poor substitute for something you can’t have.

It’s not enough. He’s not enough. And that’s a bitter pill to swallow.

“I love him.”

Him. Always him and never you.

A bitter wave of envy floods his mouth, and he feels sick. Sick at the sight of you, of the longing and the ache that never seems to fade. Yet despite it all, the worst sickness is the cyclical way he forgives you.

Rin lets out a slow, shaky exhale, turning to stare up at the ceiling instead.

He doesn’t know what to say, what he even can say. It wouldn’t change your feelings, wouldn’t lessen the dull ache in his chest.

If this is how love felt, he didn’t want it.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, but the words fall flat. He doesn’t want your apologies. Sorry won’t erase the anguish or the years of wallowing. He just wants it all to go away.

But that’s impossible, and you both know it.

So he stays. Endures the misery. Clings to the illusion of a real, genuine connection.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, watching as you push yourself upright. The blanket falls from your shoulders and reveals the softened red marks that bloom across your chest.

He can touch you, trace every inch of your skin, but he will never be yours. Never the one you yearn for.

It’s a petty, childish desire. He knows you can’t choose who you love, but he hates the thought of losing you to someone so undeserving.

His eyes follow you as you slip out of bed, the room feeling hauntingly quiet with each retreating step.

Your absence ricochets like a physical tremor. Even as he lays there, the sheets cool against his skin, he can't ignore the hollow sensation that settles over him.

He rolls onto his side, facing away from the place you’d occupied.

The clock on the wall ticks slowly, its sound stretching through the silence. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, with his mind racing and body unmoving.

09.24.21.

It’s midnight when you find yourself at his door again.

It was only a matter of time—whether you’d break first or him. And tonight, it was you, empty-handed and tear stricken as your fist raps against the hard wood. It’s hollow, empty, but you can hear the faint hum of the TV through the wall.

It wasn’t completely uncommon for Rin to leave the monitor on, given his tendency to spend entire nights analyzing footage. You always scolded him for it, though your lectures were met with stubborn defiance.

Fortunately, you brought a spare key.

The door unlocks with a sharp click, and you have to squint to adjust to the darkness, a faint blue light radiating from the monitor’s screen.

“Rin?” You call out, sucking in a breath as you push past the mess of shoes sprawled across the entrance. His silhouette was there, unmoving against the couch even in the dark of night. He doesn’t stir, doesn’t even turn at the sound of your voice. What could he be so focused on?

“Are you awake?” You kick off your shoes and place them neatly to the side, moving closer.

“You didn’t reply to my—“

You pause, the words dying in your throat.

Rin wasn’t here.

The figure lifts his gaze from the match he was watching, eyebrow lifting in faux surprise at your unannounced entrance. Yet, there was a sense of inevitability to it. Like he’d been expecting you.

Sae cocks his head to the side, expression almost bored. There’s no warmth in his greeting, not even a hint of a smile when he regards you. His darling lover. “It's the middle of the night.”

He leans back, his eyes flickering to the clock on the wall. He doesn’t waste time asking what he already knows. What you already know.

His eyes simply dart down to the metal hanging from the grooves of your fingers, a pair of house keys Rin had so generously given you a year into this forsaken rendezvous–a sure token of your infidelity.

“I thought… your flight…”

“Cancelled,” he replies, as if this was just a regular occurrence, another boring late night for him. “I’m staying in Japan for another week.”

His eyes remain fixated on you, studying your reaction as the TV’s whistles and cheers fade into a quiet static.

“Why?” He asks. “Expecting someone?”

An unintelligible string of syllables leave your lips, your body rigid with surprise.

He leans forward, his chin propped up in the palm of his hand and a condescending gleam flashing in his eyes. He can’t help but find it amusing, the way you cower beneath his heavy gaze. The way he strips you down and renders you spineless.

“I asked you a question.”

He’s backed you into a corner, and you know there’s no proper explanation for this—for the clothes left draped over the living room couch, your belongings scattered across the apartment floor.

He’s not stupid. Sae Itoshi was anything but stupid.

It shouldn’t affect him, but he can’t help feeling disgusted. Not just at you but at himself for allowing you to exist within the frayed margins of his family’s complicated history. He’d put you on the back burner as soon as his career took off. But seeing you now—doe-eyed and clad in a shirt too big for you, too long to be his—felt like losing. Like investing time into a match he was designed to fail.

“I—why didn’t you tell me?”

He looked tired, bored even. Like he’d rather be anywhere but here, stuck in this conversation with you.

You wonder if Rin knows his older brother is here, casually lounging on the couch like he belonged there. Like he had as much of a right to be here as the porcelain mugs lining the wooden coffee table.

It was just you and Sae now, and that should've been liberating, but it only made everything worse.

How peculiar it is, to both resent and yearn for your lover.

He doesn’t justify your question with a proper response at first, instead studying you in a way that only Sae could. Analyzing each flutter of your lashes and twitch of your hand like he does with his opponents.

After a brief stretch of silence, he finally speaks. "Didn’t feel the need to. I knew you’d come here regardless."

It’s accusatory. Clipped. His voice is tinged with a deep exhaustion, eyes hollowed out and sunken in, the bright teals dimmed to a muted ocean blue.

Did he know? The habitual way you seek familiarity in his brother. The destruction he’s invited into his home.

“Does it help?”

Is he a good replacement?

Sae knows he isn’t a good boyfriend. Far from it. And although he thinks he loves you, he doesn’t understand why you stay. Why you subject yourself to his long absences. He could only retrace it to a sense of helplessness. A childish desire to cling to the past.

But the fact it even comes to this—to you, donning an expression of guilt and something he could only describe as pathetic, and the knowledge that you’d go to Rin instead of him—makes his lips curl in disdain.

You want to justify yourself, spew evidence of all the late nights and missed phone calls back into his face, tell him he’s the reason. That he consumes you. But you don’t.

Your lips are pressed into a thin line.

“No.”

It’s a harsh truth, one you’d swallowed down to maintain a semblance of normalcy. You didn’t love Rin. Lust after, maybe, but love? Love was reserved for calloused fingertips and reddish-brown hair, frayed bangs and collared button-downs.

He exhales, rigid shoulders easing with weary resignation. His fingers beckon you over, and you follow. Like a moth to a flame.

You’re half basked in the glow of the TV and half shrouded by darkness. The light dances across your features as you look down at him, eyes glossy with sorrow for the way things had become.

His hand reaches out, tentatively parting the flush of your lips with a calloused thumb and pushing it down.

“Do you want attention?” He speaks to you like you’re an object of pity—a small dog flicking its tail for scraps of affection. The pad of his thumb gently glides across your jawline, his touch almost intimate, if not devastatingly tender.

In truth, Sae fears you.

You’re a weakness—the lone face he searches for under crowded stadium lights and the silent pre-game prayer that tumbles from his cherry chapped lips.

You make him human, and it’s a foreign sensation, this kind of affection.

You let him guide your body onto his lap, the warmth of his chest bleeding into the back of your shirt that still smells faintly like Rin.

He sees it then, faded marks like blemishes beneath his fingertips. There’s a bitter taste on his tongue, a violent cocktail of jealousy and betrayal. The worst part is he can’t fully blame you for wanting more than this. Brief messages and split second glances. He’s done this all to himself.

“I’ll remind you,” he murmurs, lips skimming against the outer shell of your ear.

And remind you, he did.

—Your clothes are strewn across the floor, bodies pressed together as his hand guides your face to look into the mirror. The reflection is obscene, and he feels a perverse sense of satisfaction in seeing you this way, so docile and recipient to his touch.

His hand trails between your thighs, nudging your quivering thighs apart to rub over your clit in slow, languid circles. He presses kisses along your neck, deliberately biting and nipping over the faded ones.

“Sae…” Your eyes are half-lidded and glossy. He hums in response, a low, rumbling sensation against your skin.

His other hand works to massage your breast, gently pinching and pulling at the hardened nipple. He takes his time with you, gauging any minuscule movement or reaction in the mirror like he’s analyzing a high intensity match.

“Look at me,” he says.

Your eyes flutter open to meet his piercing teal ones, so close you could feel his hot breaths fan over your skin.

Sae watches you, slow and unblinking as your face contorts into pleasure, bottom lip taut beneath your teeth.

You’re overstimulated, hardly able to respond when his lips crash against yours. It’s messy and hot, his hands sliding down your sides to grab at your hips.

Sorry is all he can murmur before he’s thumbing your folds apart, rubbing his flushed tip against your entrance. He doesn’t give you a chance to react before you’re sinking down.

“Fuck..! Sae,” you hiss, your insides adjusting to his large size. It’s been so long since you were filled like this, his cock splitting you open until your fingers are pressing half-moons into the plane of his thighs.

His pace is agonizingly slow, stretching you out inch by inch until he’s fully bottomed out. And then he keeps you pressed against him, planting kisses down your jawline as he waits.

He should ruin you. Ruin you for his naive little brother and anyone that gets you after him.

But you look so pretty like this, all teary-eyed and flushed with your puffy lips wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Okay?” he asks, tapping the side of your thigh with his finger. It takes you a moment to realize he‘s speaking to you, your expression dazed and glossed over.

“Okay,” you reply.

He nods, a toned arm wrapping around your torso before he’s lifting you up and slamming you back down. Your eyes flutter closed when his breath tickles your ear, but he gently coaxes them back open.

“Who do you see?” he asks, meeting your half-lidded gaze in the mirror.

Pretty lower lashes, vibrant blue eyes, and rough hands like hot furnaces.

He’s testing you, daring you to whisper syllables that aren’t his. His ego demands it, this stake of possession he knows he shouldn’t feel.

There’s no affection in his eyes, just a desire to reclaim.

He’s not Rin despite the blood coursing through his veins. He won’t give you the soft touches and adoring words you crave, won’t spin false pretenses of affection into your brain. He’s rough, tugging on your strings like a master puppeteer and discarding all your parts once your paint begins to peel.

Yet here you are, coming back like the pretty little doll you are.

He juts his hips just slightly, the movement subtle but it draws a low moan from you. He leans forward, lightly pinching your clit between his thumb and index finger.

“—You, Sae,” you gasp out, body taut and arching into his. It’s an erotic display, tantalizing and beautiful. “I see you.”

Why do you love him? Someone like Sae. That's what Rin had asked.

Your eyes meet then, in the hazy reflection. His gaze is duller, quieter, the vibrance they held from your childhood long gone and eroded by the years. It’s a strange kind of love, one that’s born from pain and demands sacrifice, cruel yet embedded into you. A love that lingers even if you didn’t talk for weeks. Even if he didn’t visit for months.

The answer is complicated, yet simple all the same: you don’t know.

His hand snakes around your throat, finger resting against your pulse point. He applies the slightest bit of pressure, thumb tracing soft circles onto your skin.

“How does he touch you?”

He hooks his arm under your leg, hiking it higher.

“Like this?”

A single snap of his hips and your head falls back onto his shoulder. Your walls squeeze him deliciously, a thin sheen of creamy foam forming around the base of his shaft. It’s embarrassing, but his grip on your chin is firm, tilting your face so you can see every twitch and shudder.

You shake your head, skin flushed and feverish. “This is… nghh…better.”

He almost smirks at that, a slight upturn of his lips.

“What about here?”

His free hand toys with your engorged clit, drawing wanton mewls from your spit-dribbled lips. Your nails rake red across his thighs, body shaking viciously but he doesn’t let you cum. Not yet.

In an instant, he’s picking you up and slamming you against the dresser, one leg hooked around his arm and the other supporting yourself as he drills into your greedy cunt. The vanity creaks and groans under the force of his thrusts, your tits pressed into the hard surface.

He can’t get close enough, can’t fuck you in the way you deserve, and it drives him insane.

More, more, more. Why can’t he give you more? Why don’t you ask him for more?

With a single swipe of his arm, he sends all the trophies and miscellaneous objects cluttering his dresser to the floor, pressing your cheek flush against the mirror. Your whines are pitiful, heavy breaths fogging up the glass and tears staining your rosy cheeks.

He thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“Tell me, Y/n, is this—shit—what he does to you?”

He’s so deep. So, so deep, and you don’t want this to end but you’re so close. You bite your lip, knuckles white against the counter as you try to prolong your release.

“Sae!” A lewd jumble of sounds escapes your lips, too incoherent to make out.

He scoffs, his grip on your thigh tightening as your body arches into his, taut as a bowstring. He angles your hips, hitting a certain sweet spot inside you that makes you sob.

“Yeah?”

“‘ts too much… dunno if I can..!“

“Too much?” he teases, yet his touch is gentle, gathering strands of sweat-soaked hair and pulling it to the side. “You say that… to Rin?”

There’s a tinge of jealousy in his words, in the way his hand around your neck tightens just barely.

“You let him… hah… fuck this sweet cunt too?”

Shame courses through your veins—hot tears cascading down your cheeks. It makes you look even prettier, makes his cock throb achingly.

“‘m sorry! I missed—you."

Missed him?

He clamps a hand over your mouth, breathing ragged against your shoulder.

He doesn’t want you to explain yourself, to rationalize the way you allowed someone else to touch you, kiss you, love you.

That’s his job, no matter how shitty of a partner he was. You’re his to ruin, his to break and keep. Not Rin’s.

“Jus’ call me next time.”

Your eyes snap open at that, unable to process anything but his words and the sickeningly sweet way he was looking at you. Call him. Call him? The man who’s always traveling in and out of different states? Who could hardly reply to a one word text?

He holds your gaze, eyes unwavering as he waits for a response.

In another universe, he’d be able to give you all of it. His attention, his time, all his love. In anywhere or any place but this one, he’d be someone worth loving.

“I’ll answer you. Always for you.”

He sees the tears in your eyes, unable to stop himself from dragging his thumb over your wet lashes. His touch grows softer, grip laxing as he cards his fingers through your hair, the same way Rin does on especially lonely nights.

Being with you was like bleeding hearts and unsung melodies.

Sae loathes to love you.

Your skin is slick with sweat, and his hands slide up your body.

“Close?” he asks, his voice a low rasp.

You nod breathlessly, eyes closed and lips parted open. He’s close. You’re close. He can feel your insides clamping down, and it’s intoxicating, the way you—

Sae’s attention is pulled away by the shadowy silhouette in his peripheral, standing like a ghost beyond the sliver of the bedroom door.

Rin.

His teal eyes are blown wide, skin a ghastly pale white. He’s dressed in casual shorts and a white tee, dark locks clinging to the residual sweat on his forehead. The soccer ball gripped tight by his fingers fall to the floor with a soft thud.

He’s watching the only girl he’s ever loved get fucked by his older brother, and it’s like his entire world is collapsing once again.

You don’t even realize, face practically melded against the mirror as he drags against every sensitive ridge lining your velvet walls.

Again. And again.

And again.

He doesn’t stop, something dark and proprietorial welling in his chest as he observes his little brother’s balled up fists and the stoic, blank expression adorning his face.

Sae’s hand slips from your mouth, falling to the side of your hip and tightening almost painfully at your wanton cries. He can tell the way it affects Rin, despite the apathy on his features—the way he tenses as if it physically pains him to witness your ecstasy.

This was no longer about his affection, his pleasure. It was about possession.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging it back until you’re gasping his name. He wants your attention, wants you to look at him while he turns your insides out. Wants to see that lewd expression reserved only for him when you come undone.

And then he’s turning you to the side, spreading your legs wide open.

A beat of silence.

Your eyes widen.

“Ri—in..!”

It’s a cruel, tantalizing display, one he can’t pull away from. Rin can see everything—the mesmerizing bounce of your tits and your puffy, pink lips stretched wide on his brother’s cock. His mind compels him to run far, far from here, but his feet stay planted onto the floorboards.

Sae presses his face into the crook of your neck, peering up at him with an apathetic expression that’s borderline taunting. The dresser groans beneath you with each punctuated thrust.

“Know who that is, Y/n?”

He keeps his eyes trained on you, toying with your breasts as the obscene squelching grows louder.

“Focus,” he grunts, low but commanding. You pry your gaze away from Rin's, letting yourself be consumed by the heat of the moment.

“‘m—‘m coming… gonna cum!”

“Go on then.” Sae's fingers tighten in your hair, breaths heavy and labored as his lips instinctively find yours. He’s devouring you, every inch of you, and you allow him.

His cock is nestled snug against the rough lining of your cervix, pushing all the way in until he’s buried deep inside. You scream, orgasm crashing over you in violent, tumultuous waves until your jaw locks and eyes roll back into the top of your skull.

”Shit.” His head drops onto your shoulder, heavy breaths tickling the side of your neck. Rin’s presence becomes an afterthought as hot, sticky sperm spurts into your insides, coating your walls with a thick, creamy white.

He holds you there for a moment, rubbing soothing motions along your back. Your body is buzzing with exhaustion, putty beneath his touch as he adjusts your position and slowly draws out of you. A slow stream of white oozes from your fluttering hole—the physical evidence of your lovemaking.

Sae lifts you easily despite the heavy ache of his muscles, pulling you back onto the mattress with tender movements. The smell of sex permeates the air, your breaths evening out to a dull silence.

Rin is gone, and the door is left slightly ajar, peering into the nothingness of the living room beyond. He sees it in your eyes, guilt for the cyclical way you let him in, let yourself be used. It’s agonizing–how much easier it is to succumb to the pleasure than drown in his rejection.

He guides your head to the smooth expanse of his chest, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips.

He whispers, “I love you.”

And just like that, your guilt wades into adoration. Just from those three little words.

It’s not the first time he’s said it, far from it, but you can’t remember the last time he did. His gaze is soft, unwavering, and there’s a foreign fluttering sensation in his chest—a love he’d describe as all consuming.

Sae was never good at feeling, but loving you came easily. Even if it wasn’t enough to make him stay.

He notices the way your expression changes, the quiet flicker of hope and devotion, and it makes his heart clench. He’s not good at this. Love, affection, words of affirmation, it’s not something he can promise, yet here you are, clinging onto everything he says.

This is love, isn’t it? Staying with someone despite everything? Even if his heart pangs with pity and an obsessiveness disguised by affection.

“I love you too,” you murmur, leaning into his touch with a soft smile that blooms across your features. Like pink tulips blossoming in the spring.

He returns it with a small one of his own, pressing his forehead against yours. It feels so intimate, like he’s embracing the universe and its orbiting stars. Like he’s orchestrating the end of the world.

And then it’s gone.

The fondness in his eyes and slight curve of his lips fade into nothing at all.

He stares up at the ceiling, distant and unblinking. It’s over, and the game will commence again—this toxic push and pull, like two magnets constantly attracted and repelled.

He wants to reach out, to pull you into him and keep you there. He wants to promise you forever, to feel the words he knows are in his heart slip past his lips. But he doesn’t, letting the lump in his throat consume him instead.

The disappointment on your face is too heartbreaking to bear, and he has to tear his gaze away to lessen the dull ache in his chest. He’ll lose you. One day. You’ll have enough, gain the strength to leave, and turn him into another fragmented memory. But for tonight, he has you, and this is love, isn’t it? To devote yourself to someone and have them devote themself to you.

Your arm falls to your side, eyelids beginning to droop as you drift into a dreamless sleep.

He looks down at you, expression softening as he studies the steady rise and fall of your chest. There’s an ache in his chest that he doesn’t recognize—foreign yet familiar, like it’s a part of him, one that can’t ever be satisfied.

Maybe things would be different if he loved you a little more than his dreams. If he was a better man, a louder lover.

But he isn’t.

And in the morning, he’s gone, the right side of the bed empty. The only remnants of his existence are the fading marks on your skin and the distant throb between your legs.

Love. What strange forms it came in.

Love, as sobs rack through your entire body and the blankets coil around your shaking frame. As you bury your face into the pillows and Rin finds you again in the doorway, wearing the same helpless expression on his face. Again and again. Until reality distorts and you wonder if he’d been here at all.

How unbelievably unfortunate it is to love.

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