chocoposum

[chocoposum]

WHATTTT

Rotten Apples, part 11

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

part one , part two , part three , part four , part five , part six , part seven , part eight , part nine , part ten

oh yeah, i made a spotify playlist for this <3

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: caleb desperately searches for you. what he finds leaves him unsettled.

word count: 10.5k words

warnings: please, please, PLEASE read the trigger warnings before proceeding. lightly proofread...it ain't perfect!

author's note: hi! thank you so much for being patient with me! the story is taking a slightly darker turn! it will still focus on their relationship but...this is going to put their relationship to the test

content warning: mentions of death/murder, bodily harm, manipulation, experimentation, exploitation, self loathing, angst, professor lucius is lowkey a sadist

my rotten apples <3 : @militaryapple , @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexireads , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @i-messed-up-big-time , @motheraiya55 , @vvonunie , @1uv4jiya , @yuuuumii , @okumurarinsbabe , @mcdepressed290 , @luleck , @sanzy4 , @lucifers-silhouette , @crazygirl3001 , @april-likes-smut , @kazbrkker , @l1ttlebabyapple , @writersandroses , @kookie-my-little-sunshine , @curryexpress , @earthykitsunesrain , @raining4food , @chaoticbardlady99 , @lemonwithstupidity

want to be added to the taglist? click here!

Seven months and twenty eight days.

It has been seven months and twenty eight days since Caleb let the woman who haunts his every waking thoughts and nightmares slip through his fingers.

He allowed himself to fall from the sky that day, slipping through the clouds as Ever’s plane vanishes from behind, becoming a black speck amongst the birds in the blue sky. The image served as a reminder of his failure to keep you safe, to keep you out of the professor’s hands and away from Ever.

Now, you’re gone and all he is left to do is pick up the remaining pieces of his sanity while trying to find you.

The days pass him by. Days blur into weeks and weeks blur into months. Caleb has become a shell of himself in your absence. All of the color in his life has been drained and his once (somewhat) patient persona as Colonel has become known as an officer to avoid in the headquarters.

Caleb dedicates every single second of his day to finding you. He pokes around the Fleet’s security files, just barley able to grasp onto a lead before the General, most likely puppeted by the Professor, locks him out of the system.

Caleb has become a Colonel that holds no power within the Farspace Fleet. He holds no power in Ever, having been dropped from the Professor’s precious right hand man spot, and he has no power in whenever he goes home, forever forced to stare at the ceiling, trying to think of new ways to get you home.

It is like a ticking time bomb slowly eating away at the seconds of his days. Knowing that you are in the clutches of Ever and Professor Lucius scares him. He is terrified because he knows that the Professor has a sadistic side to him, an unstable hunger for power and evolution that will devour the entire world from around you. Professor Lucius will not stop until his final plan comes to fruition and you, my dear, just happen to be at the center of his plans.

Caleb sighs, closing his eyes. He lays in his bedroom, the weather destroying the outside world as he battles impulsive thoughts of storming into Ever as a one man army, ready to do anything to bring you back into his arms, to smell your perfume, to feel your warmth against his skin…

Your face crosses his thoughts. A small smile spreads across his face, the man instinctively reaching out for your. Your hands are just about to meet, his fingertips just barely grazing yours, before your body is enveloped in smoke, being dragged away into the depths of his mind. Your screams and cries for help twists his stomach, contorting it so all he can feel is nausea. 

A tear slips from Caleb’s eye. His mind is a battlefield and yet his heart remains steady, unable to betray the turmoil that crashed throughout his mind. From the first day they took you, Ever’s surveillance on him has increased. He has felt the whir of the chip inside his body, the person on the other side of the monitor closely looking at his vitals, his heartbeat. He can’t let Ever or the Professor think that he has become unstable with you away, a flight risk that will destroy everything that Professor Lucius has built. He cannot allow them to have a reason to bring him in to, to beat him into submission.

Maybe this has been Professor Lucius’ plan all along. Once Caleb has found someone to fill in the void of his heart and mind, the elderly man planned to rip them away from him, to use them as a pawn in their never ending game of cat and mouse.

Caleb has always been a good soldier when he believes in the orders he is given. Anything outside of what he deems to be right, well, let’s just say that the Professor made sure to erase any part of him that likes to disobey. The Professor has made sure to erase the morals Caleb once held. He has left Caleb with an obedience that a losing dog has towards its owner.

You helped him loosen the collar. Your prescience reminded him of what he is fighting for, his motivation to continue on with his days until he can finally rest. With you gone, his life has no more meaning. Maybe he should give in to the Professor, to allow the older man to consume his mind and body, to contort and twist his limbs into a person — no, a solider — that Caleb cannot recognize in the mirror.

His purple eyes feel heavy. His eyes flutter shut, his body almost succumbing to the disastrous desire of sleep.

Caleb’s body jolts awake. He sits up in bed, shaking away the drowsiness that lingers in his limbs, and slips away from the confines of the sheets. His feet carry him out of the bedroom and into the openness of his apartment. None of the lights are on, just the occasional flash of lightning through the large windows he hasn’t been bothered to shield with curtains.

The thunderstorm outside serves as a reminder for him letting you walk away. He should have never gone inside and left you alone. Caleb knows that you’re a runner, it is one of your fatal flaws that inevitably cut your time together short, and it is a flaw that he will try to bury with love and reassurance once you’re back into his arms. If you’ve fallen to a fate that he’s unable to bring you back from…

Caleb stops once he reaches the kitchen. He hasn’t cleaned since the night you left. Crumbs litter the countertop from his last meal. He sighs, knowing that you would have had some witty comment about him turning you into a housewife whenever you come over, always having to pick up after him. He knows you wouldn’t mean it. He desperately misses the toothy grin that would flash across your face as you swiped the crumbs into your hand and into the nearest trashcan.

A sigh leaves his lips. It hangs in the air, weighing down on his shoulders. The man cleans the crumbs and places his dishes into the sink, not wanting to clean them just yet with the hop that you’ll walk through the door at any moment, wanting to hear how you’d chastise him for being so messy during a time when he needed to be clean the most.

Every now and then, Caleb grabs the perfume you left behind and sprays it inside the rooms, on his pillow, and in all of the places you used to fill in whenever you were at his apartment. The last time he sprayed was a week ago when he could barely bring himself to leave his bed. The notes from your perfume kept him going and it helped him push through the monotonous days.

Should he spray it again? The bottle is almost empty so maybe he should salvage it instead of being selfish. He should spare the leftover drops of perfume, be merciful, and not take out his frustrations and depression on it.

Caleb finds himself on the couch. He sits in your spot, grabbing the pillow that you always hugged to your chest and mimicking your movements, resting his chin against the smooth material of the fabric. He slowly inhales, his body melting into the couch’s cushions, as your familiar and welcoming smell lulls him into sleep.

There’s a knock at the door. Caleb’s head perks up, his purple eyes landing on the dark brown door. A pair of footsteps run from behind, infectious giggles and laughs while Josephine tries to keep up. Caleb looks over his shoulder, watching as Josephine attempts to grab her as she jumps around with damp hair.

“Caleb? Would you be a dear and grab that for me?” Josephine’s voice is light and airy.

It’s everything that Caleb hates. She may not remember what Josephine and her colleagues have done to them, but Caleb does. The boy decides to not fight it, though, and stands from his spot on the brand new couch. He scratches around an old bandage that sits on the inside of his arm, a place where he was frequently poked with needles while in the clutches of Ever.

Caleb navigates the house, weaving through a plethora of opened cardboard boxes. Inside sit brand new items. Clothes, kitchen utensils, shoes, decorations, picture frames…all of which were bought to give off the image that Josephine is a gracious grandmother to her adoptive children.

He cautiously approaches the door, hesitating to grab the doorknob. He hopes that he can get away with the excuse that the people left or that it was some prank, like the ones he saw on the screens when he first left the facility. The boy thinks that the coast is clear when another knock sounds off from the door. He sucks in a breath and opens it up, expecting it to be soldiers from Ever when in actuality it’s…

You.

You stand in front of him, just slightly shorter, with a bright smile on your face and a plate of cookies in hand. Your mother stands behind you, a proud smile on her face as you extend the cookies towards him. Your dress is a navy blue and you have an white ribbon laced into your hair, formed into the perfect bow any girl has. Caleb is unable to breathe, his eyes flickering between the plate of baked goods and your pretty eyes.

“Hi…” your voice is quiet and your demeanor is shy. You take a step forward, the rim of the plate pushing into his personal space. He isn’t complaining, though, and holds out his hands to take the plate from you. “Um...” you turn around and look at your mother, who gives you a thumbs up and a smile. You turn back around and meet his eyes again, making Caleb’s tiny boy heart skip a beat. “Welcome to the neighborhood! My mom and I baked these for you and your family.”

Caleb is unable to say a word. All he can do is nod and smile, warmth spreading through his chest at the kind gesture. He has never experienced this before, to have someone gift him something with no ulterior motives or expectations to receive something back. Just as he’s about to say something, Josephine and her come walking down the hall.

Her laughter grows as she gets closer and Caleb instinctively steps to the side so she and Josephine can come out. The two of them smile down at you, thanking you for the cookies and king gesture all while Caleb just stares. Your eyes move to him every now and then, sharing a small smile with him. Eventually, he returns it, sheepishly looking away as his cheeks warm up.

“It looks like you have a lot on your hands,” your mom speaks up from behind, approaching the door, “would you like me to take them for a bit so you can have some time for yourself?”

“That would be wonderful,” Josephine smiles, a sigh of relief washing over her body.

Caleb looks up at her, his mind already fighting against the idea of leaving the safety of their home, but his gut tells him that it’s okay, that he doesn’t need to forever live in a state of fight or flight. He watches as you, your mother, and her leave the close proximity of the door. He turns his face away, looking back up to Josephine who leans down, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“It’s okay, Caleb,” her voice is tired, weary. She holds the weight of his and her’s worlds on her shoulders, carrying the weight of responsibility and accountability for her previous actions. “You deserve to go be a kid. Go and try to have some fun, okay?”

Josephine gently nudges him towards the trio. Her laughs fill the air, the young boy listening as she lists off her favorite types of sweets and favorite things she has seen since moving here. He sighs, nodding, and turning around. He keeps his eyes on the ground, unable to look away from the dark gray gravel. When he looks up, though, he notices you waiting at the gate for him.

“You’re Caleb, right?” you quietly ask. He nods as he approaches you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You tell him your name and he instantly memorizes it, loving how sweet the sound of your name is against his ears.

A butterfly flutters overhead. You look up, your smile growing brighter at the sight. You reach a hand out and the insect immediately lands on your tiny hand. Its wings are a bright orange color. It’s reminiscent of a sunset, one that he desperately wishes to see sometime soon.

“Do you…like butterflies?” he asks, finally breaking his silence. The two of you begin to walk in the direction of your house, which sits right next door to his. You ecstatically nod, a quiet laugh leaving your lips.

“My dad likes to say that we’re all caterpillars ready to become butterflies,” your voice is like music to his ears, your words as sweet as you are. The orange butterfly leaps from your hand and takes flight, its orange wings quickly flapping under the afternoon sunlight. You turn to look at him, smiling as the two of you approach the open door of your home. “Everyone deserves a second chance to become something better, don’t you think?”

Caleb nods, wholeheartedly agreeing with you. His heart swells and feels so full with a newfound purpose blossoming inside his body. He’ll become a butterfly, one that is as pretty as the wings that you already wear. He will not let his past define who he is, even if he is just a young kid who has no idea how the world works.

No longer does he love the colors white and gray. Instead, he much prefers blue and orange, the color of your dress and the butterfly that brought you two together.

“Come on,” you take his hand, tugging him towards the door, “let’s play!”

As soon as the two of you step through the door, your appearance changes. The two of you are older now. Eleven years old, to be exact. He finds himself in your backyard, surrounded by thriving greenery of your parents’ garden. A swing set sits in the middle of the lawn and she swings back and forth with the help of another kid, one whose hair is as black as night and his eyes sharing similar shades of the green grass and yellow flowers.

He sits beside you on the red and white blanket, popping an apple slice inside your mouth while you watch Zayne push her on the swing. There’s a small smile on her face, one that he has always found comfort in whenever he needed it the most. He rests his chin on his hand, melting into his own touch at the sight of you. Your eyes move to him, a small blush creeping up onto your cheeks. You look away, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“What are you looking at?” you ask, unable to meet his gaze. He found it so cute, how you always avoided his eyes whenever you caught him staring.

In just a few years, you’ll be boldly challenging him instead of being so shy. He loves the fact that you were able to undergo a third rebirth, shedding your cocoon of shyness and coming into a confident persona that he loves even more.

“Nothing,” he chuckles, leaning in to make your blush deepen even more.

“You’re such a jerk,” you mumble under your breath, earning a hearty laugh from him.

He wishes he can respond to you, to come up with some quirky quip about how cute your blush is or that he wishes that you would sit with him like this for longer. But all good things must come to an end. It’s just a fact of life.

She comes running over and places herself between the two of you, a proud smile on her face while Zayne takes his place at your side. You greet him with a smile and he nods in return, the man never having really changed throughout the years, which makes Caleb feel a tinge of jealousy. 

“Let’s play a game!” She proclaims with a fist in the air. Caleb’s eyes move between you and Zayne, his attention not on her as she begins to list off games that the four of you can play.

“Is there something you would like to play?” Zayne leans in to ask you. Caleb clears his throat, standing from the blanket. Everyone turns to look up at him but his purple eyes remain focused on yours.

“I propose that we play hide and seek,” Caleb smirks, knowing that it is the perfect opportunity to get you away from Zayne. “I can be the first one to find you guys! How does that sound?”

“Hide and seek?” Zayne stands from his spot, arms crossed over his chest while Caleb’s remain on his hips. “We aren’t—”

“It sounds like fun, Caleb,” you comment with a smile, standing and helping her up once you’re done. Zayne quickly shuts up and diverts his gaze, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his face. “Give us a minute to hide?” Caleb immediately nods, one that you return with a confident smile.

Not even a second later, the three of you bolt away and out of the backyard, knowing the set boundaries that your parents set so none of you go too far. Caleb turns around and closes his eyes, beginning to loudly count down from 60.

The closer and closer he gets to the last number, he can feel the summer air turn chilly. The once warm and inviting wind turns cold, slapping across his chapped skin like how one of Josephine’s colleagues would slap him whenever he cried about not wanting to crush metal objects with his mind or didn’t want to drink the bad tasting juice they made him drink before another experiment.

Caleb stops counting. He opens his eyes, seeing that he still remains in your childhood backyard. Everything is dead, though. Decomposed, overtaken by complete and utter decay. Rotten.

He looks down and spots his Colonel uniform on his body. He can’t move, feet cemented into the ground. No matter how hard he tries to fight against it, even trying to use his Evol to move but it doesn’t work. Tears fill his eyes as the familiar feeling of helplessness from his childhood seeps into his body. He cries out for help and looks around to see if someone — anyone — is there to help him.

A pair of hands cover his eyes from behind. He shudders under the touch. The pair of hands become wet from his tears. He closes his eyes, unable to bring himself to stare at the person who graces him with their touch.

He feels like a child all over again. Hopeless, unable to do a god damn thing to fight back against those who have hurt him so much. Caleb lets out a loud sob, his body trembling. The touch over his eyes turns warm, the feeling inviting and familiar. He keeps his eyes closed as a tingling sensation spreads across his face as their small fingers begin to wipe away his tears.

Caleb opens his eyes. Suddenly, he’s eight years old again. You stand in front of him, wearing the same navy blue dress you did when you first met him. You gently caress his face, wiping away his tears. A small, reassuring yet bittersweet smile spreads across your lips. A single tear rolls down your chubby cheek, eyes red from irritation.

“Find me,” you breathe the words out.

“What?” his voice cracks from under the pressure. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to fight away the image of your strained eyes.

When he opens them, he’s seventeen years old. You wear the outfit on the day you told him to leave you alone, a command that he should never have obeyed.

It’s his downfall…being a good soldier.

“Find me,” your voice that was one strong begins to deteriorate. Caleb feels like he’s being suffocated as his body racks over from helpless sobs.

“I can’t!” he cries out, “I’ve done everything I can!” Caleb reaches up to rub his eyes.

You stand before him in the same dress you wore on the night of the Peace Summit’s Gala. The black dress is a sight for sore eyes, something that he wished so many times that you would wear again during the happy and peaceful hours of your newfound relationship. He reaches out for the silk fabric, wishing to feel the material. His white sleeve of his Colonel uniform catches him off guard, unable to bring himself to close the distance.

“Find me, Caleb!” you raise your voice as the rain picks up, drenching your hair and outfit.

From around the corner of the house, Farspace Fleet soldiers appear. Their dark uniforms remain ominous, faces covered with pitch black goggles and the black fabric of their uniform covering the lower half of their face. Their footsteps are loud, the Colonel able to feel each and every vibration from their steps as they grow near. Caleb reaches out for you, desperate to hold on, but your arms are taken by the soldiers.

“Find me, Caleb! I’m going to die here!” you scream over the thunderous wind. Lightning strikes from a distance, the thunder rattling the bones inside of his body. “I don’t want to die! Please!”

The soldiers begin to drag you away from him. You kick and push them way, trying to fight against their forceful grasps. You gasp for air, making Caleb feel even more breathless, the Professor’s hand around his throat slowly tightening, making it impossible to breathe.

“I’m coming!” Caleb cries out, trying to force his feet to move.

He gasps, feeling as the vines from the garden curl around his ankles. The thorns push through the smoothed leather, piercing into his skin. Caleb hisses and reaches down to fight the earth as it begins to swallow him whole. He gasps, looking up as your bloodcurdling screams echo inside his ears, the sounds haunting him as his body is forced beneath the earth. Dirt and mud cover his body. A strike of lighting hits his body, forcing him deeper into the ground.

Caleb’s body jolts awake. He screams out your name. He loses control of his Evol, the living room becoming destroyed within seconds. The picture frames that once hung on the wall have fallen, the glass shattering and scattering across the floor of his living room. The television screen cracks and the ottoman that sits beside his couch flies across the room, landing near the kitchen. Pillows disperse, a few of them shredding from the sheer force and power of his Evol.

His chest rapidly rises and falls, his heart pounding on the inside of his chest, his breathing ragged, unable to fully catch it. He looks around, desperate for something that reminds him of you, to trick himself into thinking that you’re here or that you’ll be back in his arms sometime soon.

He can still hear your screams. Your pleas and cries for help.

Tears run down his face. Caleb doesn’t wipe them away and looks to the side as he tries to get his breathing back under his control.

With once glance to the side, he notices that the sun is out. The storm has passed. The sky is a remarkable shade of blue, one that he would comment on to you to try and get a smile out of you so early in the morning. His heart aches. He stands from the couch, his bare feet avoiding the remnants of shattered glass that lay across the floor.

His Colonel uniform feels heavier than usual. The corners of the metal pins on his chest are unusually sharp when he drags his finger along the edge, the metal cutting into the pad of his thumb. He doesn’t mind the pain. If anything, he deserves it.

Caleb steps through the door, slamming it behind him, leaving behind a wake of destruction that bloomed from his grief over you.

Today, things are going to change. Today, Colonel Caleb Xia is going to find you.

The day has dragged on for longer than it needed to. Caleb remains behind his glass desk, shuffling through random forms and mission reports that he quickly stamps his signature onto. The stack slowly shortens, just like the leash that the Professor has him on.

Whenever he leaves his office, he can feel the eyes of lower ranking soldiers and Adjutants on him. He pays them no mind, simply making the mental note to keep an eye on them just in case they decide to follow him and test his patience.

He wants them to follow him. He wants them to give him a reason to put them in their place, to declare them to be treasonous, to give him a reason to crush them beneath the weight of his Evol. Caleb would do anything to unleash the anger that he feels towards the Professor and Ever. He wants to avenge you for the harm that they have undoubtedly caused you. He wants them to pay with their blood, to break their bones until they are begging for mercy, for him to go easy on them.

Is that something you would want too? Will you also wish for them to pay with their bodies for all of the sins that they have committed?

Caleb’s mind wanders to you whenever he’s alone. He tries to put himself in the mindset of Professor Lucius, wondering where in the world he would tuck you away, where he’d hide you as a punishment against him.

Ever’s main base would be too risky. Caleb has been there one too many times for the Professor’s comfort, having been one of his many soldiers in the army he is slowly building. Holding you hostage in the Farspace Fleet’s administrative building is too risky as well seeing how Caleb knows the place like the back of his hand. There are other Ever bases that you could be held at, places that Caleb has visited as a child. What Caleb neglected to look at, though, are the bases that the Fleet has. A few of which that are placed conveniently close to one of Ever’s laboratories.

Caleb faintly remembers something that Josephine once told him. It was on one of the many nights in her later years, a time in which she was beginning to slowly lose her mind due to constant migraines and trips to the hospital. She was lucid one night, sitting alone in her chair as she slowly knitted a new scary for him to take back to the DAA.

Josephine stared out the window, the metal knitting needles frozen in her hands. It was a particularly cold day in Linkon. Caleb came back to help Josephine out, to shovel the snow in the driveway while she stayed inside on her day off from the Association. Caleb came back inside, hands frozen and his heart chilled by not having seen you at home.

“Caleb,” she called out to him. She barely looked in his direction, her eyes forever trained on the snow that falls from the window. Caleb approached her side, sitting in the old chair that he used to fight with her over who gets to sit in it. She usually won.

“Yes, grandma?” he spoke through gritted teeth, hating the affectionate family name. He only said it for her sake.

“Do you remember that snowy day?” Josephine’s voice is quiet, tired. She finally turns to look at him. “The Professor let the two of you go out and play in the snow as a treat for completing the job.”

The job meaning Ever killing her and forcing him to lift retired fighter jets and rusted train cars. Caleb fractured both arms from the sheer force of his Evol, the weight of the objects shattering his body. He remembers how the Professor called him broken but that it’ll be okay, that he’ll give the poor boy a second chance for her sanity.

“Yes,” he follows her gaze outside the window. Each snowflake is different, that’s a fact you told him when you partnered up for a class project.

“That place…nobody can leave it once they’re inside. You should consider yourself to be lucky.”

An ugly silence falls between them. Josephine reaches out and places her hand on his knee. It doesn’t bring him comfort.

From just outside the window, you cross by with a red scary covering the lower half of your face. You scurry across the frozen sidewalk, laughing after you almost slipped and fell. That brought him the comfort he needed.

What was Josephine trying to tell him? Was there a hint within her words or was she just spewing out crazy talk like she usually did before the house blew up?

Caleb sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He should consider himself lucky to have escaped from that place? Did Josephine not realize that she was the one who brought them there? That she is the reason for their pain and suffering as innocent children caught in a mad man’s crossfire and fucked up plans for the world?

Caleb turns to his computer. The Farspace Fleet’s logo stares back at him, the dark blue hues reminding him of the place he works at, the circumstances that he lives within. The confines of the cage are closing in on him. All he needs is a key to get out and escape so he can break you free too.

He stands from the desk, glancing at the family picture of him, her, and Josephine. His heart twists inside his chest. He should have placed a picture of you on here instead.

Caleb grabs his work laptop, one that he rarely ever uses, and places it inside his bag. He quietly exits his office, feeling no eyes or stares on him, as he begins to formulate a plan. If there is any chance that the place Josephine was speaking about still exists, then he is going to find it. He will do whatever it takes, spend however much money it will require, just so he can bring you back into his arms.

“Where are you going?” a voice says from behind him in the parking garage. Caleb places his bag into the backseat and turns around, shrugging his Colonel’s jacket off of his body. 

“Home,” Caleb’s response is short, cold. His Colonel persona quickly takes over his body, any warmth that was once stowed away and tucked beneath the confines of his skin disappeared. He stares at his Adjutant, Liam’s eyes cold and unresponsive yet there is a hint of desire behind them…a desire to help out his superior officer in his time of need.

“The General will be back today,” Liam’s voice remains monotone, dead. Caleb raises an eyebrow and rolls up his dress shirt’s sleeves. “He’ll want to see you.”

“More like me with him,” the angry comment leaves his lips before he can even think about it. Caleb sucks in a breath. Liam steps forward, a slow nod moving his head.

“Lunch made you sick,” Liam slowly speaks the words. Caleb straightens his posture, narrowing his eyes at the slightly shorter man. “You had to go home to recuperate. To be the best that you can possibly be for the Farspace Fleet.”

“The General will understand,” Caleb nods, confirming Liam’s cover story.

Caleb gets inside his car and closes the door behind him. Without looking at Liam, he drives away, speeding back to his destroyed apartment.

He sits himself down at the desk inside his bedroom. He pushes aside anything that will get in his way and opens up the laptop. He quickly logs in and moves to the Ever security database. It is something he has had access to seven months ago, but was kicked out. Since then, Caleb has been unable to get back inside the database to try and find the corporation’s files on you.

He stares at the log in page. The cursor blinks at him, slowly ticking away with every passing second. It beckons to him, your screams and cries filling his mind. Caleb swears he can hear you from down the hall but pays no attention to it, believing that it is just his mind playing stupid tricks on him. He wouldn’t even be surprised if it was a new aspect of the Toring chip inside his body, a way for the Professor to taunt him while he tirelessly searches for you.

Caleb types in his username and information. He is immediately kicked from the server, the login page staring at him once again. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, and cracks his knuckles. He loosens his tie, tossing it to the side. He glances away from the screen.

If only Josephine were alive to help him find the arctic base. Maybe then would this search finally come to an end, his pain and agony being able to rest with you back in his arms, your skin pressed against his as he protects you from the world, vowing to never let you go ever again.

Wait…Josephine. 

Caleb turns back to the computer. Although it was a little under twenty years ago that Josephine left Ever with her and Caleb tucked away in the back of a car, she still may have access to the company’s mainframe. Holding onto that small sliver of hope that flashes across Caleb’s heart, he slowly types in Josephine’s username, guessing what her password could possibly while trying to remember if she had told him about it in the past.

The damn Toring chip just had to do a number on his memories, didn’t it?

He stares at the small asterisks of the password. It’s long, yes, but everything that he has learned since living with Josephine as her perfect grandson, the spitting image of what a role model should look like before his untimely death. He sucks in a slow and deliberate breath.

The air around him turns stale. Your scent no longer lingers in the air. The rays of the sun leak into the room through hastily closed curtains, the golden light of the decaying day spread across his bedroom floor.

Caleb knows he will only have a few minutes inside the database before they recognize Josephine’s user inside the mainframe. In and out, that’s what needs to be done.

His finger hovers over the keyboard, ready to press the enter button when he hesitates again. He draws his hand back, gnawing at his bottom lip, his teeth digging in harsh enough to pull blood from his body. Caleb looks to the side, his Evol opening up a drawer. Inside sits a USB drive. He quickly inserts it into the computer, opening it up so he can download any and all files that revolve around you before he is kicked out.

His hands tremble, his breathing unsteady. Is he ready for what he’s about to see? How badly has the Professor treated you? Or have you been sitting pretty this whole time ready to be saved at any given moment?

He slowly breathes in, mentally preparing himself for the absolute worst. How will he react to the news that your body is stuffed inside some bag ready to be incinerated at any given moment?

No! He can’t think like that. He can’t afford to.

The man grabs his phone, his wallpaper lighting up. It is a photo of the two of you at your friend’s wedding. You look gorgeous in the bridesmaid dress, while he smugly smiles at your side, your purse strung over his shoulder. He sighs, focusing on the smile you wear. Your hand lays on his chest, head resting against his shoulder.

Caleb wishes he could go back into that moment and steal you away, to lock you away in the tallest building he can find so nobody can ever hurt you ever again. Only he will have the key to the door that you are hidden behind. Only he can move in and out. The rest of the world can politely ask him to see you. He’ll consider it.

He slowly exhales. He clicks the enter key and waits, watching as the database processes the login information. His heart races. His palms are clammy. He rapidly taps his foot against the bedroom floor. The small circle stares at him, his heart hoping that for the love of god it lets him in, getting him one step closer to you.

The screen goes blank. Caleb’s heart stops. The computer screen refreshes and it displays Ever’s database but from Josephine’s security clearance, one of the highest an employee can have. He gasps, fingers attaching to the laptop, and he quickly begins to navigate his way through the security system.

Caleb disregards any files about Viper or any of the other people he works with through Ever. He shifts through newer files, isolating it from the past seven months to narrow his search. Many of the reports are filled with nonsense about new diets for the team that lives on the base while others talk about upcoming research on Evols that Caleb doesn’t pay attention to. That is, until he sees a familiar number.

V-03

Caleb’s body goes numb, his blood cold. He blinks at the numbers, moving closer and closer to the main file source involving the mysterious V-03. He knows his place as X-02, and she is A-01, so who is V-03?

The deeper and deeper he moves inside the project file, the heavier his shoulders become. They begin to slouch, his eyes unable to blink or move away from the screen. Caleb quickly clicks through the folder, downloading anything and everything that he can find. The USB drive keeps up and swallows the files, making untraceable copies that will not be led back to him. He looks at the clock that blinks on the glass panel by his bed.

Three minutes have passed by. He guesses that he has about two or three left before they realize that Josephine, a phantom they killed a year ago, is haunting their security system. 

One folder in particular catches his attention. He doesn’t open it just yet, staring at the label.

Programming

He swallows the lump in his throat and downloads copies of it. His purple eyes move to another folder, quickly repeating the process as it dawns on him that he has finally found you. The file containing documents for V-03 were hidden away, only being accessible through back routes and hyperlinks imbedded into other documents. Professor Lucius is safe, Caleb knows this, and he knows just how precious you are to him. He’s going to keep you as hidden as possible yet keep you in plain sight so that it can torture Caleb with the idea that he could have found you sooner.

Two minutes quickly goes by and Caleb has downloaded everything involving V-03. It’s a long shot thinking that he has found you but with all of the clues and hidden messages with the way many of V-03’s comments have been blacked out only makes him believe that it is you, his heart aching at the thought that the Professor has made you endure the same process he did as a boy.

Caleb quickly logs out of the mainframe once he is done with little under a minute to spare. He removes the USB drive from the laptop and places it on his desk beside his personal computer. He takes the other laptop and uses his Evol to make it float the air. He inserts the USB drive into his computer while the Fleet’s laptop is slowly crushed into a small metal ball, the force of the surrounding gravity replicating the anger that simmers inside Caleb’s chest. The metal ball falls to the ground just as Caleb opens up the files about V-03, staring at the folder’s names.

Programming. Experiments. Evol. Purpose.

Caleb’s mouth goes dry. His mouse hovers over the names, sliding back and forth, unsure which one he should take a look inside first. He sighs and clicks on the folder labeled Purpose, hoping that this is the least worrying of them all.

Inside the folder sits a single document alongside a video. The video’s thumbnail is of Professor Lucius. Caleb sighs, his heart racing inside of his chest, as he clicks the video. It begins to play.

Professor Lucius enters the frame. He sits down and Caleb recognizes the office he is in. He leans closer to the screen as if it is going to transport him inside.

“The purpose of Project V is simple. The Farspace Fleet has given Ever the task of enhancing its soldiers and worker so that every single one of them will be able to fight with whatever threat it is that comes their way. The General has personally requested me to do this,” the Professor sighs, a slight smirk tugging the corner of his lips, “and he even has a participant in mind for the trial period.”

Caleb shudders. He pauses the video as a wave of nausea crashes throughout his body. Caleb suddenly becomes aware of his surroundings. The smell of decay that comes from the kitchen, the way the curtains flow back and forth from the ceiling fan, and the way his leg bounces up and down as anxiety courses throughout his body. He closes his eyes, unable to stare at Professor Lucius, and presses play.

“She’s a spitfire and yet she is one of the most obedient Fleet employees I have ever met. She is strong minded and gets the job done no matter what. I have only met her a handful of times but she has proven to be the perfect mound of clay for me to mold.”

Caleb stands from the desk and rushes away. To hear Professor Lucius talk about you so casually, talking about you as if you are a toy to be played with, makes his skin crawl.

“She will be our lucky V-03, a continuation of the…failed experiments from twenty years ago,” the Professor emphasizes the word ‘failed’ with such disgust and contempt that Caleb knows it was directed at him.

Caleb is the man the Professor hasn’t been able to tame. Caleb is the soldier that disobeys orders. Caleb is the weapon that got away, that fights back against the Toring chip every chance he gets. Caleb is the man who has evaded many of the Professor’s traps. Caleb is the person that Professor Lucius wishes to tame and he is using you as his leverage.

“Experiments will begin shortly. Additionally, she will be the first test subject to receive an all new Toring Chip, one that hands full bodily autonomy to Ever and the Fleet for controlling. It will be controlled through a small tablet. We’ll be able to control her breathing, consciousness, and emotional regulation while the chip is inside her body. Whoever holds her leash is in control.”

Caleb exits the video. His fingers move at a light speed pace, moving into the folder labeled Programming.

The inside of the folder is filled with hours of footage. You sit in the center of the screen. In some thumbnails, you look tired, in other ones tears run down your cheeks, frozen in time as you cry. The last video, though? Your face is completely still and is void of all emotion.

Caleb presses the first video, a sharp pain already striking through his heart.

“Day one of programming,” the Professor’s voice is heard from behind the camera. “V-03 is uncooperative and is unwilling to accept the Toring Chip implant. We will give her one last chance to accept before we turn to…more severe consequences.”

He can hear the amusement in Professor Lucius’ voice. You sit in the center of the frame, strapped down onto a chair. Your eyes dart around the room, hands trembling from beneath the straps. Your eyes well with tears. You begin to shake your head, arms tugging against the restraints that hold you down.

“Please…” you speak out, voice quiet, fear laced throughout your tone, “I-I don’t know what I did or why I’m here but please…don’t hurt me.”

Caleb knows what your plan is. He knows exactly what it is you’re thinking int his moment. He knows that you’re trying to appeal to Professor Lucius’ humanity. The irony here is that while you think the Professor holds humanity, Caleb knows he has none. If you think that he only experiments on adults — as if that makes it humane and acceptable in the first place — what would you think when you inevitably find out that Caleb was just a baby when he was passed off to Ever?

“Will you accept the Toring Chip? Yes or no?”

“What? Why would I?” you audibly laugh, leaning back as much as you can into the metal chair, the same chair that Caleb once at in when he was just four years old. “I’ve seen what it does to people! Why would I want to do something to myself like?”

You were always so opinionated, weren’t you?

“One more chance…because I’m in a good mood.”

“No!” your voice lowers, shaking. One of the scientists in the room nears you. You try your best to wiggle away from him, fighting against the restraints. “NO! Stop! Get off of me! You can’t make me do this!”

Your screams and yells are animalistic. Your appearance is covered by the scientist’s back. Caleb’s breath gets caught in his throat.

“Please stop! Ca—” the video’s audio cuts out. All Caleb can do is watch as your body thrashes around from under the scientist’s grip, a long syringe hangs in their hand, the metal catching the light. The video abruptly ends when you kick the scientist, causing him to topple into the camera. He exits the video and opens up a document, one that has been meticulously blacked out.

Your name is blacked out of the document, erasing any trace of your true identity. To Ever, you are V-03. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Caleb scrolls through the document. His eyes widen at the horror they put you through the first day. He connects the clues through the redactions, his stomach twisting and churning.

Subject will be known as V-03. Her psychological evaluation (REDACTED). V-03 refuses to answer questions about (REDACTED). Professor Lucius stepped in. He informed her of previous experiments. When (REDACTED) is mentioned, (REDACTED) and she (REDACTED). V-03 mostly speaks of the Colonel after this.

Caleb’s breath gets caught in his throat. The Colonel… Why are you trying to save him before you save yourself?

Subject was told that she will have Toring Chip V.3.9 implanted in the base of her neck. Subject refused and became aggressive. Once sedated, subject was told that if she does not cooperate, we will  (REDACTED) and make sure he (REDACTED). Subject agrees.

He moves out of the document, brows furrows at the computer screen. Caleb glances to the side and catches a brief glance of a document that acts as an overview for the new Toring Chip.

Toring Chip V.3.9 will be implanted as the base of the subject’s neck. Toring Chip V.3.9 will not be (REDACTED).  Unlike Toring Chip V.1.3, V.3.9 will not be taken out (REDACTED). Professor Lucius says that this makes the Toring Chip permanent instead of temporary.

An unsettling feeling ferments in the bottom of Caleb’s stomach. He closes his eyes, swallowing the bitter taste that forms across his tongue. It only worsens, though, leaving him trembling. He scrolls to the next video.

You sit in the same chair with dark eye bags under your eyes. Caleb blinks away his tears. He reaches for the screen, the tips of his fingers grazing against the image of your face.

Silent tears flow down your cheeks, eyes completely dissociated as the world moves around you. A man and woman in white lab coats move about the room like they live in it. They laugh and talk about their days, their plans for the night. The man’s wife made a pot roast. The woman plans on watching a movie. You stare into the nothingness of the room, allowing them to move your body and insert various needles into your arms in the same exact spot Caleb’s were located as a kid.

He looks down at his arm, the light and faint scar mocking him. He can’t help but wonder if you’ll have the same scar once he gets you out of there.

Professor Lucius enters the room. You don’t meet his gaze. He sits in his usual chair that is placed across from you. Caleb can see his reflection in the two way mirror that is right behind you. The two scientists shut up and move behind the camera. Caleb memorizes their faces as they pass the camera, making a note to make them pay for their sins as well.

“Good morning, V-03.”

“My name is—” the audio cuts out again.

Caleb is unable to look away, unable to bring himself to breathe as he reads your lips, the way you make for sure the Professor knows your name. Through the reflection, Professor Lucius leans forward. The side of his arm slips into frame. He can’t read the Professor’s lips, but he can continue to read yours.

Caleb? You said you wouldn’t hurt him. You promised!

You jolt forward in the restraints. The Professor’s body shakes, probably laughing at your plight. Tears well in your eyes.

Don’t hurt him…please. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve any of this!

Caleb leans forward, his nose almost touching the screen. Oh, how he wishes that he would have been there to wipe away your tears of agony, to rip you out of the chair and away from the people who are subjecting you to such torturous methods. He clears his throat, pushing away the urge to throw up, and moves to the next document.

It is a scanned copy of Professor Lucius’ notes. His handwriting is barely legible to anyone outside of Ever but Caleb knows the special characteristics of the way he writes, having deciphered many notes from meetings and hidden messages that hid orders behind veiled threats. Caleb scrolls through the file, unable to tears his gaze off of the screen.

V-03 remains uncooperative. The chip has been implanted into her neck but she shows signs of defiance. Threats towards (REDACTED) do not work anymore. Will calling her by her name work? Or do I need to beat her into submission?

V-03 is too much like X-02. If only she were more like A-01, then we would have made more progress.

Caleb closes his eyes. He knows how much you hate being compared to her. He can’t even imagine how you would have reacted if the Professor said these words to your face. Caleb can’t help but wonder if you fought back or accepted his words as the final truth to put you in your coffin.

Moving to the next page, there are pictures of you while you’re asleep. The back of your head has been shaved, just enough space for them to insert the Toring Chip. Caleb memorized the way the stitches were sewn into your skin, the way that the Ever doctors treated you with little care seeing how the stitches were jagged and messy.

Were they taking care of you? Have the stitches been properly taken care of or did you get an infection due to lack of care?

“Good morning, V-03.”

You look tired. You’ve lost all of the extra weight in your face, your cheeks sinking into your skull. You remain dissociated as the Professor sits beside you. He wears a big puffer jacket, his breath prominent in the air, while you’re stuck in a thin hospital gown with wires and tubes connected into your arms. Caleb watches as he takes your hand, brushing the hair out of your face. There are bruises on your arms with one particularly nasty bruise across your cheekbone.

“Are you ready to cooperate?”

You don’t respond. You slowly blink, staring into nothing, eyes glazed over as the Professor straps you down into the chair. He sighs, shaking his head at you. The audio cuts out. Caleb sucks in a breath and reads the Professor’s lips.

X-02 isn’t coming to save you, V-03. He’s a broken weapon. You…you will be our saving grace.

The audio comes back to the video just as the Professor sits back in his chair beside the camera.

“V-03, it was recommended to us by psychologists to undergo the Interlinked Program so we can have your full cooperation before we begin our experimentation,” the Professor sighs. You look away, tears rolling down your eyes.

Caleb’s heart aches. Exhaustion has taken over your body. At this point in the process, which Caleb estimates to be about a month or two in, Ever makes sure that the test subject is mentally hazy, to take advantage of their weaknesses and offer a way out, a saving grace that feels like an oasis in the middle of a never ending desert.

“V-03, if you do this for us, we will make sure that you get a blanket tonight. It’s so cold out, don’t you think? Wouldn’t a blanket be nice to sleep with before your big day?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” your voice trembles through the speakers of the computer. It is just loud enough for the camera’s microphone to pick up. It sends icy daggers through Caleb’s chest.

He should have worked harder to find you. He should have flown after the plane and done what the Professor has taught him to do best: destroy things.

“Look at the screen, V-03. We are going to show you a series of images. I’ll guide you through them. The camera is going to read your body temperature and language. We have full control over your reactions. We know everything. Whenever I say interlinked, you must say it as well. Understand?”

You weakly nod.

A screen illuminates from behind the camera. A man steps into frame, moving behind you with a tool that Caleb knows. It is to adjust the Toring Chip’s functions, to tweak it to fit the soldier they have put inside of. He presses it up against your neck and you shudder, more and more tears rolling down your cheeks as you tug against the restraints.

“Let’s begin,” Professor Lucius states. He clicks a button and your face is covered in various different lights. “I’m going to tell you your baseline. Memorize it. If you don’t, you know the consequences.”

You weakly nod again.

“Your baseline is: Weeping willows decay under the scorching sun with no water to flourish. Repeat it.”

You remain quiet. The Professor sighs and snaps his fingers. A soldier walks into frame with a baton in hand. He slams it into your stomach. You cry out in pain, head rolling back. The soldier grabs your hair and movies it so you look at the screen once again.

“Say it, V-03.”

“Weeping willow decay under the scorching sun with no water to flourish.”

“Good,” Professor Lucius scribbles something into his notebook. “Have you ever been in an institution? Interlinked.”

“Interlinked.”

“A man and woman hold hands. Interlinked.”

“Interlinked.” You gulp. With a wave of the Professor’s hand, the soldier hits you again. You let out a cry, jolting around in your chair to try and get away.

“Whenever an animal is trapped, V-03, it will chew of its own leg to escape. Are you the same? Are you an animal? Interlinked.”

“Interlinked,” you breathe through word out, fear already running through your body.

Caleb closes the video, unable to watch anymore. He is in a trance, his clammy hands slipping along the keypad as he moves over to am untouched folder.

Experimentation.

Caleb sucks in a sharp breath, the chilled air of the room making his lungs tingle, feeling so dead yet so alive. It is the bulkiest folder with thousands of documents as well as hundreds of videos.

You lay on a table completely naked with tubes moving in and out of your body. The camera is set to the side, your appearance hidden behind doctors in lab coats and scrubs. You look to the side, the terror and pain flickering across your eyes as they begin to tear into you.

Caleb remembers this feeling. He remembers being awake for every experiment and modification they made on his body. They numbed him so he wouldn’t be able to move or feel agonizing pain. He could still feel the drag of the scalpel into his skin, the way his flesh was sliced into with such ease as Ever modified his arm.

You look as if you want to scream out, to cry for help. You can’t do any of it. Caleb wishes he were in your place instead. He would undergo hundreds of more experiments if it meant that you wouldn’t have been touched by the Professor’s plans.

He opens up a new video. Professor Lucius sits in the center of the video, sitting inside his office with a look of determination and sadistic satisfaction written on his face. He clears his throat as he settles into his seat, shrugging off his jacket before tossing it away.

“Our mission here at Ever is to push the human race to its fullest potential. We want to make life easier for mankind, wanting it to thrive and flourish with no obstacles in our way. The way I see it, despite all of the technological advances that we have seen in the world, we are still in a Stone Age. With the growing population of Evolvers, I can’t help but think to myself if there is a way to gift the same abilities to normal people. V-03’s DNA sequence is unique. She, like many other people, possess the DNA sequence needed to become and Evolver. It just…needs to wake up.”

To wake up? What is he talking about? Caleb thinks to himself. Chills run down his spine. The place where his Toring Chip sits tingles. His arms vibrate, his Evol having a mind of its own, his bones rattling underneath the flesh and muscles of his arm.

“What happens when we push he human body to brink of death? To stress it out so much that the body is forced to ignite the DNA needed to evolve in real time. V-03 will be the first of her kind if this hypothesis proves to be true.”

Images of you on the medical table flashes through his head. Caleb winces, closing his eyes as he tries to fight off the images of Professor Lucius digging into your chest, grabbing your beating heart into his hand, squeezing it to get you to squeal. Caleb can see the smile on the man’s face, the sadism of his actions giving him immeasurable pleasure as you wither beneath his touch.

The next video begins to play.

“V-03 will undergo beatings and lacerations as the first step of her Evolver process. The Toring Chip will send shocks throughout her body when she is about to pass out to keep her awake to prolong the process.”

The video ends and the next one begins.

You lay on the ground, your sobs curdling Caleb’s blood as soldiers beat you with their batons, kicking you with their metal toed boots. He watches as you tremble, crying out for them to stop — to have mercy on you — but they don’t let up. They continue their kicks before Professor Lucius calls them away like dogs. You shiver. You’re curled up into a ball, protecting your stomach as you cough up blood, face beaten beyond recognition.

“Your baseline, V-03,” the Professor calls out.

“Weeping willow decay under the scorching sun with no water to flourish,” you speak between coughs.

“An animal needs to be beaten into submission. Interlinked.”

“Interlinked.”

The video ends.

“V-03 shows signs of Evolving. Her Evol is special. Health regeneration. We’re going to push further to see just how far we can take it.”

Caleb opens up a file filled with countless photos. He thanks whatever higher power there is for sparing him from hearing your pained cries and begs for them to stop hurting you. Seeing them, though? He wishes he could go blind.

He shuffles through images of you with various wounds. A knife dragging along your arm. A torch being held against the flesh of your stomach, burning you. In another photo, you’re laying on the ground with multiple bloodied spots on your body, presumably where you’ve been shot multiple times.

Caleb can feel the phantom pains of the small metal bullets digging into his skin. His skin burns. His breathing grows heavy as he continues to see what they have done to you.

“V-03 cannot die. We can slice her neck and she will go unconscious, her heart still beats, but her brain activity shows that she is still alive and is…asleep. We cannot figure out where her consciousness goes if it is a dreamlike state or if she is truly just asleep. Her heart is her weak spot. If that stops beating, then she will die. V-03 also shows signs of being able to heal others with her touch. She has Evolved far beyond our expectations.”

Professor Lucius hesitates when he speaks. He rubs his eyes and turns back to the camera. A small smile graces his face. He’s finally reached his victory.

“We plan on showing the General this in a month. A showcase of our progress of the toy he has gifted to us. He deserves to see how we have molded his soldier into something…remarkable. With her DNA, we can figure out how to change the sequences of others. We will help make unstoppable soldiers for the Farspace Fleet and for the world.”

A phone rings from the other room.

Caleb slams the laptop shut. He shudders, body uncontrollably shaking. He pushes away from the desk, tears freely flowing from his eyes while his heart remains still. He exits his bedroom. His motions are calculated and careful. He enters an office that sits just at the end of the hall, a space where the two of you decided to have Fleet business happen whenever either of you brought work home.

Caleb sits in one of the chairs, grabbing the ringing phone, and brings it to his ear.

“Colonel Xia,” Liam’s voice is low from the other end of the call. “Professor Lucius has invited you to an Ever Group meeting as the General’s temporary Adjutant.”

please drop a like, reblog, & comment!! i love see what you all have to say <3

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[chocoposum]

HELL YEA BROTHER WE ARE SO BACK

I love this autor so muchhh 😭😭😭

Confidentiality - Chapter 10. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as paranoid thoughts. Possessive and obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, violence. Dark themes are to be expected. MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND DRUGS IN THIS CHAPTER! Character death! A/N: Damn, it has been over two months since the last chapter... This one's going to be more intense and reveals important information. I hope you enjoy! Word count: 2 721

Answering to unknown numbers had always caused you distress. You never knew if the person calling you was lying about their identity or intentions. It could be a bank officer, but it could also be a man from the other side of the world claiming to be your lost great-great-grandfather who wants to include you in his will. 

These days you were different. Your phone was stuck to your side and your fingers ready to act if there was an upcoming call from an unknown number. It could be the bank officer or scammer but now there was also a chance of the police calling you. 

A few weeks ago, they had arrived in your apartment in a rush. No stone was left unturned as they searched for signs of the break-in. To your relief they did find some evidence and believed your suspicions of someone stalking you. Saving all those letters had come in handy after all. 

But as you waited weeks for them to call you and update you on the investigation, no call ever came. That’s why you were at the police station, too impatient to keep on waiting at home. You just needed to know if they were any close to catching the stalker. 

“I’m sorry, miss L/N. This case you’re talking about... it doesn’t exist,” the police officer spoke calmly. 

You furrowed your brows. 

“How could that be possible? I was there when the police came to my apartment and searched it.” 

The officer had clearly seen lots of different kind of people during her career since she put a practiced, firm yet compassionate smile on her face. Despite her work experience, she still couldn’t see you weren’t some delusional nutcase. 

“Unfortunately, there are no traces of your case existing. We’ll contact you if the situation changes, but for now I advise you to go home.” 

You left the police station, confused and distraught. How could the police not have your case registered? You could have disregarded everything as some weird dream if it weren’t for the shattered glass doors and stolen objects. 

You had stopped going to the group therapy since the day you had found your home in that state of chaos. Since the stalker must have found you there, you should have started feeling safer now that you would never step into the therapy room again. But still, a persistent fear lingered. You didn’t feel safe at your own home anymore. 

People passed by as you walked on the streets, heading home. It was daytime, and none of them had even glanced at you. Still, it was impossible to shake off the feeling of being followed. 

Suddenly, a hand landed on your shoulder. It felt like ice-cold water had been poured on you in that moment. With a quick turn, you faced the culprit and hit him with your elbow. 

“Ow! Calm down, it’s just me!” 

You gasped as you recognized the face you had just hit: it was Wooyoung. 

“I-I’m sorry, Wooyoung! I didn’t know it was you.” 

“It’s okay. I guess I had it coming with the way I sneaked up to you.” 

Wooyoung was grinning, but you could see he was in pain. Blood was slowly starting to trickle down his nostrils. He wiped some of the crimson-red blood on the sleeve of his sweater and you cringed. 

“Your nose is bleeding. I’m sorry,” you mumbled in shame, “Do you want to come to my place? I’ll give you some tissues.” 

“Well, well, I never thought I would see the day you invite me to your apartment,” Wooyoung smirked, making you regret your invitation already. 

“It won’t take long. I live nearby,”  

“Oh, I know.” 

Wooyoung’s comment was alarming, but you figured he knew where you lived because of Yeosang. Back at that sleepover, Wooyoung had said that Yeosang shares “everything and everyone” with him and San. 

At least it hadn’t been the stalker following you. Wooyoung was mischievous but most likely not the one who had broken into your apartment. After all, he had been with you the whole time, even coming to sleep next to you. 

It didn’t feel like you were leading Wooyoung into your home since it seemed that he already knew your exact address. He even greeted the neighbors sitting outside like he knew them. 

The entire time you inspected his actions carefully. All his little jokes, smiles, and the weird glint in his eyes. You just hoped you weren’t making a mistake, bringing him to your home. 

“So, the bathroom is-” 

As soon as you opened the front door, you tried to guide Wooyoung into the bathroom to clean up his bleeding nose. But you couldn’t even finish your sentence; he had already headed in the right direction without needing your guidance. 

You watched as he cleaned up, washing the blood off and stuffing a crumpled piece of toilet paper inside his other nostril. A quiet, pained grunt escaped his lips, and you felt guilty. 

“I’m sorry, Wooyoung. I thought you were someone dangerous.” 

“Ah, do you mean the stalker?” 

“Precisely.” 

Wooyoung turned to look at you properly instead of merely catching glimpses of you in the mirror. He gave you a smile – he also gave you the bloody paper that had been previously inside his nose. 

“I’ll forgive you if you let me cook for you.” 

“And why did you give me this paper?” you grimaced. 

Nobody likes dirty things, especially not you. The paper drenched in Wooyoung’s blood could have all kinds of nasty bacteria crawling up your skin. 

“Just a little memory of me. Who knows, maybe I’ll die in the next few days? The letters I’ve been receiving are creeping me out,” Wooyoung grinned. 

“You’ve still received those? Why haven’t you told the police?” 

With a roll of his eyes, Wooyoung threw the question back at you: “Why haven’t you told the police about the stalking situation?” 

You had. You definitely had. You could remember the police arriving and searching the apartment for any immediate danger and evidence. 

But could it be possible you had imagined everything? No. That’s why the police officer’s revelation had freaked you out. 

“I have told the police. My apartment was broken into, and the police came here,” you spoke grimly, “Today I went to the station, and I was told that my case doesn’t exist. According to them, nothing ever happened.” 

Wooyoung immediately fell quiet. His eyes were empty, at least compared to his usual lively expressions. 

“I have a theory.” 

Wooyoung’s words made your heart jump. Could he have some crucial information? 

“I... I need to test it out a little first. I’ll tell you once I know better,” he continued. 

After that, Wooyoung ushered you to sit on the couch while he was going to prepare you a meal. You told him that you wanted to help, but he remained uncharacteristically stern and didn’t let you indulge in the cooking. 

You couldn’t help but wonder what he was cooking since the air wafting into the living room smelled unusual. It wasn’t necessarily a bad smell, just a little odd. 

“What are you cooking?” you called out to Wooyoung. 

A moment of silence followed your words but eventually he answered from the kitchen: “I can’t spoil the surprise.” 

 A sigh slipped past your lips. After mentioning the break-in and police, Wooyoung had turned subdued and weirdly serious. 

To pass time, you turned on the TV. It was a new, more pathetic one, after the break-in had caused your old TV screen to shatter completely. As if you hadn’t had money issues before, now you had had to buy and fix a lot of stuff. The government had cut off your monetary assistance because you had stopped going to the group therapy. Things were tough. 

You switched through the TV channels, not finding the energy to actually focus on watching them. 

A true crime documentary was playing on the background. Hearing about the murdered and kidnapped victims made you even more uneasy. Mostly, you could only focus on the fears having a hold on you. 

“Stop watching that. You’ll have nightmares.” 

Wooyoung had suddenly appeared out of the kitchen and turned the TV off. He set a plate full of food in front of you on the coffee table. 

“Is this for me?” 

“Yeah. Just for you,” he answered. 

You couldn’t lie; the food looked absolutely delectable. And you were very hungry. Past days you hadn’t cooked anything, just nourishing yourself with simple meals. 

Wooyoung stared at you intently as you eventually started devouring the food. 

Bite by bite the plate got emptier. And minute by minute you started becoming more tired. 

“How did it taste like?” 

You nodded in approval: “It was delicious. Thank you.” 

Wooyoung nodded as well. His eyes were intense yet empty at the same time, “And how do you feel?” 

“Full. And very tired. I think I’m going into a food coma,” you chuckled. 

While you may hadn’t noticed that your speech was getting slurred, Wooyoung had. 

It was becoming difficult to keep your eyes open. There was definitely something wrong, but your head was so fuzzy that you couldn’t even think about what was happening. 

“Oh. That is such a shame. I guess our hangout will be cut short then,” Wooyoung spoke slowly. 

With a yawn, you informed him you’d go to bed. However, your limbs felt so heavy that it felt impossible to move them. 

“No. You can stay on the couch, and I’ll be here with you. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable and safe, baby.” 

The pet name was weird, but it was innocent enough. You couldn’t even find the strength to answer because you were too tired to even move your lips. Slowly, you closed your eyes. A little rest would be good. 

It was silent for a couple minutes. Wooyoung typing on his phone broke the silence, but you didn’t care. 

Silence again. You were fighting against the inevitable exhaustion that would tip you off the edge of consciousness soon enough. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Hearing Wooyoung get up from the couch and walk to the door, you felt satisfied. You couldn’t have answered the door at this state. 

“Woo...ong. I... somethin... for...” 

You heard a familiar voice speaking to Wooyoung, but you couldn’t make out the words completely. It was hard to even stay awake, let alone understand what was happening around you. 

“What... hell... you... here?” you heard Wooyoung asking something angrily. 

“...away... her... I’ll... you.” 

After that your eyes closed slowly. 

When you woke up, you didn’t feel refreshed. Wooyoung was nowhere to be seen, and it was both a good and bad thing. In the place of some of your memories from before you fell asleep were now blank spaces. You needed him to tell you what had happened. 

Groggily, you reached for your phone on the coffee table. If you remembered correctly the time you had arrived home yesterday, you had been sleeping for 18 hours already. The air was tense despite you being the only one in your apartment. Wanting to get your mind off the nagging feeling of unease, you started scrolling on your phone. 

Then you noticed you had received a text message from Yeosang. 

“Wooyoung is dead.” 

Your heart dropped. Your mind went blank. No way. 

Another message came through. 

“He was found dead in his apartment today. According to the police it was a suicide. An overdose on a drug.” 

But just some hours ago he had been alive and well. He had seemed completely his normally weird self until you had mentioned the break-in and the police. 

Your fingers trembled as you wrote a message back: “This is terrible. Who found him?” 

It took a while until Yeosang sent his next message. 

“San and I did. He didn’t show up to our hangout in time, so we went to look for him.” 

Suddenly a memory flashed through your mind. Someone ringing the doorbell. Wooyoung answering it. Them talking to each other angrily. 

“Wooyoung was at my place earlier. Just before I fell asleep someone rang my doorbell and talked with him,” you replied. 

You couldn’t process the fact that Wooyoung was gone now. It didn’t make sense. Why did people keep disappearing in your life? First it was your parents, then it was Jongho and now even Wooyoung. 

“We must talk. As soon as possible.” 

Soon enough, you met up with Yeosang at his apartment. He opened the door, a grim look on his handsome features. You opened your arms instead, offering him a hug tentatively. 

Yeosang’s arms wrapped around your body. No words were exchanged but you could feel his emotions even non-verbally. The way his body trembled broke your heart. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called out. 

You locked eyes with San and gave him a weak nod and an even weaker smile. 

Usually, he was the one seeking out physical contact and Yeosang being the more reserved one. But now he had to be strong for Yeosang and you. He probably felt like he should bear the grief of everyone alone. 

The three of you sat down around Yeosang’s dining table. There were four chairs, one left unoccupied, almost like a mockery of Wooyoung’s absence. You hadn’t even been that much of close friends with him, but during the past weeks you’d gotten to know him better. This was all so wrong and sudden. 

“You texted Yeosang that you heard someone talking to him. What did that person say? What did they sound like?” 

You could hear the pain in San’s voice. 

“It was a familiar voice. A man. But I can’t put my finger on who it could have been.” 

“What did Wooyoung and him talk about?” 

“It was a heated conversation. They were arguing. I was so tired that I couldn’t focus properly, but I heard some words here and there,” you mumbled. 

San looked quite disappointed, which made you feel guilty. Wooyoung’s death wasn’t your fault, at least hopefully, but you wanted to be able to help. 

“The man clearly knew Wooyoung, since he said his name. He said something about what he’d do to him,” you said quietly, “At least I think so...” 

Yeosang had been quiet all this time but suddenly he spoke, “San. Do you remember the message he sent to us yesterday?” 

You could recall hearing Wooyoung type something on his phone as you had been lying down on the couch. Maybe that was the message Yeosang was talking about. 

“I do. He said he has a theory,” San answered. 

“He told me that too,” you chimed in, “He didn’t want to tell me yet since he wanted to ‘test out his theory’.” 

The air was thick and tension high – not in a threatening way, more like anxious. Yeosang and San exchanged glances. They were communicating wordlessly and effortlessly with just eyes. It made you feel even worse; Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang had been such a close, tight-knit trio. Now it all had been shattered. 

San let out a heavy sigh. If his eyes hadn’t been serious before, they were now. 

“Wooyoung said that you went to the police station and there were no traces of your case. Is that correct?” 

At your confirming nod, San continued speaking, “Why do you think that’s the situation? The police had arrived at your place after all, right?” 

It felt like this was extremely important. If you found out the reason why the police had suddenly lost all information of your case, you could find out many more crucial things. 

Suddenly, a thought popped up into your head. 

“Someone who has knowledge about how police work, the access to their files... That someone could have intentionally made it seem like the case never happened,” you murmured slowly, the words pouring out of your mouth. They tasted disgusting. 

San’s intense gaze confirmed your fears. 

“And who could that be?” he asked. 

You should have expected this. That certain someone was a police officer. That certain someone had been suspicious from the start, so why did it feel so hard to say his name? 

San and Yeosang already knew; they didn’t need to hear you say it. They just wanted you to acknowledge it. 

You whispered his name. 

“Yunho.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <- Chapter 9. Chapter 11. -> Masterlist ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Taglist: @devilzliaison @lover-with-dolar-sign-is-a-loser @gigikubolong29 @peqchplvto @eighttens @all-of-kpop @castingjinx @jsprien213 @lilyalone @atzloverr @ltyzennie @keisocool @carpioassists @levishun

[chocoposum]

Please stop ✋🚨 you're the only hope to save my children😔😭

We haven't had bread for days... The war on Gaza continues, the blockade is suffocating us, and the situation is desperately desperate - children, families, everyone is starving. We need every voice, every support, every contribution to make our cry heard. Please don't ignore our suffering. We are currently under siege, and we have no safe haven. We are being subjected to heavy bombardment. My family and I could be killed at any moment. Donate, donate, help us get out of Gaza faster. Share, do good. Your donation is not just a donation, it's saving our lives. Don't leave us to die here.

✅️vetted by @/bilal-salah0, @/90-ghost, & @/el-shab-hussein✅️

[chocoposum]

WHAT

YOU CANT JUST SLAP ME STRAIGHT ACROSS THE FACE AND RUN FOR THE HILLS LIKE THAT WHATTTTT

Rotten Apples, part 10

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

part one , part two , part three , part four , part five , part six , part seven , part eight , part nine

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: your relationship with caleb is on the rocks. he talks you out of accepting a job. something bad happens.

word count: 10.5k words

warnings: slightly proofread! i wrote this in one sitting ... don't judge too hard

author's note: hi! thank you so much for being patient with me! part 10 is a little ... yeah. i hope you enjoy it regardless !!

content warning: angst, mentions of death, self blaming, loathing, syringe/drugging

my rotten apples <3 : @militaryapple , @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexireads , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @i-messed-up-big-time , @motheraiya55 , @vvonunie , @1uv4jiya , @yuuuumii , @okumurarinsbabe , @mcdepressed290 , @luleck , @sanzy4 , @lucifers-silhouette , @crazygirl3001 , @april-likes-smut , @kazbrkker , @l1ttlebabyapple , @writersandroses , @kookie-my-little-sunshine , @curryexpress , @earthykitsunesrain , @raining4food , @chaoticbardlady99 , @young-adult-summer

want to be added to the taglist? click here!

Things weren’t the same after the wedding.

The next morning, the two of you acted as if nothing had happened when your parents came back from their getaway. Their cheery smiles were met by shiny yet fake grins, you and Caleb being affectionate and in love. They made endless comments about how the two of you looked so good together, that your mother was always rooting for you and Caleb to get together as teens and cried about it when he died (he explained that his death was fake for DAA reasons, your parents didn’t press further into the matter).

They offered for the two of you to stay another night, to spend some time in Linkon together and visit the places you loved as a kid. Caleb knew you hated the idea by the way your voice went up an octave. He effortlessly made an excuse that you agreed to come with him to a Farspace Event, that it was unavoidable as a Colonel and his trusty translator.

So, they waved you away and the two of you kept up the facade that you are a couple in love, who cannot keep their hands off of each other, and watched as the image of your parents disappeared from the train’s window.

As soon as they were gone, you dropped the facade and put your headphones on, drowning out the outside world while you nursed a headache from the emotional stress. Caleb kept your hand in his, though, and watched as your face showed cracks for the first time that day.

It wouldn’t be the only time it happened.

To you, life had lost all of its color. Sure, you loved Caleb and wanted to continue your relationship with him. He has proven to you that he will choose you, make the time and effort to pursue you despite the people in your lives trying so hard to keep you apart.

There is still one raincloud that hangs over your head, though. It’s big and is a deep gray color, holding in all of the unanswered questions, anger, and sadness that has rooted itself inside of you. It hovers over the blooming apple tree in your heart. No fruit has come from the tree yet, its life still too young to support anymore weight than it can. 

The cloud taunts the tree. It absorbs all of the sunlight that it tries to get, forever rejected the nourishment the tree needs to thrive. It also baits the tree into thinking that it will receive water, a necessity for it to survive. It holds all of the water inside itself, refusing to let go.

The tree begins to wither. It’s once healthy branches begin to turn dry, ready to snap under the pressure or from a forceful gust of wind.

Life at home was fine. You and Caleb remained together, usually opting to spend the night in his apartment instead of yours. You went about your day as usual, translating important documents and even occasionally being called upon to translate live for a high ranking official’s mission. The routine became monotonous, though.

You wake up beside Caleb and share a peck on the lips before getting ready for the day. He made breakfast while you made the bed and cleaned up any messes either of you made the previous night. You stood next to each other while you brushed your teeth. Caleb changed into his Colonel’s uniform while you slipped on one of your office outfits, your own uniform as Caleb likes to call it. You help him with his tie while he pushes your hair out of your face and flattens out the wrinkles of your shirt.

It’d be quiet while the two of you got ready. Usually, you’d be asking Caleb about his plans for the day and you’d share yours. The two of you would share hundreds of happy kisses and pecks on the cheek, always trying to sneak another one in before you have to leave. Now, though, the rooms are filled with a deafening silence, the echoes of your last giggles and shared whispers vanishing from existence.

Once at work, you’d part ways with a small wave, going through the front doors while he parked the car and went through his own entrance. When the two of you left for the day, he would pick you up right outside the building’s doors and drove to whoever’s apartment was called upon that day.

On the weekends, days that you had off, you would run out for groceries while he handed any Colonel business that needed his attention. Your phone dinged throughout the day, texts from Caleb asking you where you are and what you’re doing littering your phone screen. You always answered truthfully but your messages were dry, lacking any excited exclamation marks or funny emojis that would make the two of you giggle later that night.

While you folded laundry, your mind would drift out into space, the insecure thoughts from before floating into your consciousness, your fingers tightly gripping Caleb’s weathered DAA shirt.

The cloud that hangs above your head grows.

Some days, Caleb would stop by the translators sector just to see the smile on your face, but it was nowhere to be seen, your face stoic while you typed away on your computer. When your gazes met, your smile only lasted for a couple of seconds before it vanished, your boss stacking a tall pile of papers onto your desk.

You began to bring work home. Once your boss caught wind of your relationship with Caleb, they thought it would be poetic justice (or just plain bullying) to give you some more work for dating far above your rank and importance. Funnily enough, you began to miss Darryl and the shit he used to give you about being late. Caleb’s face always fell when you got into his car. His eyes would immediately latch onto the papers in your hands, watching as you struggled to piece together the dialect of a language you aren’t used to.

Caleb knew that those nights would end with you working until the moon is about to leave the night sky. He stayed up with you, though, and fell asleep with his chin on your shoulder while you sat on his lap. The low light of the lamp was enough to illuminate the page. You scribbled the deciphered language onto a blank page and yawned throughout the night, mentally exhausted beyond belief.

You weren’t too mad about the workload. It helped you avoid having tough conversations with Caleb. Instead, you helped him learn new words in languages he can barely understand, speaking to him in full sentences while he tried his best to ask you where the library is. It kept things lighthearted despite the two of you knowing that the current solution is a bandaid over a bullet hole.

“Do you want me to take the leftovers?” Your co-worker, Alivia, asks one day.

You stare at the box in front of you. Inside sits countless of papers and documents that are blacked out with only a few words here and there to decipher. A task like this would take you a week to complete and that’s is you pulled all nighters and lost a few hours of sleep.

A break, though? It sounds nice.

“That would be amazing, actually,” you breathe out, already feeling the weight and stress from Oliver’s last minute assignment slip off of your shoulders.

“Of course! You deserve a break too. It’s unfair how you always get the short end of the stick,” Alivia swipes the box off of your desk, placing it on her own. She glances at the clock on her desk and looks back to you. “Go home. I’ll cover you if he says anything. Just go and get some rest this weekend, okay?”

You nod, a genuine smile spreading across your face, and gather your belongings. There’s only a few more hours left of the work day but a break would be everything and more. Without looking back, you rush out of the doors and into the cool air.

The sky is dark, a rainstorm slowly coming in. The weather has been so unpredictable lately. Some days it is bright and sunny with high temperatures and the next it is thundering and raining, threatening to down the floating city. The wind chills your skin. You hug your jacket closer to your body, ready to find a taxi when your phone rings. You don’t even need to look at the caller I.D. to know who it is.

“Caleb,” you answer, teeth clattering from the cold wind, “what’s up?”

“Where are you going?” his voice is filled with concern with a hint of possessiveness. It make you shiver from just how quick he learns about your work life.

“Alivia told me to go home. I thought I’d go to your place and take a nap there. Your bed is better after all,” you add a chuckle to the end of your sentence. You know that it’ll disarm Caleb’s sudden protectiveness. You know him just as well as he knows you. “I can always go to my—”

“No! It’s okay. I could use a nap too,” Caleb chuckles over the phone but his laugh immediately dies when the door to his office opens. “What is it?” his voice is now muffled and you can hear him place the phone against the desk.

You sigh and walk away from the doors and towards the street. The phone is trapped between your ear and shoulder while you attempt to hail a taxi. Caleb’s Colonel voice comes out and you suddenly miss his happy tone. A gust of wind brushes past you, chilling you even more. Maybe this is Mother Nature’s way of telling you that you’re an ice cold bitch.

“I’ll have to see you later. I’m sorry, pretty bird,” Caleb sighs into the phone.

“That’s okay. Why don’t you bring home dinner? Let’s have a night in where we don’t do anything,” you calmly suggest, finally getting a taxi’s attention. The white car pulls up to the curb and you get inside, smiling at the driver, telling him the address.

“Are you sure? I can always cook something. Your favorite!” you hear him move things around on his desk.

“It’s okay. I’m craving that place you showed me anyways,” you shrug.

The world begins to move around you. The taxi slowly moves with traffic but you don’t care. You just need some time for yourself, to be alone and reset your body so you can get out of this funk and move on from the night of your friend’s wedding. It isn’t fair to you or Caleb to have something as silly as miscommunication hold you back from being happy together.

Well, you certainly thought it to be something you could easily get over. You never have been the best at guessing things like this.

When you enter Caleb’s apartment, your phone has been blown up with Caleb checking in on you, seeing if there was anything he can do to help you feel better or if he needed to leave work early. You texted back reassurances, the guilt of your resentment towards her and his relationship eating away at your conscience.

You laid in his bed, wearing one of his many oversized and comfortable shirts, and scrolled through your phone throughout the hours. It felt good to mindlessly scroll through stupid videos and read through peoples arguments over the stupidest things. Your mind was distracted and you didn’t think about the things that have been weighing you down.

You laugh at a video of penguins falling over. You cried at the video of a dog sitting at its owner’s grave. You save a recipe that you think Caleb would be great at making. You roll your eyes at some dude bro who thinks that a woman’s reproductive system looks like a satanic goat.

Hours pass you by and the sun sets in the distance, leaving the room in complete darkness except for the lamp that you turned on not too long ago. Its light is warm, very orange. It carries across the room, the blue light from your phone cutting through the orange with ease, the two colors splitting your face evenly. You roll to your other side in bed, plugging your phone in before it can die.

Engrossed in your own world, you don’t even notice Caleb walking inside the bedroom, already shrugging off his jacket, hanging it in the closet. He smiles at you. The sound of your quiet laughs and giggles make his heart feel full again. It brings a warmth to his chest, one he hasn’t felt in awhile, and begins to shed the skin of his Colonel persona.

“Whatcha laughin’ at, pretty bird?” Caleb asks, a smile on his face.

You gasp and sit up in bed, covering yourself with the dark gray and blue sheets of his bed. Once your eyes land on him, you relax and let out the tension that filled your lungs. Caleb laughs and slips on comfortable clothes, crossing the room and slipping underneath the covers beside you. In one fluid motion, Caleb scoops you up and onto his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Ohhh, I see. You’re laughing at videos of baby animals. Very cute, very cute,” Caleb muses with a smile, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. He gently presses kisses to your neck and you let out a quiet sigh, closing your eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“I couldn’t,” you admit. You place your hands on top of Caleb’s, feeling all of your worries begin to slip away and out of your mind. “I think I need my boyfriend to help me.”

“Do you?” his tone is teasing yet is so smug at the same time. “Well, I’m here now aaaand I brought dinner.”

“Did you?” you ask with a smile. Caleb nods. You push him away from you and slip out of bed, the covers hindering your movement. Caleb laughs and watches as you scramble outside of the room and towards the kitchen where two white bags sit.

You open them up to reveal an immaculate sight: two big bowls of ramen accompanied by all of the side dishes imaginable. Caleb walks from behind and reattaches himself to your body. He leans into you, catching a glimpse of your smile.

For once, it’s genuine. It is the first smile, one that is real, that he has seen from you never since the wedding. A piece of him aches. He knows that you’ve been stuck on that day, that you haven’t been able to fully process or say what it is that you need and want to say. He’ll be there when you’re ready, though. He will never leave you to go through that alone, especially because some of your hidden anger is directed at him. Rightfully so, of course.

Neither of you bring it up. You eat dinner together and talk about Caleb’s day, even going as far as to see if you could translate a few documents for him one of these days.

It felt…nice. The temporarily relief from avoiding the elephant in the room. The two of you pretend it isn’t there, basking in the awkwardness of uncertainty and things left unsaid. Caleb smiles at you, you smile at him, and the two of you ignore the heavy raincloud that floats over your head. The counter you sit at looks more and more like an executioners block with the cloud ready to chop your heads off.

You watch as Caleb cleans up the dinner mess. He brushes all of the crumbs off of the counter and into the trash can, casually throwing away the plastic bags and bowls that came with the meal. You sit at the counter and watch, chin propped up on your hand as he moves around the kitchen with a relaxed grin on his face.

Guilt washes over you. His smile is so genuine, so pure and good. He’s smiling because of you and you’re sitting here pretending like you don’t want to yell and scream at him for not telling you anything. You want to grab his head and scream at him for making you feel so insignificant in the past and cry in his arms because there truly is no way for you to hate him.

All you see is man who is trying his best to play the game called life. Maybe you shouldn’t hold so much anger towards him and the people in your life. Maybe you should forgive but never forget.

“Why are you starin’ at me like that?” Caleb disappears from your vision.

You blink at nothing and feel his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you off of the stool and into his arms. You gasp and feel your legs dangle off of the ground, Caleb’s forearms wrapped around your stomach, holding you up. He leans backwards and pulls you back with him. He walks around, chuckling to himself, as you hang there, unable to do a damn thing to stop him. You cross your arms over your chest, already having accepted your fate, and watch as he carries you back to his bedroom.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Caleb kisses the back of your neck. He doesn’t give you time to answer, either, before jumping onto the bed, smushing you beneath him.

With a face full of mattress and Caleb’s full body weight keeping you trapped below him, you accept the bittersweet taste of your death: suffocation by smothering. You had a good run! You did a lot of things, which was fun, even got to date the man of your dreams for a bit there even though it has been angsty as hell so far. You wouldn’t change a thing about it!

Okay, maybe you would change a few things, but who’s really counting, anyways?

Caleb rolls onto his back, bringing you around with him. You dramatically gasp for air, body moving up down down as Caleb laughs. You place your hands on top of his and stare at the ceiling, not making an effort to move your hair out of his face.

“I’m tired,” you say. Caleb nods in agreement. “I think I’m going to sleep right here…”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. The mattress I’m on may be a bit lumpy—”

“Lumpy?!”

“—and it may smell like sweat and jet fuel—”

“Is this pick on Caleb day?”

“—but it’s comfortable enough for the night.”

“Oh, well, that’s good then,” Caleb squeezes his arms around you, literally taking the breath out of you, “because I just love it when I have my girlfriend’s hair in my face throughout the night. Truly splendid!”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh, sucking in a deep breath when he releases you. You slip off of him and take your usual side in the bed, looking out the floor to ceiling windows. A small yawn leaves your mouth. Caleb adjusts himself behind you and pulls you close to him.

A silence finally falls between the two of you. Is it time? Are you ready to confront him? To ask him all of the questions that have died on your tongue before you got the chance to say them?

The dark rainclouds pass the windows, Caleb’s apartment building splitting the forces of nature with ease. You fixate on a particularly dark spot. It slowly passes by, taking its time to look back at you. If you didn’t know any better you’d think that a bolt of lightning would be shot at you as a punishment for all of the animosity that clings to your heart.

Caleb’s hand is warm against your skin. It stays at your stomach, gently caressing your skin, before it moves up between your breasts. He flattens his palm against your chest. He feels each and every one of your heartbeats. He feels as it quickens from his touch, giving away any kind of nonchalance you wanted to wear. His forearm remains stuck between your breasts. If he were to move his hand further up, he could choke you with ease.

“The clouds look cool,” your attempt at starting a new conversation doesn’t go unnoticed. You swallow the lump that forms in your throat. Caleb nods. You can feel his purple eyes watch you instead of the clouds. “I think you’re the one looking at me now.”

“We haven’t had much time together lately,” Caleb is quick to respond, “we’re busy people.”

“Are we?” you whisper to yourself. Caleb heard it, though. There truly is nothing you can keep from him.

A long sigh leaves his lips. You feel his forehead press into the back of your neck, his breath against your back. You shudder and place your hand on top of his. The clouds outside grow darker. Your eyes gloss over, the urge to cry hitting you like a train. You remain still, though, forever silent in your moment of doubt.

“Can we…” Caleb’s voice cracks. Your heart aches. You close your eyes, holding back frustrated tears. “Let’s not, tonight, okay? We were having such a good time.”

“Agreed,” you breathe out.

“Great,” Caleb pulls you closer to him, draping the bed’s sheets over your connected bodies.

It had been the first good night in awhile. Why would you want to spoil such a blessing with your own stupid thoughts and destructive behavior?

“It’s late, babe, let’s sleep,” your words fill in the silence. Caleb nods, yawning right on cue.

You know sleep will come easy for him with you in his arms. You also know, though, that sleep will continually tease you throughout the night, never letting you fully grasp it.

Caleb always looks stressed when he sleeps. You always thought that sleep was the great reliever, a place where every person can find solace after a long day of stress. Unfortunately for Caleb, it seems like even in sleep he cannot find peace. You can’t help but feel bad for him. He already goes through so much as the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel and deals with the undiscovered parts of the Deepspace Tunnel. You just wish that one day he will be able to sleep peacefully.

Even in the darkness of his bedroom, safely secured in his muscular arms, you can’t help but feel like Caleb is holding something back from you. The lingering feeling beckons at you, drawing you in closer and closer with the possibilities that there is an invisible barrier separating the two of you. Staring at the underlying tension in his brow makes you question what is going on inside his mind.

If you could, you would break open his skull to get to where his thoughts are hidden. You would dig through the blood and rip apart his brain, finding the locked away thoughts and memories that have been left unsaid, finally solving the mystery that keeps you up at night. You’d take away all of the bad memories and leave only the good for him to relive.

Then again, erasing someone’s memories is a cruel thing to do.

You slowly sit up in bed, his dark gray sheets pooling at your hips. Caleb immediately stirs in his sleep, eyes flying open and fixating on you. The moonlight is gentle against your skin as you gaze outside the window, curtains drawn open since you wanted to watch the clouds pass you by before you slept. There is a slight patter against the window. Raindrops collide with the reinforced glass, its quiet lullaby suddenly making you feel like you’re trapped inside a cage.

“Are you okay?” Caleb’s voice captures your attention. He remains in bed, the tips of his fingers already moving against your skin in a soothing manner.

“Yeah,” you nod, forcing a small smile onto your face, “I just woke up. Need to stretch out my body.”

Under the veil of darkness, Caleb memorizes the way your face twitches, picking up on the way your eyes remain on him despite your attention being elsewhere. There’s something in your eyes, a question that has been smothered on your tongue, hidden behind your teeth, never to escape.

Does he want to know what you’re thinking? What it is you are questioning now?

“Do you want to go for a walk?” your question surprises him.

He tilts his head back. Caleb’s purple eyes burn into yours, leaving your question unanswered. Tension slowly seeps into the air. You peel your eyes away from his and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, pushing away and heading towards the bathroom. Thunder booms from outside the window. Caleb sighs and covers his face with his hands. A quiet groan leaves his lips as he forces himself out of bed.

Ever since the wedding, things have been weird between the two of you. You had begun to pull away from him and Caleb was losing his mind, unsure of what he needed to do or say to make things right. You told him that you were fine, that you held no ill will.

Uncertainty and his fear of the unknown burned the back of his brain and it made him careless in his missions to the Deepspace Tunnel. People were injured and lives were on the line, but his mind could only think of you and the sad look that overtook your face whenever he looked away.

It’s the same look you wear on your face now. The bathroom lights are low, just barely awake as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Movement from behind you catches your attention. You look at Caleb’s reflection, watching as he settles himself against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You suck in a breath.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Caleb’s voice has lost its rasp and the tiredness that hangs in his voice, “why are you wanting to go for a walk?”

“Can’t sleep,” you shrug nonchalantly and turn back towards the mirror, pushing your hair behind your ears and out of your face.

“What about work?”

“It’s the weekend so I’m off,” you avoid his gaze in the mirror, trying to wake up your body so it can keep up with your mind.

Caleb falls silent again. All he can bring himself to do is watch as you untangle the knots in your hair before drawing it back into a low bun, nothing special. When you turn to leave the bathroom, you turn into Caleb’s bare chest. You look up at him, noticing the shadowed bags under his eyes. You reach up and cup his cheek, the man immediately leaning into your touch.

“You should stay back and sleep,” your words are quiet.

He shakes his head. He reaches up and wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling his face away from your touch. His touch isn’t warm but cold, his metal fingers hidden beneath its disguise. He gently kisses the palm of your hand, a gentle sigh escaping his lips. Your cheeks heat up but you fight away the feeling, not wanting him to persuade you to go back to bed, to rot next to him while you watch the clouds pass the cage that keeps you inside.

“Let’s walk,” Caleb matches your volume, his purple eyes flickering to yours before he drops your hand, turning around to get changed. You follow him, quick on his tail, and glance outside.

The rain slowly begins to pick up outside. Thunder and lighting grows closer. You approach the window, placing your hand against the chilled glass. The world below is shielding by a cloud.

“Maybe we should stay inside,” you say, eyes focused on trying to see the ground. Caleb groans, frustrated. Your body tenses and your posture stiffens. “The weather picked up.”

“Pretty bird,” you turn around and see Caleb, already in sweats and a jacket, “you just said—”

“I know, I’m sorry—”

“So you don’t want want to go on a—”

“—no we can! It’s just that the weather—”

“So now you don’t want to?”

“No! Yes! Fuck, I don’t even know anymore! Let’s go for a walk,” you push past him and reach for one of your hoodies that sits in a bag you packed not too long ago. Caleb stops you, though, and instead hands you one of his hoodies with a long sleeve shirt. You turn around and watch as he helps slip your shirt over your head, replacing it with the tight long sleeve and hoodie. Once the hood is brought over your head, his purple eyes flicker to yours.

“It’s cold,” he sharply says. He takes your hand and guides you out of the bedroom, entering the dark living room and kitchen areas. You struggle to keep up with his long strides, feet fumbling over each other. Caleb grabs an umbrella that sits by the door and exits the apartment, pulling you with him.

The small journey to the outside world is awkward and tense. Caleb’s grip on your hand is tight, annoyance prominent inside the tension in his jaw, the way it’s clenched as he guides you through his apartment building. The yellow interior lights are easy on your eyes and are dim enough to keep the outside world dark, avoiding any kind of light pollution it may have. A single person works in the lobby, sitting at the desk while you and Caleb pass to leave.

“Hey!” they call out, “The weather is pretty rough—!”

“We know!” Caleb and you bark at the person in sync.

Caleb presses the button next to the lobby door and it slides open, a gust of wind hitting the two of you just as you exit. You slip the umbrella from his hand and open it, holding it out for him. He watches you with a close eye, the wind pushing around your hair, the tip of your nose already cold. He takes the umbrella and laces your fingers with his, weathering the storm together as you male your way to a dimly lit path nearby.

You wrap an arm around Caleb’s torso and stay close to him, face smushed into his chest. Raindrops fly with the wind, smacking against the material of the umbrella. It shields the two of you the best it can. Caleb picks up his pace and you’re practically jogging at his side.

“Caleb!” you shout over the sound of rain and wind. He doesn’t look down, simply walking through the rough weather as if it’s nothing.

Just a couple meters away sits a lit gazebo that sits in the middle of courtyard that’s right beside Caleb’s building. The rows of flowers try to fight against the wind, hanging on by the strength of the plant’s stem, a few petals flying away. Once you reach the gazebo, you push away from Caleb, turning your back to him. He drops the umbrella and it slides across the floor to where your feet are.

“Tell me,” Caleb begins, his voice raised to be over the howling wind, “what did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything,” you counter. The flower bushes that surround the gazebo hit and scrape against the wood. The petals threaten to fly off of the stems, getting lost in the wind. The dark rainclouds descend towards the ground, placing you and Caleb in the middle of its destructive force.

“Bullshit. There’s something going on inside that head of yours. You barely smile anymore and you always bring work home! There’s no time for us anymore!” Caleb walks closer to you. He looks at the back of your head, your hair dry and his hood damp. You don’t even turn to face him, which only annoys him some more. “We haven’t had sex—”

“So this is about sex!?” you snap, finally turning around to look at him. The wind screams from around you. “You’re worried about getting your dick wet again, right? Want me to get down on my knees and suck your dick? Will that make you feel better?!”

“No! Dammit! That’s not—” Caleb groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, “that’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Then what is it, Caleb? Hm? Are you actually worried about me,” you poke his chest, knowingly poking the bear, “or are you just trying to cover your back so this doesn’t blow up on you at the end of the day?”

“What are you talking about?!” Caleb raises his voice to combat the thunder that sounds from around the gazebo. You roll your eyes and turn your attention to the world over his shoulder, looking at the environment get beaten up by the storm.

The dark raincloud that once hung above your head has touched land. It has finally decided that the apple tree, something that managed to grow in the rough terrain of your heart, deserves water. It deserves to have its thirst quenched, to let the cold water touch the dry, green leaves, to moisten the ground that surrounds it.

Truth and honesty are ideals that every relationship should have. It is the fertilizer within the soil that many apple trees like your own are buried in. You forgot that step, didn’t you?

“What did I do? Did Zayne say something to you at the wedding?” Caleb steps towards you but you take a step backwards, your ankle meeting the wood of the gazebo’s railing.

You scoff and look away, crossing your arms over your chest. Even the thought of looking into his eyes makes you feel nothing but dread and utter devastation. Caleb’s back stiffens. His purple eyes run up and down your body; you give him all of the telltale signs that he’s right and that you’re hiding something from him.

Caleb steps forward, trapping you. You look up at him with big and wide eyes. He’s the predator that’s just caught his prey, your pretty little face begging for mercy. He can go easy on you, sure, let you slip out of the net he’s caught you in. You can recover from your mistake by peppering kisses all over his face. He’ll forget all of the misgivings that have been through his way, he can forgive the fact that you believed something that Zayne said instead of asking him directly about it.

“What did he say?” Caleb’s voice teeters between desperation and being demanding. He lowers his head, his purple eyes training on yours with a darkness you haven’t seen before. Your body goes cold. Goosebumps scatter across your skin. “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you breathe out, your breath coming out in the form of a plume. “What Zayne said doesn’t matter.”

“Clearly, it does,” Caleb places his hands on the wooden railing behind you. His nose grazes against yours. Your breaths mix into one. You close your eyes, unable to look at him. He presses in further, his body against yours, demanding and present. “Tell me.”

“He said that you’ve been texting her the whole time,” Caleb’s body tenses against yours while you speak, “he said that I will forever be second place in your heart. That you’ll always go to her her first rather than find me. That I don’t deserve you.”

Caleb slowly draws himself away from you. His eyes go dark, cold. The space between you feels like no man’s land, a place where neither of you want to meet in the middle. His tall frame dominates yours, towering over you with ease and with an unspoken authority over you. You are at his mercy.

“Go on,” he says in a low tone.

“Zayne said he loves me. He always has. That I haven’t been able to see it because I’ve been so preoccupied with you,” you continue.

Hurt flashes across his face when you say the word love, a word that he thought he had full control over when it comes to you. Jealousy spreads across his chest. You fall silent. Thunder booms from behind you. Neither of you react. 

“What did you say back to him?” Caleb narrows his eyes at you.

“I said that him and I are alike,” you force the words to fall out of your mouth. Caleb’s eyebrow perks up. “We both love someone who will never be able to fully love us back.”

A bitter taste spreads across Caleb’s tongue. Looking down at you, he can see the defiance and hurt in your eyes. You are trying so hard to hold it together, to not cry and break from underneath the pressure. Your walls slowly reinforce themselves, the workers inside your mind resuming construction as you build them taller than you have before. They are now covered with a fresh layer of ice, closing out any warmth that you were once able to find within Caleb’s embrace.

“How about you, Caleb?” your voice is strong against the howls and cries of the wind. The screams from gusts of air don’t dissuade you. You remain strong in your path, knowing that at the end, only destruction will be left. “Is there anything that you wish to tell me?”

Caleb tears his gaze away from yours. The dark gray clouds cover the moon, taking up the entire night sky. The umbrella he brought out hits the wooden perimeter, clicking every couple of seconds, ticking away the time. He moves to the gazebo’s entrance, wanting to walk down the few steps and escape into the night, to get away from the conversation that slowly chips away at your relationship and individual sanities.

“What are you hiding from me?” you ask from behind. His broad shoulders stare at you, his back mocking. You can’t help but feel like you’re being laughed at, being teased for the way you feel. You tried to look past the revelation that Zayne gifted to you, brushing it off as nothing but a simple misdirection to throw you off your rhythm but now, standing here and watching Caleb begin to pull away from you, it feels like Zayne had been right the whole time.

You’re even second place when it comes to figuring out the truth, a third and unwanted person in a relationship that doesn’t even involve you.

“Talk to me, Caleb!” your voice is drowned out by thunder. Caleb turns around and his purple eyes immediately go to your fists that are balled at your sides. Your nails bury themselves into the palms of your hands. The pain is a nice distraction from the confusion in your mind. The thunder sounds like bombs are being dropped. “I told you the truth, why can’t you do the same?!”

“That’s not fair,” Caleb shakes his head, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“Isn’t it?” you huff out a breath of air, crossing the distance to stand in front of him. “Do you know what it is like to sleep at your side, Caleb?” your voice cracks, “Do you know what it is like to have to hold you at night when you have another nightmare?”

“Pretty bird,” Caleb breathes your name out like it is a prayer.

“You cry in your sleep, Caleb. You cry and you hold onto me as if someone is going to take me away from you! You always avoid answering me question when I ask you what’s wrong and you never take me up on your offer to talk about it!” Tears begin to flow down your cheeks, bottom lip trembling. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head! I don’t know how I can help you or what I need to do to stop the nightmares! I hate seeing you in pain! I hate hearing you cry as soon as I leave the bed!”

Your hands fly to your face and your fingers begin to furiously wipe your tears away. Caleb reaches out to console you but you smack his hands away, placing a good amount of distance between the two of you.

“You cry out her name, Caleb!” you scream the words over the wind and thunder. Lightning flashes across the night sky, thunder immediately cracking after. The loud boom makes your ears ring. “You cry out her name when I’m right next to you! That’s how I know I’m second place! That’s how I know you are hiding something from me! And it fucking hurts to know that I will never be able to see that side of you. I feel so helpless when it comes to you, Caleb! You have all of the answers when it comes other than me and yet I barely know a thing about what happened!”

“I…” Caleb stammers, his voice falling silent. “I can—”

“Explain?” you cut him off. He blinks at you, his eyes now glossy. “Go ahead, Caleb. Explain. I’ll wait.”

“You know I can’t,” Caleb’s voice is low and is filled with such shame that it makes you want to scream and cry.

The raincloud has drowned the tree. Its soil, which was once too dry, is now diluted from the weight of history and purposefully hidden memories. The water level rises above the ground. The tree is now submerged beneath the water, unable to catch a break in the unpredictable weather cycle.

You suck in a breath, the back of your hand flying to your mouth, covering it. Hidden secrets and questions are now out in the open. They taunt Caleb, snickering at the pain that flashes across his chest. He stares at the back of your head, watching as your shoulders slump over, your body succumbing to the sadness that weighs you down.

“Maybe we…”you breathe out. Caleb’s eyes fill with tears. He clears the distance between you and takes your hands in his, shaking his head.

“Don’t…don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Caleb silences you. the man reaches up and wipes away the tears that fall from your eyes. He shakes his head but you nod, looking into his irritated eyes.

“I need a break,” you finish your thought.

“No, you don’t. We can work through this!”

“I’m tired Caleb,” you sigh.

“I am too but that’s okay!”

“I need to clear my head.”

“Tell me what to do then. Tell me what exactly you need me to do for you to come back to me. What is it? Please, pretty bird, I…I can’t be away from you!”

“Caleb,” you stop him. You hold his hands and squeeze them, unable to bring yourself to look at him. Not now, at least. “I need to be alone.”

It looks like Caleb was just shot ten times and was told to walk it off. He has been shot, has survived an explosion, has been stabbed before, sliced from another man’s knife while working. He was gone through watching his fellow soldiers fall, their planes being shot down during a dog fight. He has been experimented on, picked apart by Ever and Professor Lucius. He has had his memories ripped away from him, hidden in the depths of his mind, and is clinging to the remnants of what is left.

And yet you wanting to be alone, to be away from him, is the one thing that hurts the most.

A single tear rolls down his cheek, eyes strained and hands holding onto yours like you are about to step out of his life forever.

“I-I can’t,” Caleb stammers. His trembling voice pierces your heart.

Are you a bad person? It sure feels like you are. How could you put him through so much turmoil? And yet, how dare he hide his past life with her from you? He has had the chance to explain, to tell you why they will forever be connected until the end of their lives, but he hasn’t. Caleb has remained silent, only offering apologies and pleas for you to not leave him instead of an explanation.

Perhaps truth and honesty are not fertilizer. Maybe they are sharp axes ready to chop the tree down, to destroy all of the progress that you have made. It is a weapon that only threatens to smother the spark that once shined so brightly between you and Caleb.

“A break can be a good thing,” you try to reason with him, “gives us time to realize what is important in our lives. It can give us direction—”

“You are the most important thing in my life,” Caleb interrupts. He captures your cheeks between his hands, making you look up at him. “Don’t do this…please. At least stay the night, sleep on it, and we can talk about it in the morning, okay?”

Caleb’s purple eyes burn into yours. The wind pushes his hair out of his face, his lips slightly chapped from the wind. His cheeks are stained from tears just like yours and his hands tremble against your skin. You slowly inhale, the ice cold wind helping cool your body down from the heat of your anger. A lump forms in your throat.

“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding, “I need to be alone, though. I’ll stay out here for just a bit longer.”

“I’ll stay with you—”

“Just go back inside, Caleb,” you pull away from him and cross your arms over your chest, stepping away. You wipe away your tears, knowing that what you are telling him is nothing but a white lie, “I’ll be up there soon.”

You need to do what you do best. Run away. Hide. Pretend as if your world isn’t falling apart from around you and give yourself the time to be a broken person before returning to the face of the earth.

And Caleb? Caleb is the fool who believes you.

He comes up from behind and hug you. It’s a small gesture that rips your heart apart. It makes you drive the knife into his chest even deeper, the hilt of the blade now pressed against his chest.

Then he’s gone. He walks through the ravenous rain on his own and even left the umbrella behind for you to use. Just as he steps through the apartment doors, you stop a cab and get inside, heading for your home.

Bzzrt. Bzzrt. Bzzrt.

Your phone shimmies across the top of your desk. You stare at it, eyes tired with purple eye bags sunken into your skull. The phone stops for a brief moment. A sigh exits your mouth, closing your eyes. The buzzing begins again.

You know exactly who the messages are from. You know exactly what it is that they say and you don’t even want to waste the time and energy to check. You’ll get the same messages later tonight as well then the whole process will repeat itself in the morning.

You would be lying to yourself, though, if you said you didn't miss the way he hugged and kissed you in the morning.

Caleb was not handling the break well, like, at all. He was a mess. He knew that he shouldn’t have left your side that night. A piece of him know that you were going to run away, just like you did in high school and at the wedding. You would call it a calculated retreat whereas Caleb would call it a surrender.

You avoided him at work, which he respected. It didn’t stop him, though, from driving behind the bus you took to and from work, watching as you moved in and out of your apartment so he knows that you’re safe. Caleb also kept tabs on you at work, watching you through the security cameras as you smiled and laughed with other people. People who aren’t him.

Caleb passed you in the hallways of the Farspace Fleet’s Administrative building. Your eyes always met, even if it were just for a second, and it gave Caleb the motivation he needed to stay string, to let you come to him. He knows that if he were to bombard you, it’d only make you want to run further away, back into Linkon where he lives.

Caleb used up all of your sticky notes during the time you stayed away from him. He left you notes on your desk, telling you that you looked beautiful that day and that he misses you. Some of them even asked if you were ready to talk to him, to have dinner and let him explain what he’s been trying to protect you from.

You always said no. A simple text that ended with his colorful sticky notes being crushed under your fist, tossed into the trash for the janitor to take out later in the night. 

It’s okay, though, if it is space you need, he will give you space. If you need to take a moment for yourself and realize that he has all of the answers you need, the truth that you crave, then so be it. He will not be the one who stops you.

Well, that is what he told himself to feel better about the whole situation.

He knows that it is not fair to you to keep you in the dark about his and her’s past with Ever. The wounds, though, still feel fresh to him from his early childhood. He works with one of the men in charge of his experimentation, playing a game of cat and mouse to see who can outmaneuver the other. It’s a game that, quite frankly, he’s grown tired of but knows that the end will never come. 

Caleb wants to tell you all about it. He wants to unload the weight of turning you away from the darkest parts of his past and mind. He also doesn’t want you to try and carry that burden with him, to try and alleviate some of the pain that heel feels everyday. He already lives with the constant remind of his metal arm, his bones forever trapped underneath the layers of wires and metal. He has sacrificed so much already to not let the professor and Ever win…it’s why he won’t let you near it.

It pains him to know that you are out in the world and are completely on your own. He should be there to help you, to stop you from making any mistakes. It’s why he has waited so long for you. He let the days pass him by, allowing time to slip through his fingers.

He acted like he was fine, that he was okay. He pretended that he got a full night’s worth of sleep even though he stared out the window, hoping that you would walk through the doors at any moment.

He stares at you through the CCTV footage, wondering if you have come to realize that you hold the leash that’s connected to his dog collar. You stand from your desk, phone in hand, and exit the translator’s offices. He follows you throughout the building. You cross down a few hallways, staring at your phone screen. You press the button to an elevator and step inside.

Caleb sits up at his desk. The see through tablet remains in his hands as he stands. He slowly walks towards his office door, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he clicks through the multiple different feeds, trying to find you. It is only when he notices that you have come to his floor that he realizes that you are coming to find him.

The Colonel rushes to his desk, placing the tablet in the top drawer of his desk. He places his cap on his head, fixing his ling jacket in the reflection of the window, making for sure everything is in place and is perfect because he refuses to give you anything less than. Not anymore, at least.

There is a knock at his office door. He clears his throat and snaps his fingers, a hologram projection of the Deepspace Tunnel flashing to life. He glances towards the door and tightens his tie one last time.

“Come in,” he beckons with a slightly gentler tone than usual.

Caleb does not look in your direction, instead focusing on the projection in front of him. When the door closes and he hears the click of your shoes grow closer to him, he turns, taking in your tired appearance. He opens his mouth to say something but can’t bring himself to say it. He knows that you have already chastised yourself for it. There is no need for him to add to that grievance.

“Hi, pretty bird,” Caleb is the first to speak. You lean against his desk, looking around the clean office. When your eyes meet his, your body relaxes before tensing up once again.

“Caleb,” you breathe out, crossing your arms over your chest, “you need to stop texting me.”

“Why? I want to make for sure that—”

“I”m okay?” you finish his sentence for him. He nods and inches closer to you. He reaches out, his gloved hand diverting at the last second to rest on the desk beside you. You shudder from his sudden closeness, his familiar cologne disarming your weapons. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m afraid that I will never not worry about you,” Caleb whispers. He looks down, noticing the way you hold onto yourself for dear life. His eyes flicker to yours, leaning in. He reaches up and grazes your cheek with his gloved fingers.

You suck in a breath. His touch is electrifying against your skin, igniting flames under your skin, burning with the desire to hold him in your arms and to cry together. 

“The General offered me a job,” your words cause his hand to move away from your face, “I think I’m going to take it.”

Caleb knows exactly what the General’s job is. He has been granted permission, alongside Ever, to meet with other countries and discuss the Toring Chip. Many of the countries they are going to speak the languages that you just happen to know and are proficient in. If Caleb didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the General specifically made the job positing with you in mind after the peace summit.

The trip is going to take approximately four months to complete, spending a hefty amount of time in every country, meeting with their leaders and the highest ranking officials in their army. There was sure to be talks outside of the Toring Chip. Minerals, weapons, peace treaties, and alliances are sure to be talked about with you in the center of it all. 

Caleb offered to go. He immediately contacted the General and told him that if he needed an extra man, that he is there to help. The General laughed and told him not to worry, that he already has plenty of men coming alongside him and to focus on the Deepspace Tunnel instead of unimportant politics.

Chills run down Caleb’s spine. You look up at him with a determined look in your eyes but Caleb knows that there is something inside your consciousness that is pushing you to run away from him. He wishes that you would have looked the other way when the General offered you the position.

“It’s a great opportunity for me, Caleb,” you breathe out, already sensing the underlying anxiety that forms in the back his mind. “It will give them the chance to see that I am more than a desk job…”

“You don’t need their validation for that,” Caleb quickly counters. “You are more than this entire building. You’re better than them. You don’t need to prove anything.”

“What else can I do? It’s either translating for the Fleet or teaching languages in school,” you suck in a breath, your tone sharp, “I’m stuck where I am and this is going to get me out of it.”

“Then let me take care of you. Stay with me, don’t go with them,” he places his hands on your waist.

“You’re acting like I’m going to be gone forever,” you let out a small laugh, placing your hands on his chest, “it’s just four months.”

“A lot can happen in four months,” Caleb’s gaze burns into yours.

“What are you so afraid of?” your question is bold and daring. “Don’t lie. I think we’ve done enough of that lately.”

“I don’t want you to leave me,” Caleb breathes the words out as if they are powerful enough to hurt you. “I think that if you accept the job, it will worsen our relationship and push us further apart than we already are.”

His words, while sharp, hold his truth. A piece of you knows that what he’s saying is true, that if you were to leave your relationship won’t recover. The space would have become too much. The distance just unbearable.

Are you doing this on purpose? Are you purposefully ruining the only good thing in your life?

You swallow the rest of your spit in your mouth, looking up at Caleb. He sighs and presses his forehead against yours. You close your eyes, taking in his closeness and the way his skin feels against yours. Caleb leans in and pecks your mouth, his lips lingering for a few seconds.

“I love you. Please, don’t go,” Caleb whispers.

Silence fills the room. He silently draws in a breath, eyes closed as he waits for your answer.

“Okay,” you whisper, “I won’t go. For us.”

A smile instantly spreads across Caleb’s lips. He pulls you off of the desk and into his arms, kissing the top of your head as you bury your face into his chest. His heartbeat comes to a slow, the adrenaline rush leaving his body. You relax into him, missing how tight his embraces always are. He pulls away and looks down at you, cupping your cheeks between his hands.

“Thank you,” Caleb says. You nod in return, a small smile forming on your face before it disappears.

“I should go tell him my decision, then,” you peel away from Caleb, your hands lingering on each other. He nods and watches as you move back to the door, an unsettling feeling resting in the back of his mind the further you get from him. “Can I…come over tonight?” You ask as you reach the door. “We have a few things to talk about.”

“Of course,” Caleb nods, “I’ll make your favorite for dinner.”

“That sounds nice,” your smile turns real. It makes Caleb’s heart skip a beat. You open up the door to his office and leave, heading down the hall from which you came.

Caleb is happy that you agreed to stay. He will make for sure that life is not boring for you, to help you shimmy up the ladder among your fellow translators. Whatever it is that he needs to do, he’ll make sure it happens. He will do anything for you and your happiness, even if it means blackmailing a few Fleet officers to make for sure you get the best jobs possible instead of being stuck at your desk.

His skin tingles. A sharp pain flashes through his modified arm. His purple eyes move back to the door, the General’s voice creeping into his head. He remembers his phone call with the high ranking official, trying to weave through the conversation to find what it is he needs.

“We’ll take good care of her,” the General told him from over the phone before he hung up.

We’ll take good care of her.

Caleb freezes.

The Toring Chip…four months…different countries…Ever has different buildings in different countries, Caleb knows this first hand from being one of the professor’s favorites.

The job targeted you.

He stares at the door, his heart beginning to pound inside his chest. He forces his feet to move, rushing towards the door. He bursts through, catching the attention of a few adjuncts and lower ranking officers. He stops a secretary from walking by, looking down at them.

“The General. Is he on location today?” Caleb demands, his purple eyes cold and dark.

“Y-Yes! I think his plane is about to take off!” the woman quickly responds, scared by Caleb’s dark demeanor.

The Colonel doesn’t waste another second. He rushes towards the elevator, pressing the button that leads to the tarmac on the top of the building where the General and other officials come in and out of. His boot taps against the floor. The elevator smells of your perfume. It only makes him more anxious.

The elevator doors slide open, a gust of wind hitting Caleb’s face as he bursts out of the door. He shields his eyes from the glaring sun, noticing that there are one too many clouds in the sky for comfort. He rushes across the black top, the soles of his shoes scraping against the coarse material.

Am aircraft’s engine roars to life. The machine whirrs, huffing out bursts of hot air and exhaust from the engines. The sound captures Caleb’s attention. His eyes focus on a few dark figures inside the aircraft. Professor Lucius stands inside, leaning into his cane. On either side of him stands two Fleet soldiers, guns in their hands. They look down at the aircraft’s open door.

You and the General stand in front of each other. Your back is to Caleb. The Professor’s eyes move to focus on the Colonel, who stands from across the tarmac. A sick smirk spreads across his face. The General smiles at you, though, and he nods, turning around before moving back up the ramp of the plane. You turn around.

Your eyes meet Caleb’s. You are just about to take a step towards him when the two soldiers who stand beside Professor Lucius move. 

They walk towards you.

Caleb begins to run, his feet slamming against the ground. He watches as your face contorts from pain, your hadn’t shooting up to your neck where a syringe was just plunged into your skin. You wobble around, looking at the soldiers before circling around once again.

Caleb screams your name but it is muffled out from the screams of jet engines and planes. Your vision blurs, hand extended out, reaching for him, before your world turns to black, body going limp. A solider picks you up and carries you inside of the plane. The aircraft’s door slowly closes, clicking shut just as Caleb reaches its vicinity.

The aircraft pulls out of its spot. It rolls down the black asphalt, pulling away from Caleb. The plane picks up speed and lifts into the air just as it reaches the edge of the building. Caleb sprints after it, fighting against the gusts of wind from the engines. He uses his Evol to glide through the air, reaching out for you and the plane. He flies across the sky, a mere black speck compared to the aircraft.

But it’s too late. You and the aircraft are out of his reach, disappearing behind fluffy white clouds, out of Caleb’s reach.

please drop a like, reblog, & comment!! i love see what you all have to say <3

[chocoposum]

Help a Family in Need💔

I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is facing one of the most challenging times of his life. Mohamad is 37 years old and left his homeland in 2015 in search of a safer and better future. He’s a kind, hardworking man, and his small family has always been his greatest priority.

Living abroad, Mohamad has recently endured unimaginable loss and financial strain. Amidst the ongoing conflict in his homeland, his mother passed away, leaving behind his sister and her five young children—the last remaining members of his immediate family.

As the situation worsened, Mohamad managed to help his sister and her children escape to safety in Egypt, covering their immediate needs and securing a temporary refuge for them. Since then, he has been fully responsible for providing everything they need to survive during this transition.

In his efforts to support his family and cope with this devastating loss, Mohamad has found himself deeply in debt. To make matters even more difficult, he recently underwent knee surgery, which limits his ability to return to work for the foreseeable future. This has made it even harder for him to manage his financial responsibilities and the pressing need to provide his family with a stable future.

Mohamad is now working to bring his sister and her five children to join him in Belgium, where he hopes they can find stability and opportunity after all they’ve endured. This transition, however, requires significant resources that he is currently unable to meet alone.

For privacy reasons, we are not sharing Mohamad’s full name, as he has chosen to keep his identity discreet. While he initially refused the idea of asking for help, I couldn’t stand by and watch him struggle alone. I insisted on doing this for him because he deserves a chance to overcome these challenges.

Your contribution will help Mohamad repay the debt incurred during this difficult time, cover ongoing living expenses for his family, and assist with the costs involved in bringing them safely to Belgium.

Mohamad has been a good friend of mine for years, and I’ve always admired his resilience and generosity. Any support, no matter the size, will make an incredible difference in helping Mohamad and his family rebuild their lives after these painful experiences.

Thank you for reading his story and considering helping a man who has always done everything he can for his loved ones.

Adam

Please donate & share: Donation Link

[chocoposum]

YUM YUM YUMMMMMMMMMMMM

SILKEN CHAINS.

PAIRING: Yandere!Caleb x Psychotherapist!Reader CW: SFW but MATURE, manipulation, yandere, obsessive/possessive/controlling behaviour, grotesque descriptions, descriptions of gore, suicide, implied murder, stalking, trauma, mental illness, just a heavy fic in general, mild swearing, Fem!Reader. SUMMARY: When her childhood friend spirals into a paradox of obsession and madness, who could mend his fractured mind better than her? Utilizing her years of expertise, she is determined to bring him back. But can one play with fire without scorching their skin? Can she unravel his mind before he devours hers? WORD COUNT: 31k words. DISCLAIMER: Although you are free to view this as dead dove or dark romance, I am not romanticising such behaviour. I'm simply telling a dark story for the sake of telling a dark story. This is merely a psychological thriller written for the fun of it. Heavy content ahead, be warned. A/N: Helloo!! Sorry for being super inactive!! I hit a writing slump and when I’d recovered from it, I started this fic (or, more accurately, I started writing this fic in order to flee from writer’s block.) I wanted to work on my other sylus fic but I kept mixing the character’s personalities up. I’m usually great at multitasking but not when it comes to writing it seems. I had exams, my mother got sick halfway through ramadan, I was fasting and constantly exhausted, and yeah. (Yes, I am Muslim!) Anyways, the idea for this fic was something akin to a shower thought. I changed my writing style a bit. Basically went from uhh poetic(?) to more mordern. So I don’t know how I did. Any criticism or feedback is appreciated!!

He was always like this, wasn’t he?

You twirled your pen between your fingers as you glared out the open window into the faces of buildings looming high. A warm westerly breeze wafted through the opening, swirling the bittersweet scent of coffee throughout the room. A long, white couch sat at the other end of yours, bearing a small, fresh dent on its right corner—left by the last patient of the day. That decade-old piece of furniture had been in your office for as long as you could recall. It had shouldered the weight of various troubled souls who would rush to you at the first hint of distress. They would barge in, plop themselves down on the exact same side of the sofa, and pour their worries out.

For hours, you would sit still with a notebook in your hands, gazing out that very same window as if your ears had not caught a word. And once they’d stop, you would turn to them with a smile.

“I see. Well, let’s start from the beginning.”

Many came with a burdened frown, and all left with their heads lifted high. That was the quality of your service—the merit of having abandoned the role of a renowned criminologist to settle for a mere clinical psychotherapist. It was a far more peaceful life, where you only needed to contend with the usual afflictions of mental health. You’d say it suited you better. It was far kinder to your body and soul to study the boundaries of the mind rather than the savagery of crime. Because if you were truly competent enough to retain your position as a criminologist, you would have noticed sooner, wouldn’t you?

Your pen stilled in your hand.

You had studied the faces of many. Cheaters, narcissists, the apathetic, the antisocial—you had seen it all and more. During your brief tenure as a criminologist, you had worked with the most wretched criminals. A deranged, delusional son who had donned the skin of his mother shortly after gutting her alive, a schizophrenic woman who had splattered her husband’s brains across her grotesque painting, and countless men and women who displayed heightened symptoms of obsessive and abusive behaviour towards their partners.

And yet, you missed it.

There was a saying that we normalise the odd behaviour of those closest to us to such an extent that their misdoings and concerning actions fly off our radar without a hitch. Our paths were so intertwined with theirs that we saw no reason to stop and ponder—Hey, could this be a sign of mental illness?

You supposed you had fallen into the same dilemma. He had sat before you your entire life—from adolescence to the moment higher education set you apart, he had always been there. Even as you pursued your double majors, Caleb’s botched mental evaluation exam had not raised any red flags in your mind.

“Oh, it’s a flawed test. You of all people should know that someone’s mental health can’t be determined by a simple questionnaire.”

And regrettably, you believed him. He made a good point, after all. A simple questionnaire said nothing about someone’s true psyche.

But still, you regretted not questioning—Is it even possible to fail so miserably?

You should have checked his answers. Such an oversight had cost you the surprise of finding out in... such a way. And now that you looked back and reevaluated your interactions with him, the markers became clear.

“The people that want to hurt you? They should all just—” his gaze burned through your skull, “—disappear.”

“I don’t need your protection. I’m fine on my own.”

He scoffed, eyes brimming with betrayal.

“You don’t need me? Is that what you think?”

Your lips trembled as you sank deeper into the plush of the couch, forced down by his presence. With one arm, he caged you between his body and the cushions.

“Alright, what do you want? You can tell me.”

You knocked his forearm weakly. “Caleb, calm down—”

“We can return to Linkon if that’s what you want. We’ll rebuild our old house. And if one house isn’t enough, I’ll build you a whole maze.”

Like a fish out of water, you thrashed about, only to still once realisation dawned on you—

He was speaking to you with unfiltered, bare words. There would not be another chance like this. Now was the perfect time to capitalise on his raw and vulnerable state.

You pursed your lips. Caleb’s finger trailed across your jaw.

“I’ll decorate it with whatever you want. It will be the most stunning garden you’ve ever seen.”

You emptied your gaze, donning the familiar facade of a professional, objective psychotherapist. You scrutinised him as he spoke. You picked up on the subtle crack of his voice, the tears threatening to form, the gentle firmness of his grip. This was him—the true, raw him. How could you not have noticed sooner?

In hindsight, the signs were present. Possessiveness, obsession, strategic control—traits you would have easily identified in a client. He thought of himself as clever. And he was right. To the general public, Caleb was beyond cunning. A force to be reckoned with.

But you had seen worse. You had dissected minds far more twisted than his. You were confident in your abilities—you could unravel him, strip him bare once more, and deliver the final blow with cautious precision. Patients often believed themselves to be indecipherable, an enigma buried in the sands of time.

Yet they forgot that doctors such as yourself had wasted half their lives preparing for them. No matter how savage or twisted one may be, you were trained to make people collapse at the slightest pull of their heartstrings.

The only reason behind your incompetence had been simple—familiarity breeds blind spots, and Caleb was all too familiar to you. You regretted not having picked up on it sooner. Now, all your analyses pointed to the same result. He was severely disturbed and in urgent need of therapeutic intervention.

And who was more qualified to deliver just that than you?

This was what you had studied for, was it not? With your combined expertise in both psychology and criminology, you could corner Caleb into spilling his woes. You could fix him. He thought himself untouchable, but you had spent years preparing for men like him.

You tilted your head and glanced at the brightly coloured strip of paper sitting atop your desk. Tickets. To Skyhaven. You could finally see him.

You smiled. How long had it been? A couple of months, perhaps? Since your last visit to Skyhaven, Caleb had not hesitated to check up on you daily. As if unbothered by your reluctance to respond, he left small texts floating in your inbox. Simple formalities—How are you feeling? Have you eaten well?—all left on read. You could practically see the fireworks erupt in his violet eyes the moment you finally responded—

“I’m coming over tomorrow. Do you mind?”

Like an overjoyed pup granted his favourite treat, he swarmed your chat with various emoticons. ‘Are you on vacation? :0’ ‘When are you coming?’ ‘Should I make dinner?’

Despite your best efforts at denial, you couldn’t shake the flutter in your chest at his care and enthusiasm.

If only he had remained the same.

If only he were the boy you once knew, you wouldn’t have to resort to such measures.

Your pulse quickened as your fingers brushed across the ticket’s surface.

You were really doing this, weren’t you? Playing with fire, confident in your eventual triumph. In your field, patience was key.

You would untangle him thread by thread. And when he collapsed, you could embrace him once more. Not as a cruel, restrictive monster, but as the warm boy you had always known.

It was only a matter of time.

“Please stand clear of the doors,” a robotic female voice buzzed. “Next stop, Skyhaven.”

You planted yourself against the hard plastic chairs, clutching a phone that idled on a conversation.

“I’m on the train.” “I’ll be there to pick you up :D”

You stuffed your phone back into your bag. With a loud whir, the train began to move. Your body swayed to the side as it accelerated, pressing you against a metal pole. In just a few hours, you would reach Skyhaven. And he would be there, waiting for you with that big grin plastered across his face—the grin that once lifted you off your feet, whose irony you had now begun to despise. It was the very same expression that would trick the masses.

Girls lined up against high school lockers would swoon over it. But what they didn’t know was that his radiant smile was merely a distraction meant to deter them from the way his eyes, no matter what obstruction emerged before him, would always be locked on you. His warm violet hues would burn through your skull as you led him through the hallways, chatting away obliviously. Back then, you had shrugged it off. He was just expressing care, you thought. You were afraid of crowds back then. He was just looking out for you. It was in your best interest, right? If only you had known.

You should have questioned. You should have known better.

But your high school days were well behind you. What stood now were two matured adults with a strained relationship, engaged in a ruthless game of chess—a game he did not yet realise he was a participant in.

But that only gave you the upper hand. When dealing with patients who would exploit your vulnerability and love for them, having a head start was almost a necessity. Sure, you were certain you’d come out on top eventually. But your work had taught you to tread gingerly nonetheless. When navigating the confines of a person’s mind, every micromovement of yours could cause the whole structure to crumble. No matter how accomplished a psychotherapist is, they are bound to experience massive turbulence in the field of their work.

And you had come prepared accordingly.

You reached into your bag to retrieve a worn, leather-backed journal. It had no labels. Only a brown, thick covering with a matching strap. A blue strip with a metal piece on its end hung loosely from the bottom. It was a bookmark. Old, worn—the fabric of the strip had gone dirty. It was stained with splotches of brown, with an array of torn threads poking out from a corner.

You turned to the first page. It was dated three years ago.

You swiftly flipped through the rest of the pages until you landed on nothing. Somewhere around the middle of the journal, there was a cluster of blank pages stapled together. With a moment of reconciliation, you thumbed through the stapled pages.

Harrison Roan.

A small smile graced your lips. You had, in fact, snatched the correct one before departing.

You traced your hurried handwriting, skimming over the words. You stopped at the small paragraph below the margin—the ‘final comment’.

Patient remains evasive and reluctant to engage in cooperative dialogue. He exhibits obsessive tendencies when discussing his partner, demonstrating patterns of control consistent with Machiavellian protection. His behaviour suggests a state of limerence, accompanied by coercive control over his loved ones. Obsessive-compulsive personality traits are observed, raising suspicion of OCPD. Therapy is recommended for further evaluation and intervention.

Back during your time at the Linkon Criminal Psychiatric Facility, you were assigned as Harrison’s primary psychotherapist. He was accused of abducting and imprisoning his lover, Anne Lotte. Anne underwent severe emotional abuse and manipulation. For a short period of three months, you were assigned to her as well. But before you could make any progress, she had thrown herself off the facility’s roof.

It was devastating, the state you found her in. Anne’s mind was completely mangled. There was a dark fog clouding her conscience. You doubted even a piercing sharp beam of light could pass through to her. She was unresponsive, silent, rendered dead; almost as if her mind had gone senile. Her situation filled you with revulsion. Ten years of imprisonment and psychological torture could destroy one’s psyche so brutally that even after they had regained their freedom, the light of hope would fail to reach their eyes.

You refused to be a victim of the same tragedy, and you refused to let Caleb walk the same path of insanity. Beyond all, you loved him. You wouldn’t leave him be and watch as he slowly abolished himself. You would not let the same tragedy occur once more. And perhaps Harrison’s case was the key. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from here.

“Skyhaven. Doors will open from the left.”

You shut your journal and lazily shoved it back into the depths of your bag. A flock of passengers stood, ready to hurl themselves out the moment the door slid open. You recoiled in your seat with a sigh. You’d just go once the crowd had dimmed.

Placing your chin in your hand, you looked out the window and peered through the crowds, fishing for Caleb. Your pulse fluttered as you saw him stare back at you with that signature smile of his—boyish, handsome… eerie. A chill shot up your spine. There was something about this ‘new’ him you could not explain. Something you couldn’t wrap your head around.

Something that frightened you.

You beamed through the glass, the brightest smile you could muster, and raised your palm to wave at him feverishly. Collecting your belongings in a frenzy, you rushed out the door, only to be met by the solid wall of his chest.

“Oof—” You rubbed your forehead. The man before you broke into a fit of gentle laughter and ruffled the top of your head. “Were you that excited to see me?”

You shot him a sheepish smile. He returned your gesture.

“Here, let me help with those.” He hoisted one of your bags over his shoulder and beckoned for you to follow. You took after him shortly after, skipping over to him with glee.

“Soo… why the sudden visit?” Caleb mused. You raised your head to look him in the eye. “I got a vacation, and…”

He cocked an eyebrow. “And?”

“There are… never mind. Can I tell you once we’re alone?” You could feel the way his heartbeat hastened without needing to touch him. It made your stomach knot in retaliation.

“Alright. Sounds good.”

The two of you hauled your way to the car. Before you could nestle yourself in the spacious backseat, he rushed in front of you to swing open the door to the passenger seat. He gestured for you.

Your eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh?”

“The finest service from yours truly.”

Damnit, that smooth imbecile.

Defeated (yet not yielding), you slid into the passenger seat and waited as he loaded your luggage into the trunk of the car. Once sure nobody was looking, you pried open your bag and inspected the journal inside. Phew. You hadn’t abandoned it on the train.

“Forget something?” You jumped. Your head whipped to the head peeking in from the crack of the car door. A shudder crept up your spine at the empty expression plastered on his face and the way his eyes gave away nothing. The grin was absent from his lips. With lingering unease, you forced your muscles to relax. “I just thought I left my phone behind.”

The warmth returned to his gaze. “Sorry for scarin’ ya.” He ruffled your hair affectionately. You shook your head. “No, it’s fine.”

The drive was quiet, with you engulfed in your paranoia regarding whether or not you should say what you’d sworn to tell Caleb, and him consumed by God-knows-what. The way he fixed his gaze on the road up ahead, not once looking back or giving you a sliver of his attention, perplexed you. What was he so invested in?

“So,” Caleb started, snapping you out of your domain of thought, “What were you gonna say?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and forced yourself to don a neutral tone. “I wanted to…” Fingers deftly played with the hem of your shirt. “Fix things.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Between us. Because, you know.”

The world stilled. You subconsciously hugged your bag tighter against yourself, anticipating all sorts of responses he could give. Would he stay silent? No. Not his style. He would…

Caleb smiled. “So, you want to start over?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Can’t say for sure whether I can be the Caleb you want.”

An opening.

You mustered the kindest simper you could and shook your head. “I was thinking… rather than rebuilding our past, we try and make peace with the new versions of each other.”

There was silence. And then, a glint in his eye. His shoulders slumped against the leather seat. The weight dimmed from the air, leaving only a soothing quietude—the calm after the storm had passed. It was almost like the old days.

Almost.

“Sounds good to me.” His mask returned. Contrary to his words, this version of Caleb was unfeeling. Even now, he refused to let you in. He blocked you out with that fire—that crackling lukewarm grin, that blazing radiance he bore. Warm like the sun, and just as deadly as it, and almost impenetrable.

But you could see the cracks that ran through that frigid surface. Earth crumbles fast. And no matter how sturdy the soil, the right amount of water could dampen it just enough for you to dig through.

You would reach him. You were sure. And you would save him just as you should’ve saved yourself.

Caleb helped you unload in front of his house, reaching the bags faster than you could and hauling them over his shoulder before you could protest. Admittedly, it was these small gestures of fondness that allured you to him in the first place. A trap, you thought. Only a front to mask his true twisted nature.

“Are you gonna conquer my room again?” he teased. You stopped in your tracks, turning to scrutinize all the barren rooms. A thought arose, one you desperately tried to shove to the back of your brain. Had you let your fear of him affect you so much that you would begin to lose your mind over the simple choice of rooms?

You took a deep breath and raised your finger, pointing at his room. You looked at him and grinned. “Why not? Your bed is the comfiest.”

Caleb would fall for it, wouldn’t he? The thought of you inhaling his scent, residing where he did—it was far too intimate for his mind to fathom. And the privilege of having your scent rubbed all across his bedsheets, in his balcony, in the mugs you used and the plates you discarded; you were making an offer a lovesick mind like his could not refuse.

You rejoiced internally at the sight of his face. The widening of his eyes, the contraction of his pupils, the subtle twitch of his lips—something awoke in him. Something fearful—a horned monster with gleaming red eyes clutched his heart. It was your indication that you’d won.

“Alright, alright,” Caleb mused. “Whatever the lady wants, she shall get.”

And with that, you successfully seized his room.

They say that one’s room is a reflection of one’s mind. They being you, of course, alongside a few other studies that emerged following the publication of your own. A great deal can be discerned from the mere face of a room—the way its occupant arranges their bedsheets, the colours they favour, the state everything is in, the organisation of furniture and possessions, the things they treasure enough to keep within these walls. From mental state to relationship status, all could be dissected from a single glance at a room and its arrangement.

You didn’t believe Caleb foolish enough to leave incriminating evidence strewn about. If anything had been there, he would have tidied up days before you set foot in Skyhaven. He preferred to keep details of his field of work discreet. You assumed it stemmed from an unwillingness to "corrupt" what he held sacred—sacralisation, perhaps? Disturbing when done to a human, yet not uncommon. You had encountered such cases before, and no matter how many you worked on, each left a familiar sinking feeling in your gut.

Knowing that, you never expected to find anything concrete in his room. But that wasn’t your intention.

You unpacked, arranging your belongings on the bed. Your journal rested on his desk. Of course, there was a risk in choosing to stay here. If you left your journal lying about and he happened to enter on a whim (which he had every right to; it was his room, after all), you would be exposed almost instantly. What excuse could you offer for analysing patients from three years ago, especially while on holiday? Worse, if his eyes caught the blue thread marking the pages where you had written about Harrison, he would connect the dots at once. What would he do then? Banish you? Grow cold? Or something worse?

You didn’t want to think about it.

Regardless, it was a risk you were willing to take. Consequences only existed if you faltered first. You were far more interested in what his room revealed about his mental state. Was it irrefutable evidence? No. But you weren’t on duty. This was a personal investigation—here, proof could be as subjective as you pleased. The only jury was yourself.

The bed was impeccably made, yet a thin layer of dust coated the duvet—a symptom of neglect. Still, there were signs that he had attempted to prepare. The neatly arranged cosmetics on the vanity, the dusted balcony with its watered plants, the stocked bird feeder swaying gently from the ceiling, the polished bathroom with its dry, tiled floors. They spoke of the care he had taken to render the space habitable for you.

It was your belief that people tidied before the arrival of guests to mask the unguarded fragments of themselves, those revealed in the dim solitude of their rooms. You could sense the effort he had poured into creating an illusion of warmth. His room practically welcomed you. Little hints of life were scattered throughout, almost as if to weave a mirage of normalcy.

"When we move in together in the future, what kind of room do you want?"

You lifted your chin, humming in thought. "Oh! I know! I want a lively room!"

"You mean colourful and vibrant?"

You shook your head. "No, dummy. A warm room! One that looks lived in."

Had he remembered your words? Back then, you had merely been a child. You had no true grasp of what you were saying, lacked the linguistic skills to articulate your thoughts. And yet, he remembered. Or perhaps it was simply instinct—after all, any normal person would feel more comfortable in a space that had been occupied before.

Despite his meticulous efforts, something betrayed it all.

You ran a fingertip across the duvet, picking up dirt. He had forgotten to tend to the bed. You could see it now—the bed, untouched for so long, had appeared so pristine that it had entirely slipped his notice. That very perfection had made him overlook it. And you might have as well, had it not been for the red welts that bloomed upon contact.

That told you more than you had expected. So consumed with work, he had dehumanised himself. Yet, instead of confronting it, instead of seeking help, he had merely painted over the cracks and prayed you would not notice.

Caleb was underestimating you. And that would be his undoing.

As both a therapist and a friend, it was your duty to halt his descent before it could begin.

Breakfast was served a bit late, around the time you’d usually make it for yourself back at home. Flatbread stuffed with meat and cheese—slightly indulgent, you’d say, but filling and undeniably delicious. Especially when put together by his hands. The savoury aroma wafted through the kitchen. You sat near the counter, devouring the bread in bites that left your mouth stuffed and puffy. Caleb laughed at the sight. But what could you do? After all, you were obsessed with his culinary prowess.

Although, you would admit, it was hard to focus on the food when his eyes were practically glued to you, unmoving and unwavering. A chill crept through your limbs but was quickly swallowed by the sudden burst of flavour in your mouth.

“How is it?”

You mumbled incoherent words through your full cheeks.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

No matter how vastly he changed, one thing remained constant—his food. It hadn’t changed a bit. The taste carried the same warmth it once had, the same lingering aftertaste of his signature seasoning. A silly thought popped into your mind—what if that were to change as well? A ridiculous notion. But then again, art changes as the artist does.

“Do you eat well while you’re on duty?”

Caleb looked out the window and hummed. His gaze averted yours. “Does cafeteria food count as ‘eating well’?”

“…Not really.” You smiled. Why did he look away?

You pinched his arm. “Look at you—you’re going to grow frail and weak!”

Caleb flinched before wincing dramatically, forcing a chuckle. “Really? Guess I gotta start eating well, huh?” He paused, glancing at his arm. “Or else someone’s gonna be breathing down my neck even when we’re apart.”

With a tilt of your head, you nodded. “I’ll scold you every time I’m back.”

“If it means seeing you more ofte—ow!” You pinched a thin layer of his flesh and twisted it.

“I can see those evil schemes swirling around in your brain. Cut it out! Or do you want me to punch you?”

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Oh, whatever am I to do?”

Despite the playful spark in his eyes, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered toward the compartment beneath the counter. He shifted, positioning his body over the gap so you were unable to steal a glance even if you tried.

You tilted your head and hummed. Interesting. It was best not to let him know you’d caught on.

You swallowed the last bits of your food with a mug of icy water. “Once you’re weak, I’ll craft a ploy to seize your position. The fleet’s going to have a new Colonel soon!” Smirking slyly, you puffed out your chest with mock confidence.

An unexpected tension settled in the air. You noted the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched at the word Colonel. A fleeting, alien emotion flickered behind his violet eyes, only to be swiftly dimmed by his sudden grin. That same, insufferable grin that guarded the entrance before you could step into his mind. His way of shutting you out.

He poked your arm and chuckled. “I’ll be looking forward to it, Colonel.” A palm rose to his head in an exaggerated salute.

Why was he so jumpy today?

Later, sometime during the afternoon, you dragged Caleb out for a casual tour of Skyhaven. “Show me your favourite places to relax!” you’d said with a beam. That was all it took for him to crumble to his knees.

He led you to a sky-based retreat (well, you were already in the sky, but still) situated atop a towering skyscraper that dwarfed all others of its kind. It was a behemoth of a building—a monolithic structure plated with heavily tinted, floor-to-ceiling windows on all four faces. The epitome of a modern yet intimidating corporate monolith. A lake surrounded it on three sides, and the only way in was via a vast bridge, sturdy enough to withstand the heaviest of cargo-bearing trucks, looping around the entire strip of land.

The apex was swallowed by cotton-white clouds. The last few floors vanished into the fog, dissolving from view. Despite the presence of splendid and meticulously maintained gardens throughout, only a few workers strolled about. Even with the meticulously architected bridges, barely any cars were to be seen. Only the distant rattle of golf buggies echoed in the air. Save for the occasional chirps and the gentle woosh of water below, it was eerily quiet.

You contemplated asking Caleb about it, but for some reason, your inability to piece it together on your own gnawed at you, filling you with a bitter pride. It should be easier than a murder case. Why were you fumbling? This was supposed to be your first real move. How could you falter before even setting your plan into motion?

None of the workers paid any real attention to the two of you as you stepped through the main entrance. Only a few odd glances followed. Caleb seemed to be a regular here. They all seemed at ease with his presence.

The elevator ride was a gruelling one. You could swear it took five whole minutes just to exceed the twentieth floor. Caleb argued it had only been forty seconds. It felt longer, nonetheless. Normally, a crowded elevator would have preoccupied you. You would have found yourself enthralled by the faces and mannerisms of the passers-by—the twenty-something man in a black suit, the unusually silent boy with bruises on his arms, the seemingly unfazed elderly woman with a deep-set frown. Insignificant to most, yet to you, endlessly fascinating.

For instance, the furrow on the businessman’s brow suggested he was late for work. The bruises on the boy’s body spoke of a heartwarming heroism, evident in the little girl beside him who thanked him ceaselessly (though, judging by his expression, he had definitely received an earful from his guardian). And the irritable old woman—well, she was quite clearly the one who had placed a zipper on the boy’s mouth.

What seemed forgettable to others was precious to you, and as long as there was company, you found solace.

But here, there wasn’t. Other than Caleb, of course. And unfortunately, you couldn’t exactly stare at him for the entire ride. You’d rather not resemble a mad doctor dissecting a newly discovered organism. Still, you couldn’t deny it—he was far more interesting than any stranger.

So, you stared at him anyway. Luckily for you, he didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps because he was too preoccupied, gazing out the transparent sheet of glass with a small smile on his lips. He seemed to be in a good state of mind. That was good. Otherwise, things had a slim chance of escalating into an argument. Nothing you couldn’t handle, just something you’d rather avoid. Or else, he’d pierce through your façade faster than you intended.

The doors slid open with a hiss. Beams of warm light spilled through, hitting your face and causing you to squint. The entryway, constructed of flimsy straw structures, was adorned with threads of vines creeping up and down the walls. Sunlight dripped through the holes in the patchwork roof, glinting cruelly beyond the tapestry, shining down with all its might—an act of savagery against your poor eyes. Thankfully, the vines shielded you from its full assault.

You tilted your head. A woman—uniformed, with a strict look on her face—stood beside the entrance with an immaculate posture. A familiar hat sat low on her head, guarding her eyes from both the intense heat and light. The utter lack of emotion in her gaze sent an involuntary shiver down your spine.

You glanced up at Caleb. He was unfazed by her presence, as if she were a mere colleague or a guard standing by. But she wasn’t the latter. You could tell by the uniform.

With your hand in his, he strode up to the woman. She offered a curt salute in response. “Colonel.”

“We would like to enter.” His voice was cold, a stark contrast to the way his thumb tenderly grazed over yours.

The woman turned to you. Her head tilted as she scrutinised you with a wary gaze. Then, she nodded. “Right this way.”

You were sure of it now. This was a private building, accessible only to high-ranking members of the Farspace fleet. You supposed such an arduous job had its benefits. Well, this was the least they could offer to those who put their lives on the line each day, fighting for yet more senseless bloodshed. This place was built upon a mixture of blood and sweat.

You grimaced. It felt wrong to stand upon this ground. If you squinted, you could see them—corpses strewn across the floor, brain matter splattered across the walls. Your stomach coiled. What a pathetic way to live—to be crowned in blood and sit upon a throne of bloodied cash, chest brimming with pride, belly full of greed, smirking down upon the famished.

You turned to face Caleb. You supposed he wasn’t too different from those people. And yet, you had forgotten all about it until now. He was truly a master at forging a harmless appearance, a welcoming front. Even now, a part of you refused to see him that way.

You supposed you were guilty as well. You had accepted your position as his plus-one without hesitation and accompanied him to such a place. It was hypocritical to persecute him while standing upon the faces of corpses, declaring yourself the selfless hero.

Such was the nature of humans.

The woman led you through the delicate gate. Caleb dragged you along. The first time you laid your eyes on the garden, your world stilled.

Words could not describe how breathtaking yet melancholic the sight before you was. If you were to attempt to jot it down on a piece of paper, you would be stuck on the first word. Unlike your initial beliefs, the botanical garden was not encased in glass. It should’ve been obvious from the torture you’d endured—the perpetrator being the sadistic, open sun. Maybe it was the awe of it all that heightened your perplexity.

The flowering meadows, the perfectly trimmed patches of fresh, green grass, the symmetrical, square-shaped ponds, the pair of birds feeding from the birdbath, the cascading artificial waterfalls—you didn’t know which one of them struck you the deepest. Or maybe it was the overly maintained religious sculptures—the one depicting a winged woman, angel or devil, with a honeycomb for her face—or the concerningly clean walkways, or the flawlessly aligned roses in the rose gardens that seemed a little too well-kept, stealing away the ‘wild’ and ‘natural’ vibe of your typical botanical garden.

The sky above was a whirlwind of blues, whites, subtle purples, and a dominant yellow-white. A soft breeze cascaded past, threading through the strands of your hair and dancing along your skin. It was cool and pleasant—perfectly so. Like the soft spring breeze that blows in February, or the afternoon wind at the shore of a river. It was just right. The perfect temperature to lull you to sleep.

Your mind winded back to the afternoons you spent with Caleb under your backyard’s willow tree. The breeze there would blow just as strikingly as it did here. Leaves would flutter down onto your face, only to be brushed aside by Caleb’s warm fingers. You would spend several hours lying there with him. Whether it was to complete your homework (of course, you slacked off and lured him into an endless chat instead) or flip through a book, he would always be there, brimming with that brotherly tenderness of his. It made up for your lack of a father figure in your life—Grandma Josephine being your only guardian.

Your heart ached at the memory. Maybe he hadn’t changed at all. Even then, Caleb harboured one major purpose—to protect what he loved, you, and to cherish it to the fullest. You had a hunch—what if that mysterious chip in his brain did not alter him entirely, but only heightened his preexisting instincts? But still. You found it hard to believe that the chip could truly rewire his brain so severely. You refused to believe such contraband existed. The mind is a fragile thing. It’s not so easy to suppress its power. Although all factual data pointed towards only a little portion of his brain remaining untouched, you firmly believed it was a front.

Maybe, among his emotions lay one that would be easy to utilise, to take control of and provoke so that he abided by their rules. And the only emotion so easy to manoeuvre—his only weakness—was his love for you. If you hadn’t been born…

“It’s… wow,” you let out an audible gasp. Your eyes twinkled with stars. On your heels, you spun around, imprinting every inch of the garden in your memory. Caleb didn’t need to be a genius to know that bringing you here was the best choice he had made in a long time. His grin mimicked yours. There was no use in asking whether you were enjoying the view or not—the way you frantically hopped about the place, skipping from pond to pond and observing the exotic birds from afar, told him everything.

With small, unhurried steps, Caleb approached you as you peeked at the pair of colourful birds drinking from the birdbath. “They’re raised here. I feed ’em sometimes.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “They’re friendly towards humans. Watch.”

He held out his right hand and approached the birds gingerly. The blue jay tilted its head to scan Caleb as he neared. As if recognising him immediately, it leapt onto his arm.

Using his other hand, he gestured for you to come. You approached with silent and hesitant steps. Once close enough, you reached up to touch the blue jay perched on his arm. You nearly jumped into a pond when the bird took off. Your cheeks flushed red, to which Caleb burst out guffawing.

“I forgot to mention—they don’t like being touched. Sorry, Pip!” he uttered between chuckles.

You gave him the meanest glare you could muster. “How very forgetful of you.” You brought an accusatory finger to point at his chest. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did!”

The woman watching from afar could not help but smile at your meaningless banter.

You and Caleb lingered until the sun began to dip below the horizon, until the once-blue skies were replaced with a bright orange-red and purple. The clouds began to darken—the battle cry of an impending tempest. Or was it the coming of night? You didn’t know. Nonetheless, both of you refused to leave.

“The world looks so tiny from here.” You compared the size of the structures afar with your fingers. Your other hand gripped the railing for support. “I’m almost jealous. You get to come here every day.”

You mumbled, turning to face Caleb, who appeared entranced by the hues of the setting sun. A smile adorned your face. He looked so peaceful, so content. As if nothing had occurred in the past few months, as if it was still the two of you against the world. You yearned to breathe in his embrace once more, just like old times. You swallowed. You couldn’t afford that. The past was gone. Now, only the future awaited—a future that depended on your actions, your choices, and your diligence. You couldn’t back out now. You were too far in.

“Don’t you miss that Willow tree?” you started. “The big one in our backyard. We used to rest against the trunk on the grass.”

“Once, I had to save you from a grasshopper. It lunged at you from the grass, and you screamed like a child,” he laughed. “And afterwards, you ended up avoiding that place for two weeks.”

“I only went after you got rid of them.”

He nodded. “I sprayed the whole area with bug repellent—it killed some of the vegetation as well.”

You smiled at the memory. “Grandma was so mad at us.”

A comfortable quietude ensued, submerging you both into a peaceful state of mind. Then, Caleb spoke solemnly.

“I have patrol tomorrow.” The sun began to disappear below the horizon, leaving swipes of purple behind on the sky. Dark clouds converged. “I won’t be there for you, pip.”

“Truth be told…” You gazed up at the vanishing sun. “I have some work to do. I came here for a more peaceful and friendly working environment.”

“Then you can busy yourself with that. Just… don’t burn down my kitchen, yeah?”

You shot him a scheming grin, yet it held no bite. “When will you be back?”

“The day after. Not too long.”

You bit your lip. Couldn’t he have stayed for a day longer? You had to be quick on your feet, then.

“Did you think about it?” Caleb suddenly interrupted. The gears turned in your head. Your mind was brought back to the offer he’d made before you departed from Skyhaven the last time—“Why not live here? You have nothing left in Linkon city to return to. I can get you a position somewhere as a criminologist. You can return to doing what you loved.”

Your gaze returned to him. You hadn’t decided yet. Sure, it gave you quite a handful of opportunities to inspect his brain a little closer. But if your plan failed? You’d be stuck in Skyhaven. You were sure it wouldn’t, but…

You took the flesh of your mouth into your teeth. It wasn’t the time to doubt yourself. But that wasn’t the only concern in your mind. The thought of him bearing so much power over your life and your job put you at unease. It was risky. Terribly so. It made your advantages over him feel insignificant. No matter how passionate you were about your work, and no matter your love for him, you preferred your sanity and wellbeing over all.

You turned to Caleb with an apologetic smile. His eyebrows furrowed, and a flicker of disappointment crossed his face. “Sorry, Caleb. I’ve made some friends, and I’m happy with the quiet life I’ve managed to build for myself.”

You could sense his thoughts—“What life? That poor, miserable one devoid of my presence and protection?”—you were sure that was what’d crossed his mind at that moment. You could tell by the way his jaw was clenched and his muscles tightened. But at once, the solicitous façade returned, washing away every hint of dissatisfaction that’d dared to cross his face. “That’s all right. You’re free to change your mind whenever you wish.” You forced your lips into a tight smile in return. “I appreciate it.” A part of you winced at the sudden formality in your tones. For some reason, you loathed whenever he got serious. It frightened you somewhat.

“You know, pip-squeak,” Caleb mused, his voice light, casual. Unnervingly so. Something in your stomach coiled—that familiar feeling of dread and anticipation. “Something tells me you’re not here for relaxation.”

You stilled, only for a little while. But it was enough. His gaze sharpened. “Tell me.” His eyes bore into yours—calculating, scrutinising, leaving no stone unturned. As if you were the experiment, and he, the mad scientist. Something venomous swirled in his violet hues. Like a dagger, or like the teeth of a snake—sharp, ready to pierce skin, waiting.

Unreadable.

Bolts of lightning ripped through the skies, illuminating a part of Caleb’s face to highlight the utter insanity brewing beneath his irises. A strong, dusty wind blew, sending shivers down your spine—though, you were unaware whether they were from fear or the cold. So, it was an oncoming storm.

Your fingers curled against the railing. Your sweat seeped onto its surface. You hesitated.

“Caleb, that’s—” A soft voice murmured. You let out a breathless laugh, flustered. “You’re not wrong.”

The air between you stretched taut. He remained silent, unmoving. Once again, silence had engulfed you, but this time, it wasn’t pleasant. Like a watchful eagle, Caleb waited.

You brushed strands of hair away from your eyes and glued your eyes to the birds instead. “You know, lately, I’ve just—I’ve been thinking,” you let your words tremble, “I—I’m sorry…” You gripped your chest. “I’ve been thinking that, maybe…” You swallowed, lowering your gaze. Perfect.

You inhaled sharply. “You were right.”

His brow raised. He seemed hooked.

“I thought about what you said—about my security. And you’re right. Although I’ve trained in the police, my combat knowledge is minimal. Linkon city is becoming less safe by the second, especially for me.” You closed your eyes. “Assuming what you said was true, about several corporations being after my head—well, my heart, I just can’t help but feel unsafe. Even when surrounded by my friends, even in my own home.” Your lips quivered. He listened with immaculate patience, as if he were picking apart your words, searching for a hidden subtext. “And now, everybody seems like hollow, empty beings. I can’t resonate with my patients; I can’t have fun with my friends. I feel so… isolated. So alone. And I realised,” you continued, “that despite all, you on the other hand? You were always there for me. In my heart, by my side. I could truly only be safe and happy when with you.”

Silence. The only sound in the air was the crackling of thunder.

You chanced a glance at him, watching how his eye twitched. Had he caught on? Were you in trouble? Was he mad? Your anxiety peaked at the slow inhale as he prepared to speak.

But then, his eyes softened.

“You should’ve just said so.” His voice was gentle, lacking the malice it once had. “You know you can always turn to me for help, right?”

Bingo.

Inside, you smirked. It worked. He fell for it. How could he not? You had been preparing for ages.

You’d won your first challenge. Arguably, it was the toughest one. If you’d failed—if he’d caught on, or noticed even the smallest hint of it having been a lie, your entire world would’ve crumbled. All that you’d worked for, gone. Rendered meaningless by your incompetence. You didn’t know what you would do afterward if that were to happen.

You let yourself appear small and vulnerable when you looked back at Caleb, attempting to highlight the anxiety in your eyes. “I know. I was planning to say it, but a perfect moment never came. Until now, that is.”

Caleb brought his palm to your cheek and cradled your face in his arms. “You don’t need an excuse to be honest with me. Whenever you feel like it, just lay your heart bare.”

“But you seemed so happy. Like you were enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to ruin it with my embarrassing thoughts.” You argued, forcing a frown on your face. He shook his head. “Once you’re done, we can go straight back to having fun if that’s what you want. Besides,” he averted his gaze, “It’s been on my mind all day—why you could be pretendin’ when you could’ve just told me. I was wondering how bad it was for you to be hidin’ it from me so desperately.”

You assumed as much. Explains why he seemed so jumpy earlier during breakfast, and why he kept zoning out the entire way here. It was what gave you the idea of using such deceit in the first place. You were sure if there was a perfect place to confront you about it, it would be here; under the witness of the setting sun, in a place you were bound to feel sentimental and thus, vulnerable and ready to spill it all out.

Unfortunately, you were not willing to fall for such a clear trap.

By the time you had left, the downpour had begun. Weighted beads of water stormed down on you viciously. The two of you rushed out before the storm could catch you. Well, one of you did. Caleb, who so valiantly used himself to shield you against the relentless tempest, had been completely drenched. Blobs of water dragged along the floor as he walked. You swore, if you squeezed him then, a whole waterfall would erupt. It was almost sweet—the way he so earnestly utilised his behemoth of a body to block out the storm’s ceaseless assault. It was something straight out of a romantic drama, or some sort of cliché film. But for some reason, you couldn’t cringe. You only laughed it off, paying no mind to the gentle flutter in your stomach.

The drive home was thrilling—abundant with giggles and snarky remarks thrown around. Perhaps you were in a better mood because your stomach was full—Caleb had been kind enough to treat you to supper in a small café situated on the middlemost floor of that building. The chef’s culinary expertise overflowed from the arrangement of exquisitely prepared Skyhaven delicacies. And the best part? They were quite cheap. Had you received a discount in honour of his presence? You didn’t know. But at the very least, you didn’t go broke after insisting that you split the bill 50/50. Despite having dried off, however, Caleb somehow wetted the seats.

Once home, both of you almost immediately collapsed onto the couch (you threw him off, of course, for soaking the furniture with the remnants of his heroism). He scrambled out of his clothes and cooked you both a warm plate of braised chicken wings shortly after. Dinner ensued normally this time, with a dearth of odd flinches or averted gazes. The two of you simply chatted to your heart’s content, both putting in equal effort to make it seem as if old times had returned.

Of course, it hadn’t. You were thrust back into reality when Caleb’s phone began to ring.

With a sidelong glance, he excused himself, making haste to his room and shutting the door behind him. You eyed the door, moving only when you were sure it’d clicked shut. Tip-toeing over to the kitchen, you bent down to eye the compartments underneath. There it was. Unmistakable, concrete—a file of unknown origin adorned with a sleek grey cover. You glanced over the counter. He wasn’t done yet. Your attention travelled back to the file.

But you paused. Tremors rippled through you as you slipped the ring off your finger and dropped it to the floor. With a measured kick, you pushed it further beneath the counter. Just to be safe. In case you were caught.

You reached into the compartment. Your entire arm was swallowed by darkness before finally, your fingers met the file. Cautiously, you pulled it out. The layer of dust coating its surface sprang up to your face as you dusted it. You made an effort not to cough.

The file’s edges were worn. Yet the pages inside appeared to be relatively new and untouched, perhaps even well-kept. A plastic sleeve shielded the grey manila folder from all sorts of debris. The pages inside were laminated and contained bundles of new words and information foreign to you. The file’s contents overwhelmed you. They appeared to be gibberish, nonsensical.

You deftly skimmed through the first few pages. None of the information contained within them seemed worthy of noting. Not to you, at least. There didn’t appear to be anything you didn’t know and was not known by the public. Then why was he reacting so oddly back then? Why had he flinched? Why had his gaze travelled back to his lap—or more specifically, to this file, as he anxiously fiddled with his fingers? You’d lured him away on purpose—dragging him outside the moment he could’ve gotten a chance to remove the file before you could grasp it. Was it all for nothing, then? Were you mistaken?

You stilled.

You weren’t mistaken after all.

Your fingers hovered over the fifth page.

There, in big, bold letters, was your name.

Inscribed upon the laminated page. And beside that lay your picture, alongside a list of unremarkable data, such as your date of birth, full name, affiliation, and so on.

Before you could investigate further, a voice called out your name. You hadn’t heard the door creak open.

You peered up from beneath the counter. Caleb’s face was contorted with horror—his pupils contracted; his body frozen. The hand holding his phone to his ear dropped to his side. He began to stride toward you.

You shoved the folder lazily into the compartment once more, ensuring no sound was emitted in the process. Adopting the most nonchalant expression you could, you lifted your head to face him. “Caleb,” you called out, a small pout gracing your lips, “I can’t reach the ring.”

He stopped. The act seemed to have taken effect. He cocked his head, eyes bearing into yours, as if ripping apart your soul itself for a trace of a lie. But you weren’t intimidated by his silent interrogation. You held your resolve, maintaining the façade with determined accuracy. Gradually, Caleb’s impishness returned.

“Dropped it?”

He fell for it so flawlessly, it almost irked you that he hadn’t put up a bigger fight. You pouted internally. Could he not have pretended not to buy it? For the sake of the thrill? Oh, well. A win’s a win.

You nodded. “I can’t reach it. Can you help me?”

He hurried to your side and hunched over. You noted the way his eyes skimmed over the document tucked away in the depths of the compartment, right where he’d left it, before it went to the gap underneath the counter. The subtle glint of your ring confirmed your honesty. He raised his hand and twirled his fingers in the air. As if a gust of wind had carried it here, the ring smoothly levitated out of the darkness and onto the countertop. You shot him a sheepish smile before returning to your feet to collect the ring.

Just as you slipped it onto your finger, Caleb grasped your chin between his fingers and turned you to face him. His eyes bore an unnerving intensity as they skimmed over your face. Were you busted? Had he caught on? You didn’t let the quiver reach your lips. Instead, you donned a perplexed complexion as he whisked your head around.

Once satisfied, he released you from his grip and ruffled your hair. “Just checking if you’d gotten dust on you.” You rolled your eyes in response. “I’m not a child anymore!”

“Anyway, anything wrong? That call seemed important.” You caught him zoning out, staring into the distance. You waved your hand before his face. “Earth to Caleb?”

He straightened himself. “Not really. I just… might return home a little late tomorrow. And I gotta leave tonight.”

You frowned. He had the audacity to lie to your face, knowing you were skilled enough to penetrate through whatever front he puts up. Pushing it would only add to the uncomfortableness of it all, so you sealed your lips instead.

You whined, although it came out a bit prolonged, before swatting his arm weakly. “But you said…”

“I know,” he sighed, “But duty calls.”

“Tell you what?” He brushed a stray strand away and cradled your cheek. For a moment, he glanced to the side, lost in thought, before he looked back at you and continued, “I’ll make it up to ya once I’m back. But with that being said, don’t stay up too late tomorrow, yeah?” You pretended to be unmoved, but a part of you jumped at the mention of recuperation. You wondered what it would be. Food, perhaps? Or maybe tickets to that movie you’d been dying to watch? Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny it enlivened you.

Caleb seemed to have noticed the somersaults you did, and the way you skipped around with joy behind those eyes. He smirked. “I’ll be leaving now. Get some rest. I’m sure you’re tire—achoo!” He hastily covered his mouth with his arm. Another sneeze. And another.

You narrowed your eyes and folded your arms over your chest. “Are you sure you won’t catch a cold? Although you probably already have…” you muttered the last part under your breath.

Caleb waved his arm dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be—” And another. “Yeah. Anyways, as I was saying, go to bed on time, alright?”

You shook your head, as if disheartened by his juvenile behaviour. “Alright. But, at least take some medicine or something. It’ll probably be one long night.”

When Caleb had left, the tempest roared at its prime. Despite having handed him two umbrellas, a string of worry coiled in your chest. Could he fend off against the raging winds that thumped against the sliding glass doors of the balcony and threatened to knock them over? No matter how strong a man, he was deemed fragile and brittle against the forces of nature. What if an uninvited bolt of electricity had happened to fall upon him as he walked? Was he even walking? You hoped not. At least vehicles were designed to protect people from lightning.

In the end, the quietude proved to be quite pleasant. You could immerse yourself in re-studying Harrison’s case without the fear of Caleb barging in and catching you red-handed.

You managed to skim over quite a lot of pages before hunger struck. Glancing up at the clock, the realisation dawned upon you that you had been at it for more than two hours. But it was a productive two-hour session with yourself, you’d say. But there were obstacles, nonetheless. As you’d suspected, Roan’s problematic behaviour had a completely different source from what you’d suspected Caleb’s to be. He acted on paranoia and insecurity, whereas Caleb seemed more insistent on the idea of protection. Roan’s obsession blinded his wit and caused him to act on impulse.

The kidnapping of Anne Lotte, although seemingly flawless, was conducted on a whim. Harrison executed his plan with merely a gun, a bundle of ropes, and some chloroform to sedate her. The alley Anne happened to be crossing through had no cameras, and as it was a secluded shortcut few were aware of, there were no passers-by to witness the crime. Nobody had gotten injured, thanks to Harrison’s prior police training, so there was no blood or evidence to be picked up. All other proof happened to be washed away by the rain shortly after.

From this timeline of events, it was clear that Harrison had gotten away with Anne’s kidnapping simply because of luck. If the stars hadn’t aligned during his sudden state of paranoia, Anne would be alive and well now. What an unlucky girl she was. It was almost as if fate had abandoned her.

Harrison had strength, but he was dim. That was what caused the inevitable discovery of Anne stashed away in his basement. Caleb, on the other hand, possessed both. Throughout high school, he had topped you almost constantly. No matter how hard you studied, no matter how many all-nighters you’d pulled, he would somehow manage to top you with a mere four or five hours of study before an examination.

You admit, you were envious of him throughout most of your teenage years, and you were appalled when he’d decided to tread a completely different academic path from yours. But nowadays, looking back, you realise that the only reason he’d made such an effort to conquer you was to be a reliable pillar of support if you were to falter. Which, inevitably due to the gallons of caffeine and hours’ worth of lost sleep, you did. Another irksome consequence of his undying affection that you had to suffer.

Even now, his wits and manipulation are clear. You were sure nobody rose to the rank of Colonel so swiftly without possessing immense intelligence. Caleb’s puppy eyes weren’t going to fool anyone. Not you, at least. They couldn’t hide the terrifyingly adept brain that lay beyond them.

Anne’s decline in mental well-being was predetermined. It was part of Harrison’s flawed plan all along. His insecurity left little room for actual care and affection to be expressed towards her, and as a result, he determined that breaking her resolve would be the surest way of ensuring submission. Of course, that did backfire for him. It led to her malnutrition, forecasted miscarriages, and her eventual suicide. Although you had no sure way of knowing what Caleb would’ve done, you were sure it wasn’t this.

Someone like him could predict such an outcome from a mile away. Breaking somebody’s mind, in this case, would be a reckless decision. And most importantly, his fatal flaw is that he loves too dearly and cares too much to be able to leave someone he admires to fend for themselves as he relentlessly shatters their psyche. He is too infatuated for that. His obsession stemmed from a desire to protect, not meaningless paranoia like Harrison’s. That explains why he would be unwilling to lay a finger on them.

And, of course, Caleb was a “manipulation>direct action” type of man. He had expressed his twisted desires to keep you confined and unable to flee once before, as he had been bandaging up your injured leg. But you were confident that his idea of confinement exists in a psychological state. He would bind your mind and heart to him, maneuver you to fall deeper into a psychical trap you could not escape. He would never directly imprison or confine. He would rewire your brain so that you willingly stuck yourself to him. It was a legal way to get what he wanted. And you didn’t doubt he could pull it off.

However, one thing to note was that he needed motive—proof that you were slipping from his grasp. As long as you remained on good terms, or pretended to, he would not need to resort to such methods.

Maybe.

Despite the dissimilarities, you were sure you could learn more to be able to counter his blows if he were to ever make some. But your main priority was still to cleanse his mind, to provide him with an opening to redeem himself and return to his normal life once more. Never mind your intentions. The contrast between their insanities led you to notice some peculiar things.

You turned to one of the back pages of your book and began scribbling down your thoughts.

Harrison and Caleb were merely two sides of the same coin. A cerberus with two heads. One who is impulsive, led on by rage and desire, and the other that is intelligent, driven by his loyalty to his master. But in the end, the cerberus is one complete being. If you split it in half, it will not regenerate like dividing cells. It will simply perish together. After all, both are two extremes.

Meaning if a lack of foresight could tackle one, then the other would fall for his over-calculation of things. They were both arrogant and full of themselves, believing only themselves and their strategies to be correct. In the end, they couldn’t see the 48 other heads lodged between the two—48 other ways to be “correct”.

The impulsive head aches to swallow his prey, to make incisions within his heart and stash them away in one of its chambers. And the cunning head too cuts, not his heart, but his lover’s brain, and detangles the strands only to twist them again, only this time in a way that would make them willing to stay. Resorting to such cruel yet more humane tactics implies that the fear of losing their treasure was rooted far more deeply in the intelligent cerberus rather than the dim one.

And what if fear is not another vulnerability to control?

Whereas Harrison is abundant in paranoia and insecurity, Caleb is almost wholly dominated by the extremity of positive emotions like love, care, and an overwhelming desire to protect. His unwillingness to hurt means that if you were to show even a single crack in your mind, the fear of you crumbling would force him to loosen his grip almost entirely, given that his side of the mind games had already begun. That would create the perfect opening for you to slip past and dash out to meet your freedom.

All you had to do was put on one more act.

Harrison’s impulsiveness, contrasting Caleb’s preparedness, also let you peer into another opening. If you continued to think of them as two sides of the same coin, then you could come upon this conclusion—if Harrison had a breaking point, so did he.

Harrison’s inevitable downfall and his psychological abuse of Anne was set into motion when the thought bit into his brain, whispering—“If you don’t tighten the leash, she will run away.” It was safe to assume that Caleb too had a breaking point. It was simply harder to reach. One side of the coin was made of bronze, whereas the other was constructed of tungsten. Both could melt, just at different speeds.

If you could provoke him up to that point, Caleb would be forced to reveal his hand. But, admittedly, picturing what could happen if he snapped was… unsettling. Precisely because you couldn’t picture it at all.

And thus, that would remain something you would try if you couldn’t get him to falter at all. A last resort, to be more specific.

And now, with your acquired information, you could weave your final plan: if he tried something anyway, you could paint a front of danger, as if his ‘advances’ and whatnot had thrown you into a state of endangerment, and if he didn’t back away immediately, it may cost him (and you) something precious. Whether it be your life, blood, or sanity, he cared too much not to abort instantaneously. Unlike Harrison, he wouldn’t act blindly—he’d justify his actions. If you could provide real consequences (consequences that mattered to him), you could alter his idea of justifications and compel him to rationalise his actions differently.

And how, exactly, would you achieve that? Well, that was something to figure out along the way. That was your motto—have a vague, surface-level plan, and build upon it as you go. If you had a solid, fool-proof plan, you wouldn’t have searched for information after arriving in Skyhaven.

To be honest with yourself, your knowledge on Caleb’s behaviour and your predictions on what may have happened next were minimal; certainly not enough to conclude that you were in any real danger, and certainly not enough to deduce that your initial assumptions could be utilised to orchestrate a surefire way of taking him down. You suppose you had to spend more time with him to come to a real conclusion. Of course, that wouldn’t be too easy, considering that you’d purposefully invaded at a time where he’d be busy juggling you and his duties simultaneously. You had your reasons. The perfect time to strike was when a man’s back was faced to you, and he was too busy with the happenings before him to notice the footsteps creeping up on him from behind. In short, right now, he was vulnerable. If he found out you were up to something, he would be too exhausted to think straight and thus he would falter. If you face an enemy far stronger than you, wear them down first, and then strike when they are on the verge of tears.

The real problem right now was how you could feign being endangered. For now, you’d come up with a few ways. Perhaps a more logical approach would be best for a start.

Skyhaven’s weather seemed mostly untouched. Save for yesterday’s storm, it remained relatively stable. With clear, cloudless skies, splashed with a unique blue, it was perfect weather—perfect air. Too perfect. Maybe the storm from yesterday lingered somewhere beneath the blues. It had to be. Nothing is truly calm—especially not here.

“Beautiful, isn’t it, Rhys?” you hummed. A flock of black ravens flitted past your window. The bitter scent of unbrewed coffee beans drifted in the café’s air. It was a scent you’d grown to admire. The perfect place to work, really. It opened your mind (and mouth) wide enough to effectively scribble away at one of your flimsy journals, analysing some patients’ consciousnesses or just gathering your thoughts. But today, you weren’t here for work.

“Probably because we’re so high up,” Rhys grinned, flashing his braced teeth. He was a tall man of dark complexion with thin brown hair kissing his shoulders. Rhys Vaughn—one of the few patients you’d reviewed in Skyhaven, involved with your limited history here. He used to be a drug addict and had nearly run over a child while stoned. To his luck, the child managed to escape mostly unscathed save for a broken limb, and thus, he got off with a relatively lighter charge. He was placed under your care while serving time in prison. Eventually, after a period of two years, you’d managed to lure him into making a full recovery. Now, he appeared before you, a new, clean man with a loving wife. But, above all, working with Rhys had one sure advantage—he was quite talented in the art of gathering information.

In his line of work as a technician, Rhys was required to have some basic computing skills. As a result, he’d undergone several computer science courses online, and he completely aced them. The coding shenanigans that couldn’t penetrate through your thick skull passed through his as if tearing through paper. He was skilled in what you were not; practical work. If there was anyone to call for some ethical hacking and information digging, it would be him. To Rhys, asking him to dig up information was the same as asking him to pass you the remote from across the room. You could put those skills to use.

“How’s your wife?” you gingerly sipped your coffee.

“She’s good. Hit a milestone in her art.”

“And you? How are you feeling?”

Rhys chuckled. “Still playing psychotherapist, miss?”

You shook your head with a sheepish smile. “Force of habit, you know? Can’t take my mind off work.” You waved your hand dismissively. “Really, though, how are you? Answer the question viewing me as… a friend.”

“I’m doin’ great!” He raised his hands dramatically in a gesture of joy. “Not delirious all day, actually sane and stable, able to keep relationships and eat something other than scrawny prison food. Yeah, couldn’t have been better.”

You smiled. Genuinely. “Good to know.”

Knowing your patient had achieved happiness fulfilled your purpose as both a psychotherapist and a human. Your mind recalled a skinnier Rhys sitting across from you on a long, white couch, lacking the sun in his eyes, which he now had multiple of, swirling about in his pools of bronze. His eyes back then; they were empty. He appeared a lifeless man with mould growing out of the pores of his skin. And now, he was here, sitting across from you, helping you just as you had helped him two years ago. It was a motherly pride that filled your chest, cascading through your nerves like a warm, sweet liquid. You couldn’t be happier.

“Anyway, what ya here for?”

You placed your hand under your chin and turned to look out the window.

“I remembered what you said, Rhys.”

He cocked an eyebrow and peered at you from over his cup as he sipped. You took it as a sign to continue. “You mentioned once that you owe me one, and that if I ever find myself in a stump in Skyhaven, I could call for you.”

“So,” he added a packet of sweetener into his coffee, “You want to take me up on that offer now? I thought you’d forgotten about me.” His countenance twisted to display mock hurt. “All right. I’m just playing. What’s it about?”

“I recently managed to earn myself a boyfriend,” you started, although cringing internally, “And I happen to doubt his mental well-being.”

Rhys kicked back on the plush of the chair. He’d figured it out already, you were sure, but you went on anyway.

“We just got together about 6 months ago. So, it’ll be hard to know enough to be able to help him.”

“So you want me to dig up some information about him?” He leaned closer. “What kind?”

“He’s an orphan. Doesn’t have family, pretends with his friends. But there are a few people he seemed close to. Some workers, mailmen, plumbers, you know. Those types of people I can never seem to get a hold of.”

“Should I fetch their contacts?”

“No.” You winced at the finality of your words. “I mean, yes, but not just that.”

Rhys cocked an eyebrow. An amused smirk crossed his face. Had he caught your lies?

“It’d be convenient if you could search for his transactions with them. Their backgrounds, history, et cetera. I have some… other doubts as well.”

With a large gulp, Rhys slurped up his coffee and wiped his face with a napkin. Only silence swayed between you two as he took his time to reply. He wasn’t thinking. Certainly not. But he lingered, nonetheless.

He knew, for sure.

“You know, little miss, I don’t know why you feel the need to fabricate when you know I don’t hesitate to dirty my hands.”

You glued your eyes to your lap.

“I owe you. And even if you asked me to kill a man, I’d do it.”

You let out a shaky exhale. “If I were still your therapist, I’d be scribbling on my notebook right now. But, considering I’m in a pinch, I’ll let it slide.” You smiled. “I appreciate your help, Rhys, and your respect for my privacy. I will forever be indebted to you.”

He swatted his hand about mindlessly. “Yeah, yeah. A name, please.” He slid you a slip of paper.

You plucked a pen from your coat and jotted down Caleb’s name before passing it across the table. Taking it between his fingers, Rhys eyed the name. He lingered there for a beat too long. Something was up. Your suspicions only spiked with the subtle twitch of his finger. A light of recognition crossed his bronze irises before fading just as swiftly. In a flash, his grin returned, and he pocketed the slip of paper before springing to his feet. “All right. Tomorrow, I’ll text you with whatever I find.”

You lowered your head. “Again, thank you.”

That night, Caleb returned late. Uninjured, thankfully, but acting odd nonetheless. In his hands, a small bag was clutched. You recalled his words—“I’ll make it up to you.”—and it took a lot for you to resist leaping from the couch and snatching the bag from his hands. What stopped you, aside from the fear of appearing awfully juvenile, was the exhaustion etched into his face.

When his eyes met yours, however, his complexion brightened immediately. Still clad in his uniform, Caleb kicked off his boots and strode towards you. A weariness weighed his movements. The strongest man you’d ever seen, both physically and mentally—your pillar of strength—stumbled across the room like a golden puppy dragging its injured leg along the floor, wagging its tail and paying no mind to its pain. You felt stabbed in the chest. For a man of such power, he could be absolutely endearing at times.

“Miss me, pip?” Caleb leaned down to ruffle your hair affectionately. You shut off your phone to smile at him. Your eyes enlarged as his familiar face appeared before you, but a frown tugged at your lips at the dark stains under his eyes. You reached your hand out to caress the blackened bags of flesh.

“You didn’t sleep.”

He cradled your face in turn. “Neither did you.” A flick to your forehead caused a pout to form on your face.

“I wasn’t working my ass off.”

“And I was. I know. I’m sorry.” He set his colonel cap on your head. The accessory dwarfed your skull, sinking down until it obscured your vision. Caleb stifled a laugh at the sight.

He noted the way your eyes drifted to the bag in his hand—the bag that was coated with crimson and shiny gold accents, which gave away very little about its contents. Sensing your curiosity, he handed the bag to you.

“The lady asks, and I deliver.” He bowed curtly. You both broke into merry laughter.

Stashed away in the depths of the tiny bag was a rectangular velvety jewellery case, coloured similarly to the bag, down to the gold accents. The mere surface of the case seemed extravagant enough to satisfy your greed even in the absence of the jewellery itself. You stared in awe. Were you truly deserving of the real gem hidden inside? Your fingers traced the engraving on the case’s surface. A remarkable brand. There was a lump gathering in your throat. It felt sacred to hold something so precious, so expensive. You were no high priestess or beloved queen—not worthy enough to clutch a revered artifact. And yet, Caleb’s eyes bore into yours with a gentleness that could bring you to tears. And it did. You felt tears threatening to form. You were sure he noticed.

A sudden wave of guilt knocked the wind out of your lungs. Just hours before, you’d been conspiring against him, digging up information that could potentially be labelled as an invasion of one’s privacy, and threading together a plan that was catered to go against him, to take him down. You knew you weren’t doing anything wrong. You were helping him. Guiding him to a path of happiness, just as you did with your patients, just as you did with Rhys.

Just as you would have with Harrison and Anne.

If only your incompetence hadn’t gotten them killed, they could walk their own paths today. You closed your eyes. An image flashed before you. A flimsy blonde girl with scars littering her arms, crossing a bridge, heading towards a field of flowers with her dead child clutching her hand. And a battered older man going the opposite way—a path towards a blinding light, the path to redemption.

You wouldn’t let it happen again.

There was nothing to be guilty of. Your fingers curled tighter against the fabric of your pants. There was nothing to be guilty of. You weren’t in the wrong. This was for the greater good. They’d understand. They surely would, once they realised that the path you chose for them was a more tranquil one.

But did you risk losing yourself in the process?

“Not going to open it? Your head’s been stuck in the clouds for about thirty seconds now.” Caleb loosened his tie before seating himself next to you. “Something on your mind? Is the casing not to your liking?”

You shook your head. “I’m just… you’re exhausted beyond belief right now, and you went through all that trouble… I don’t deserve this.” You frowned. “I’m so sorry for making you ‘make up’ to me. I didn’t know you’d go that far, I—”

Strong arms coiled around you, drawing you in. You felt the steady, yet surprisingly slow beats of his heart from where you were nestled against his chest. Fingers wove through your hair, offering a sense of solace you hadn’t felt in a while. With a low, careful tone, he whispered. His lips brushed against your ear. “Don’t say anything.”

And you obeyed.

For a moment, you remained steady. Silent. Your lips were pursed, and your heart beat fast—a stark contrast to his. You sank deeper into his embrace. Your grip faltered, and you eventually gave in to his presence entirely. Your body slumped against his, but he seemed to have no trouble bearing your weight. For a moment, you considered letting the tears flow. But a part of you clawed against the muscular wall of your heart in retaliation, screeching in protest. Something screamed danger, despite you being the safest you’d ever been right now.

With steady arms, Caleb brought your palm, which was weakly clutching the jewellery case, to your chest. “I had this ordered for months. I was just waiting for the right moment to pick it up. So,” with his other hand, he tousled your hair, “Don’t think you were a bother. And honestly? I can’t name a single woman more deserving of this than you.”

A faint blush coated your cheeks. But you shook it off before he could see. Renewed courage surged through you, and your fingers made their way to the hook of the case.

Carefully, you slid it open.

A white gleam.

There, perched amidst the plush, was a delicate, thin bracelet made of what appeared to be sterling silver. The chain itself was of a unique geometric design consisting of circles, ovals, and a myriad of shapes you couldn’t name. The expert craftsmanship showed in the presence of the bracelet’s seamless links and its shiny, polished clasp. You ran your fingers over the chain. The material was smooth, devoid of bumps or rough edges—things you’d usually find in low-quality bracelets.

You remembered complaining to him once how half of your bracelets used to dig into your skin, to which he’d reply with a smile, “One day, you won’t have to wear uncomfortable jewellery.” Back then, you’d brush it off with a “Oh, that day better come soon!”. But now, considering the significant amount of effort put into smoothing the surface, you wondered if this was what he truly meant.

The primary point of attraction, however, lay not in the bracelet’s gleam or smoothness, but in the moderately sized white gemstone hanging from it—a gorgeous pendant.

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Caleb chuckled. “White sapphire.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. What could you say? You were surprised your jaw wasn’t kissing the floor by now.

Speechless, you ran your fingers along the gemstone. It weighed a bit more than you’d expected—an insignificant difference, really, but notable nonetheless. Perhaps it was pure. If that was the case, then it didn’t help with your simmering guilt.

“Here,” Caleb snatched the jewellery from your fingers, “Let me help you with that.”

Deftly, he slid the bracelet down your wrist and clasped the hook. You raised your arm, watching as the white sapphire that dangled from the thin chain glittered beneath the pencils of light. Your lips parted in awe.

“Promise me,” your attention shifted to Caleb as he brought your jewelled wrist to his chest, “That you won’t take this off.”

“Like how you’re glued to that dog tag I gave you?” You giggled. His lips curled into a soft smile. “If that’s how you want to put it.”

“Okay.” You placed your free palm atop his. “I promise, I’ll cherish this forever.”

“If you don’t, I’ll be really hurt.” He feigned a pout. But the yearning in his eyes was real.

You shook your head. “You’re impossible.”

“I know.” Caleb brought your palm against his face, sinking into your warmth. You stilled for a moment. This was way too intimate. But the guilt glued you in place, restricting you from moving away. Or was it his endearing affection? Nonetheless, pulling away felt like a crime. He’d handed you such a priceless treasure; could you not indulge him for a moment and let him bask in your radiance?

You choked back the sinking feeling in your gut to let him have his way with your arm. He was acting like a starved puppy. Cute, yes, but a little overbearing and unsettling. Almost as if the puppy brushing up against you had blood smearing its teeth. Of course, it was just your paranoia, and nothing was really there.

Nothing visible, at least.

In spite of your passionate protests, Caleb insisted on whipping up a late-night snack for you. And so, you were practically forced into your seat on the counter as you were made to watch him scurry through the kitchen. The heated pot sizzled in objection to the cold oil poured onto it. You’d made up your mind to just observe as he worked, in case you could find an opening or an excuse to help, but you were distracted by a notification on your phone.

Rhys.

You looked up at Caleb. He appeared too deeply immersed in his cooking to notice the small ding of your phone. Bringing the device under the shade of the counter, you opened your chat with Rhys.

“Miss, this is important.”

Your brow furrowed. “Found anything?”

“Well, yes. A few things. But first, I think I really gotta come clean with this.”

You silently typed out a reply. “Go on.”

“That guy? Caleb Xia? I know him.”

You froze, fingers hovering over your keyboard. Rhys continued typing.

“I worked for him in the past. He needed something installed in his home. I was the one who took up the job.”

“Install what?”

“Cameras.”

A void formed in your stomach. A sudden chill enveloped the air. You shivered involuntarily. Cameras. He had cameras in his house. Your head whipped about the room, scouring every wall and every corner for a hint of something that could be labelled as a camera. Something prickled the skin on the back of your neck. Caleb’s back was turned to you. But still, you felt something watching you from the shadows.

Paranoia. You couldn’t let it consume you.

“I found it odd back then,” Rhys continued, “He had it installed in his rooms. The bedrooms,” You studied Harrison’s case in one of them, “The living room, the hallways.” Dread crippled into your being. It was as if someone had thrown a pebble across a calm pond, causing violent ripples to tear through the once-steady surface.

“And also,”

He paused.

“The kitchen.”

A clot. In your throat. Your lungs constricted.

He knew.

Caleb knew.

That you’d stumbled across that document.

Images of a collected Caleb smiling down at you as you knelt against the counter resurfaced in your brain. The way he so nonchalantly fetched the ring for you, the act he’d put on just now. The act you’d believed.

You gazed down at the white bracelet clasped around your wrist. What used to be a remarkable work of superior craftsmanship transformed into a heavy chain made to tether you to him. ”I promise, I will cherish this forever.” You really were going to throw up.

With shaky hands, you shut your phone. Your eyes returned to the bracelet.

It wasn’t a gift. It was an anchor to bind you to him. To trick you into forming a vow you couldn’t break.

Shit.

You walked right into a trap.

Blind and oblivious. A moth to a flame.

The circular kitchen lights buzzed overhead. A flicker of light flashed past the window—a ghastly apparition, watching. You whipped your head towards it in an attempt to catch it before it fled. There was nothing. Were you seeing things? Paranoia. It was simply your fear—your body preparing itself to become hyper-aware of its surroundings. A consequence of the natural fight or flight response. You were paranoid. You were aware. But that didn’t help how every shadow felt darker, how every corner untouched by the kitchen’s dim light seemed to host an entity.

Your whole time here, you were being watched. How much had he seen?

“You seen a ghost?”

It took every bit of your strength to not leap off your seat. You looked up at him, then eyed the plate nestled in his palm. It was hard to trust him right now.

Under the faint light, half of Caleb’s face remained shrouded in an ominous shadow. His violet hues gleamed from beneath the darkness menacingly as they peered down at you. Beyond the cloak of darkness, however, his countenance seemed normal.

But you couldn’t shake the dread off.

An invisible shiver tiptoed down your spine. You forced a smile. “I got startled by the flash of lightning.”

“It’s stormin’?”, he placed the plate down on the counter before turning to the large windows. “Again?” A bolt of electricity ripped through the sky. Caleb turned to you with a smirk. “Still afraid of thunder, pip-squeak?”

Afraid of you., you wanted to say, but you bit your lip. It was best you avoid giving him reasons to put a collar on you. For now, you had to stay low.

“I’m not.” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest. A forced blush crept up your neck. “I’m just… anyway, the food looks amazing!” You swiftly snatched the dish from his hands, leaving him slightly dumfounded as he lingered where the dish once was. With the help of his evol, Caleb pushed a pair of utensils your way. You were glad you suppressed the flinch that threatened to ripple through you. For the first time in your life, his evol terrified you.

The bed groaned under your weight as you suspended yourself entirely onto it. The mattress dipped beneath you. Even his bed, which, to you, had once been the comfiest bed in the anthropology of beds, felt like a cage. You could feel metallic tendrils crawling from beneath it, wrapping over your form as you slept, encasing you like a cocoon would. Perhaps that’s all you were to Caleb. A butterfly, useful only for its grace and the tranquility it brought. Meant to be wrapped away in a cocoon and let out only when it bloomed. The part of you bound to your profession begged to differ—clearly, that was not the case. Clearly, his feelings ran deeper than that. A complex tapestry of twisted adoration, infatuation, and perhaps even hatred or rage.

But that didn’t stop your feelings from thrashing about in a frenzy, did it?

It’s a simple truth. Many, if not all, of the patients you reviewed struggled with something similar to it. Their brains were aware of the truth, but their hearts refused to comply. It was a plague, killing them from the inside. Their loved ones resorted to presenting the truth before them. And their brains knew, lodging the processed data as it normally did. But the heart is a stubborn thing. Some things it refuses to accept.

At this point, you would become the patient.

A part of you urged yourself to bash your head against the wall for not predicting such a bold move on his end sooner. You were close to figuring it out. A part of the reason why you’d always gone to the bathroom to change included this subtle feeling of being watched. So, with your hands still gripping the ends of your shirt, you kicked open the bathroom door and changed there instead. You were glad you’d done that, of course, but you couldn’t hate yourself more for not pondering a second longer on the feeling of being watched. If you had, you were confident you’d have figured it out before he could notice. You were supposed to be ahead of him.

You were about to reopen the chat, but the sensation of a chilling pair of eyes drilling into your head halted your decision. The bedrooms also had cameras. But where? And how good was their image quality? Could he have read the contents of your journal, perchance? Could he see your chat even from up there? Your initial thought was to position yourself away from the camera. Find a blind spot, maybe. But all those ideas were rendered useless considering you were unaware of its position.

You could open your phone and check for any flashes of red or purple from infrared LEDs, which would most definitely be present assuming the cameras were equipped with night vision. But committing to such a dumb move would expose your knowledge of his ‘control’. You were sure twirling about the room in the dark with your phone’s camera on would leave no room for assumptions. What excuse would you bring? That you were so awe-struck by the lack of artistic interior design in Caleb’s room that you felt tempted to record it all and store it on your ‘top-10 things to not do while constructing a home’ list? Yeah, no. He would figure you out faster than Rhys had in the café.

You didn’t want to imagine what would happen next.

So, you resorted to the last thing you could think of.

You reached for a thin blanket and threw it over yourself. Protection. He couldn’t see what you were up to, even if he tried. And what excuse did one need to huddle up under a blanket?

You switched your phone open and scrolled through the messages you couldn’t read.

“I’d gotten it done a few days ago.” Right before your arrival at Skyhaven. He gauged your intentions so swiftly. A chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t tell whether it was from the storm’s frosty wind.

“Pretty high-tech stuff. With night vision and all. It was odd. I should’ve questioned it. But it wasn’t any of my business. So I left it.”

“I did some digging on his background. And, miss, I have to ask you—are you aware of his profession?”

You sighed, threading your hair through your fingers. You hadn’t asked him to dig up dirt on that matter.

“I’m not sure if I should be telling you, but—”

“I know,” you typed back. “I know about it very well.”

“I’m not sure if I should be getting involved in this. Surely, you understand?”

He knew too much. And for that, you had to let him go. Even if he hadn’t approached you first. You’d have to. Because honestly, you were scared of what that man could do. Scouring any further would prove risky for him. The last thing you wanted to do was put a man happily living his married life in inconceivable danger for the sake of your selfish desires. It was a cruel thing to do. Although you’d technically used him, it was your last wish to be selfish.

“I understand. I’m sorry for getting you caught up in this. Should I pay you for your troubles?”

“No need for that. I barely did anything. But, I will tell you this.”

You watched as the three small dots enlarged and shrank as he typed.

“Recently, some personnel were recruited under his command to be appointed to more general tasks. That’s the most I can tell you. Searching any further’s gonna cost me my head.”

You didn’t push Rhys any further. You thanked him for his service and were about to log off when he sent one last text message.

“Little miss, I know you’re determined in whatever you’re tryna do. But please. For your sake, leave Skyhaven and forget about this.” You gripped your phone a little tighter. Exhaling shaky breaths, you shuffled under the blanket. You knew Rhys was right, and that he only spoke from a place of genuine care and respect. You knew you should’ve taken his advice and ended your vacation here. But you couldn’t. Not when you’d gotten so far. You were too deep into this. You were sure that Caleb wouldn’t let you leave either—he was (most likely) aware that you’d stumbled upon that document. Whatever it was, it wasn’t something he wanted you to see. And he wasn’t going to let you flee so easily after unearthing such a disastrous secret of his.

But you had to say, he needed to practice being discreet more often.

“Protect yourself. If things go south, you can’t escape. The whole of Skyhaven is controlled by his fleet.”

You sighed. There was nothing to say to that. But you were sure it wouldn’t come to you having to physically run from the authorities and escape the land in secrecy. Physical restriction was something Caleb couldn’t bring himself to do, even if he was injected with all the liquid courage in the world. His care for you ran too deep, even if he had mentioned it in a fit of rage. You’d defend that belief with your life.

Why were you defending him again? Oh, well.

But if it came to mentally detaching yourself from him, well, that… you weren’t so sure. It just so happened that you’d been so full of yourself before arriving here that you’d completely forgotten to ponder the possibility of having to flee on short notice. Simply put, if worst came to worst, you had no plan to save yourself.

You agreed that Caleb did have influence. And, unfortunately, that could often overpower the authority over one’s mind and heart. After all, the realm we truly resided in was the physical realm, not the psychical one. If anything were to bind you in the physical world, you couldn’t escape from it even in your mind. In other words, you’d be trapped here, body and soul.

“Don’t worry,” you lied, “I have it under control.”

And with that, you ended your conversation with Rhys.

It was only a matter of awaiting the occurrences of tomorrow now. You wondered what the weather would be like the next day. Would it storm again? Or would Skyhaven finally see an endless period swarmed by the warm west breeze? The only thing you could do was close your eyes and wait and see.

Except, you couldn’t sleep.

Three hours had passed as you rolled about on the large contemporary bed, making a sleepless mess of yourself. You winced at the way your hair clung to your head, warm and sticky. Like lukewarm goo. You twirled a lock on your index, only to be surprised at the absence of the goo you were picturing. Were you imagining things? Nonetheless, your body ached for a good, cold shower. You switched your phone open to check the time. 4 AM. Oh, well. What better place was there to collect your thoughts than under the sprinkle of an artificial shower?

You hugged yourself a little tighter as the cold beads of water commenced their assault on your head and dripped down your sides. You trembled heavily, but you let yourself do so. It was the collection of your fear from the past few days bolting out of your body at once. Finally, you could let out the shaky breaths you’d been withholding. It was only within the confines of enclosed foggy glass and under a gentle spray that you could truly let yourself loose and breathe freely once more.

People underestimate how arduous it is to put up fronts. Acting wasn’t easy. Especially when your life practically depended on it. It was like waltzing through a stage, but instead of expectant guests and observers anticipating your fall, there were 500 archers and the world’s best snipers aiming for your head, all while you were bound not to break your dance. Put on a show and attempt to please your pursuers. The chance of failure was almost certain. Even the best of dancers and actors fail to escape such a scenario.

And that was the gamble you were willing to take—fighting; no, dancing for the nonexistent chance that you may save your head, all in the sake of helping somebody you found yourself caring for a lot more than you were willing to.

Your eyes trailed to the bracelet resting near the sink. When he had handed you that gift, you felt… truly happy. A feeling you hadn’t felt before. Like your heart had burst open, and a myriad of colours had strewn out in a frenzy. Like your skeleton had been immersed in warm pond water, and a flock of underwater lilies caressed your skin.

For the first time in a long while, you felt as if you were needed for a cause beyond that of your profession.

That you mattered to him as much as your patients did to you, or perhaps even more. In his eyes, you could see a care that extended beyond what you could comprehend. A desire to keep you close and by his side, basking in your warmth forever.

A long time ago, you’d frozen your heart.

All because you believed there was no place in this world for your emotions.

To be someone else’s haven, you had to forsake your own.

The moment Caleb had handed you that bag, you felt as if your life had gained a new meaning. In the end, you were just a girl like all others, and he had made you embrace that.

For a moment. Only for a moment.

Because now, the silver you once admired reminds you of the silver of a chain. The chain was thin and fine, for it was not made to restrain you, but to help you grow accustomed to the existence of a shackle on your mind. It was suffocating to wear it. But a part of you wondered—what if his affection is genuine? Then, would it be so bad to give in? Well, he was the only one who made you feel alive. Perhaps, if you just stayed…

No. You shook your head. Strings of water flew off your hair and hit the glass walls. This was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it? To make you accustomed to his control. To silently persuade you into giving in out of your own volition.

Caleb wanted a reaction. Any hints that you were being sucked and molded in the black hole he set up for you. If that’s what he wanted, all you had to do was withhold it from him, no? Just stop reacting. Act normal, put some subtle distance between you two, and watch as he crumbled beneath your finger.

You shut off the shower and rolled your hair back on your head. That’s right. You had to submerge yourself back into your monochromatic world. Only then would he falter, knowing all his advances had failed.

You stepped out of the shower, bringing with you a trail of water as you walked. A small white towel was wrapped around your head, and a bigger one coiled around your torso. You snatched the bracelet off the sink after changing into your new clothes. No matter how you felt about it, you made a vow. And for the sake of your ideals, you would not stray from it.

The hardest part about experiencing your first loss was that you had to regain control afterwards. Fail this step, and watch as the spear cuts through your stomach inch by inch. And if you cannot truly regain control, form the illusion of it.

You eyed yourself in the mirror. A crease was present between your brows. Taking the cream off the vanity, you began applying it in long swipes across your skin. Caleb still used the same cream as before, huh?

Act as if nothing had happened. That was the best you could do for now. And to form a plan to actually reclaim your throne, you needed some alone time. Away from this house. Away from the prying eyes perched in every corner of every room, and away from him.

The cream melted into your skin.

It was about time you began searching for an excuse to get out of the house and stray from him. Perhaps you could look for work. A new patient. Something that came up urgently? Or was it better for you to be more subtle? Just whip up an excuse to go hang out with friends? Not that you had any friends in Skyhaven. And if he asked to tag along? What then?

You released yourself from the towel and reached for your shirt.

A sigh passed your lips. Seems it would just be best to find some work. But save for Rhys and a few others, barely any of your patients lived in Skyhaven. And even if they did, would you just go knocking on their doors and creating a new mental issue in their stead that somehow needed urgent fixing? That wouldn’t do. You required real work.

Perhaps it was a problem best saved for tomorrow. Right now, your starving stomach demanded some attention.

The kitchen lights flickered on with a buzz. One of them didn’t light. You’d better tell Caleb about it tomorrow.

The hum of the fridge increased in volume as you strode towards it with heavy steps. Inside, an arrangement of food lay: some in boxes, some bare, some bottled. Your eyes narrowed. They seemed to have been recently stocked. You bet his fridge had been empty up until your visit.

You snatched a plate of dinner’s leftovers and gathered a few utensils to accompany you. And with that, you plopped down on the couch, not bothering to turn on the lights. It risked waking him up, after all. You wouldn’t want that. Especially now.

Shuffle shuffle.

Something stirred beside you—a figure shrouded in darkness. You nearly launched your fork into its heart when a familiar arm reached out to wrap around your wrist. “It’s just me,” a groggy voice responded. You threw yourself off the couch and rushed to turn on the lights.

Caleb. It was just him.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You—” Your accusing finger pointed in his direction. “Why are you awake?”

His violet eyes skimmed over your form, stopping at your toweled hair. “Likewise.”

Sluggishly, you returned to your plate and picked up the fork. Caleb nestled himself by your side. “You took a shower? At 4:30 in the mornin’?”

“Why are you here? On the couch? I don’t recall seizing every single one of your rooms.”

He breathed a sigh. “I’ve made an enemy of insomnia, and it’s been chasin’ me ever since.” He turned to you. “Maybe you can help with that.”

“I don’t know what you take me for, but,” you stuffed a portion of food into your mouth, “I’m half-dead right now. Therapists are humans too.”

“But,” you wiped the corner of your mouth and finished up, “Still, I’m ready to listen.”

Caleb shook his head. “I was messin’ around, pip.”

“Such a tease, even when sleep-deprived.”

You pressed your fingers into his temple and soothed the area. Your fingers moved gingerly, as if the slightest slip-up could cost you one of them. The man under you gradually relaxed. His body sank deeper into the couch.

“Come on, Caleb. What’s the hold-up? I know you’re hiding something,” you cooed. His sealed eyes didn’t help with trying to see through him. But you pressed on nonetheless.

You leaned forward slightly, pinching his forehead a little harsher than you would have. Finally, he opened his eyes, only to glue them to the ceiling instead.

“I’m not going to force you into a 12-step rehabilitation programme.”

“I know, it’s just…” his eyes never left the ceiling, “You’re tired. I’m tired. We all need a break. You’re not entitled to help me.”

You hummed. “You’re right. I’m not.”

Caleb let out a small sigh of relief as you pressed down on that one spot on his forehead. You continued to massage the area for a while before moving on to the next.

“I’m doing this out of my own volition. I want to listen to you. And whether I’ll help, well, that depends on what it is.”

Picking up on the slightest droop of his lips, you continued, “But, unless it’s a tedious task like climbing a skyscraper with nothing but my bare hands, I won’t refuse you.”

Caleb’s eyes didn’t move from the ceiling lights as he contemplated. You could see the weight of decisions bearing down on his mind, and you worked your fingers accordingly to soothe him whenever he faced a mental obstruction. Your smile widened.

With one finger, you moved his gaze to you instead. “All right, mister. I know the ceiling’s looking quite lavish today, but I’m sitting right here, fighting for your attention.”

Caleb grinned. Subconsciously, his eyes travelled to your lips. You found yourself tensing up for a moment, but you swallowed it. Just how you were trained. But uneasiness overtook your nerves. Why was he looking at them like that? As if he yearned to devour them whole?

“You can’t outsmart me at this hour, Caleb. See?” You lifted your arms before placing them back on his temple. “I’m not writing any notes or anything.”

“It’s not that.”

“You make it seem like it is.” You sighed. “You don’t need to use big words. Just tell me what you need.”

“All right, then. Can I ask you for a favour?”

You hummed. “Depends on what it is.”

His eyes fluttered. You tensed as they lingered on your lips once more before they moved to meet your eyes. He seemed incredibly exhausted. “I have a friend,” he began, “And she’s been… off.”

“A fleet member?”

“Yes.” He let out a soft groan as your fingers continued to massage his temple. “You met her. She’s the guard at the garden we visited.”

Your mind recalled her stature. Tall, brooding, albeit intimidatingly, with curly ginger locks and tan skin. You remembered her.

“I’ve been worried about her mental well-being. She experienced a devastating divorce lately. And ever since, she’s been acting… you know. Distant. Violent. Is a little rougher with her underlings. I gave her a break, demoted her temporarily to the position of a guard. But she isn’t improving.”

Your brow furrowed. The behaviour he described seemed like the usual displays of pent-up anger and resentment following a horrid event. But what bothered you wasn’t the normalcy of her situation.

It was the fact that you’d failed to pick up even a sliver of negative emotions from her as your eyes landed on her face.

A therapist’s eyes were made to penetrate flesh and scour the soul with ease. Especially yours—considering your previous position. How come Caleb just happened to notice, whereas you entirely missed it? You were unsure whether his eyes were better than yours, or you were simply dozing off at that moment and unable to catch a glimpse, or…

Was it a hole in his story?

Still, the kindness and concern Caleb had shown towards his fellow colleague filled you with a sense of warmth you loathed. It felt genuine. But you couldn’t feel like this. Not with somebody like him.

“So, I guess you figured it out by now.”

Your fingers halted. Your eyes drifted in thought. “When should I visit her?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll give you the address. Should I tag along?”

“No,” you winced at the severity of your tone. In a frenzy, you reiterated, “She might be unwilling to open up if you tag along.”

He nodded in understanding. “Tomorrow, then. For now, let’s get some sleep.” In a swift motion, he pulled you onto him and buried your head into the crook of his neck. A red tint coated your cheeks, but you didn’t protest. Act normal.

You’d called for work, and work came to you. Sometimes, fate (and perhaps your luck) left you awe-struck.

But, this time, for some reason, you weren’t sure whether this was God’s plan or the Cerberus’.

No storm crackled through the air that day. Only an endless mass of grey clouds hovered over Skyhaven’s sky, still brewing, lingering, as if the storm were awaiting the right moment to unleash its shower. The air was damp, humid, but stiflingly hot. In spite of the absence of the sun, the heat rendered you as disgraceful as a panting dog. The metro was stuffed to the brim. People squeezed against you as you struggled to grip onto something. The heat radiating off the enraged passengers did not help in cooling you down. Quite a contrast to your initial thoughts that you could find a moment of respite in the metro’s air conditioning. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t even manage to find a seat.

Luckily, trains moved fast. It was only a matter of five minutes before you pushed your way through and out of the suffocating swarm of people. Perhaps, you should’ve taken up Caleb’s offer for the car. But who knew what trick he had installed in there? Another camera? Or even a tracker? You were better off walking.

You fidgeted with the pendant of your bracelet. Caroline’s house was eerily quiet. Not a single beam of light peered out of her curtained windows. Only darkness emerged from underneath the front door. She lived in an isolated villa, something akin to a bungalow. Red-bricked, with mould growing off the walls, the small garden before the house was overgrown with ferns and invasive plants. Mushrooms grew off one side of the house. A foul stench permeated through the air.

She had a pool as well, somewhere near the back of the house that you could only catch a glimpse of as you arrived at the front gate. But that small glimpse was enough to know the state it was in—the water was rotting. Fallen leaves decayed on its surface, turning the once-blue waters into a murky yellow-green. If you weren’t any smarter, and if the decay had been any faster, you’d think it was a pond, not a pool. It smelled like wildlife as well—the damp, fungal musk of rot.

It surprised you how bad the smell near the house had accumulated, considering how large the bungalow’s verandas were, how abundant the number of windows, and how open the air around it was. Her house was isolated from the main roads. Only strips of vibrant green land stretched around it for acres. And to add to the advantages of the location, you were standing atop the windiest parts of the land. Knowing this, you wondered—where was the ammonia-like stench coming from? It was as if an entire crowd had relieved themselves across the garden and into the pool. If you hadn’t known better, you’d have believed it, if not for the large iron gates that were padlocked shut.

You rang the doorbell. No response. Your head craned to the top floors. The sliding glass doors near the veranda were open. The white curtains drifted in the air. Somebody was home.

You pressed your finger against the doorbell again. Once more, only silence greeted you. Something felt wrong. You’d imagined it to be a result of depression at first, but now, something felt off. Something lurked beneath the waters, threatening to erupt.

After a few more tries, you stepped away from the door. If she wasn’t going to let you in, you’d just leave.

Walking across the pavement, you pulled out your phone to quickly type a short apology message to Caleb. But that was when something caught your eye.

The back gate. It was open.

Your feet came to an abrupt halt. To get a closer look, you maneuvered your body and took a few steps. You weren’t mistaken. Alongside the gate, the back door was pried open as well.

You strode past the black pool until you were directly facing the looming red door. The stench was only increasing in intensity. But this time, you could smell something else. Something you couldn’t catch before.

Old blood and flesh.

You opened your phone’s camera and aimed it at the door. Just in case, you thought. With your free hand, you pushed it open.

The room inside was dark. Pots and various random clutter were littered on the ground. You made an effort not to step on them, but you found yourself stumbling nonetheless. In a hurry, your fingers worked to pry the curtains apart and swing the windows open one by one. You subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden gust of fresh air passing through the openings. Finally, some ventilation.

The phone’s recorder blinked.

The little light from outside illuminated the room just enough for you to be able to spot the light switch. Hurrying over, you flicked it.

The lights flickered on with a static buzz. The back door led to the kitchen. Or, well, you assumed it was one. You couldn’t tell because of the ruckus. It appeared as if a fight had occurred here. Either that, or Caroline was one messy individual. You doubted the latter.

The kitchen sink was clogged. A broth of mould, discarded food, and fish bones lay inside. You stopped yourself from gagging and throwing up your breakfast. The kitchen didn’t need another mess. It was suffering enough.

On the floor lay dirt tracks. Footprints—messily removed by rubbing more mud on top. Somebody was here. Could they still be here?

Dread finally seized you. Your foot stilled, and you found yourself unable to move any further. As if fate itself urged you to leave. To turn and leave out the back door as swiftly as you’d entered. But you couldn’t. Something was up, and a greater scandal could’ve been at play. You couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when you’d sunk one foot in already.

You dragged yourself along the battered tiles, entering room after room and flicking the lights on before swinging the windows open each time. Downstairs was empty. You’d checked everywhere—in the two living rooms, dining, and across all the hallways. You even made sure to check under the sofas. The static in your mind grew louder. It pierced through your ears painfully from the inside out, busting your eardrums until your head throbbed so violently you thought it would implode. The nothingness told you to not go.

You pushed yourself back onto your feet and bolted up the stairs. You searched all the rooms, throwing the doors open and spinning about the entire area before moving on to the next. Eventually, you’d scoured all the rooms. Save for one.

The demon gurgling inside you moved as your eyes landed on the door. The master bedroom door.

You held the camera up to your face and placed your hand on the doorknob.

With a sickening and loud creak, the door crept open.

You held your palm against your nose. The scent of ammonia was strong, paired with the decaying flesh you’d picked up from outside the bungalow. And to fuel the disgusting stench, your nose could also pick up the faint scent of bleach. Your face contorted. Bleach?

The bile rose, threatening to spill out of your throat. You swallowed it down. Bitter. You were really about to throw up. Everything inside was dark. But thanks to the light in the hallway, you could make out the debris scattered across the floors. Cigarette boxes, open and sealed, were present among most of the junk. Other than that, empty beer bottles and discarded laundry could be seen. From the ceiling, large decorations hung. Decorations or more clothing, you couldn’t tell. The scent of bleach engulfed your lungs.

Hesitantly, you reached for the lights.

Your phone fell to the floor with a thud. Your fingers curled into your palm. A tremble rippled through you. You couldn’t move.

They weren’t decorations at all.

A step.

Nor were they more ugly clothing.

Your hand met skin. Cold, lifeless skin.

There, from the ceiling, hung a ginger-haired woman, ghastly and pale.

A corpse.

Caroline.

Thunder drummed through the clouds. A flash illuminated behind you. But you were too still to be afraid. Your body shivered, even under the cloak of the warmest, fuzziest blanket Caleb owned. Your numb hands clutched a mug of hot cocoa. Its bittersweet aroma rose from the cup, entering your nostrils. But your mouth didn’t water at the scent. You only sat still, as lifeless as a corpse, as the wide-screen television played on, broadcasting the news of Caroline’s death.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you from behind. “Drink up, pip. It’s going to get cold.”

He was right. The fingers curled around the mug only felt cold—a sign of the drink’s dissipating warmth. But how could you eat? Your teeth had tasted flesh not long ago.

The figure behind you sighed. “I shouldn’t have sent you there.”

“I went too late.” You curled against yourself. “If I had been faster, I—”

“She’s been dead ever since that day at the garden. It was inevitable. We didn’t know.”

Your body slumped in his embrace, threatening to give in.

“She was my patient. I’m still responsible.”

“I’m so stupid.” Caleb’s arms left your torso, leaving you cold once more. A part of you ached to reach out, to grab him and bury yourself into him and just—disappear. Vanish from existence. It was what you deserved. What you’d brought upon yourself. “I shouldn’t have sent you on a job. I ruined your vacation.”

“Caleb, I can’t.” You buried your face in your palms. “We were having fun. We were laughing, joking around, all while she…” You couldn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t have to. Caleb empathised, nonetheless.

Coming to your side, he gently pried the mug from your hands and cradled your face. “Let me warm it up for you.” He switched off the television and returned to the kitchen.

You curled up on the couch. This wasn’t meant to happen. Someone wasn’t supposed to die. Unrelated to your mission or not, experiencing a death head-on was not part of your predictions. This was supposed to be executed flawlessly. You were supposed to be in charge.

Nonetheless, you felt more of the control slipping from between your fingers with each passing second. You were losing. Devastatingly. You’d prepared for various outcomes—losing because of yourself, losing because of him, but you’d completely forgotten to consider that you could lose to independent external factors as well.

In short, you thought you were invincible.

You thought none grasped the situation better than yourself.

But alas, it was indeed the devil himself who’d intervened in your fate. The opening for a temporary escape from him was timed too perfectly. It was too good to be true.

And it wasn’t. What you’d thought would be a normal, perhaps exhausting, session with a new patient, morphed into a traumatic, arduous twist of fate that would throw you entirely off course, flicking you so far from your path that crawling back was rendered both physically and mentally impossible. How could this have happened? You just lost twice in a row. Fate had abandoned you, just how it had abandoned Anne.

You gritted your teeth.

None of this was fair. Caroline shouldn’t have had to die. Nobody deserved death. Images of her intimidating visage flashed across your mind. Just a few days ago, you heard her speak. Just a few days ago, she was blinking, moving, talking, eating, breathing. And now, she was off to God-knows-where. Perhaps her body was stored in some cold machine, or she was placed in a stretcher as the morgue worked with her body. In a blink, the life was sucked out of her. And she was rendered nothing.

You eyed your arm. Everything felt so surreal. What if this was all just a dream? An alternate reality, or a sick nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. You shut your eyes and attempted to drift off into another land. It was too taxing to process this overload. It was better just to sleep it off, or just disassociate so you didn’t have to make peace with the truth.

You pressed your lips into a thin line. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get a moment of shut-eye. The sight of the corpse flashed before your eyes. A noose was tied around Caroline’s neck as she hung from the ceiling fan; dead, lifeless, gone. So close yet so out of your reach. Her once-vibrant ginger locks were tainted a sickly orange. Her once-intimidating eyes were sealed eternally shut. The lips she’d spoken with that day were dry, blue. Blood had stopped circulating inside them. Her heart had stopped beating long ago. You knew you couldn’t have saved her even if you’d tried.

Counterfactual thinking. You sighed. At this point, you really were turning into the patient.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, paying no mind to the way its soft edges cut into your skin. Countless what-ifs pried into your brain. You covered your ears with both hands, attempting to shut it off. If only your brain could shut up.

A familiar pang resonated in your temples. Your head began to throb violently—just as it had before you went up the stairs of Caroline’s bungalow. Those thoughts weren’t as evil as you’d made them up to be. If only you hadn’t looked. If only you’d stopped and messaged Caleb instead. Then, you wouldn’t have to be involved in such a complex scandal. Paired with the recent discovery—your recent loss—the whole situation, you were afraid, was going to render you completely mentally senile. Just like Anne.

Anne. The moment you’d gazed upon her—all shrivelled up and curled into a ball at the side of the black couch you’d owned in your previous office—you felt a sense of sympathy you’d never felt before. Something about her resonated with you. Her whimpering eyes, her clammy hands, her knitted brows, or the dimming fire that had blued years ago crackling in her eyes. You didn’t know which of those had piqued your curiosity. Something about that woman, so gorgeously broken, sparked something within you.

Perhaps, it was her eyes. Those dread-filled eyes that bore into yours. The spark that ignited when she saw you. The hope she’d regained upon your visage. Like she’d been starved of a true friend for millennia, and you were the one meant to be the ailment to her wounds. She’d looked at you like a newborn gazing upon its mother—its protector, saviour from the cruelty of the world. She looked at you with… hope. And in your heart, you swore to protect her. To be the one to show her the beauties of life, and to guide her onto a path of bliss and tranquility so she could return to the life she once had.

And what did you do?

You failed her.

The dread that tingled your limbs that day was the same one that numbed it now. That horrid purple, fanged beast. When the detective knocked on your office door in a delirious state, and had brought to you the news of Anne’s attempt, you couldn’t move. The air lumped in your trachea, refusing to release, as if your body itself had decided you were unworthy of life, and your fingers went cold. You almost fell to your knees, unable to rush to Anne’s side immediately. She was not dead yet. She was alive, blinking, here. And that only made it worse—how would you face her? You couldn’t bear to see the look in her eyes deform from hope to animosity as she looked at you one last time. You couldn’t let the one who abandoned her be the last person she saw, felt, and breathed.

So, you didn’t go.

Shortly after, a messenger knocked on your door. His knocks were calm, unhurried, as if the weight of everything had already settled into his heart. He brought the news, low and steady, that Anne Lotte had breathed her last.

The first tear fell from your eye. You’d cried for her before, and you would do it again. The first time, you wept silently because she couldn’t. And the next time, you wept out of your own free will. Because nobody was there to mourn her death.

Anne had an empty funeral. Abandoned by all, loved by none.

Caroline’s death was only a reminder of your past shortcomings, a visceral punch to the gut, the reality that life and death were beyond your control, and that even you couldn’t shoo the poison away from eating at your patient’s brain.

You couldn’t even save yourself.

You failed as a psychotherapist, as a human, as an organism.

A type of survivor’s guilt. You bit your bottom lip, tearing at the dry skin coating it. The migraines worsened. Drowning in your thoughts, you failed to process the shift in weight beside you as another figure seated himself on the couch.

“I re-heated the cocoa. Come. You have to eat.” With unnerving gentleness, Caleb lifted your body off the couch and brought the mug to your lips. Defeated, you gently sipped. You winced as the hot liquid seared your tongue. “Too hot?” he cooed before setting it down on the glass coffee table. Even then, his arms never left you. Cautiously, as if to not scare you away, he positioned you on his lap and began to run soft circles on your back. You melted into his touch. As much as you hated to admit, he knew exactly what to do to help you feel at ease and lift your mood just enough.

You rested your chin on his shoulder, and suddenly, the world reverted 15 years back. A young girl sat atop a boy’s lap, whimpering, sniffling as she rubbed her tears and snot onto the boy’s shirt. But he didn’t seem to mind. He only hummed a soothing tune and cradled her head tenderly. “They said the cat deserved to die,” the girl choked a sob, “Tell me it didn’t, Caleb, tell me!”

A small smile graced your lips at the memory. Back then, and even now, only to him could you lift the dam and let your tears flow free. Only in his embrace could you breathe once more, and only here did you truly feel at home.

If you’d lost your memories, you’d just want to stay here forever. By his side. In his arms.

But you couldn’t forget. A part of you wished you could.

Rain pattered against the windows—its sound being the only one besides your breaths intertwined with his. His fingers found their way to your wrist, pressing down gently on your pulse point and watching as the fragile vein beat. A content sigh passed his lips. But something about it irked you. How could he be so calm when the colleague he’d shown so much care for yesterday night wound up dead? You suppressed your anger. Blowing up on him wouldn’t fix anything. In fact, you’d only end up pushing away the ones who cared for you. You knew you couldn’t cope without him.

A warm, smooth object pressed against your lips. The scent of chocolate filled your senses, and for the first time, your mouth watered. Your stomach growled in response, as if it had awoken from a long slumber—empty and unfulfilled.

"Drink up," Caleb hummed. "And then, I'll tuck you in."

You opened your mouth and slowly sipped the hot cocoa. The warm, fudgy liquid enveloped your tongue. Saccharine bursts of flavour erupted in your mouth. Steadily, his hands guided you to slurp up the entire mug, granting you occasional breaks to collect yourself in between. His demeanour was gentle, unhurried.

The butterflies in your stomach stirred from their dormancy, flitting about once more. It was an odd sensation—the serenity of butterflies mingled with the bitterness of guilt, resentment, and anger. A combination never meant to exist.

The next thunderclap sent a jolt of pain through your skull. You gripped your head and winced. Taking note of your discomfort, Caleb pressed his fingers against your aching temples.

"You should really get some rest."

"I tried. I can't sleep."

"I'll get you a sleeping pill."

Your brows furrowed. How could you trust him with medicine after that? Nonetheless, he had a point—if you didn’t sleep now, the weight of your burden would end up crushing you into smithereens. Sighing, you nodded.

Caleb disappeared into the darkness before returning with a bottle of medicine. He scurried over to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and was back at your side shortly after. You plucked the bottle from his hands and inspected the label. Ibuprofen. You eyed him warily.

"Your head’s killing you, right?"

"And the sleep medicine?"

He opened his palm to reveal a relatively large pill. You cocked an eyebrow. Since when were sleeping pills that large? Maybe it was a stronger dosage.

You swallowed the ibuprofen before turning to the pill resting in his palm. Your eyes narrowed. Carefully, as if handling a radioactive sample, you pinched the pill between your fingers and brought it to your nose. You sniffed. A strong medicinal scent.

This wasn’t a sleeping pill.

A sharp breath. Your shoulders slumped. Suddenly relaxed, you calmly returned the pill to Caleb’s hand. He stared at you with half-lidded eyes.

"A predetermined provocation. You knew I’d catch on." An empty smile graced your lips. A breathless laugh followed. "You know I know a lot about medicine. This was no attempt to drug me." Your sharp glare met his violet hues. "You deliberately planned this."

Caleb curled his fist and placed the pill on the glass table alongside the water. "I was tired," he mused, "of dancing along as we played this stupid game."

"Oh," you lifted your head and smirked. "No, you were enjoying every part of this. Playing with me, driving me to the edge."

"I had to." His fists curled. "You were being a brat. You thought I wouldn’t catch on, right? But your relaxed composure gave it away."

Crossing your arms, you let out a huff. "I—"

Before you could finish, Caleb pressed on. "You were conspiring against me. Treating me like some damn lab experiment. Is that all I am to you? A deranged patient in need of saving? Another victim of the fleet?" He looked up at you, genuine hurt lacing his eyes. You gulped.

"You were studying that case all day in my bedroom while I was away, you—"

"You spied on me," you retorted. "Twice. First, with my personal information, and again, with your damn cameras!"

Caleb’s teeth sank into the plush of his bottom lip.

With eyes blazing with unrestrained emotion, you went on. "Last time, you actually drugged me. Kept me captive for three days. Threatened me. Terrified me out of my mind! And you try to insist you're above a deranged patient? You’re delusional and in need of help. I wanted to help you. I wanted to bring you back."

If Caleb had ears, they’d be lying flat against his head right now.

Your heart withered with guilt. You knew you shouldn’t have called him a deranged patient. But even then, his reaction wasn’t a response to that insult—it was something deeper. It emerged from the darkest recesses of his mind, the parts even you could never access.

Had you gone too far?

"Was it," his lips trembled, "was it all a lie? What you said in the car? That you were willing to make peace with the new versions of ourselves?"

"You know that to be a lie very well."

"You’re wrong." He lifted himself onto his feet. "I trusted you. I trusted in us."

"There was no us!" You lashed out, overwhelmed by the sheer force of emotions that inevitably laced your tone. "I’ve been alone ever since you left me—us—for the DAA! Ever since you blew yourself up with Grandma!"

You watched as Caleb clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. You’d struck a nerve. It was enough. You got the reaction you wanted, but you couldn’t stop. Not when he was finally listening to you, looking at you—truly looking. For the first time in years, you could tell him how you felt.

And so, the words kept tumbling out of your mouth like an unstoppable avalanche—cold, all-consuming, and doomed to self-annihilate.

"I didn’t talk to anyone. For years after you left, I shut myself off. I found solace in my patients’ despair because you were never there!"

You looked up. His eyes were glued to his feet, his clenched fists trembling. Darkness overcast his face. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, much less how he felt. You searched his face for a sign—anything. Anger, resentment, agony, indifference, tears, or a smile. But you found nothing. It was all hidden away behind that invisible veil. Another mask.

You gritted your teeth. It only fuelled your rage further. At that moment, you wished you could tear open his skull and peer inside his mind.

"And you know what? I was such a fool. When I saw you again, I was willing to forgive your every flaw! I was willing to forget and move on with you. But guess what? The man I was madly in love with since high school had become so intoxicated by his newfound power and authority," you spat the last words with venom, "that he’d forgotten of my existence entirely! And still, I trusted you nonetheless! I thought it was my shortcomings when you were the insane one!"

"You…" Caleb lifted his head. The darkness dissipated from his face, only to be replaced with a flicker of hope. "You loved me?"

You slapped your palm against your face and threw yourself onto the couch, oblivious to how painfully you'd bumped your leg. You couldn’t believe you’d said that. Stupid, stupid.

"Why else would I be so obsessed with bringing you back?"

In a flash, Caleb was on his knees before you, bringing your palms together and pressing them against his chest. His heart pounded with fervour. His eyes gleamed with something raw, something terrifyingly close to unraveling. This was no act.

"Caleb…" You spoke his name with such softness, he gulped. "What are you doing? Get up—"

"You loved me." His grip tightened. "Do you still feel that way? Do we have a chance?"

The loudest bolt of lightning ripped through the stormy clouds. You turned your gaze to the tempest outside.

"I don’t think so, Caleb."

"I’ll make this right. Let’s live together."

"Caleb…"

"I’ll return your position as a criminologist. You can work under the fleet. You’ll have a better salary and a better working environment. And if you don’t want that, I’ll move the whole clinic here."

"Ca—"

"You like lively atmospheres, right? We’ll decorate this house. Or we can move to a new one. It’ll have the largest windows and the warmest winds. I’ll build you a garden full of your most treasured flowers, in a place far away where nobody will find us."

You tensed. A tremor rippled through you, but Caleb didn’t seem to notice. And if he did, he didn’t care. His eyes gleamed with desperation, restraint, and a love-fuelled mania that terrified you. Yearning. Could a mere emotion become so haunting? So intense?

"Let’s rebuild our life. We can be married. Have a bunch of kids, or not. If it’s what you want, we can take it slow. One step at a time. Just…" He nuzzled both your hands, his eyes lingering on the bracelet. "Just be by my side. You’ll never have to be alone again."

"Caleb."

You affirmed firmly, making him halt mid-sentence. His brows furrowed noticeably. A flicker of anger ignited in his eyes.

"You’ve gone too far. I can’t be with you."

You retracted your hands. The frown deepened on his lips as the absence of your warmth settled in. Gone was the adoration. Only wrath remained where it once was. He acted as if you’d stabbed him in the back, as if you’d plucked the feathers from his bionic wings and crushed them before his eyes. Faster than he’d knelt by your side, Caleb sprang to his feet and caged you within the couch. A familiar scenario. Your mind raced.

"You just don’t understand, do you?"

You averted your eyes. He forced your head parallel to his with a firm grip, ensuring your gaze remained locked onto his. You squirmed under the inferno alight within them. Whatever swirled inside was darker, crueler, and far more monstrous than anything you’d faced in the past few days. It was far more ruthless than what had lurked the last time you found yourself pinned to the couch. Honestly, it truly terrified you. Even in Harrison’s frantic eyes, you hadn’t spotted such ferocity.

"I’ve given up my life, my heart, and a limb for your sake. You breathe today because I sacrificed my breaths in your stead."

You thrashed against him, trying to pry your face from his grasp, but nothing worked. He loomed over you with monstrous strength.

"What? Weren’t you wondering what happened after the explosion? I’ll tell you, alright? If you give me something of yours."

Mustering all the strength you could, you barely managed to knock the behemoth of a man off you. As if regaining his self-control, Caleb eyed his hands before turning to you. The mania in his gaze dissipated, leaving only that desperate yearning.

But it was too late. The damage had been done.

"Pip—"

"I’m leaving Skyhaven." You picked yourself up and stormed off into your—well, his room. "Try to stop me, and I’ll show you hell."

And with that, you slammed the door shut.

That night, while Caleb had (not so) blissfully stashed himself away in his temporary room, you gathered your things and silently fled the estate.

Before walking out the front door, you spared one last glance at the empty house. You eyed the barren shelves, devoid of colour or antiques, the dim lights that were rarely granted the opportunity to welcome any host, and the uninspiring grey paint coating his solid walls.

Perhaps these walls were meant to imprison him, not you. Beyond any shadow of a doubt, Caleb had suffered—immensely. But you couldn’t let him drag you into the sizzling depths with him. He may have abandoned joy, but you would not. You would return to Linkon, maybe flee to another city nearby, and leave your past behind in pursuit of a joyous future—a future where, this time, you would be in control, not your listless feelings from decades ago.

You yearned to take another look, to glimpse his slumbering, pained face one more time before departing. But a saying from a precious individual circled in your mind: Don’t look back at me. If you do, it’ll be more difficult to leave.

Or, in other words, do not look back before leaving. If you do, you will be bound to them eternally—heart and soul. That was what he meant back then, wasn’t it?

With a relieved smile, you stepped out the door and into a new beginning.

“Goodbye, Caleb,” you murmured under your breath. “I love you.”

But in actions, I always look back.

There were only a few trains active at night. As a result, the station was relatively quiet, save for the occasional sweep sweep of the cleaning lady’s brush or the robotic echo of the AI announcing the next rides. The aged cleaning lady eyed you suspiciously. Perhaps you were suspicious—a woman sitting all by herself at a station at eleven at night, with barely any luggage to accompany her. You clearly weren’t mourning or panicked, so it likely wasn’t an emergency you had to return to.

Even then, the way her gaze kept returning to you was… odd.

Ding!

You fished through your pockets and retrieved your phone. Had Caleb caught wind of your absence? No. Odd. It wasn’t Caleb.

It was Rhys.

You quickly opened his chat and skimmed through his messages. A sinking feeling settled in your gut.

"Miss," he hastily followed, "you’re on the news."

You stilled. Why would you be on the news? Surely, a woman alone at a train station at night wasn’t such a revolutionary event that it had lured in the mass media?

"?" you typed back. "I’m famous now?"

"It’s no joke. Look."

A video file popped up. The thumbnail appeared to be Rhys’ TV. You could spot a snippet of his wife from one of the corners.

The throbbing ache in your head returned, begging you not to click on the file. Alas, your curiosity took hold of you, and your fingers hovered above the play button.

Hesitantly, it met the screen.

The woman announcing the news spoke your name. You immediately lowered the volume.

Your name. Your full name. Something was wrong.

"A suspect has been found." She said your name again. "Skyhaven authorities are actively searching for the suspect in connection with Caroline Mayday’s death. According to local reports, the individual was seen near the estate a day prior to the incident."

You slapped your clammy palm onto your mouth to silence the gasp that was about to escape your lips. The only person you had met that day was Rhys. Surely, there had been some sort of mistake. Surely, you hadn’t murdered a woman whose address you weren’t even aware of.

"Evidence, including fingerprint analysis and multiple witness testimonies, has linked the suspect to the scene."

Testimonies? Witnesses? Had people perceived a ghost? How could they have witnessed a woman who wasn’t even there?

Your hand stilled. Suddenly, the thoughts in your brain quieted, leaving nothing but unnerving, unmoving silence. The gears turned in your head. And then, it all made sense.

Caleb. Utilising his authority.

That bastard.

"A search warrant has been issued, and officials confirm that she will soon be taken in for questioning before the court of law."

Shit.

Shit.

You turned off the video and returned to the chat. Rhys had sent another message.

"Miss, you have to leave. I’ll get you tickets to Linkon."

"No need," you typed back. "I’m at the station. I was just about to leave anyway."

After a brief pause, you asked, "Rhys, do you believe I’m guilty?"

For a moment, he didn’t reply, leaving you on seen. Your body stiffened. If he didn’t believe you…

"No. We were at the café right about the time the witnesses claimed to have spotted you. And even if you weren’t, well, how do I put this nicely? Miss, you don’t have the balls."

Despite his half-insult, you couldn’t help but smile. At the very least, there was somebody who trusted you.

"I know it was that colonel’s doing. He isn’t to be trusted. Please, for your sake, never get involved with him ever again."

"I won’t."

And this time, you were being honest. You couldn’t return to him. Not after this.

"Stay safe, Rhys. If I’m not caught and executed, I promise you, we will meet again."

The train rolled into the station. Its wheels hissed against the cold metal rails.

You had to leave, now.

A handful of people lined up against the entrance. Some of them had their faces glued to their phones. Could they be watching the news? You hoped not. It was safer to go last.

You fished through your luggage and pulled out a cap you happened to bring along, placing it low on your head, shielding half your face from the gazes of passers-by.

Donning the calmest demeanour you could muster, you stepped into the train’s carriage and seated yourself far away from all. Sort of counterintuitive, now that you thought about it. Attempting to appear normal whilst actively isolating yourself from the crowd like a child who had shoplifted a candy bar. It made little sense. But how could you think logically when danger was quite literally breathing down your neck each second? Half of Skyhaven’s forces were after you, and you were practically tethered to a determined fate.

With a slow rattle and a monotonous announcement, the train began to move.

Your eyes trailed to the bracelet clasped around your wrist. Your promise to Caleb. But what did that matter now? It was merely a chain. A bad-luck charm, even. Ever since you had put it on, misfortunes followed close behind. You kept experiencing losses ceaselessly.

You contemplated tossing it away, but it would be such a waste of a valuable item.

You peered from below the cap’s shade to eye the modern tablet displaying the train’s destinations. The last stop wasn’t Linkon. It was a town two cities apart—Nimbura. The land of storms and tempests. Perhaps the storm that had been looming over Skyhaven for the past few days originated from there.

Nonetheless, Nimbura was a town of little population. Due to the never-ending downpour, most citizens had moved to greater cities. It was the perfect place for an escape. You could sell your bracelet to a local broker for a small fortune. You reckoned it would get you enough to kickstart your new life there. Perhaps open another clinic or begin to achieve the dreams you had long since abandoned.

This time, you would live your new life the way you wanted to.

With Caleb manipulating the press from behind the scenes, any chance of achieving justice and clearing your name was lost to the wind. Though a cowardly move, fleeing was your only choice.

You shut your eyes. Oh, Caroline. If only she knew how her death had been exploited by her higher-ups for such selfish purposes.

Of course, starting anew was easier said than done. You still had to fetch yourself a new identity, a house, and somehow evade the authorities for the rest of your life. It was fun to dream, but you knew you had to embrace reality soon.

Or else, you would be caught in the dumbest way.

At the very least, you could put up one hell of a fight before being whisked away in shackles. Enjoy your last remaining days of freedom before he caught up.

Your breath hitched. Caleb wouldn’t give up, would he? He’d comb through each city and town, overturning even the smallest villages in search of you.

You couldn’t picture what drastic measures he’d take.

Perhaps he’d even drain the oceans and pluck you from the seabed if you decided to live freely as a sea turtle.

Wherever you were, he would find you.

Some things were only possible in the presence of power. No matter how intelligent you were, your helplessness was undeniable. You bore not even a sliver of authority and thus were incapable of turning the tide against him. You could run from a man, but you couldn’t escape a whole fleet of deranged, cybernetic militants.

You chuckled at the inevitability of your fate. In time, he would find you. The government wouldn’t protect you. Not when you were a wanted criminal on the loose. If anything, they would hand you over—to him—on a silver platter. Nobody wanted to make an enemy of the farspace fleet. They were a ruthless bunch. What would one insignificant sacrifice mean when it had been made for the greater good? For eternal peace?

Just like Anne, the world had abandoned you as well.

And this time, you truly had no home to return to.

An unfamiliar feeling coiled in your chest—a yearning for home. A yearning to sit across the white couch of your clinic, listing away your patient’s traits on a clipboard as a frigid wind drifted in from the window. A coveting for the warmth of your bed, the bitterness of the coffee you brewed each morning, and the intimacy of your workspace.

This was all a mistake. You should never have embarked on this journey in the first place.

So much for bringing someone back. Someone who had lost their heart long ago.

If only you hadn’t let your emotions blind you. If only you had moved on from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. A single tear slipped down your cheek. This was no place to cry. What you should have been focusing on was a plan—a means of saving yourself. You barely had any money. Would it even be enough to buy you transport to the nearest broker?

You didn’t have any weapons on you either. Nothing to defend yourself with. Just you, yourself, and a lightweight bag with nothing valuable inside.

You should have stolen a few bucks from Caleb. His position surely paid well, so what would a hundred dollars mean to him? You really should have. And the worst part was that you knew he would have handed it all to you without a second thought. Something churned in your chest.

"I don’t know what to be when I grow up, Caleb. What should I do?"

You kicked your feet on the bed, lying on your back as you watched Caleb’s attentive gaze remain glued to his homework.

"Why are you askin’ me?" A young voice replied. "It’ll come to ya, pip-squeak. You’re only ten."

"But," you pushed yourself off the bed and nudged his shoulder, "the teacher asked us to write an essay on our dream careers. Help me, please? You’re really smart!"

"Why worry about that? I’m here, aren’t I? I’m smart enough for us both."

"Really?" You grinned stupidly. "That means your money is my money?"

He reached over without averting his eyes from the textbook to flick your forehead softly. You whined in response.

"Hasn’t it always been like that? But still. You’re good with people, right?"

You hummed. "I don’t have many friends other than you."

"But you understand people."

You nodded.

"Then why don’t you become a psychologist?"

"A… what?"

He sighed. "Never mind. You’re too young to think about that." And with that, he ruffled your hair and sent you off.

Little did he know you would cling to that word for the rest of your life.

The train whirred along the tracks, speeding readily through the various stations. One by one, the passengers departed, until you and an old man were the only ones remaining.

Before long, the train passed by Linkon. You watched with a solemn gaze as the doors slid shut. A part of you imagined yourself stepping out—happy, grinning from ear to ear, returning home. This cap wouldn’t be on your head, and your face would be devoid of worries. You would be free. On your way to a new life in the absence of Caleb. Into a new normalcy—a reality you could embrace this time.

You shut your eyes and rested your head against the window. Two fresh tears slipped past your lashes. Home. The word called to you from amidst the darkness. You envisioned two gentle arms cradling your form. The ghosts in your bed would welcome you home. They’d open their arms and tuck you in.

Just yesterday, the ‘ghost’ would have been none other than Caleb. But now, you wanted nothing to do with him.

Now, they had become two fleeting, ghastly apparitions—echoes of the past, lingering somewhere in your psyche.

The flesh may forget the sting of steel, but our minds will know.

You didn’t recall where you had heard that line. Perhaps it was a lyric from a melodious choir, or maybe a fragment of dialogue from a show you once treasured. You couldn’t recall the exact words either. At first, you had only nodded at its proclamation. It was right. There was nothing to refute.

As the new you emerged from the epicentre of a vicious battle, wounded by the likes of steel, its choir rang within your heart.

The mind never forgets. It is a being of its own. A tranquil entity, a lifeless organism so equally abundant with life. It may not respire, but it bears the authority to decide whether you do so.

And sometimes, it chooses for you not to be able to breathe.

Caleb would never vanish. He might perish while executing his unethical duties, or he might fade from your life altogether. He might even heal and reform. But that wounded man lived in a hollow within your heart, a cavity carved out with a knife—an unhealing wound, a permanent abyss.

A dark, bottomless pit you could never truly move on from.

No matter how achingly you worked to normalise his absence, his ghost would linger.

And so would the ghost of your former self.

For that wounded man didn’t just win,

He devoured you. He plucked your ribcage open and fused with your heart.

The burden of exhaustion weighed on your bones, dragging your body down against the train’s plastic seat. Your mind kept drifting home—to the warm lighting of your kitchen, the abomination stashed away under your bed, the mess coating your desk that you never quite found time to clean up. Their images flashed before your eyes, like a boat drifting back to the seas it had departed from, pushed there by a storm.

Now, it was up to you to decide what home meant.

You would make sure that this time, home wouldn’t be a place that breathed Caleb’s name.

“Nimbura. Doors will open from the right.”

You hauled your luggage alongside you as you exited with the old man. From beneath his drooping eyebrows, he shot you a wary glance before inching forward. A flimsy brown cane supported his weight as he walked. You hoped you would never again encounter a situation where you’d need to rely on someone else—not until you reached seventy, at least.

A cool gust of wind sent flyers fluttering through the air before your face. You shivered, hugging yourself a little tighter. An earthy scent lingered—damp soil, the kind you could always smell before an impending downpour.

Of course, the town hadn’t bought its name with cash.

It bought it with its perpetual rain.

“Excuse me,” you called out to the old man. “Do you know where the nearest broker’s is?”

“They’re all closed by now,” he croaked. “Get some sleep, girl. Go tomorrow.”

You let out an audible sigh before returning to your pocket to count your cash. Just enough for a night’s stay, but beyond that? You weren’t so sure.

To your surprise, the man turned back. “Need a place to stay, child?”

You eyed the money on your palm before returning to his face. He appeared wise. From the way his brows were furrowed, you could tell he had seen much in his long life. A part of you secretly loathed these types of people. Those who had seen it all were especially hard to deceive. They could spot any hint of trickery, no matter how ethical, from a mile away.

Your gut told you he probably knew you were on the run.

You needed a place to stay, but your instincts flared up. You didn’t know him. Anything could happen to you in a town this small, and it would go unreported for the most part. This was a matter of survival. Although your expertise insisted this man was no threat, your wariness begged to differ. So, with a polite smile, you turned down his offer.

Defeated, the man showed you the way to the nearest inn.

You followed his directions only to end up at a run-down inn around the corner. Its sign hung loosely, threatening to fall at any second. But clearly, the owner hadn’t cared enough to fix it. On top of that, the place stank. It reeked of alcohol, vomit, and cigars. You’d rather sleep out on the streets than stay here.

Thunder flashed in the sky behind you. You jumped.

Okay, maybe sleeping under a storm’s embrace wasn’t the best idea.

You were on the run, after all. Now wasn’t the time to be picky.

A short, blonde-haired woman sat on the other side of the counter, chewing gum as she scrolled mindlessly through her phone. The electric bell above the door chimed as you pushed it open. In a few swift movements, she spat out her gum and shoved the phone into the cavity under her desk.

“Hello, how may I help you?” She flashed the brightest grin she could muster.

She appeared young. Most likely still in high school. Your gaze travelled to the photo frame behind her—a clean picture of a family with a mix of blondes and brunettes. So, her parents owned the place, huh? A lucky child with a stable future. You envied her.

“How much for one night?”

“Oh, uhm—” She fished through something under her desk. You could hear the faint crumple of paper as she moved. That agility… was she in hunter’s school?

She named the price. You reopened your wallet and counted the bills. Just enough for one night, plus transportation.

“Is the food free?”

“No, ma’am. Only water.”

A deflated sigh passed your lips. You hadn’t eaten dinner, and you were practically starving. If you wasted money on food now, you doubted you’d make it through tomorrow.

Oh, well. A day’s fast wouldn’t kill you.

“All right. Can I have a room?” You smiled, placing the cash on the desk.

She opened her register and quickly handed you the change before fetching a pair of keys from the shelves behind her. Tossing you the keys, she showed you to your room. Despite her persistent offers, you ended up carrying your bags yourself.

Your room was relatively cleaner than expected. Initially, you’d envisioned a room as run-down as the front of the inn, with broken beds and a toilet that didn’t flush. Of course, the room was nothing like the average hotel rooms you could rent in Linkon, but it would do.

At least you discovered where most of the inn’s funds went.

You fetched one of the sealed bottles of water from the desk and buried yourself in bed. Having finally achieved a moment of respite, you whipped out your phone and began scrolling through your messages.

Oddly enough, there were no texts from Caleb. He was offline on all his socials.

Perhaps he hadn’t caught wind of your absence yet? That would suggest the idea of framing you for murder was something he had planned beforehand. Possibly after the argument.

You were about to head to bed when suddenly, your phone lit up with a notification.

You guessed it was Rhys again before even looking at the screen. He was the only one you’d been texting (or, more accurately, who’d been texting you) over the past few days.

If he was texting you, it could only mean trouble.

With numb fingers, you opened his chat.

“Miss, run.”

“You’re in Nimbura, right? They know your location.”

You froze as he kept bombarding you with short, panicked, back-to-back messages.

“He discovered our relationship. My wife’s dealing with the fleet.”

“They’re at our door.”

“Please, run.”

“Forget about us. Leave Nimbura. Immediately.”

“The police know where you are.”

The adrenaline was so deeply coded into your DNA that you’d gotten used to it by now. Only a deafening numbness lingered where anxiety once resided.

But, more importantly, how did he know where you were?

Your eyes trailed to the bracelet. The pendant gleamed under the light.

Now that you thought about it, the pendant’s size was oddly convenient, was it not?

And it was quite a bit heavier than you had expected.

Could it be…?

Caleb had revealed his final card. The ace up his sleeve.

Blood drained from your face. You paled.

A tracker.

You jolted up to the sound of police sirens slicing through the air. They were already here.

In a hurry, you snatched the bag you hadn’t yet opened and rushed to the door. Your other hand fidgeted with the bracelet coiled around your wrist. You hissed. Why were these things so hard to unclasp with one hand?

Pushing through your body’s sheer exhaustion and numbness, you bolted down the stairs, tripping over some of the steps. A knock resounded at the inn’s front gate.

“Skyhaven authorities. Open up.”

The perplexed blonde girl eyed you awkwardly. Tearing the bracelet forcefully off your wrist, you tossed the jewellery to her and muttered an apology.

“Gotta run. Take this as an apology.”

And with that, you stormed out the back door. Rain poured from above, thumping against your bare head relentlessly. No time to equip an umbrella. Just run.

With trembling legs, you skidded across the empty alleyways. Multiple pairs of footsteps slapped against the damp pavement close by. They were closing in. Fast. You had nowhere to go.

But perhaps you could make it to the train station before it closed. There was one last train heading to Linkon soon. If you could make it, maybe you could throw them off your trail for a while?

You bit your lip. You weren’t so sure. Chances were the authorities had already surrounded Linkon—your home and clinic were under their jurisdiction.

But that was a problem for future you. Right now, you had to run.

Mustering up all your strength, you pushed yourself forward, darting through the desolate streets. The commanding voices of the officers pierced through the rain, declaring how they would use force, how resisting would only worsen your case. You paid no mind to their warnings. Only the worst would happen if you were arrested—you’d be thrown into jail, executed by the fleet, or sent straight into Caleb’s arms. And he would definitely rather skin himself bit by bit than let you go once more.

How much worse could it get?

The walls of the world seemed to shrink in on you, confining you within Nimbura’s insignificantly sized territory. All sounds blurred together, contorting into one singular noise that thudded violently against your eardrums—the pulse of your own quickening heartbeat. The heart that once beat in love for a man now pounded in terror of the very same one. You no longer flinched at the bolts of lightning, no longer cared for the heavy droplets of rain smashing through your skull.

At that moment, you were reduced to a cowardly mess of a woman who knew only how to run. She ran from her life, her job, her stability, her friends, her problems, her mistakes. And now, that woman realised she had spent her entire existence fleeing. She buried her troubles in the desolation of her patients, abandoned the life that had given her everything, and flung herself into the arms of a stranger. A stranger who, due to her naïveté, received her love as she foolishly gave herself away.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Or was it rain? You didn’t know. Didn’t care. And for the first time, you let the tears fall freely. You sobbed—your face contorted in despair. Your lips curled into an unsightly frown, your brows knitted dramatically. Vision blurred. Your pace faltered.

Your legs begged for respite. To stop, to collapse onto the wet asphalt, to simply wail to your heart’s content. But the footsteps behind you suddenly grew louder. Your brief moment of weakness had allowed them to close in. You were screwed.

Forcing yourself forward, you pushed through the pain. Your shoes stretched against your feet, groaning under the pressure. The soles were likely torn by now—perhaps even left behind a few metres ago. You didn’t know. There was no time to stop and check.

Then, through the curtain of rain, the silhouette of a tall stranger emerged. He walked parallel to you, treading calmly beneath the shelter of a large, black umbrella. Your heart lurched. You couldn’t stop now. You were bound to collide.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for impact.

You crashed into a solid chest and, from the sheer force, went stumbling back. Before you could hit the ground, a firm hand seized your waist, steadying you.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, lifting your head to catch a glimpse of his face. “I—”

Your body froze. As if your entire being had shut down, every gear in your mind clogged at once. The pitter-patter of rain and the approaching footsteps of the police faded, drowned by the roaring static in your head.

That long, black uniform. Those leather gloves. That sleek cap.

And, most importantly, those innocent violet hues scrutinising your face.

For a long while, there was only silence.

You parted your lips, but no words came. Finally, you choked out, “How—”

A chuckle. One you recognised all too well.

“Are you hurt?” A familiar voice cooed.

Caleb.

You turned on your heels and bolted in the opposite direction.

A flight of uniformed personnel obstructed your path, caging you in against Caleb’s form. In tiny, panicked steps, you inched backwards.

The leader announced your name. “You are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Sergeant Caroline Mayday. You—”

“I’ll take it from here,” the figure behind you commanded firmly. “I’ll escort our criminal personally.”

Hesitantly, the officer backed away with a curt tilt of his head, signalling for his troop to stand down. You watched helplessly as they retreated.

A part of you wanted to reach out. To beg them to throw you into jail instead. An axe to your neck would be far kinder.

But no. They tossed you right into the vicious, merciless jaws of the beast, leaving you to a fate you couldn’t determine.

The world stilled. The patter of rain against the road was all you could hear, aside from his steady breathing contrasting with your short, quick spasms of breath. In that moment, it felt as if it were only the two of you in the world. As if only you both truly mattered.

But those weren’t your feelings, were they?

They were his.

You gulped. Unhurried footsteps inched from behind. “You look tired. Have you eaten?” Caleb’s fingers interlocked with yours. Gently, he spun you around. The cap hung low on his head, obscuring half of his eyes. If only you’d spotted it from afar. Maybe if you’d picked up on his presence earlier, you could bolt in the opposite direction and avoid clashing into him.

He appeared from seemingly nowhere. Perhaps his appearance was also a calculated move that slipped past your radar.

Your final, most fatal loss.

Your reckoning.

You snatched your hand away. “You,” you cocked your head to meet his gaze, “What did you do to Rhys?”

You endured a long, deafening silence. The weight of it all pressed against your chest, squashing you against the mud. Like an insignificant, pesky bug meeting its end under the sole of one’s shoe.

A cold, frosty wind wafted through the atmosphere. Goosebumps prickled as frostbitten air slipped beneath your skin. The chill gnawed deep within your bones, causing painful pangs to crackle through you. Your knees buckled, unable to bear your weight any longer.

Expectedly, an arm wrapped itself around your waist and hoisted you up, pressing your body against his own.

Strings of water slid down from leaves nearby, splashing onto the pavement. Your forehead pulsated—that familiar sensation of dread that emerged each time you found yourself caught up in a complex, seemingly inescapable web. Usually, you’d bear the scissors to free yourself. But this time?

The webs cut into your skin, threading through your nerves. Every fibre of your being was tangled. The slightest movement would cause the intertwined nerves to be ripped out of your skin. A violent flash of lightning illuminated half of Caleb’s face.

“Who?” He lifted his chin, gazing at the sky as if buried deep in thought. When he looked down at you, he did so with a familiar darkness in his eyes. Envy. “Oh. Him.” His frown curled deeper as he uttered the last word.

“Why would that matter? It’s about us now.”

You locked your jaw. “What did you do?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

As if able to distinguish between the rain and the remnants of your despair, Caleb brought his gloved hand and cradled your face. His thumb brushed against the tears, tossing them away as though they didn’t belong on your cheeks, and didn’t deserve to be shed from your eyes.

Not regarding another man, that is.

You flinched at his touch. A new, unsettling calm dawned over his countenance. And in a flick, all emotion dissipated from his eyes. His lips relaxed into a neutral line.

“I got rid of him.”

Your lips parted, but no words were uttered. A lump of saliva knotted in your throat. Your tongue was overcome with foreign saltiness.

“What do you mean…?”

No response.

“Caleb…” you stuttered, placing your palm on his hand, more to comfort yourself than to coerce him, “What did you do?”

His fingers trailed over your own. A tremor ran down your spine at the sheer tenderness he displayed, treating you as if you were a precious glass ornament ready to shatter at the slightest prick. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Your arm dropped to your side. “You… did you hurt him?” Caleb didn’t reply. He only leered down at your trembling lips with an impenetrable mask. Or perhaps it seemed as such to you because you couldn’t be bothered enough to pick him apart.

You sucked in a breath and exhaled audibly. Your head lowered until you were staring at the surface of your mud-coated shoes. Think. What could get you out of this situation? Your eyes lingered on your feet for a while. The cogs whirred in your brain, working, but producing no reliable output.

A flock of thoughts flooded you—irrelevant, unimpressive, shrill, and horrid thoughts. What would he do to you once he’s got you in his grasp? You swallowed the saltiness, nearly gagging at the taste of your own bodily fluids.

But then, a thought emerged.

Bodily fluids. Bodily gases. You smelled ammonia—a common gas released upon the decay of a corpse. But amidst the urine-like stench, you smelled something else.

A strong stench of bleach—something you only picked up once you’d ventured inside the room. Meaning it was present nowhere else. The corpse crime scene hadn’t been cleaned. There was no need to tidy up after a corpse that hadn’t bled. And there was no residue of liquid bleach anywhere within the room. If there was, you certainly would’ve noticed.

“Chlorine.” You lifted your head to meet his gaze.

Finally, Caleb’s eyes flashed with a hint of emotion.

“I smelled chlorine in Caroline’s room.”

With an amused tilt of his head, Caleb wordlessly challenged your wits.

“She didn’t commit suicide. She was murdered with chlorine gas.” You glared up at him. “In gas form, chlorine is extremely noxious. Seventh grade chemistry stuff. You made it too easy.” You shook your head. “Once she expired, you didn’t hesitate to take her out.”

His lips curled to form a smirk you couldn’t shake off. It felt so out-of-place. So visceral. As if it didn’t belong on his pretty face.

It’s an expression he’d donned countless times in the past. But each time, it was a playful, giddy smirk. A boyish grin, more so. The one you’d flash before committing a silly act.

But this one conquered your nerves with an uneasy rattle.

Eyebrows slightly curved, his eyes subtly squinted, a feral glint alight in his gorgeous violets, and with his lips angled oddly. Your stomach churned. It felt as if you were being preyed upon and tested.

Nonetheless, you stood your ground. You ensured that every bit of you would exude defiance, from your visage to your body and to the hairs of your neck. But your insolence only seemed to rile him up. The lunatic look in his eyes deepened alongside his uncomfortable smirk. Your fire exhilarated him, as if watching you ablaze with passionate rebellion was the prettiest you could be.

Like it was one of the many things he absolutely adored about you.

In spite of his admiration, he wouldn’t let you have your way, though, would he?

“A harsh accusation. But,” his hand returned to your face, as if it was unable to keep itself from it, as if it belonged glued to its side, “The world knows you to be the killer.”

“You weren’t raised to be a monster.”

Caleb cocked his head to the side. He hummed.

“Sure it wasn’t you? Don’t worry, you can tell me.”

Your balled fists trembled. “So,” you drooped your head, letting your hair fall before your eyes, “I was right.”

“Then, tell me,” you continued, “How do you know the fleet won’t turn on you next?”

“Once you reach a certain rank, you’re free from those risks. She was merely a sergeant.” His shoulders jerked to a casual shrug. “The media needed a culprit. The law doesn’t care who it is, they just need a scapegoat. A person to throw into a cell.”

“Which was me.” You eyed him in disbelief.

In a sharp movement, Caleb squeezed your chin and brought your face to his, forcing you onto your tiptoes. “But,” an alien, hoarse voice rasped, “I wouldn’t let them have you. They wouldn’t take you from me. Not again. Not after…” You could see fragments of a memory flash in the reflection in his eyes—a memory you seemed to share with him, but one that wasn’t yours.

Normally, you’d pry further. Coerce him, utilise his vulnerable emotions to spill the truth from his lips without having to properly ask. But by now, you’d given up on his rehabilitation. Now, your most vital priority was survival.

“You put a tracker in that bracelet.” A proud grin spread across his face. He had the audacity to silently congratulate you after all that.

“This?” He held up something near his face. A shiny, silver chain with a sparkling white sapphire pendant dangled from his fingers. “You forgot it at the inn. Here.”

Gentle fingers grasped your arm. He slid the chain onto your wrist before hooking it shut. “You were made to be clad in jewels. A Goddess.” You shuddered at the abrupt softness of his voice. Sincerity was engraved into his movements.

For a moment, it felt as if he were simply a man in love, and nothing more. A man awarding his partner with a treasure purchased by hours of his hard work, made only for the one he loved so dearly. You yearned to close your eyes, to let your world sink into darkness so you could paint a picture of your own—one where the two of you were simply a happy, normal couple, living a humble, free life. But dreams were merely dreams. In the end, you had to wake up.

A frown graced your lips. Your bad luck charm had followed you into your doom. And once more, the shackle was clasped to your wrist.

“Did they touch you anywhere?” He gripped your arm. His eyes poured over your body.

“What?”

“The authorities.” He affirmed. “Did they—”

You pried your form away. A visible tick emerged in his forehead. “No, they didn’t.”

“Why…” his eyeballs quaked, rolling about in his head with fervour, “Why can’t you just…” His teeth sank into his bottom lip viciously, drawing blood. “Are you afraid of me? Of what I’ve become?”

If it were just this morning, when he’d sourced you with the warmest form of solace as he cradled you on his lap, you would’ve denied that claim. You would’ve fought back with all your heart, with passionate proclamations on how you feel the safest when with him, and how nobody feels like home other than him.

Just a few days ago, you’d approached him out of fascination. Love, yes. But above all things, you were intrigued. Lured by his mystical, webbed, and broken mind. Eager to pick apart the strands of his brain tissue and see for yourself how they operated.

But now?

You weren’t just afraid.

You were terrified of him. Of whom he had become. And who he could transform into in the near future.

So, you simply let your head hang as you pursed your lips into silence.

The man didn’t move. He didn’t shift, whimper, nor shout. He simply stood there with you. Beneath the cloak of the large, black umbrella. A gentle thunder ruptured the air. The gale softened. The tempest was nearing its end. The grey storm clouds were returning home.

“If you love something, you should work hard to earn it.” You wiped a few stray droplets off your eyes. “If you love me, you should work hard to be a better person for me. You can’t just… do this.”

With slow, sincere motions, Caleb lifted your arm and slotted it with his.

“Let’s go home, then. I’ll work hard for you this time. We can make things right.”

But you didn’t move. You simply stood, pulling back your arm ever so slightly. Not desperately, not angrily, just… subtly. As if your own games had tired you out. Because they had. What use was there in fighting back? You had already lost.

“There is no home to return to, Caleb.” A soft voice spoke. His lips twisted into a frown. Brief anger flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. What was there to say? He knew you were right.

“Let’s go build one, then. We’ll begin from nothing.” His fingers tightened around yours. “One step at a time.”

“My home,” you averted your gaze, hesitant to continue, “doesn’t include you.”

The wrath returned, spreading through his visage like poison dipped onto a pond’s still surface. His grip tautened painfully. “What? Don’t you love me?” There was a scoff in his voice, a forced friendliness. “All right. I get it. You’re shy, is that it?” he grinned. But his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Much like a lot of his smiles nowadays.

You stared back at him with a worn countenance, unresponsive to his tease. But something subtly stirred in your chest. Nothing pleasant. Fear. He was at it again. He was walking a fine line between mania and sanity, and he threatened to topple over and fall into the clutches of psychosis at any moment.

Knowing what it was scared you more. Most would mistake it for hurt, for desperation or any other normal feeling in the book. But you knew all too well it wasn’t that.

He was losing himself. You were, both physically and psychically, driving him mad.

Caleb’s smile slackened. “Pip-squeak.” He shut his eyes in an attempt at self-restraint. When he opened them, your nerves screamed. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Either,” a step forward, “you come with me, help me fix what I broke, or…” he stopped. His lips neared yours. His hot breath fanned over your eyes. The knot in your stomach tightened. Tears rose to your eyes.

You should move away, display the last bits of your dimming defiance. But what was the point? It was all over. He’d caught you, and now, the victor would claim his prize. Your soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to your torso, moulding to your shape. It pressed against your chest. Suffocating, revealing, vulnerable—the words raced in your mind. Bile rose to your throat. The weight of the clothes dripping down irked you, but not more than how you felt practically revealed under his gaze.

You gulped.

“Ya know, killing an important member of the fleet is a serious offence.” His eyes skimmed over your body. You tensed right as he caught himself and deflected his gaze.

You understood what he implied. Granting you a swift, painless execution was the kindest decision the fleet could come upon.

“But,” the coldness in your eyes matched his, “you wouldn’t let that happen to me, would you?”

“Smart girl.” He ruffled your wet hair. “Either you come with me, or I drag you home kicking and screamin’.”

The lack of reluctance in his voice startled you, paired with the sheer casualness of his tone. You could tell he wasn’t lying.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You don’t,” he confirmed. “So, shall we go home?”

You don’t respond. You only look at him. With empty, broken eyes, with a dimming spark of defiance still lingering in them.

And in his eyes, you spotted emotion. His brow furrowed, curled. His lips threatened to drag into a frown. He was recollecting. Zoning out on the image of your face, drifting away into the land of memories. Your patients often entered this semi-delirious state, so you’d naturally learned to pick up on it. During those times, you’d simply offer silence. Because for most, the memories they recalled whilst vulnerable and overwhelmed were the ones they hid from themselves the most. If you were to interrupt his thoughts, he’d never confront himself again.

You didn’t know what burdens his heart bore. You didn’t know how many times his flesh tasted the bite of steel. And you certainly didn’t know whether what he felt had justifications. But one thing you knew for sure was that Caleb had to confront his past soon. If he didn’t, he’d lose himself to his obsession.

But you knew it was a matter you couldn’t manipulate. It was not something you could push and pull behind the scenes to manoeuvre them the way they should be moved. There were parts of the human mind that even the most talented psychologists couldn’t access, and if they could, they were not to interfere.

And because of that, most patients embraced a similar decision each time.

He tilted his head. The onslaught of broken memories fragmented before disappearing entirely amidst the purple voids. Just like most, Caleb had chosen to run. And then, without hesitation, he took your arm and pulled.

“Atta girl,” he cooed.

The faltering rain drowned everything—the drum of your heartbeat softly thumping against your ribcage, slowed by the exhaustion biting your limbs. In the distance, the last train to Linkon rattled past.

With a crestfallen gaze, you stepped towards him. Caleb wrapped his arm around your waist and gently lugged you close. The cage you couldn’t see before clamped shut. And so did any possibility of his rehabilitation that you’d initially planned on.

And then, together, you stepped into a new beginning—a future that was no longer yours.

[chocoposum]

I super agree w/this, kq has been overworking ateez as of the end of last year from what ive gathered. From tours to fanmeetings,collabs and lives almost every month, i hope they can take a break soon + injuries some member have that HAVE NOT HEALED MIND YOU.

Its very heartbreaking

Why…. Is Ateez touring again???

[chocoposum]

GOD WHY DO U DO THIS TO MEEE

yapping abt nonmc

Non-MC reader fanfics are always written by authors who know exactly how to hurt a person. The pain is so intense and so well-crafted that, dear God, sometimes I find myself rereading the same paragraph over and over again. And after a while, I start to see myself as that woman—waiting to be loved but never receiving it in return.

Imagine loving someone. Looking at them with the most fragile, the most human part of your heart. When you hear their voice, everything inside you comes to a halt, and your entire existence shifts toward them. But they… they don’t even notice you. Or if they do, their recognition is not with the powerful grasp of love, but with the light touch of mere acknowledgment.

To you, they are a star, the very center of the universe. But to them, you are just another speck of light in the sky. If you were to disappear, they wouldn’t feel your absence. You turn back, realizing your hands are empty, crushed under the weight of your love. And they? They continue revolving around another world, another sun.

You are a meteor, trying to rise and shine, but unable to enter their orbit—shattered by the gravity of a planet that was never meant to hold you. You dissolve into dust, fading into silence. And they move on, as if nothing ever happened.

This plays out differently for each character, but the ending remains the same.

In Zayne’s case, you are either his fiancée or his wife. He is always cold and distant. His words are measured, his presence heavy yet quiet. Even if storms rage behind his eyes, his face remains unreadable. He has always been this way, and you have accepted it.

But then, he smiles—at her.

That smile is like spring breaking through the ice, subtle, warm, and gentle. As if, for just a moment, the layers of frost within him have melted. And in that moment, you realize he was never truly like this—not for everyone. He is not just a distant man; he is only distant toward you.

And that’s when it sinks in. A weight settles inside you, stealing your breath for just a second. Because you have seen it now—he can be affectionate, he can be warm, he can smile. But that smile was never meant for you.

You are likely Sylus’s assistant, though in rare cases, you might be his wife. Sylus has always been indifferent—to everyone. To you. You walked in his shadow on the battlefield, threw yourself in front of bullets for him, but to him, it was merely necessity. A duty. Your presence was nothing more than part of the mission. Until she came along.

With her arrival, Sylus changed. His face softened when he looked at her, the sharpness in his voice faded. He made sacrifices for her, and when he spoke to her, the rigidness in his posture eased. Sylus was no longer the man you knew. Everyone questioned if he was still the same person, but you already knew the truth.

He hadn’t changed. He had simply never been yours.

With Xavier and Rafael, the pattern is almost identical. You are nothing more than a companion who has traveled through centuries with them, defying time itself.

As time weaves its path, they always take the lead—making decisions, guiding, fighting. And you? You are merely a shadow beside them. A witness. While they sacrificed their homelands for love, you were the one who heard the cries of the people they left behind. On one side was their passionate devotion, and on the other, your quiet grief.

For them, time had stopped. But for you, the world kept turning, though it no longer resembled the place you once knew.

And then there’s Caleb.

Caleb was always by MC’s side. He was her protector, her shield, her most trusted person. And you were there too. You grew up in the same house, sat at the same dinner table, shared the same stories. But his eyes always sought only MC.

Through the years, you watched how he looked at her. How he stepped forward at the slightest sign of danger, how every word he spoke to her carried an unshakable certainty. You bore witness to his protection, his sacrifices, his unwavering love—but never once was any of it directed at you.

You were there too. You lived those same moments. But you were never the center of his world.

Some see her as a mistress, a backup, an extra wedged between the main character and the LI. As if she were a mere footnote in someone else’s story, placed there by mistake. But she’s not.

She is not just someone trying to insert herself where she doesn’t belong. She was there from the very beginning. She walked the same path, fought the same battles, gazed at the same sky. She was never a stranger lingering on the edges of the story—she was a part of it.

The difference is that her name was never written into the main plot. Her words never echoed, her presence was never at the center. And yet, she was never just a replacement. Because love isn’t a competition, it isn’t a role to be filled, it isn’t about winners and losers.

She simply loved. With everything she had, without expecting anything in return. Her eyes were always on him, but his eyes were never on her.

[chocoposum]

bla bla bla

Ble ble ble

Blu blu blu

Ha

Blu blu blu blu blu blu blu blu blu blu blu

Le le

Lingga guli guli guli wata liggan guli lingga gu linggan

[chocoposum]

HIRAETH.

PAIRING: Yandere!Caleb x Blind!Reader TAGS: Disability and blindness, possessive Caleb, yandere tendencies, violence and blood, overprotective Caleb, taking advantage of a disability, SFW but contains mature themes, use of the nickname 'pip-squeak'. SUMMARY: You wore a pair of gorgeous eyes that could not aid you throughout your life. Luckily for you, your childhood companion would be the vessel of sight you always needed. And at the end of it all, you would have his warm embrace to return to. WORD COUNT: 2,775 words.

You had never known what a home was like. Not because you suffered from the lack of one, no. You had a home—a large, two-storey house with white walls and an isolated attic, or so you had been told. Your home had been inhabited by three people. You knew that, of course. As a child, you would lie on top of Grandma, press your ear against her heart, and listen to her rhythmic heartbeat. You had learned that the steady thump... thump... thump... of a person's heart was proof of their presence. Each day, you heard two sets of heartbeats in your home, belonging to the people you cherished the most.

You had been raised with piles of books engraved with odd textures, an endless supply of home tutors, and a heavy stick to aid you for the rest of your life. You remembered tracing your fingers down your first white cane, feeling the cold aluminium against your fingertips. "It will accompany you through your entire life," Grandma had said. But it hadn't. Your cane had broken two years later. It had snapped in half after you dared Caleb to play baseball with it. It had been entirely your fault, of course. You still cringed at the argument that had led to the inevitable. It had started when Caleb caught you referring to your cane as your best friend. In the end, the cane didn’t last. Neither had the bond you shared with it. When it broke, he'd promised to get you a new one. But it always took weeks. Your 'best friend' hadn't rushed to your aid during those weeks. But Caleb did.

"Can you carry me down the stairs, Caleb?" As you had grown, you had found people to be more reliable than poles or sticks. You had believed you were truly fortunate to have such a loving, accepting friend whose shoulders were always free for you to lean on. He had carried you through the roughest terrains, through the darkest of forests, without ever bearing a single crack. All the white canes you had after your first break had eventually been rendered unsuitable for bearing your weight. But Caleb had never complained. He had never asked a crumb of you when you had to rely on him to drive you to places. Never had he turned a blind eye to the constant bullying you had faced at the hands of the neighbourhood kids. Although you couldn't see, you could feel. And you had felt that you were right at home. Home had been where Caleb was. Only with him had you felt at home. With him, you had been seen, loved, and cherished.

"Where'd you get that bruise, pip-squeak?" A natural consequence of being born with a disability was having to face constant bullying. You recall the first day you'd received the white cane. That afternoon, you'd insisted on walking alone without the assistance of Grandma or Caleb. The warm sun kissed your skin as you inched along the gravel. Birds chirped with renewed fervour as if the world had applauded your confidence. Today is a great day, you thought. Not only had you received your first walking cane, but you'd also achieved a feat most normal kids could not-- you'd snuck out of your window all by yourself. Moments like these made you believe you were just a normal girl living life with a small hindrance. For the first time, you felt invincible. What you overlooked, however, was how their presence was not merely a means to protect you from tripping over your feet or getting lost in the streets. They'd also shielded you from what you couldn't see-- the ill gazes of people who wished to utilise your blindness.

It hurt a lot: the bruises. Many a time, they would flog you with your own cane, smacking it over your head and shoving you with its tip all while they guffawed and cackled as they would with an odd-looking dog. They would rub dirt into your eyes and mock you-- "What? They're useless anyway! Who cares if they hurt?" Their actions left large red stripes across your skin that would deepen into a dark purple as you limped home. Not that you could see them, of course. The cold of the evening settled in around you, causing a shiver to travel up your spine. You'd assumed it'd be dark by now. Not that it mattered in your world. But you were often told that the darkness bore nothing but cruelty. If that were true, was your world merely one of savagery and ill intent? Was it even darkness that you saw? Or do you simply see nothing? You couldn't tell. You could see neither darkness nor nothing. Were they even different?

You were blind. You couldn't see. But you could feel. You felt his anger radiating from him, causing a lump to form in your throat. All because you'd replied, "I just got bullied a little." A pregnant pause followed your confession. You were blind. You couldn't distinguish between an uncomfortable silence and a pleasant one. You couldn't decipher it from the looks on their faces, neither could you tell by the behaviour they exhibited. But you could feel the clench of his jaw, the grit of his teeth through which he forced his voice. His tone shifted-- farther from concern, farther from warmth, and he uttered a singular unsophisticated word that confirmed your doubts-- "Who?" You could hear his movements. The irk in his steps, the angry shuffle of his jacket, the creak of floorboards under his weight, and the abrupt slam of the door that left you speechless and bitter. You nudged Grandma's sleeve after analysing the silence the two of you shared. Your fingers curled around the hem of her maxi. You looked up to where you assumed she would be, and a single tear slipped down your swollen eyes. "Grandma," your fingers trembled, "Is Caleb mad at me?"

By the time you began to chase after him, it had started to rain. The downpour sliced through your skin, hampering your sense of sound. You'd ditched your white cane back at home and scurried after him as fast as you could, placing your trust in the enraged and hurried thumps of his boots against the concrete to guide you. Only for the rain to hail in and throw you off course by completely overwhelming the sound of his footsteps. Great. You'd gone too far to be able to find your way back home as well. But you'd called this upon yourself, hadn't you? They were merely the consequences of your foolish actions—the aftermath of being naïve and weak. You were not invincible. You were not a normal girl. You were blind. And you'd dared to overstep your authority. It was only natural that you paid for your actions. Your shirt clung to your chest uncomfortably, creating odd creases across your body. Your damp hair occasionally slipped into your eye. You swiped it away and tucked it behind your ear as you ran across the empty streets. If you were to find yourself under the wheels of a truck, nobody would be there to come to your aid. But that didn't matter. Because this was what you deserved. You were simply experiencing karma.

Hot tears mixed with the cold beads of rain. The mixture slid down your cheek. Some entered your mouth, leaving it saltier than it already was. Some fell to the ground, rendering it indistinguishable from the thousands of droplets that fell each second. You didn't know where you were headed. You'd followed the sound of the pavement to keep yourself off the road, but you had no idea where you were. Had you run to another city? Or had you circled back home? Earlier, you'd slithered out of Grandma's grip before she could lock you away in your room and go searching for him herself. But with you on the loose alongside Caleb, she was sure to come chasing after you as well. Had you run so fast she'd lost track of you? Perhaps. Because she wasn't coming. Judging by the absence of sound, she was nowhere near you. After half an hour of running, your knees buckled. You came to rest beside a railing. Your hands gripped onto it, subtly tracing the intricate design as you panted against it. You inched forward with its support. Your feet throbbed as you walked, and you were sure the soles of your sneakers were torn as well. Oh, well. All you'd hoped for was that Grandma would find you, miserable and soaked in the rain, and take you back home with her as she stuffed your ears with various reprimands. But you were okay with that. As long as you returned to the warmth of the fireplace by the living room window, you were content. You doubted whether you deserved that as well. Eventually, your fingers met the cold, wet metal surface of an indented sign. You traced the words—"Willow Whimsy Park." Your breath hitched in your throat, and your hands flew around in search of the place where the fence ended. You rushed in through the opening, your breaths escaping in ragged spasms. He must've been here. He must've!

"Pip-squeak?" The world stilled. The patter of raindrops against your head became insignificant when your ears caught Caleb's voice. You'd expected him to be angry, to lash out and yell for you to go away. You'd expected him to hate you. To call you weak and pathetic, as you deserved. Yet how he called out your name was none of that. It was soft. Surprisingly gentle. You treaded closer, and you broke down once you were near enough to feel his breath on your face. Tears streamed down your face, painting a sleek path down your chin. Your chest heaved as you wailed ceaselessly. Foul, ugly cries escaped from deep within your throat. You sobbed and sobbed, leaving no place for Caleb to squeeze a word in. With a burdened sigh, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer until your face was pressed against his chest. Despite your futile squirms, he held on tightly, his grip unrelenting. His fingers curled around your forearm a notch tighter, as if conveying his refusal to let you go in time of need. At last, you gave in. You nuzzled your face against his torso and cried your heart out. You sobbed until your throat screeched in protest. But Caleb did not move. Not a single word left his chapped lips. He simply stood there, willing to linger as long as you'd take to vent your sorrows. Even as you pounded your fists on his chest weakly, he did not complain. He simply stood, his arm coiling around you a little tighter with each sniffle. He treated you with unrelenting patience, and his gaze bore a devotion that gnawed at your skin and begged for a pathway into your soul. It was comforting. It was warm. He felt like home. When your sobs had died down, Caleb released his grip. You raised your chin. Your sleeve rubbed against your face as you wiped the remnants of your tears away. But the drenched fabric aided only in wetting your face further. You looked up at Caleb and swallowed the sobs that threatened to erupt from your throat. With a shaky voice, you cried, "Why did you leave me?!" You didn't know how, but you felt his eyes soften. The intensity of his gaze dissipated, leaving him with a gentle smile on his face. "What do you mean?"

"You were mad at me, weren't you? So you stormed off." You fumbled around before grasping his palm. "I'm sorry, okay? I won't ever sneak out ever again! I'll do all the dishes, and I'll—" Caleb cradled your face with his right hand. His thumb brushed over your cheek tenderly. You could swear, however, that his hand was far more calloused than usual. They also carried a scent that was unfamiliar to you, a scent you'd later go on to realise. But back then, that touch erased your worries, allowing you to sink into a whirlpool of warmth. It was as if he reached into your frozen conscience and brought upon it the warmest summer you encountered. "I wasn't mad." He said, his voice akin to a spring breeze. "Not at you. I stormed out to find the people that..." he spaced out, tracing a bruise under your eye. "That did this to you." You blinked, your sharp senses picking up on the harsh undertone of his voice. The emphasis left you baffled. Was the sun truly capable of such cruelty? You nuzzled into his palm to feel his marred skin graze against your cheek. Had he always hidden his anger behind the veil of your eyes? "They got away, though." His tone shifted, although unnervingly so. "I'll get them tomorrow. Let's go home, now, pip-squeak. Grandma must be worried." A smile graced your lips. Caleb returned your joy with a tap on the corner of your lip—a gesture that belonged to the two of you. He let out a hum, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. The downpour raged on. Thunder began to drum against your ears. "How did you find me without your cane? I guess we're meant to be." You giggled. Although you would've never known he truly believed what he said. Your mouth opened, "Achoo!" In a slow, deliberate movement, he interlocked your fingers with his and brought it to his side. "Let's go home. Or else, you'll catch a fever." He guided you through the entrance, looking back occasionally to ensure you didn't trip over your feet. At the entrance gate, Caleb paused, glancing over his shoulder to take one last look at the scene before him. He was relieved you couldn't see. He was relieved the boys had obeyed. If they'd as much as made a peep, his lie would be caught. What then? How could he have regained your trust? What reason did he have for the boys who were sprawled out in the mud, their faces littered with bruises he did not know he was capable of inflicting? What excuse would he propose in retaliation against your accusation—why had he frightened and 'persuaded' them into not uttering a single whimper or cry, despite their mangled states? And the worst of all was how he did not regret any of the choices he made under the shower of rain. He hadn't thought of taking back the punches that were delivered, nor did he ponder whether the consequences of his actions were too dire to endure. With each shove, with each kick, and with each crack, the lesser he began to feel. After all, he did vow to you.

"What's wrong, Caleb?" Caleb turned on his heels to face you. He leaned in, tucking a soaked strand behind your ear. "Nothing. I just wanted to let you know..." After all, he did vow to you: "I will always protect you, pip-squeak. I've made it my life mission." Caleb was grateful to the veil before your eyes. If you could see, you would have seen the sheer cruelty of this world. This world was far too pernicious for you. Blind or not, in every life, in every body, he would have covered your eyes. The darkness you'd have to endure was temporary, insignificant to the fruits of his labour. You didn't deserve a glance at the suffering that plagues your world. The storms you encounter in this world should not exist. You tilted your head. "You don't have to make up for leaving me behind. It was completely my fault!" He wrapped his hand around the back of your head. "I'm not. Well, anyway, let's find Grandma." Before he could lead the way, you leapt onto him from behind, fastening your arms around his neck. "Thank you, Caleb." He chuckled. "What for?" "For giving me a home." He ruffled your hair. His fingers latched onto your wrist, bringing them closer to his chest, right where his heart was. "As long as you hear these thumps, you will always have a home to return to."

That evening, you left the park with Caleb arm-in-arm. Perhaps, not having the ability to see wasn't that bad after all. At the very least, you did not have to cast your gaze upon the atrocities that occur past the foliage of nothingness. At the very least, you could be ignorant in bliss.

[chocoposum]

HELL YEA BROTHER

Rotten Apples, pt. 8

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

part one , part two , part three , part four , part five , part six , part seven

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: it's the night of the summit's gala. revelations come to light and it's a night that you and caleb will never forget.

word count: 12k words

warnings: slightly proofread!

author's note: hi everyone! thank you for waiting so patiently! i hope you enjoy this part as much as i enjoyed writing it!

content warning: p in v sex, vulgar language, mating press if you squint, messy kisses, creampie, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT AND STAY SAFE), ANGST TRAIN HAS ARRIVED AT THE STATION, lmk if i missed anything

my rotten apples <3 : @militaryapple , @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexireads , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @i-messed-up-big-time , @motheraiya55 , @vvonunie , @1uv4jiya , @yuuuumii , @okumurarinsbabe , @mcdepressed290 , @luleck , @sanzy4 , @lucifers-silhouette , @crazygirl3001 , @april-likes-smut , @kazbrkker , @l1ttlebabyapple , @writersandroses , @kookie-my-little-sunshine , @curryexpress , @earthykitsunesrain , @raining4food , @chaoticbardlady99 , @young-adult-summer

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The hotel’s ballroom is lavishly decorated. Silvers and golds decorate the walls; lights hang from the ceiling at different lengths, adding to the splendor and beauty of the ballroom. Long tables are set up along the borders, with plenty of drinks and hors d’oeuvres, with a space in the middle where a few people stand and dance with one another. There is a stage where a band plays, the female singer’s voice fitting the slow jazz-like music. She has white hair and wears a long red dress with a slit up the side, the dress’s jewels glimmering under the spotlight.

Service men and women wear their formal and dress uniforms. They are neatly dressed, not a single hair or button out of place. They are the perfect representations for their respective country. Even a small group with hair that are unique shades of blues and purples blends in with the other military officers. Laughters and music fills the room. It is a lively scene, one that you find yourself hesitant to step into.

After a long day of sitting in a negotiation room with the Farspace Fleet’s General, the last place you really wanted to be was at the summit’s ending gala. You’d rather be on Caleb’s aircraft surrounded by burly and strong masked soldiers while flying back to Skyhaven than be stuck in a room full of people who want to either bring peace or destruction to the place you live.

You couldn’t leave, though. Your date — as you liked to refer to him as inside the delusional fantasies of your head — hasn’t arrived yet.

You stand just outside the open double doors. Inside, the gala moves on. The event’s music spills out and fills the entryway with the sweet sounds of a love song. The melody is nice and the singer’s sultry voice compliments the saxophone’s rich and brassy tone. They move in sync with each other, their notes complimenting the other. It puts you at ease.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

You turn on your heel, circling to look at Caleb who stands behind you. His white hat, which has a red line circling its circumference, tucks away his dark hair that is slicked back with a thin layer of gel, his usual bangs now out of his face. He’s clean shaven, the five o’clock shadow and slight stubble from this morning completely gone. His uniform is rid of its usual black color; his body is covered in the white dress uniform jacket, one that you have never seen him wear, matched with a black dress shirt underneath. With the white jacket, you can see the outline of the golden stitching that surrounds his medals and pins more clearly, the golden chain and rope contrasting against the black shoulder patches. 

And god damn does it look fan-fucking-tastic on him.

Fuck.

You are so fucked.

You stare at him with an awestruck expression, mouth slightly dropped open. You gulp. He chuckles and shifts his weight to his back foot, purple eyes examining your body.

You wear a very simple black dress matched with a black pair of heels that are strapped at your ankle. The dress is a halter top that has a long silk tie that cascades down your back. The fabric hugs your body just right and flares out ever so slightly past your hips. The skirt stops halfway down your shins, sitting an inch or two below your knee. You don’t wear a necklace, just simple earrings that compliment the elegant dress’ simplicity.

“You look…so beautiful,” Caleb breathes out. His hat moves from his head to his hands. His gloved fingertips play with the rim, nervousness and anticipation bubbling in his stomach from the sight of your beauty.

“Thank you,” a blush creeps onto your cheek. You clear your throat and look away, scratching the back of your neck. “You look very handsome,” you add. He nods.

Caleb’s steps are measured, deliberate. His black boot connects with the floor, the soles of his shoes clicking against the marble floor. You tilt your chin up as he grows near. Your gaze takes a few liberties while he inches closer to you, inspecting the finer details of his white outfit, like how the holster strapped to his thigh is hidden behind the tail of his jacket, the way the navy and red lines mix in with grays on the cuffs of his sleeves, a slight bronze tone to the metal cufflinks. Your eyes snap to a metal strap around his right arm, a slow, pulsating red light oozing from the brace.

Caleb places his gloved finger underneath your chin. Your mind freezes. He tilts your chin to look up at him, eyes meeting. Your heart flutters, matching the crescendo from the music in the ballroom. The leather of his glove is smooth against your skin, the warmth from his touch making you want to melt into his arms right then and there.

“I was expecting your black uniform,” you fumble over your words, unsure of what to do or say. Caleb has, for lack of better words, absolutely fried your brain, rendering you useless. “If I had known, I would have—”

“Matched me?” Caleb interrupts you. You nod, breathless. He chuckles and his thumb creeps up your chin, tracing the outline of your bottom lip.

Have his eyes always been so vibrant? There are no bumps or blemishes on his skin, not even a scar from any skirmish he’s been in. He’s…perfect.

How can you go in there and do your job when he looks like that? It’s so unfair!

“The General thought it would be a good idea to…” Caleb tilts his head to the side, placing the hat back on his head, his hand never leaving your chin, “show off. He wants us to be better in both our army and fashion.” A hint of amusement can be heard in his voice.

“I wonder where he got that idea from,” your eyes flit to his. He raises his eyebrow, the corner of his lips perking up.

Caleb’s gaze darts away from yours, his hand leaving your chin. He clears his throat and straightens his back, ankles locking together. His arm raises then bends at the elbow, his fingers making themselves at home at the corner of his eyebrow. You step to his side, turning just as the General and other Colonels approach.

“Sir,” Caleb grunts. The General waves his hand at him and Caleb falls into his at ease stance, hands clasped behind his back. The General turns his attention to you. You smile at him and nods your head. A grin forms on the General’s face, his serious expression lighting up.

“Ah! We meet again!” he chuckles, the sound raspy and coarse. The sound catches you off guard, causing you to laugh alongside with him while the Colonels look on with stoic faces. Caleb’s eyes attach to the side of your face, lips tugging down in a confused frown. “You look beautiful tonight, my dear, an absolute vision,” the General begins. He turns to Caleb, his smile slightly faltering. “She is a spitfire!”

“Is she?” Caleb hums, turning his attention back to his superior.

“I heard that she was good at her job and wanted to test her out, see if we can get her out of the cubicle,” the General smiles. He sandwiches your palm between his meaty hands. His smile is bright as he looks at you. If Caleb didn’t know any better, he would think that you put a spell on the burly man; a man who was seen many horrors in the Deepspace Tunnel and in wars that have been waged decades ago.

“She is very good, yes,” Caleb holds back a smile.

He always knew that your talents were being wasted in the office in Skyhaven. You deserved to live a good and thrilling life, one that leaves you feeling fulfilled from excitement. Caleb would like you to stick by his side, though, instead of the General’s. Only he can keep you safe…no one else.

“You are one lucky man to have her at your side tonight,” the General releases your hand. You smile at him and push your hair behind your ear, cheeks heating from the constant compliments. “We’re all stuck with the other translators who would rather spend their time gossiping about wine and who is…what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Cute?” you lean in with a smile. The General’s smile brightens even more, beaming at you.

“See? Even she can translate my thoughts for me!” His laugh booms down the hotel hallway. The older man leans in and lowers his voice, “If he gives you any trouble tonight, send him my way. I’ll whip him back into shape!”

“I will!” you laugh, covering your mouth. The General’s toothy grin covers the entirety of his lower face. Caleb rolls his eyes, unamused.

“Save me a dance?” The General asks. You nod. “Wonderful! We will see you two in there!”

The General and his men leave your side, entering into the vibrant gala. You smile and watch as he walks away, the older man already commanding the room with his presence. He’s fun, really, outside of the uniform. He even made sure that the assistants in the meetings today got your coffee order right. What a sweet man.

“I better be your first dance,” Caleb’s spiteful voice snaps you back to him. His purple eyes are fixated on the inside of the ballroom, following the General’s white uniform. Another laugh flies from your lips, shaking your head at him. Caleb’s brows furrow, hands resting on his hips. “What? What’s so funny?”

“I think it’s sweet that you find an eighty year old man to be competition,” you glance at him and give his shoulder a quick pat, beginning to walk towards the entry doors.

Caleb watches you, his feet unable to move for a second or two. His eyes are captivated by the way your dress sways with every movement you make, the long silk fabric teasing him as they swing back and forth, grazing against your backside. He sharply inhales, quickly pulling himself together and steadying his heart, and follows you inside the ballroom.

The music is louder than before, the singer’s voice more clear. She sings in a language that Caleb cannot understand but judging by the look on your face, the lyrics must go along with the upbeat melody and notes that come from the small orchestra’s instruments.

“So,” you look up at him, watching as he falls in line at your side. You hold your hands behind your back, painted fingernails toying and scratching the inside of your palm, a nervous tick you picked up from your less than desirable childhood. “How many people do you need to meet and make small talk with?”

“Hopefully none,” Caleb admits. He places his hand on your lower back, the tips of his fingers ever so slightly curling around your side. He draws you out of the way, the two of you bowing your heads as a sign of an apology, before moving to a new area in the ballroom. Goosebumps form where his hand sits. Your hip bumps into his, slowly locking yourself at his side, using the crowded room as an excuse to be so close to him.

“What?” you ask with an amused smile and quiet giggle, “are they supposed to come up to you?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Caleb flashes his canines at you, the sharp point of his tooth reminding you how it felt at your friend’s bachelorette party just over a week ago.

The purple hickeys on your neck have disappeared over the course of the week. Caleb noticed, of course, and wondered when the next time will be when he can place fresh marks against your skin for all to see, although, he will miss the turtleneck sweaters you wore this week to cover them up.

“Oh, wow,” you raise your eyebrows, playing into his boosted ego and confidence, “look at you go. Mr. Popular…am I going to need to fill up your dance card just so we can have a conversation?”

“You can have all the spots on my dance card, pretty bird,” the man squeezes your hip. You push back a blush, yelling at your pounding heart to calm down, to leave you alone for the night.

You need a night where your body doesn’t react so viscerally to Caleb’s touches and words. You should be used to it by now, right? Right! He’s just a childhood friend that you just so happened to reconnect with and let him bury his face between your legs in a nightclub’s bathroom.

You step away from him and he watches as you approach a table lined with champagne flutes. The golden alcohol stares at you, your stomach churning remembering the hangover you had a week ago. Caleb comes up from behind. He plucks two glasses from the table, passing one off to you. You sigh and look up at him, raising your glass.

“To a good night?” you ask.

“A good night,” he nods.

Your glasses clink together and you sip from the flutes as the song changes tempo. It’s much slower. A few lone couples make their way to the dance floor, couples that you assume are married couples due to their age and the rings on their fingers. You smile at the sight, watching as even a few younger couples join in the middle of the room.

The man beside you takes the glass from your hand, placing it back onto the table. He steps around you, your eyes trained on his broad shoulders. With his white uniform, you can now see the red, silver, and bronze lines that descend from his shoulders to the bottom of the jacket. Caleb turns around, extending his hand to you.

“Come on,” his eyes burn into yours, “you owe me a dance.”

Your heart skips a beat. You stare at his hand, slowly accepting it, your fingers lacing together with his. He steps backward. The crowd separates around him, watching as he guides you, his beauty and his love onto the dance floor.

Caleb draws you to his body. Your chests rest against reach other, no space separating you. He places his hand on your waist. His thumb massages your hipbone, fingers tingling with submerged delight. His touch is tender, intimate. You draw your arm up and rest it on his shoulder, brushing against the metal chain that hangs from the jacket. Your fingertips rest against his hairline. They delicately play with the tips of his hair. Your hands remain connected, Caleb being quick to lead the dance. Your breathing falls in step with his, the two hearts falling into rhythm.

The piano’s notes flutter, taking its time to build up. The band members and singer watch, waiting for their cue to join in. The singer brings the microphone up to their lips, the other instruments remaining silent.

Caleb lowers his head, your temple coming into gentle contact with his cheek. He relaxes into you, not caring whether his colleagues see how close he holds you, the way your bodies step in sync, anticipating the other’s movement. You watch as Caleb pulls you into the middle of the floor, using the other couples as a way to hide from the rest of the world, their prying eyes being blocked by the other happy couples.

The skirt of your dress sways with the movement, flowing with every step. Caleb’s hand is warm under the leather glove he wears. A part of you wishes he would take it off so you can feel the calloused skin of his palms, the tough skin against your own, a feeling that you have grown to miss.

Caleb turns you, your skirt picking up from the sudden twist. The faces of the crowd blur, but you catch on to Diana’s shocked expression. You suppress a smug smile. Caleb tugs you into his chest again, drawing your eyes back to his.

“What is the song about?” he whispers into your ear. You sigh, feeling your head pull away from his shoulder. You look up at him, his purple eyes soft and full of devotion. Your fingers give his a gentle squeeze.

“It’s a song about regret…the singer is mournful of letting her one true love getting away,” you quietly respond just so he can hear. Caleb nods, eyelashes fluttering, tearing his gaze away as he focuses on the woman’s singing. “I love you in a place where there is no space or time,” the translated words roll off your lips just as the singer sings them.

The two of you freeze. The lights shimmer from above, the golden hues making Caleb’s eyes pop. Your skin looks even more warm under the colors. The lights make your eyes flitter, the individual flickering lights being captured so beautifully in your eyes.

Caleb wishes he could stay here in this moment with you. He wishes that you two were alone with nobody to bother you. He wants you to stay in his embrace, to never leave his side ever again.

Little does he know that you wish for the same thing.

You take a step back from Caleb, your hand leaving the base of his neck. Your hands remain connected, the man keeping you at an arm’s length as the singer sings of sorrowful regrets and misdeeds. He draws you back in. Your hand slips from his embrace, fingertips sliding up the smooth material of his jacket, your arms wrapping around his neck while his hands make themselves at home on your waist. 

No space separates you.

You do not push him away. There is no more hidden angst or remorse. You willingly enter his embrace. You’re allowing him to walk through your mind’s castle gates, surpassing every wall that you have built since childhood. There is no more resentment you hold against him, your mind and body being sucked into the warmth of his love and adoration for you.

No longer do you feel rotten. No longer do you feel discarded. You are no longer a second choice, the lone girl standing in the middle of your high school’s gymnasium.

Your once decomposed core, the place where your soul used to live, blossoms.

A single apple tree breaks through dead and dry soil, a miracle of life in the no man’s land that has been barren for years.

“I love you,” Caleb breathes out. The music swells. Your heart skips a beat. “I love you in a place where there is no space or time.”

Caleb leans in, your hands dropping from his neck. One rests on his chest, feeling the unsteady and heavy beats of his heart, while the other stays on the side of his neck, fingertips caressing his jawline. His grip on your waist tightens yet remains gentle. The tip of his nose presses into yours, sliding down the side as his mouth grows closer to yours. The brim of his hat obscures your face from one side of the room, shielding you from the public eye as your lips graze together.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

You and Caleb freeze in your spot. Your breath mingles with his, your lips just about to meet. You stare into his eyes and feel the heat radiate off of his body. He pulls away, gaze remaining on yours, and keeps you in his arms. You break your gaze away, his hands tightening on your waist, to see the General standing beside you.

“Hello, General,” you greet him. Caleb turns his head away, quietly groaning. “Would you like to dance with me? Colonel Caleb was just telling me that he needed to go to the bathroom.” Your excuse is less than ideal but it’s believable enough for the General to easily accept. You slip from Caleb’s grip, the heat from his touch lingering on your skin, and are transferred to the General’s hands.

The music switches from the slow song to something more upbeat and positive. You keep a respectable distance between you and the older man before you. Form the corner of your eye, you watch as Caleb disappears from the floor, leaving your line of sight. You cannot help but sigh, turning back to the General.

“Tell me, my dear,” he begins, “is there something between you and the Colonel?” The smile returns to your face, cheeks heating. The man’s smile grows and he nods, moving you around the dance floor. “I knew it! He was so adamant to have you as his translator. He is never so serious when it comes to events like this!”

“Oh? Really?” Your smiles grows. The man nods.

“He looks at you the same way I looked at my late wife, Amara. That’s how I knew,” he sighs, his hands slightly tensing on your side. You gone his shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze, watching as his eyes gloss from tears.

“She sounds like a lovely woman,” you quietly coo. He smiles at you, a saddened chuckle coming from his mouth.

“She was…the light of my life. She would have loved you.” The General tears his gaze from yours, looking at the other dressed officers and world leaders. They laugh and smile, completely unaware of how turbulent the outside world is, that a man in this building has lost his North Star.

“Let’s keep her memory alive, then,” you smile. He turns back to you. Hope shines in his eyes. “I’m sure we can figure out a way to dedicate something to her. Maybe we can petition to rename a part of the building for her…as for now, though, let’s share a dance in the honor of her memory.”

You always knew the right things to say to someone who who grieving. You do not know how long ago the General’s wife died, nor will he tell you, but you know that comfort and solace in the future, knowing that their name will be remembered for the rest of time for all to see. The dance is a temporary solution for now, yes, but it is a good way to distract the elderly man’s shaky hands and the way he fumbles over his words. You are happy to fill in the hole in his heart, even if it is for a few brief moments.

The song comes to an end and you pull away from the General. The two of you smile and clap alongside the other guests. The General looks to the side and claps his hands together, resting his hand in-between your shoulder blades.

“Ah! There is someone I would like you to meet! I’m sorry to make you work on a night like this, but we have one last person to talk to. Would you be so kind as to help me?” The General asks. You nod with a sweet smile.

“Of course. I would love to,” your response is sweet, radiating the helpfulness that you have come to be known as having. He nods and leads you away from the dance floor. You take one last look over your shoulder, scanning the area Caleb disappeared into, before sighing and following the leader.

“Allow me to introduce you to a good friend of mine, Professor Lucius,” the General steps to the side, his arm up. Your eyes follow where his hand gestures to, the smile on your face slightly flattering.

It’s the man from the hotel lobby when you first arrived. He is much taller up close, his white hair blending in with his pale and almost translucent skin. He has a few aged spots across his skin and his bony fingers, with his knuckles vastly prominent, wrap around the knob of his wooden cane. He smiles at you with pale yellow teeth, one of them gray in color. He holds out his hand to you. You hesitantly take it, shaking it.

His touch is ice cold. There is no warmth in his grasp. What makes things worse is that his handshake is limp; it’s almost as if you are meeting a monarch where you are meant to kiss his ring.

You draw your hand back to your side and clear your throat.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Professor Lucius’ voice is a complete opposite of what you expected it to be. Part of you was ready to listen to an old shriveled voice, one that lacked any strength. His voice is actually quite strong for his age. A complete 180 from what his appearance is.

If anything, it makes you feel even more uneasy in his presence.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Professor Lucius,” you push the words through a gritted smile. He nods his head and inches closer to you. You’re frozen in place.

“The General said that you would be willing to help us with one last meeting, yes?” You nod in response. His sickening smile grows wider. “Wonderful. Please,” he holds out his frail arm to you, “follow me.”

You link your arm with his against your better judgment and take one final look of the ballroom. Caleb is nowhere to be seen. You hold your disappointment inside your chest and feel the professor begin to walk you towards the exit of the ballroom. He rests his free hand on top of yours, leaning into you like you are his walking stick. As soon as you step out into the hallway, his voice breaks through the uncomfortable silence.

“I work for Ever,” he starts, “and we have been working with the Farspace Fleet for many years now. A long partnership that I have had the honor of seeing for the entirety of its fruition.” You smile at him, feeling his hardened nails slightly dig into your skin. “At Ever, we aim to help aid people in their lives. We want to take away stresses and allow people to enjoy life!”

“That sounds like a good mission to have!” you muster up as much cheer as you can. Professor Lucius smiles at you, nodding at your apparent excitement, stroking his already boosted ego. It doesn’t hurt that a beautiful woman is on his arm too.

“We’ve helped the Farspace Fleet with their…obedience problem as well.”

Caleb enters the ballroom, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks to the dance floor to try and find your familiar head of hair but you aren’t there. He looks towards the drinks. Again, you aren’t there. He sighs and takes a lap around the room, weaving through the endless military personnel and drunken lower ranking officers.

He spots Liam from across the room. He rushes towards the officer, urgency in every step he takes. Once he is close enough to his right hand man, he barks a question: “Where is she?!”

“Colonel,” Liam turns to him and nods his head, a quick and formal greeting.

“Don’t make me repeat my question,” Caleb growls through gritted teeth. His fists ball at his side. Anxiety bubbles within his chest, his heart moving in deep, slow pumps.

“The General and Professor Lucius have asked her to help translate for a meeting. They left a few minutes ago.”

Caleb immediately turns on his heel. He feels an itch form in the middle of his brain, a dull ache beginning to form. He slowly inhales and exhales, getting control of his heightened emotions as he rushes to the doors of the ballroom. He leaps out and into the hotel hallway, rushing down the impeccably decorated passageway. He bursts into the hotel lobby, out of breath, and notices a flash of your dress disappear behind a turn.

He runs through the empty lobby, ignoring the employees’ yells for him to walk and to not cause trouble. He doesn’t care. Nothing matters.

As long as you are in the Professor’s hands, your safety is the only thing that matters to him.

For the past two months, Caleb was able to keep you away from Ever. He was able to hide your job with the Farspace Fleet. Caleb hid you behind the closed doors of his mind, keeping you away form the black hole that is the Toring Chip. The Professor was none the wiser, believing that his heart still belonged to the girl he grew up with, the girl that Josephine stole away from Ever.

Professor Lucius could not have been more wrong.

The Colonel slides across the floor, the bottom of his boots scuffing the white marble. You stand at the end of the hallway, sandwiched between Professor Lucius and the General. They stare at you with widened smiles. It makes Caleb sick to his stomach.

Chills and goosebumps overtake his body. The hallway feels never-ending with you being pulled farther and farther away with each passing second. He claws at the air, watching as you duck behind a wooden door.

Your body is rigid. The General guides you inside a large meeting room where three other people sit. You recognize one of them, having been in a room just like this, only a few hours ago. You smile at them and sit down in a chair that the General has pulled out for you. The chair is comfortable but it feels like you are sitting on a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

“Hello,” you greet in their language with a small wave. “This is Professor Lucius and the Farspace Fleet General. Thank you for taking the time to have a meeting with us today.”

You watch as the translator does their job. The man, who sits beside them, wears a green and red uniform, his hair neatly pushed out of his face, scars covering the side of his neck and face. He smiles and reveals a golden front tooth.

Tension settles into your bones, chilling your body. You bite your bottom lip, rolling it back and forth between your teeth. If you were to add any more pressure, you lip would surely bleed.

The meeting starts slow. It’s a conversation between you and the other translator, working through formalities and thank you, before anyone important in the room speaks up. You smile and bow your head, watching as the man’s translator exits the room. Once it is done and over with, you tilt your body to the side, looking at Professor Lucius, who rests his hands on his cane hatstands between his legs.

“The Farspace Fleet and I have been working on a chip that we think can help you with your problems with your soldiers,” Professor Lucius matches the other man’s smile. They both nod, the man turning to look at you as you translate what the Professor said to the man.

He slowly nods, digesting the information. After a minute, he opens his mouth to speak.

“The Thing Chip, right? We heard about it through friends of yours. How effective is it?”

You translate his sentence to Professor Lucius. The smile remains on his face, the cane rocking back and forth at a steady and fluid pace. Before he can respond, the doors to the office burst open. You flinch in your seat, unable to bring yourself to see who has entered.

Is this it? Is it your time to go? Has someone discovered a meeting that is, well, unconventional? That is being held in secret?

“Ah! Colonel Caleb. How pleasant of you to join us. My dear, will you please tell the Captain and Ambassador that Colonel Caleb here is a shining example of the Toring Chip’s effects on soldiers?” Professor Lucius’ words makes your body go cold.

The General stands from his chair, offering it to Caleb. He’s regained his composure now. He takes his hat off of his head and nods at the Captain and Ambassador. He glances at the General and sits in the chair beside you, his hat resting next to your folded hands.

Tears sting your eyes. You fight them off but know that you may break when you see Caleb. Truthfully, you have heard whispers of the Toring Chip and its effect on Farspace Fleet soldiers. Men who were once known to be reckless, disobedient, and too emotional have suddenly become cooperative and compliant. However, they have become void of all emotion. They act like emotionless beings who live to serve for their leader.

Caleb turns to face you. He notices the tears that brim your eyes, the way your mouth slightly opens. His heart breaks at the sight of you, his heartbeat slightly palpitating, before it goes steady once again. You slowly turn to look at him. His face is unexpressive, cold. You blink away your tears, finding the strength to go on. Caleb raises his eyebrows at you, a silent plea to continue.

“Sir, this is Colonel Caleb,” you turn back to the Captain with the gold tooth and the Ambassador who wears too much cologne. “He currently has the chip implanted in his mind. Professor Lucius would like you to know that he is a shining example of the Toring Chip and its effects on soldiers.” You gulp.

“Good job, child, now tell them this…” the Professor leans in, his hand resting on your thigh. Your body goes cold from his touch. Caleb notices the man’s touch. He slowly inhales, keeping his breathing steady, watching as the Professor feeds you words to say.

“The Toring Chip can be surgically implanted into a soldier’s mind or, due to recent advancements in technology, it can be implanted through the arm and controlled that way through the solider’s nervous system.”

Your throat goes dry as you speak. You push through the words, flashes of pain striking your heart. It aches for Caleb, for all of the pain he has been forced into. The Caleb you knew wouldn’t have done this willingly…but the Caleb you have come to love has always been under the Chip’s influence.

“Once the Toring Chip is implanted, it will regulate and monitor the soldier’s emotions. If their heart rate gets too high, it will calm them down. Their emotions will be suppressed and—”

You choke out a cough, unable to bring yourself to say the next part with neutrality. Caleb’s body doesn’t move despite him wanting to reach out and hold you, to console you while the truth he’s been so desperately trying to hide from you comes to light.

“—and it will come at the cost of the solider’s memories. A price that they must be forced to pay if they wish to rebel and push against your commands. The less they remember about their life, the less they have to lose, making them more willing combatants when it comes to war. If they sustain injuries, we can always repair them for you and enhance them to be their better selves. Modifications to the body can also serve as a reminder to them to stay in line, that you can take away what you have given back to them.”

You tear your gaze away from the diplomat and military leader, looking at Caleb when you say the last part of the sentence.

“They become the perfect weapon.”

The Ambassador and Captain turn to look at each other. They deliberate in silence.

Caleb looks into your glossy eyes. He can watch your heart shatter into a million different pieces through your dejected gaze, the way your shoulders slouch ever so slightly. Your hands tremble in your lap. He scantily shakes his head, making sure that neither Professor Lucius or the General catch on to his silent messages for you.

You release a shaky sigh and turn away from him. You look at the General, who wears the same warm smile on his face. You match it despite feeling dead on the inside.

“Sir? May I be excused? I think I had too much wine from earlier and need to go lay down. I can have the Colonel escort me to my bedroom.”

To your surprise, the General nods. He stands from his chair, Caleb rising as soon as he does, and helps you from your chair. His puffed up hand feels heavy in yours. You are unable to shake away the feeling of dread that seeps into your skin. Nausea sweeps over your body. You stand and smile at the men in the room, suddenly becoming aware of your involvement of the erasure of men and women’s memories and livelihoods. Quickly, you exit the room and step into the hallway.

Caleb salutes the General and moves to leave, but Professor Lucius grabs his wrist, nails digging into his skin. Professor Lucius looks up at the young man, eyes narrowed in a razor sharp glare.

“Remember what is at stake, boy. Do not make me erase what is left of the identity I have so kindly let you keep.”

You stand in front of the elevator, rapidly pressing the button that calls the metal box. Tears fall down your face but your hair shields anyone from seeing, your head hung low. Loud footsteps come from behind you. The clicking of military boots causes more tears to fall. The elevator’s ding is a relief to you and you step inside. Caleb follows you and presses the button to close the door before anyone else can get in.

“Is it true?” you ask just as the doors close. You lift your chin, strained eyes meeting his. “Is it true that you have a god damn chip in your body?!”

Caleb breathe out your name but says nothing else. You slowly nod and swipe your tongue over your teeth. You tear your gaze away from his. He takes a step closer to you but you hold your hand out to stop him.

“Don’t.”

He obeys your command like the good soldier he is. Isn’t that what he’s been made to be?

You bury your face in your hands and let out a muffled yell. It is filled with pent up frustration, sadness, confusion, and the sharp ache that slices into your heart. The apple tree that once bloomed to big and high in your heart begins to wither and fade away, the lies and deception of his loyalty to the Farspace Fleet coming to light.

He was never yours to begin with, so what made you think that you could claim him now?

Tension fills the elevator. The air feels heavy, tough to breathe in, weighing both of your chests down. You remove your hands from your face and stare at the man before you.

He has the face of the man you love. He wears his skin like it is his own. Have his words been true this whole time? Or has the imposter inside Caleb’s body been spoon-feeding you with lies and false promises that the man he is pretending to be actually cares for you, that he actually loves you more than her?

Ding.

You stare at the opening doors then back at Caleb. You push past him, your skirt whipping his clothed leg from the speed you pass him with. You storm down the hallway, unsure of where you’re even going, vision blurred and body trembling. Your legs turn to jelly and you slow down. Your hands attach to the wall beside you, your heart slowly giving out on you. Caleb is quick to pull you into his arms, sweeping your legs from the ground, rushing in the opposite direction to his suite. You gaze up at him, taking in the worried expression on his face.

Maybe this is your Caleb. Maybe your Caleb is trapped inside his own body, trying to fight and claw his way out back to you. Or, alternatively, that is just your delusions speaking to your hidden desires.

“Caleb…” his name slips from your mouth. He looks down at you, using his Evol to unlock the door to his room. “I want to know…everything.”

“You know I can’t do that.” A bitter taste fills his mouth. You purse your lips and look away, the door locking behind the two of you. He walks inside the suite and heads for the small living area. He sets you down on the couch, kneeling in front of you.

Moonlight spills in from the windows. The full moon is as bright as ever and on any other night, you would be outside staring at it with awe and wonder in your eyes. Tonight holds different plans for you, though, and the moonlight serves as a reminder of everything that has been forced into the shadows of yours and Caleb’s minds.

He places his leather gloved hands on top of your thighs, holding you in place while also providing as much comfort as he can. He runs his hands up and down, the fabric of your dress shielding you from his touch. You stare at him, silent tears flowing from your eyes.

“What…what did he mean by…modifications,” your voice trembles. Caleb’s hands stop. His eyes slowly move from your legs, trailing up your body, before meeting your eyes. His silence tightens the rope around your neck, squeezing it until no air can enter or leave your esophagus. “C-Caleb.”

“I…pretty bird, please,” he puffs out the words as if he’s ashamed to be asking for leniency from you. “It’s too much—”

“Don’t you think I deserve to know the truth?” Your eyes follow his, grabbing his chin whenever he looks away, forcing him to stare at the mess you find yourselves in. “What you said earlier…was it a lie? Do you not love me? Was it something that the chop made you—”

“Of course I love you!” Caleb raises his voice, interrupting you. His hands squeeze around your knees and for the first time, one hand feels cooler than the other. “I love you so much,” his voice wavers, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. But this? This is a world that you need to stay out of!”

“Why?” you lean forward. Your faces near each other. Caleb can see the way your muscles move under your skin, the pain in your voice making him want to reach into his chest and rip his heart out, to offer it to you so you can see that his heart is yours and yours alone.

“I have to keep you safe. That’s why.” He spits the words out harder than he expected to. His emotions slip away from him but your touch to his hand brings him back down to earth.

“How can I be safe if I don’t know what we’re up against? Caleb, talk to me, please,” you plead, “don’t ice me out!”

“What if the Professor decides that he wants to ‘work’ with you next, my love? What then? You can’t become like me! Like…like a dog ready to obey every command they have!” Caleb shakes away the pain in his head.

Your vision blurs and the rapid blinking isn’t enough to make the tears go away. You close your eyes, tilting your face away so he can’t see the despair that contorts and twists your face. Not even your vivid and wild imagination can come up with an idea of what Ever and the Fleet have done to Caleb.

Was his death real? Did they fake it so they can experiment on his mind and body? Has he been a willing volunteer the whole time or has he been a victim to their torturous plans and devices?

“What did they do to you?” you whisper.

Caleb shakes his head. He wishes that tears could fill his eyes like they do in yours but nothing comes. He cannot bring himself to fully express the sadness that he feels, the pain and turmoil that he is sure to be causing you right now. All he has to show for himself is a racing heart and sweaty palms.

“Baby…” his breath is shaky. You stand from the couch, looking down at him.

Piece by piece, you begin to tear away the armor he’s built into his Farspace Fleet uniform.

First, you throw his hat to the side. Then, you force him to stand up, ripping the jacket off of his body. It falls to the ground, the metal pins making quiet clanking sounds. You grab his tie, loosening it, but his right hand grabs your wrist, pulling it away from his body.

“Caleb! Please!” You unconsciously raise your voice at him. “What have they done to the man I love?!”

Your pained cry reaches his ears. His grip on your wrist loosens and you fight through the tears. The black tie slips off form his neck, plummeting to the ground. You attack his shirt buttons next, plucking them each one by one. The black shirt pools around his feet.

His bare chest stares at you, mocking you for being unable to to find the modifications that Ever has given to him. You wipe away your unsteady tears with the heel of your hand. Caleb looks down at you, shame written all over his face.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Caleb’s quiet question tickles your ears. You nod.

You plaster your hands onto his chest, moving them around as if there is som magical button that will show you all of the experiments they have done to him. Caleb stands still, too scared to move, and watches you with a close eye.

Your touch isn’t one of intimacy or desire, not a touch of lust or passion, but is one out of anger, pure spite and hatred towards Ever. Your nails drag across his skin, leaving red lines in his wake. You circle him and move Caleb around like a puppet. He closes his eyes, unsure if he should reveal it to you just yet. The skin on skin contact leaves you both breathless. You end up behind Caleb, defeated by your vain attempts to unveil the horrors he has gone through. You place your forehead in the valley between his shoulder blades, your tears trickling down his back. With one movement to the side, your hot forehead feels cool against his right shoulder. Caleb sucks in a breath, feeling you pull away from him.

The palm of your hand flattens across his skin. Times from before when you’ve touched him here, he’s had the protection of clothes to shield you from the truth. Your hand travels down his bicep, the heat from your hand being the energy that warms his body, not the other way around. Shivers run down your spine.

“Show me.”

“Pretty bird,” Caleb coos in one last attempt to keep you in ignorance.

“Caleb, please,” you choke, “I need to see what they have done to you.” You close your eyes, an elongated sigh escaping your mouth. A faint whir fills your ears. Caleb’s muscles tighten under your light touch, your hand settling itself over his heart. You can feel the frantic beats through his bones. It shakes you to your core just how scared he is to show you.

“I’m not a monster.”

Caleb’s words suck all of the oxygen out from your lungs. You open your eyes, looking at his tanned skin, before slowly pulling your face away.

You stare at the distinct line between flesh and metal. The dark surface heavily contrasts between the robotic arm and his skin. Your fingertips graze the fine line where man meets machine, unable to tear your gaze away.

Caleb shudders under your touch. He can’t bring himself to look at you, to see the way you stare at him. He can’t help but allow his mind to drift to anything negative that can come from this. Perhaps you’d believe that he is a broken man, a broken toy that is not shiny and brand new. He has scars and scuff marks from being beaten from over the years. He can’t bring himself to even blame you for wanting to walk away from him and his constant reminder that he will never be whole again.

Your touch is light, gentle. He can barely feel the way your fingers move up and down the metal. The blue lines catch your eye, the light breaking through the dim light. The metal has some scrapes in it. There is even a large screw that you cannot even imagine how painful it must have felt to be drilled into your skin.

Your silence is deafening. It makes Caleb’s ears ring. His fists ball up as a single tear rolls down his cheek, falling onto the floor.

“I’m a monster.”

“No…” your whisper tickles his ear. “You are not a monster.”

Your hand slips down the metallic surface, your fingers catching onto the rough and smooth spots, traveling over semi-loose wires. The arm jerks, a quiet whir emitting from the artificial joint.

You step closer to him. The material of your dress grazes against his bare skin. Caleb sighs and shakes his head, his warm hand covering the one that is over his heart. His fingers lace into yours, squeezing your hand because his sanity depends on it. He opens his mouth to speak when he feels a portion of your lips on the skin of his shoulder.

You kiss the border between the mechanical part and his body. With every kiss, Caleb quivers, the upper half of his body leaning forward, shoulders slumping, head hung low.

“Your arm does not make you a monster,” you whisper. You circle around him, taking your place in front of him. You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, pushing his head back up. Your lips brush against each other but don’t fully meet. You slip your hand into his robotic one. The metal is cool to the touch.

Caleb pulls his head away from yours, his purple eyes plastered on the way you hold his hand. Your two hands bring it to your mouth. You kiss each finger tip, your eyes looking into his when he comes back to you.

“All I see…” you breathe out.

Your stomach flutters when his metallic fingers dance with yours.

“All I feel…” you continue.

You watch as his hand slips away from yours, the chilled metal now clinging to cup your face.

“Is you, Caleb.”

You lean into his touch, hoping that someway, somehow, he is able to feel the love and adoration that you feel for him. You hope that whatever god is out there is merciful enough to allow Caleb to feel your skin under his metallic touch, to bask in the light that is your contact.

The two of you stand in silence. Neither one dares to break it, uncertainty of what to say filling the room. 

His hands slowly move to the side of your face while your fingers rest on his muscular chest. Your breaths mix into one, bodies drawing closer to each other. Caleb leans in, closing the distance between you and him. His lips press into yours.

The kiss is slow and tender. Your body comes back to life, arms wrapping around his neck, drawing his head down closer to yours. His hands drop to your waist. With one quick tilt of your head, the kiss deepens, the faint taste of your salty tears mixing in with your saliva

Caleb’s fingers sink into your body. There is an underlying feeling of desperation to his touch. You play with the bottom of his hair, your hand dropping to his shoulder. A light touch caresses the line where his flesh is formed with the metal. Chills run down his spine. He slightly pulls away, leaning his head into yours, both of your breaths heavy and labored.

“I love you, Caleb. I love all of you.”

Your kiss with Caleb turns fierce, filled with hunger and longing.

Caleb and you senses sharpen; the taste of your tongues massaging into each other, the mixture of his woody and musky cologne with the fragrant scents of apple cider and vanilla of your perfume, the way your skin tingles under his touch. It’s overwhelming, making the two of you drunk off of your touch and body warmth.

Caleb’s hand hooks around to your back, caressing the curves of your body before his fingers snatch the metal of your dress zipper. In one slow, agonizing motion, Caleb draws the zipper down. A quiet sigh of content leaves your mouth and into his, the chilled air striking across your skin. You pull away for a brief moment and stare at him, the moonlight gentle across his face.

Your dress falls to the ground. The soft material pools around your feet. A pool of warmth forms between your legs, your lower stomach aching for him. You’re left in your bra and panties, nipples pebbling under the thin material. Caleb cups the back of your jaw, metal fingertips slipping into your hair, drawing your lips back to his.

The kiss isn’t rushed. The two of you take your time to melt into each other, the slow and sloppy kisses bringing your bodies together. Your fingers slip up into his hair. You give it a gentle tug, earning a frustrated groan from Caleb’s lips.

He steps forward, gently pushing you towards the bedroom. You stumble over your feet and Caleb is quick enough to pull you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his torso, your throbbing core hovering over his tented pants. The Colonel kicks the bedroom door open, the bed neatly made with a towel swan on the bed. He lays you down and immediately latches on top of you.

He moves his swollen lips away from yours, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down the skin of your neck. His teeth rake over your neck, leaving a bite here and there, covering it up with a sweet kiss as a silent apology. Your knee drags up his side. His metal hand slides up the side of your leg, hooking around your thigh, squeezing the plushness of your inner thigh. Caleb continues to trail kisses down your body, his lips taking his time when he reaches your collarbone.

Quiet puffs of air leave your mouth, just on the cusp of being a moan, filling in the silence of the room. Just his touch alone sends shocks of electricity throughout your body. Every touch, every kiss, every bite leaves you wanting more.

Caleb bites down on the sensitive spot where your collarbone meets your throat. You gasp, back arching up and chest pushing into his lips. His hand snakes under your back, quickly unhooking your bra. Caleb leans down and grabs the fabric between his teeth, biting into the flesh of your breast, pulling the bra up with him.

The man, breathless and hard, rests his weight on his knees, his hands resting on the tops of your thighs, pushing them open. Your bra hangs from his mouth, the material having slipped off your body with ease. He takes the bra from his mouth and tosses it to the side.

His purple eyes take their time looking at your gorgeous body. Your chest slowly rises and falls, deep and heavy breaths overtaking your body as you try to clam down. Your nipples are hard under the moonlight, a few fresh hickeys adorning your neck and collarbones. Your lips part ever so slightly, legs threatening to close on him. His Evol holds your thighs down, keeping your soaking wet panties open for him to see.

Caleb’s hands reach for his belt. His eyes remain on you, never leaving, never faltering. You hear the soft clicks of metal, the leather slipping free from the fabric loops. Your mouth opens more, a shudder overtaking your body as he flicks the belt to the side, his pants unbuckling before being pulled down alongside his tight boxers.

His cock springs from its confinement. He is much bigger than you anticipated, his tip already swollen and twitching. He strokes himself, slipping off the bed to kick off the leftover clothes. He comes back close to you, pressing passionate and loving kisses from your knee up to the inside of your thigh. His metal hand caresses your skin as if it is a work of art, leaving chills in his wake. You roll your head back and sigh with every kiss.

Caleb’s hand rests on top of your clothed pussy, the pad of his thumb running up and down your covered entrance in long, agonizing strokes. You whine, looking down at him. A smirk forms on his face. You watch as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs in one fluid motion. The friction from the fabric against your legs causes you to shiver, sparks of electricity causing your hips to push up. He’s quick to push you back down, his hand flattening against your stomach.

Caleb positions himself on top of you, one hand resting to the side of your head. You’re quick to reach down and curl your fingers around his hardened cock. His eyes close and his head drops, a gratified moan escaping his lips as you slowly begin to pump him. He slowly raises his eyes to look at you, his purple irises shining through the spaces of his dark hair.

Your thumb swirls around his tip, spreading across the pre-cum that spills from his head. Caleb dips his head down. Your lips connect in a fiery kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, melting into yours. He rubs slow circles into your clit while you pump him. You swallow each others moans.

Caleb hooks his arm under one of your legs, pulling it up, your thigh resting against his side. You squeeze his length and he groans, hips jerking into your touch. You guide your other leg to wrap around the side of his torso. You hand is pushed away from his twitching cock, your arms hooking under his, hands attaching themselves to the back of his shoulders.

Your nails dig into skin and metal while Caleb rubs his tip along your entrance. He presses some of his weight into you. Your kiss slows. Caleb slightly pulls away, a string of your mixed saliva connecting you two.

“Say you’re mine,” Caleb breathes out. He leans his head into yours, body heavy from lust and desire. His tip slightly pushes into your entrance before slipping out. A quiet moan leaves your mouth. Your hips roll up into his, pushing his tip into your soaking pussy. He pulls it out, teasing you, leaving you dangling on the edge of a dangerous line that you want to cross. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe out. Your hands move to his cheeks, yanking him down into a breathless and fiery kiss.

In the midst of your passionate kiss, Caleb lines his stiff cock with your entrance. He slowly pushes in, a gasp fleeing from your lips as he buries himself deep inside you. He shudders as your nails drag down his back, leaving red lines in their trail.

“Fuck, pretty bird,” Caleb stammers against your lips. He kisses you, neither of you able to catch your breath. “You feel like perfection.”

His cock twitches inside of you. He fights every urge to not thrust up inside you with all of the force in the world. A quiet, shaky moan leaves your lips. You adjust yourself to his size, your pussy already clenching around him.

Caleb draws his hips back, leaving you feeling so empty, clenching around nothing, before he drives his body back into yours. Your head rolls back, a wave of bliss coursing through your body. Caleb’s cock slides in and out of you with ease, his tip kissing your sweet spot.

The Colonel sets a slow and steady pace. He fully draws himself out of you, just his aching tip remaining inside, before he thrusts back into you, your bodies colliding, haggard moans fleeing your lips as Caleb groans.

Your legs tighten around his torso, hips eager to meet his, taking in every inch he has to offer. Your nails drag up and down his back, tearing into his skin as your moans increase in volume. Caleb’s slow yet brutal pace leaves you a rambling mess. The sound of skin slapping against each other mixes in with your pretty and breathless moans.

Caleb’s head dips down to your neck. His lips attack your skin, biting down and sucking, leaving deep purple and red marks in his path. You whimper and cry out his name, his pace slowly picking up every time his name leaves your lips.

It fries his brain. Your raspy moans and cries, the way you give into him so easily, the desire you feel for each other burning with such intensity, pushing the two of you towards orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, his hips crashing into yours in another devastating thrust. A loud cry flies from your lips. His muscles flex with every thrust while you come undone beneath him. Your breasts are trapped against his chest, your back arching, pushing up into him as you feel the knot in your stomach continue to tighten.

You feel his muscles tighten and flex against yours. His thrusts become slightly jerky, desperate. His lips come back to yours and he melts into you, sloppily kissing you, sucking the air from your lungs. One of your hands move from his back and up to his hair, grabbing a fistful at the roots, balling your fist. Caleb whines, slowly losing control of himself under your touch.

Your moans go silent as your eyes roll into the back of your head, just about to tip over the edge when Caleb’s hips stop. A gasp fills the room and you stare at him. His chest puffs up and down, eyes closed.

Caleb pulls away from you, back straightening. He buries himself deep inside you, the tip of his dick pressing against your cervix. You look up at him with bright pink cheeks your hair a mess. Your heart flutters, pussy tightening around his cock from pure pleasure, watching as he hooks his arms underneath your knees.

Your legs push up as he buries his fists into the mattress beside you. You’re pressed into the mattress with inches separating your beating hearts. Caleb’s eyes darken, licking his lips.

His Evol keeps your legs in place. You watch as he grabs your hands, placing them above your head. Weight falls on top of them, a tingling feeling as the pressure builds a lock that you cannot escape from.

“Caleb…” you breathe out, slowly coming down from the ecstasy you were about to reach. Caleb places his hands back on the mattress. Your wet cunt flutters around him and an exasperated breath leaves his lips.

Without warning, he slams his hips into yours. Your head rolls back but he’s quick to grab your jaw, yanking your face back to his.

“Eyes on me, pretty bird,” he growls, his thrusts growing with power, “I want you to see what you to me…I want to see you come undone on my cock.”

Holy fuck.

His actions are ravenous, filled with nothing but lustful desire. Your hips eagerly meet his, adjusting when his cock leaves you feeling empty, the man entering at a new and deeper angle if it were even possible. You cry out his name and fight against his Evol, wanting to desperately touch him.

To touch his fiery skin. To caress his cheeks as he pounds into you. To drag your nails down his back to make him bleed some more.

His amethyst eyes glance down, watching as your breasts bounce up and down with every thrust. Your hardened nipples ache under his gaze and the man has to fight everything in him to not dip down and take one of them into his mouth, to prolong your night together.

But the two of you know that won’t be possible. You’re both chasing a high that will permanently brand you as each others for the rest of your lives.

“C-Caleb! I-I’m—” you stammer, blabbering nonsense as your eyes remain on his, struggling to stay open, desire weighing your eyelids down. Caleb presses deeper into you, bruising your cervix at this point, and presses a thumb to your clit, mercilessly rubbing circles into the swollen bud.

Tears fill your eyes. Overstimulation pushes you further and further. Your legs tremble against his side, tightening around his waist. Caleb’s thrusts become jerky, erratic and choppy. You bring yourself to look at him, the strained expression on his face showing you that he’s just as close as you are.

“F-Fuck, pretty bird,” you whine at his nickname, “be a good girl and cum for me!”

Obeying his command, the knot in your stomach snaps. The blissful heat of your orgasm crashes throughout your body, your cunt tightening and taking in every last inch of his hardened cock. Caleb buries himself inside of you, his own orgasm ripping through his body as he empties his cum inside of your pussy. His body drops onto yours, his full weight being pressed into you. He rolls his hips in slow and short pumps, easing you two down from your high.

His Evol releases its grip on your wrists. Your hands fly to the back of his head, pulling his lips back down onto yours. Your kiss is slow yet intense, the two of you greedily exploring each others mouths, tongues moving back and forth against in a steady dance.

Caleb slowly pushes himself up, the metal parts in his robotic arm clicking and whirring in the silence of your heavy breaths. He looks down at you and gently pushes some of the hair out of your face. A small, tired smile spreads across your face. Your hand attaches to his cheek and he leans into your touch, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin of your hand.

“I love you,” Caleb admits into the palm of your hand. Your heart skips a beat.

“I love you too, Caleb,” you return his affection.

The words feel right coming out of your mouth. After so much pain and anguish, it feels right for you to speak the words into existence.

Caleb’s softened dick slips from your pussy. You whine from the sudden feeling of emptiness. Your eyelashes flutter at him as he admires your body, leaning down to pressing relaxed and unhurried kisses along your chest and collarbones. He admires your breasts, dragging his nose against your skin as he inhales your perfume and sweat, a low growl forming in the back of his throat.

His purple eyes look down at your glistening pussy, his white fluid freely flowing from your entrance. The sight of it is borderline pornographic, his desire for you burning even more intensely than before.

He slips off of the bed and is quick to slide his arms under your back and knees, hoisting you out of bed. You relax into his chest, barely able to hold your head up as he pushes the bathroom door open, flicking the light switch. Keeping his arm under your knees, he reaches inside the shower and turns on the water. He places you on the counter.

You smile at him, tired and muscles already sore. Your hands rest on his shoulders, the once cold metal now warm under your touch. You lean backwards, making Caleb hold your back to keep you from falling. The two of you smile stupid and loving smiles, quiet giggles and laughs threatening to escape from your throats. Caleb presses his temple against yours and you lean into him, hands gliding up and down his chest.

“You are…everything and more,” he whispers into your ear, pressing a languid kiss onto your cheek. You blush and wrap your arms around his. The palms of your hands graze over the fresh scratch marks you’ve etched into his skin.

“I’m sorry about your back…”

“Don’t be,” Caleb peels his head away from yours, cupping your cheek. “If I could get them tattooed, I would.”

“You’re…utterly insane,” you laugh. Caleb picks you up in his arms again and carries you to the shower.

The hot water tingles against your skin, soothing your aching and numb muscles. Your hair dampens after a few moments. Caleb’s hands remain on your waist, keeping you steady, and watching you as you navigate your way through the large shower. You grab the hotel’s shampoo bottle and turn around, smiling up at him.

“You’re gonna have to come down here,” you tease. Caleb chuckles and complies, leaning down, tucking his chin on your shoulder. Your fingers slide into his hair, massaging the shampoo into his hair.

The shower goes on his this for a good hour. The two of you helps the other wash up, pressing sweet and loving kisses to different body parts. You hum while you massage his scalp. Caleb continually compliments you while using the body wash to clean up your body and the juices that turned sticky on your skin.

Every so often, your lips were captured in a sweet kiss underneath the shower head. You had to be the one to push away because if you didn’t, you would have stayed in there for an eternity.

Caleb helped you step out, wrapping you in a towel. You dried yourself off, mentally cursing to yourself that none of your hair care products are with you, needing to shower in your own room tomorrow to combat the knots and frizz that is bound to form throughout the night. You didn’t even notice Caleb slipping away while you lamented over your misstep. He comes back in, shirtless with just a pair of sweatpants hanging from his hips.

He holds out a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts. You take them with a smile, the towel dropping from your body. Caleb watches you from the doorway, obsessing over the image of you wearing his clothes.

“You look so beautiful,” he coos from his place.

“Oh, shut up,” you roll your eyes, a blush heating your cheeks. Once you slip the shirt on over your body, the fabric swallowing you whole, Caleb wraps his arms around your waist. He places his chin on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror.

“I mean it,” he smiles, leaning into you. Your hands rest on top of his, matching his smile. “You are breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” the words come out just above a whisper yet loud enough for him to hear. He nods and kisses your cheek, turning your bodies to the door.

You walk out like normal but Caleb waddles behind you, his long legs adjusting to your much smaller steps. He guides you to the extra bedroom, opting for clean and neat sheets compared to the mess you two made earlier. He steps around you and flings the sheets open, jumping in like he’s just won the lottery. You throw your head back and laugh, rolling your eyes as you crawl to his side.

The sheets close around you and Caleb is quick to pull you to his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, tucking you under his chin. You drape an arm around his waist, pulling yourself even closer to him. His heart skips a beat, a large smile on his face. You yawn and nuzzle into him, closing your eyes.

“Do you want me to turn on the TV and click through a million different channels again?” Caleb jokes. A hearty laugh booms from your mouth and you pinch his waist. He fakes a surprised squeal and slightly rolls over, pressing half of his weight onto you, keeping you trapped below him.

Your heartbeat slows, falling into rhythm with his. His breathing is calm, the man counting every second that you have been in his arms for.

This…this is nice. This feels right. Caleb’s arms feel like home, as if you were meant to be inside them the entire time. Time slows around you. Your body grows heavy as slumber quietly sweeps you away, the sound of Caleb’s steady heartbeat filling your ears like a lullaby you’ve been craving to hear since childhood.

The apple tree in your heart blossoms again. Will it bear fruit or decay?

please drop a like, reblog, & comment!! i love see what you all have to say <3

[chocoposum]

ouuuu my food is readyyyyy

thank uuuuu @potatomountain( ˘ ³˘)♥

C:IU Chapter 1

Act One: Chapter One

Masterlist | Next

Pairing: Poly 0t8 Ateez x fem reader AU: Mafia/detective Genre: 18+ poly romance, action Word Count: 3.5k Summary: "Not the same" Warnings: 18+, mentions of drunken sex, attempted kiss, triggers, panic attack, suggestive AN: Dividers and banner made by me @potatographics. Usual beta readers tagged in masterlist! No editing done!

There was a sense of nostalgia as your phone rang for the dozenth time in the last five minutes, knowing who it was before looking at the screen. With a smile you brought the screen to your ear, nearly avoiding one of the bystanders on the sidewalk. “Hi Ji.” “Finally you pick up! Where are you? You said you would be here ten minutes ago!”

You laughed at the frantic voice on the other side, having missed him. “The distance was a little more than I thought so I left later than I should. I’m walking up now, is he in?”

There was a moment of silence, some shuffling, and then a sigh. “He is and he’s more frantic than I am! He thinks you stood us up.” “Now why would I do that?” You mused, stepping up to the S.K Unit. “He knows I just love him.” The bitterness was still there, no matter what.

Even if you were the one who opted for this. Who asked for this meeting.

Well you did that out of bitterness too.

“I’m here and coming in.” You announced before hanging up and pushing into the familiar precinct.The familiar uniform at the desk, staring up at you in shock before they scrambled to greet you.

Now you didn’t think you looked that different. Was it the outfit?

You weren’t in your old fitted suits of black and white. Hair was colored and shorter, and you were wearing more makeup than you used to but that last bit was a habit by now. Was it the low cut top? The tight mini skirt or the lace stockings? 

You’ve been wearing such things for some time now you hadn’t realized that your old unit would gawk at your appearance. And boy did they gawk.

The second you stepped back in the familiar room with lined desks, heels clicking to a stop with finality, your old unit looked in your direction. Most of them at least.

It was your old Captain who you stared down, capturing his gaze with your own and tilting your head curiously as his eyes skimmed down your length. He swallowed hard.

Good, rub it in his face what he lost.

Smiling sweetly, you finally turned your attention to Jisung and Changbin that flanked you, the latter swooping you up into a hug. “God Damn you look amazing!”

Playfully you swatted at his arm, smile turning coy. “Yeah? I don’t have as many restrictions with my current work so I’ve really branched out. Believe it or not, I do have a gun on me, and not my purse.” You gave a little twirl just to show off the fit some more.

“It’s in the boots right? Otherwise-” Jisung made a face, shaking his head before he pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him happily, truly having missed him since you had barely talked to him since the night of the club.

It had been so long, and so much had happened, you felt a little bad for ignoring them but it hadn’t been safe. 

As if you had time anyways, even your sweet lovers complaining they didn't get to see you.

With a sigh you pulled away from them both, smiling and waving at the two youngest that were in the room, just to have one attached to your waist in the next second. “Hey there Innie. You doing well without me?”

“No.” He buried his face into the crook of your neck, showing his age as the youngest.

“It hasn’t been the same without you. Are you going to come back? It’s been months.” Seungmin chimes in from right behind Jeongin, an expression on his features you weren’t used to, like a kicked puppy.

“She’s not.” Chan finally barked out before you could answer, his tone enough to get the others to back away and clear the way for him to approach you. “You asked to meet. Business or pleasure?”

When he looked like he wanted to bend you over the nearest object and probably hate fuck you, you couldn’t help but play coy. “Business and personal. Can we talk in your office?”

With a sharp nod he turned on his heel and headed to his office, pushing the white sleeves up to his elbows, a sign he was agitated. Good.

Stepping into his familiar office he immediately shut the blinds, motioning for you to take a seat while he shut and locked the door. You opted to stand, a fact he didn’t mention as he moved over to his desk.

“Personal first, if you don’t mind.” You kept your tone cool and nonchalant, finding it funny how the tick in his jaw and flex of his muscles no longer excited you like they used to. How many times had you fucked yourself to the mental image of his fingers inside you, his arm flexing under your own hands as you held on?

Now you imagined another hand, another arm- many of those. Some that you could vividly remember how they felt on your skin, and others you could only think about. Perhaps you'd get the courage to make those fantasies a reality soon, not liking the anxiety that bubbled up in your chest when you often thought of physical contact in that way.

I'll get over it; you told yourself for the nth time in the last several months. The fact you were here now, facing down the man that broke your heart and had betrayed you to an extent you never thought you would recover from, was proof to you that you could get over that other thing.

“Personal as in about the last time I saw you?” Chan's tone was clipped and to the point, a sign he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. “What is there to say?”

You relaxed your expression to try and appear as bored as possible. “Oh I don't know. How my best friend and the man I loved and admired sabotaged my career so they didn't have to make any personal sacrifices to their morals?” Venom still dripped in your words as your stare turned cold. “We can start there.”

“That's not the case-”

“Oh? Then what was it? I know I confessed, Chan. And then the next time you talked to me you were transferring me out. Doesn't matter why, you handled that like a fucking child.” You cut him off, sneering at the tick in his jaw. 

He barked out your name, much like he used to when he felt like you were overstepping orders or infringing on his authority. You just rolled your eyes at him, locking your hips and placing a perfectly manicured hand on the curve. “I didn't have a choice in transferring you.”

“Funny, it sounded like you suggested the transfer. Or well, you listened to Minho about it.” You snapped out, the calm and collected air around you falling fast. “But by all means, tell me how you had no choice but to transfer me. No choice not to confess. No choice not to talk to me after I did. No choice but to break me into a million pieces by ignoring me and my feelings until it was convenient for you.”

Toe to toe with him now, he was no longer keeping a cool head either, anger twisting his handsome features into a sneer. “You don't know anything. I played by the rules as much as I could. But you never think about that do you? I didn't want to keep quiet! Fuck I couldn't keep my hands off of you when you were drunk and I hated myself for that!” 

While he pushed his hair out of his face, you were flabbergasted, staring up with wide eyes. “What… what do you mean? What did you do, Chan?”

He turned away, clenching his jaw hard enough the veins on his neck bulged out. “You kissed me. Left a hickey. Felt so fucking good grinding up on me. I didn't fuck you. But I-” Mr. Stickler for clear consent and rules couldn't meet your eyes as he admitted, to him, his greatest sin. “You tasted so good, Trouble. Fuck I can still picture you coming on my tongue- on my fingers. The sounds you made, the way you begged-” He lifted his gaze to yours, a heat there you were unfamiliar with.

One step closer, and you took one back. You would have found his admission hot before, the idea you had such an effect on him that he broke his own rule, but that was before.

Before that red wolf. 

You told yourself this was beforehand and it wasn't the first time you had done such things drunk, so why did it matter.

It mattered when your name fell from his lips like a heated plea. When he reached out and grabbed your hip, pulling you flush against him. It mattered when he leaned in as if to kiss you, his eyes on your lips. “Is it really impossible to go that route?”

Panic welled in your chest at how close he was. You didn't want him to touch you- you didn't want to be touched.

It was the sting of your palm that brought you back to your senses, a red mark clear on Chan's cheek as you were now several feet away from him, back against the door and breathing a bit erratic. 

He didn't move aside from glancing at you. You could see the pain in his gaze, the confusion. Perhaps now he would finally realize how much he had screwed up.

“This was a mistake.” The thought of sticking around, alone in this office, had your chest tightening more by the second. Fumbling with the door, you were tripping over your feet to get out faster.

A chorus of your name echoed around you, different levels of concern and panic. You would have run right out if not for Chan grabbing your wrist. You struggled, turning to smack him again.

Jisung swooped in for the figurative rescue, pulling Chan off you and stopping your hand from connecting again with his Captain's jaw. “Hey hey, let's talk about this.”

“I'm trying.” Chan hissed out, the tick in his jaw back. “Why did you-”

“You touched me.” You cut him off, short breaths had your chest heaving. “You don't have the right any more Chan. I told you, you lost me. I wanted to make it clear what you fucking did is unforgivable, but I wanted to work past it so that we can work together. Because despite you being an entitled, self-absorbed, goody-two-shoes asshole… you and this unit are good at your fucking jobs.” 

Shaking off Jisung's hold, you stepped back, surprised to see the two youngest flanking you and stare down Chan. Seungmin even put an arm in front of you almost protectively, another thing you did not expect. They were the last two to join and you had a friendly working relationship with them but you weren't as close as you were with Jisung or Hyunjin.

Where was the latter? And Minho? And Felix? Two of those you wanted to see more than anything.

“She has a point, Captain. about you being a self-absorbed asshole that is.” Seungmin drawled it out so easily, sparing you a concerned glance. “You don't talk to us. You make decisions without explanations, ones that affect us all. We lost the vote to keep her here, but you never told us she didn't know about it. You told us there wasn't much of a chance otherwise. It was her or us.”

“Even I regret my vote.” Changbin added on, stepping up to his Captain, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We've been a mess since she left. Hyunjin acted out until you had to suspend him. Felix has been like a shell of his former self. Minho is too busy talking to the higher ups and moving between other precincts. We haven't met our quota in months-”

“I get it.” Dejectedly, Chan's whole demeanor fell. “I fucked up.”

Some of the tension slipped out of the room then, but you were still far too tense, stepping back. “You clearly have shit to figure out. Ji, let me know when this unit is level headed for a job.” The shaking of your words gave way to your panic, but you didn't stick around to let them poke at it.

Jeongin walked you out however, silent as he fell into step next to you. You didn't protest, mostly because he didn't ask any questions. He was there as you signed yourself out and walked out the front door, only pausing when you did.

The last thing you expected stepping out of the S.K Precinct was the tall, lanky man holding a bundle of your favorite flowers in his hand, pacing as if he was nervous. “Mingi?”

His head shot up, those boba eyes you adored brimming with concern, brows pushed together even deeper at the sight of the man next to you. “Princess?”

Tears welled up behind your eyes as you stepped closer, but Jeongin was right there. “You know him?”

“He's my boyfriend.” You replied without a second thought, chest tight with emotion that was reflected on Mingi's features. The way his eyes widened a tad more, brows shooting up at your admission, and the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his full lips.

Recognition flashed across Jeongin’s own sharp fox-like features. “The one who hit Chan?” 

“Yep. What are you doing here baby?” You stepped up to him, glancing down at the flowers with a silent question.

He handed them over to you, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The way you stiffened wasn't lost on him, but he didn't address it. “I heard you were coming to see that fuck face so I came to pick you up. I got her from here.” Mingi nodded over at Jeongin, effectively dismissing him.

He hesitated a moment before turning on his heel. “Alright just- don't be afraid to reach out. We don't stand with Chan on this.” He was back inside the next moment.

Alone with Mingi, the flowers now in your hand, he smiled down at you but it was still a little tense. “Boyfriend? Really?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you instead buried your nose in the flowers. “Do you really want to question that after you brought me flowers?”

“No… you're right. Let me take you home then?” He asked, moving his arm around you but not touching. He must be able to tell how on edge you were.

You were trying to forget.

“Who says I didn't drive?” You retorted, automatically defensive from his care. It made you feel weak, like you were fragile. You knew that wasn't their intent, what they thought; you knew they were just respecting your triggers. Yet it pissed you off anyways.

“The fact you lack a license, Princess. Now for my own piece of mind I'd like to take you home.” 

You hated how easily he calmed your thoughts, proving he didn't think you were fragile but he needed it. “Fine- lead the way.” With a resigned huff you let him lead. 

Moments later you were in the passenger seat of his car, much like Wooyoung's, it looked a bit rundown on the outside but had a slick, luxurious interior. “Are these your undercover cars or something?”

“Yeah. I'll have to show you my baby though. She purrs like a kitten, made the modifications myself.” He slipped into the driver seat with ease, chair pushed back and one hand on the wheel. “Buckle up Princess.” Was the only warning you had before he was slipping into traffic with a harsh swerve.

It didn't surprise you that he was a car guy, at times taking notes of black stains on his fingertips that would last a few days. You never asked, mostly because it was in passing. You also weren't surprised he was a reckless driver.

What did surprise you was when you realized he was not heading downtown to the Pink Boa apartments you had been staying in the last few months. “Mingi? I thought you were taking me home?”

“Yeah, back to Captain's place.”

“That's not home.” You protested, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

He glanced over at you incredulously. “Of course it is. It’s home for all Pirates.” 

The surety of his words had you stumped, so instead of answering you glanced down at the flowers again. 

Right after they officially accepted you into the Pirates, you demanded to go to work. You had reached out to Haru and she set you up with one of the apartments she kept her girls in. Your legal address was still next to Mingi, this was just considered a burner apartment, one that you didn't need to stay in but you did anyways. 

Haru had been right about a woman's touch after such incidents, burying yourself into work to also keep her from probing. Were you running from what happened? Ignoring It? Yes.

It wasn't because it happened, but you hated the way it changed you. Your desire for the others was still strong, but the moment you thought of them touching you, your mind would slip. The creepy drunk men hitting on you? Also making your skin crawl.

Your ability to do your job was affected. Your relationship was strained. You felt… less.

So you pushed through it, pretending you didn't break down alone in that apartment. Pretending Yeosang didn't see any of it. You pretended the others didn't have a reason to be worried. Pretended you couldn't see Wooyoung or San because of work, despite living in the same building as them. 

Mind racing with anxiety, wondering just how you were going to face them, you didn't realize the two of you were already pulling into a garage under the stone and metal building on the river that was home to your Captain and his lover's.

Your lovers.

It had been a little over three months since you had been here, avoiding meeting them in person as much as possible. And when you saw them, physicality was out of the question. Not that it wasn't comforting when San rubbed your back or Wooyoung held your hand, but you would always find yourself guilty that this was all you could handle.

Mingi getting out of the car and rushing around to open the door for you gave you little time to prepare. Would you ever be?

Hesitantly, you took his hand, trying to keep yours steady. Mingi once more didn't say anything, but there was pain in his eyes and his jaw clenched. 

It hurt that your pain hurt them, a concept you were so unfamiliar with. Your pain is something they didn't like to see. They feel hurt with you, they share your anger and sadness.

It made you want to run.

“Please don't ask Mingi.” You knew he wouldn't, but you still pleaded with him.

His gaze shot up to meet yours, not even hiding the depth of his pain. His full lips fell open repeatedly, gaping like a fish as he scrambled for words. “Before… before we go in…”

You tensed up unintentionally, which resulted in a choked groan falling from Mingi's lips.

“Fuck Princess- before we go in… can you please not look like I'm walking you to the guillotine or something? If it helps, this is about work okay?”

Averting your eyes, you moved past him with a heavy breath. “I'm sorry. I'm trying. I'm really trying Mingi.”

“Did he do something? That Chan fucker? If so I'll drive right back there and break his fucking neck you just say the word Princess.” He followed you, the door shutting behind him as you both made your way to the stairs.

“He… he tried to kiss me. And I just-”

“He what?” Mingi stepped in front of you with a stormy expression. “Fuck- Princess. Then we can take a minute. Let's sit on the steps. I can hold you if-”

“Please.” The word was out before you could stop yourself. Before the guilt could eat you up. “Just for a minute.” 

As he set the flowers aside he sat on the stairs and pulled you onto his lap sideways. Feeling his shaky breath on your neck oddly calmed your nerves. Even as you replayed the events of the precinct over and over until it no longer spiked your anxiety, he held you and kept you calm.

It brought you a twisted sense of pride to know that Chan was just as fucked up as you were right now. S.K was in tatters, but so were you. Maybe taking a page out of his book and being an entitled and self-absorbed asshole would help.

Then you could seek comfort in Mingi's embrace without the soul crushing guilt of the pain you caused him.

Taglist in the Reblogs! Masterlist | Next

[chocoposum]

LMAOOOO HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLEE

This is one of the funniest news titles I have read in a long time.

[chocoposum]

this is so yum yum yum（๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘) 𐂐 author ur writing is so gooood!!!

Rotten Apples, pt. 4

masterlist , part one , part two , part three

ao3 link

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: caleb tries his best to apologize but you don't let him. a trip to linkon is what you need! you run into an old friend.

word count: 9.3k words

warnings: extreme loathing, kinda funny, MELANCHOLIC AND SAD, a good mix of everything! mentions of death! not proofread! READER IS MESSY AF

author's note: hi everyone! thank you so much for all the love on the previous parts! please like & leave comments! i love seeing what you have to say! (part 5 is for my smutty girls though ;) just a heads up!)

content warning: sloppy kiss between caleb & reader...tongues.

a big big big big thank you to leura who helped me out with this part! show them some love over on their blog @militaryapple

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How does one react to their ex-childhood best friend showing up and ruining a date that’s also not a date that you’re on with your other ex-childhood best friend that you secretly liked then hated then when he showed back up after his supposed death your feelings for him have become so utterly complicated that you can’t comprehend if he actually likes you or not?

No, really, how do you react to that in a completely normal way?

The question kept you up for hours on end, lingering in the depths of your mind as you tried your best to feel like a human being again after your disastrous night with Caleb and Her.

Your dreams were infested with images of her smug smile and the way she showed up unannounced. You know that her motivations aren’t pure. They are full of hate and are malicious.

Do people change? Yes. They do. Sometimes they change for the worse instead of getting better.

The image of her smug expression haunts your mind. She floats into your thoughts. Caleb didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were, allegedly, temporarily living together. Her hunter business brought her to Skyhaven for whatever reason, which he also didn’t give, and it ended with you passed out on the floor of your apartment with an empty wine bottle in hand.

The morning after the date-that’s-also-not-a-date went wrong, you were quite hungover. You sat up from your floor in complete and utter pain, shuddering from the morning light that struck your eyes like daggers. A silent hiss escaped your lips as you army crawled into the kitchen. Trying to pull yourself up to the kitchen sink was a struggle in itself.

Your legs kept giving out on you. You succumbed to the floor plenty of times. Groans and cries filled the quiet apartment, your fingers scraping against the cabinets. After an hour, you finally got a good grip on the edge of the sink, gasping as you pulled up your basically dead body, and flicked on the water. Your dry mouth was met with crisp, ice cold water. Your morning long thirst had been quenched.

You felt unstoppable! That is, until your phone started ringing…from the opposite side of the apartment.

That trek was less strenuous thanks to the oasis that is your kitchen sink. Once your phone was in your hand, you felt the surge of another victory bubble from within your uneasy stomach.

The feeling was quickly shot down when Darryl’s name flashed across your screen.

“Hello?” Your throat is raw from dehydration.

“Where are you?!” Darryl’s voice booms from the other end of the call. You move the phone away from your face and wince. You put the call on speaker and set it on the floor next to you.

“I think I’m going to need to cash in one of my sick days…” You crumble to the floor and ball up into the fetal position.

This is one nasty ass hangover.

“A Colonel is here asking for you.”

Your body shocks to life. The nausea you once felt fades into nothingness. You force your body upright and stare at Darry’s name on the screen.

What the fuck did he just say?

“What the fuck did you do?” Darryl yells at you through the phone.

“I didn’t do anything!” You immediately retort. “I’m going to use a sick day today. I’ll work overtime tomorrow! Okay! Bye!” You hang up the phone and slide it across the floor, landing in the bathroom.

Minutes pass. Silence fills your apartment.

Did…did Caleb come looking for you?

You shake your head at the thought. It could literally be any other colonel! There’s Colonel Heath and don’t forget about that time you helped Colonel Diana on a top secret project! Yeah! Diana was the one who reached out to you!

Not the insanely hot guy from your childhood that you’re supposed to hate but can’t help but salivate over when you think of him in his uniform.

Yeah! No! It totally isn’t Caleb who you ran away from last night!

There’s a knock at your door. You aren’t expecting anyone…who could it be? Your legs still feel like jelly but you push through, wobbling to the door. pressing up against the door with a rough landing, you peer out the peep hole to see a head of black hair in front of it.

The man’s posture straightens and his deep purple eyes seemingly lock onto yours. He’s in that damn Colonel uniform too. You gasp and push away from the door. Stumbling backward, and in a good stroke of luck, you tip onto the couch and yelp, covering your mouth.

Caleb calls out your name, his voice muffled through the door. His knocks are more feverish now. Your body flinches with every knock.

“Hey…I know you’re in there. I’m sorry about last night,” Caleb’s voice doesn’t bring you the solace and comfort it used to. “Can we please talk? I can explain everything.” You don’t respond.

Why should you? He’s the one who put you through so much god damn emotional turmoil. Years of being led on and his innate sense to always go to her has messed with your head. Your last therapist could barely make sense of things when you explained it to her.

“Alright…I get it. You need distance. That’s fine. I’ll be here…you have my number. Oh, and I brought you some food…I think there’s good chance you’re hungover.” Caleb sounds…defeated. It’s a strange thing to have to listen to. Usually he’s this upbeat, happy-go-lucky guy that always knows what to do or say to make things better.

But you…you have officially stumped Caleb.

He has never felt so lost in his life. He knew that he was in this position because he couldn’t have a backbone when it came to her. That’s his fault.

Caleb wishes he could explain to you that he asked her to leave. He even took her to a hotel where she can stay for the rest of the stay. And the cherry on top?

He didn’t pay for it!

His eyes stare at the door’s peephole. He squints, wanting to see any kind of movement within the very minuscule amount of light that seeps through. There’s nothing, though, so he sets the large plastic bag of food down onto the floor. The Colonel hesitates for a split second, swearing that he hears something behind the door.

Again, nothing.

This is a routine that the two of you fell into over the course of a month.

Caleb showed up, unannounced and unwanted of course, and placed a token of his affection by your door. Some days it was greasy food for the hangovers you were bound to have when you went out with friends, other times it was flowers for an achievement you got at work.

Every time he knocked on the door, you hid in your bedroom, tucked away under the covers, silently begging for him to go away.

When he eventually left, after begging for a solid twenty minutes to see you and your beautiful face, you creeped outside the door to see what he left behind.

The days you were feeling low, Caleb left you comfort food and a note that said he’s proud of you for pushing through the day.

The weekends were usually the days he came to bring you flowers. He brought a different kind every day and somehow managed to get them wrong every single time. You didn’t even waste another second looking at them before dumping them down your hallway’s trash chute.

There was a time when Caleb dropped of an expensive bouquet of roses. You caught him right before he snuck into the elevator like the stalker he is. You picked up the bouquet and signaled for him to stay where he was, putting the brightest and most plastic looking smile on your face.

The look on his face was priceless! Caleb inched closer to your apartment, a smile slowly growing on his face. His smile died when you stepped out of the apartment with the bouquet in one hand, scissors in the other. You snipped every single rose, letting them fall to the ground before you slammed the door behind you.

His constant acts of affection were, quite frankly, getting on your nerves. It didn’t help that your neighbors kept banging on your door asking for you to clean up the messes he left behind. Now that was just tedious.

You should have left a note for Caleb to clean up the mess he made.

One day, you were late for a team dinner that Darryl was throwing to celebrate his promotion. How he got promoted, you’d never know. At least he wouldn’t be bothering you anymore. That’s all that matters.

You swung the door open, headphones over your ears, and jumped at the sight of a blue and orange box. It was small in your hands. A small jingling sound came from the inside when you shook it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement. Caleb dipped behind a couple waiting for the elevator. You raised an eyebrow and walked to the elevator, watching as his eyes grew bigger and bigger.

The elevator dinged right when you shoved the box into his chest, crushing the small, glass butterfly he had bought for you.

Caleb’s eyes fixated on the eye bags under your eyes. They were heavily sunken into your skin and were a deep purple color. Even your cheekbones popped out. You slowly blinked at him, your body slightly swaying despite there being no wind inside the hallway. 

To Caleb, you looked like a shell of yourself. A phantom that sucked the soul straight out of your body, leaving behind a semblance of the woman he’s grown so fond of despite you throwing all of his effort back into his face.

“Take the stairs.” You told him before disappearing into the elevator. The doors slowly closed and he watched as you wiped a tear out from under your eye. The sad thing is that he obeyed your order like the lovesick puppy he is, dying to catch a glimpse of you before you disappeared into a taxi.

Are you not taking care of yourself? Have you not been eating the food I’ve gotten you? Do I need to take matters into my own hands? His thoughts began to race as soon as you were out of sight.

Caleb wanted to rip his heart out of his chest and hand it to you if it would mean that you would forgive him for what he’s done. If you wanted him to kill a thousand Wanderers, he would do it. Hell, he even managed to get Darryl fired for you after overhearing you talk about how much you hated him.

Caleb is ready to give you the world. All you have to do is say the word and he’ll spend the rest of his days, all the way until his dying breath, to make it a reality for you.

It’s been a month since the disastrous date night, not that you were counting the days or anything.

You totally still aren’t heartbroken over the fact that they have ruined your self esteem and essentially made you a hermit. Isolation was the only way you were able to feel comfortable in your own skin and yet it was so incredibly lonely to be stuck with your own degrading thoughts with Caleb serving as a constant reminder as to why you’re only good enough to be someone’s second choice.

Never the first.

“You’re coming, right?” Your friend shouts from over the phone. “You better get on the train! You are not missing out on my bachelorette party just because you don’t want to run into him!”

Your laugh is half-genuine as you shove clothes into your suitcase, not even bothering to fold them because you simply do not have the energy to do it.

“I’m leaving in ten minutes for the train right now, I promise.” the suitcase struggles to zip shut but you eventually get it to close after sitting on it. It crashes into the ground and you shriek, stumbling next to to it. You barely manage to catch yourself, your first laugh in a month fleeing your mouth.

The sound shocks you. You go silent, hand covering your glossed lips, and laugh some more.

You didn’t know you could do that anymore! It had been so long since you’ve heard the crackle in your laugh, the way you could sense the joy within the sound even if it came from a clumsy mistake.

“Are you okay?” Your friend’s voice lulls you back into the room. You nod despite her being unable to see it and laugh again, covering your mouth. She laughs. “Alright then, I’ll see you in a few hours!”

Your suitcase suddenly feels light when you pick it up from the ground. Has all of your depression finally left you body? Are you starting to feel whole again after feeling so worthless?

You slide the suitcase across the floor and slip your shoes on with a blossoming smile. Things are finally starting to look up for you! Hell, even your shoes slipped on with ease instead of you struggling to put them on for ten minutes! Maybe you could get a coffee before you hop on the train out of Skyhaven!

The front door is pulled back and you are ready to brace the day with a smile on your face when—!

Caleb. He’s here. At your door. With another bouquet of flowers.

Your smile falls from your face and any oxygen that was once in your lungs has been sucked out by his presence. The only thing you can do is stare up and into his violet eyes. He holds out the bouquet to you, daisies to be exact, and the white petals burn into your soul.

“These are for you,” Caleb takes your hand and you’re unable to stop him. He slips the bouquet into your fingers and you stare at the skin he touches, a burning feeling imprinting into your skin. “I just wanted to come by and—”

“Beg for a second chance? Again? I’m not interested, Caleb,” you push forward, your suitcase sliding right into his calves. He doesn’t flinch. Caleb watches as you wiggle your way out of your apartment, slamming the door shut, and shoving the key into the hole.

“No, that’s not it, actually,” he says with a chuckle. He moves your luggage to his side, watching as your lock up. When you turn around, you snatch the handle back from him, creating distance between you two. “I’m leaving for a week long patrol in the Deepspace Tunnel. I just wanted to see your face before I go.”

“Well,” you huff, shoving the suitcase in front of you, hauling it down the elevator, “you saw it. You can leave now.”

“Can you please just…hey! Talk to me!” Caleb quickly follows after you. He uses your Evol to cement your luggage to the ground. You tug on the handle. When it doesn’t budge, you turn and glare at him.

If only you had an Evol. Maybe then you’d return the favor by striking him with lightning or maybe you’d suck all the air from his lungs and make him gasp for air.

Okay…maybe not. That’s a little violent.

“Let me go, Caleb.”

“All I’m asking for is five minutes of your time…please. I need this,” Caleb steps towards you. He softly grabs your wrist. You don’t immediately pull away, eyes fixated on his. Your bottom lip trembles. Your heart thumps behind your ribs and butterflies erupt in your stomach. The scent of his cologne fills your nose, pulling you out of your trance.

This is not supposed to happen. You’re supposed to be over him, not falling in love all over again!

“You’re pathetic, Caleb.”

Your words are venom. They burn into his skin and for once: Caleb is silent. There is no comeback. There is no funny one liner that he can say to diffuse the situation. There is not a single god damn thing he can do or say to get your malice to disappear.

“This past month has been hard on me. Your constant gifts and notes at my door make me feel nothing but irritation. You’ve ruined so many of my days simply by being here. All I wanted you to do was leave me alone. And you couldn’t even do that.”

Caleb blinks away the stinging feeling in his eyes. His lips part and you can’t help but look away, your eyes turning glossy.

“I need to be alone. That means I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to be reminded of you and I especially don’t want to hear your voice through my door begging for a second chance. I’m done, Caleb.”

“That’s not fair—”

“You know what wasn’t fair? Was having to be your third wheel throughout my entire childhood,” your voice trembles, rising in volume. You smack the area over your heart, tears now rolling down your cheeks. “I have always been your second choice. You know I basked in the days you gave me your attention when she was sick and stayed home from school? It felt so good to be in your light, to be someone who actually meant something to you. And now all I get are the scraps that she didn’t want. Wake up, Caleb! I’m done!”

His Evol releases your luggage and you turn to the elevator. White petals catch your eye and your step hesitates for a brief second, halting you. You stare the bouquet, the yellow bulbs in the center mocking you. Without wasting another second, you storm back over to Caleb, whose shoulders slump and his eyes are on the ground. You smack the bouquet into his chest.

“I don’t even like daisies,” a quiet sob flees your mouth. Caleb’s once bright eyes darken. He stares at you, fists balled at his sides, unable to tear his gaze away from yours. His breath grow heavier the longer you stand there.

He doesn’t say anything. It unsettles you. All he does is walk around you, slamming the stairwell door open, and evaporates into the darkness.

You need to get away from Caleb. From Skyhaven. Suddenly, your friend’s bachelorette party seems like the perfect place to escape for the weekend.

Linkon is brighter than you remember. It’s sunny with a crisp wind that carries your hair in different directions. The city is a lot different too. Restaurants and shops you once knew are now gone, replaced with big chains, but there are a few standout smaller places that catch your eye.

The path from the train station to your parents’ house is the same, much longer than you anticipated, but is the same regardless. On the way home, you decide to stop by your favorite mom-and-pop shop. You were hooked on their candies as a kid.

Their sweet and salty chocolate caramels melted in your mouth. They have the most perfect chocolate truffles that paired so well with their homemade fruit tarts. During the summer, they worked with the ice cream parlor next door and combined their sweet treats for the perfect combination.

As soon as you see the red and white stripes of their shop, your pace quickens, feet traveling even faster. A sweet treat never hurt anybody, right? Besides, you need some chocolate and caramel clusters to fill in the void that Caleb carved into your soul.

The suitcase’s wheels try their best to keep up with you, dragging along the sidewalk with loud scrapes. The shop’s sign grows bigger and bigger with every step you take.

You’re so close to the sweet taste of victory. Your hand reaches for the door, about to snatch the handle and burst inside, when the door swings right into you, the wood hitting the dead center of your forehead.

Your body tips backward, suitcase rolling away and towards the street. The concrete isn’t a nice bed to land on. The back of your head smacks against the concrete and your vision goes black.

Holy shit, you think, did I just go blind?

Commotion stirs from all around you and the culprit drops to your side. His voice is muffled and you can barely make out a word she’s saying. She raises her voice and you wince, the volume causing your instant headache to worsen into a migraine. A man’s voice replaces her panicked muffles.

A hand sneaks under your back, slowly sitting you up from the ground. Sunlight breaks through the darkness, your eyes slowly focusing on the figure in front of you.

His head blocks the sun from your eyes, specks of dust illuminating as they float by, a pair of sharp hazel-green eyes focusing on you from behind glass and thin metal frames. The man moves in slow motion, your lips parting, as he checks out your pupils. His black hair falls over his forehead and he leans in. He smells like fresh laundry and an icy day. The scent is comforting to you.

“Follow my finger,” his voice is unemotional. He holds a single finger up and in front of your face. He moves it from left to right but your eyes don’t move. He says your name and a piece of your dead heart awakens, a flurry of hope and sweetness tingling on your tongue.

“Zayne?” You whisper. Are you seeing things again? Or has another childhood friend suddenly entered your life during a time of need?

“You may have a concussion. Please, allow me to take care of you.”

Take care of you.

You nod, eyes following his finger back and forth. Another digit sprouts up and you immediately say “two” without him needing to ask. The corner of his lips perk up for a split second before falling again.

“Where did you come from?” He asks.

The people around you begin to disperse, moving on with their day. The woman who hit you stays behind, though, nervously chewing on her nails while watching Zayne assess you.

“The train station.”

“Further back.”

“Skyhaven.”

His hazel eyes are softer than you remember. The green hues fight with the yellow and brown tones, ending with a delicate balance that you always liked to look at when you were kids. He still wears glasses, no contacts for him, and his shoulders are so broad.

“What’s my name again?”

“Zayne,” you exhale. He nods and rises to his feet. He extends a lightly scarred hand to you, which you take, as he helps you from the ground. Zayne turns to the woman beside you. His fingers curl around your elbow and he pulls you to his side.

“She will be fine. I’ll take her from here. You may leave,” Zayne tells the woman. His voice doesn’t falter. It remains steady and it puts your heart at ease.

“I’m so sorry…” the woman stares at you but you wave her away with a smile.

“It’s okay. It happens to all of us,” you try your best to reassure her even though no, this does not happen to all of us. You just happen to be one unlucky girl.

The woman nods and bows her head in shame, scurrying away. Your eyes follow her but Zayne steps in front of you. You tilt your chin up and cock your head to the side. His features are as sharp as ever. The tip of his nose brings his whole face together, matching the thin metal rims of his glasses.

“I see you’re still clumsy,” Zayne blinks at you. You take a second to process his words.

“I wouldn’t really say that I’m clumsy,” you quip back, “I’m just…very unfortunate with the timing of things.” Zayne’s eyebrow perks up.

It’s silent. The two of you stare at each other as the world passes you by. The difference from your previous experience with another person from your past is that this feels comfortable. You feel safe, that if anything were to happen, Zayne would stick by your side and protect you.

He wouldn’t run away to go find a certain someone and make sure that she’s okay first before chasing you.

“How have you been, Zayne?” You fill in the silence, placing your suitcase in front of your body. He watches, his careful gaze noticing every little detail, before they’re drawn back to you.

“I’ve been well. And you? I heard you are a successful translator for the DAA.” You can’t help but chuckle at his words. His brows knit together and he takes a step towards you. “Did I…say something wrong? Are you not translating?”

“No! No, I am translating, I mean, so yes to that,” you stumble over your words like a girl who has a crush on him. You clear your throat and rub the red mark on your forehead, the dull ache behind your eyes making you want to curl up and disappear since you can’t even form a coherent sentence. “I wouldn’t call myself successful, though. Unless you count success as sitting in a cubicle all day and doing whatever work they give you.”

“You complete projects with no problem. To me, that is the definition of success,” Zayne gently moves your hand off of the suitcase handle, his fingers curling around the small bar. His hand looks comedically large against it.

It has you wondering what his hand looks like compared to his medical tools during surgery.

“Where are you staying?” He asks the question so casually. It’s…comforting.

“At my parents’ house. I’m housesitting for them. Hey, do you remember Isabelle?” You move to Zayne’s side. He nods and hums in response. The two of you start walking in the direction of your house, which isn’t too far away from Downtown Linkon. “Well, it’s her bachelorette party this weekend and she had decided for me to go, so naturally my parents decides it’s a great time to go on a weekend vacation themselves.”

“Ah. I see. They deserve a good break. It’ll be good for you to have some time alone outside of the bachelorette party as well.” Zayne doesn’t look at you while he speaks and yet you feel so seen. You nod and look forward, a smile spreading across your face.

The walk home is beautiful. The trees sway with the wind, pastel petals flying and swirling around the two of you. You reach a hand out and catch one. The delicate pale pink petal rests in your hand. You hold your palm out to Zayne to show him.

“It’s a petal.”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“It’s…pink.”

“Observational as always, Zayne.” That earned a quiet chuckle from him. He sped up in front of you, leaving you behind to match his quick pace.

The familiar sight of the front yard comes into view. The bricked walls are still devoured in vines and there’s even a bountiful garden outside with colorful flowers and butterflies that rest on the petals. A warm smile spreads across your face as Zayne holds open the white picket fence for you. He follows behind as you rush up the front steps of the porch. You unlock the door and swing the door open, the familiar scent of your mother’s floral perfume flowing from the house.

This is home. This is a safe space where you know you can escape and not have to worry about the outside world coming to hurt you.

Zayne slides your suitcase inside the home, watching as it disappears down the wooden floors and into the tucked away kitchen. You smile at him, stepping inside and kicking your shoes off. He stays outside, watching as all your walls come down.

“Thank you for walking me home. I’m sure you were busy with…hospital things,” your laugh is breathy. Zayne catches himself smiling at you, forcing the grin away.

“I just got off my mandatory emergency room shift. I have the next day off until they need me back,” he informs you. You nod and lean against the wooden door.

“Oooh, look at you go Zayne. Earning a much deserved break. Please, do tell, how do you intend to spend your day off?” You ask, leaning forward, closing some distance between you two. 

“I would like to spend time with you,” Zayne is as straightforward as ever.

You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

There are no butterflies in your stomach, though, like they’d be with him.

“With me?” You repeat. He nods, taking a step closer. You suck in a breath and take in his fresh scent.

It’s clean like a sunny day. You can see you and Zayne holding hands, running through the school halls to catch a glimpse of the school librarian and P.E. teacher sneaking into the teacher’s lounge together.

“I fail to see how this is…interesting,” a young Zayne told you. You shushed him, looking into his sharp, hazel eyes.

“They’re in love! It’s always nice to see people find their person!”

Zayne’s grip on your hand became tighter in that moment.

“I…I would love to go to dinner with you,” you smile at him. He nods. The corners of his lips twitch and he turns to walk away. You grab his wrist and draw him back to you, eyes wide as you look up at him. “What time should I be ready by?”

“Hm…does seven sound good?” He asks. You nod and release his wrist. “I’ll pick you up.”

Zayne hesitantly leaves your close proximity. He steps down the stone pathway, his eyes staring at the flowers, which just so happen to be your favorite, and turns to face you when he reaches the perimeter of the front yard.

“Hey, Zayne?” You call from the door. He moves his hands into his pockets, tilting his head at you. “Can we do something casual tonight?”

Like the godsend he is, Zayne nods then disappears down the street. You close the door, back pressed against the combination of wood and glass, and let out an excited squeal.

Seven o’clock couldn’t come fast enough. For once, you were excited to go out for dinner with a childhood friend. You knew that he wouldn’t bring any unnecessary interruptions nor will it be cut short due to external forces coming to get you. Besides, Dr. Zayne is one mighty fine date.

He also made you his first choice.

You sit in front of the door, foot tapping against the brown wood. Your hair is neatly made, all loose strands tucked behind your ears, a simple make up look painting your face, and a casual, floral dress to match. You even made sure to wear simple jewelry too to complete the outfit.

6:55 P.M.

Where is Zayne? He’s typically early, he always has been.

Maybe you’re too eager for a night of normalcy with an old friend. This whole trip to Linkon begins to seem like a complete and total waste. You’ve lost hours of precious time, that you selfishly planned to rot on the couch and watch your guilty pleasure television show, on finding an outfit for a night out with Zayne. You knew you shouldn’t have set your expectations so high for a bar that Zayne will never be able to reach.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You lunge to the door, swinging it open. A smile blossoms on your face when you see Zayne standing before you. His hands remain behind his back. He wears black slacks matched with a black button up, his sleeves fastened at his wrists.

“For you…a welcome gift for your short time back in Linkon,” Zayne pulls his arms from behind his back, revealing a bouquet of your favorite flowers matched with delicate baby’s breath. In his other hand is a box from the mom-and-pop shop you never were able to go into. You take them from his hands, your heart swelling with joy.

“Thank you…thank you so much,” you look at the flowers and candy box. A piece of your joy feels sorrowful…bittersweet.

A piece of you wished it was him standing in Zayne’s place. You wished it was back when you were teens when he could have realized that you were in front of him the whole time.

“Um,” you choke on your breath, gesturing behind you, “let me go put these in a vase, then we can go!” You quickly turn on your heel and hurry towards the kitchen, leaving him behind.

“Alright,” his voice is faint as the sound of the door closing echoes throughout the house. You grab a glass vase from one of the cabinets, filling it with water.

You refuse to have this outing be ruined by your…complicated feelings for Caleb. He simply cannot have a chokehold on every aspect of your life. He occupies the hallway outside of your apartment, not the space inside, so the same principle should be applied here, right?

“There is a street fair tonight that I thought looked fun to attend,” Zayne says from behind you. You turn, the water splashing around the inside of the vase.

You set it down on the counter, watching as Zayne removes the covering from the bouquet, his grip keeping the flower stems bunched together. He slides them inside of the vase with ease, eyes focused on the delicate petals while your eyes fixate on his. The doctor finally turns his gaze to yours, eyes meeting from a small distance.

“It’s…casual like you asked for.”

“It sounds like a wonderful time,” you respond, waiting for the butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

They don’t.

It is an ideal spring night in Linkon City. 

Vendors line up along the city street with large food trucks parked in a half circle at the end of the street. The view overlooks Linkon’s large river. Boats float by with their red and green lights twinkling, reflecting against the calm water. There are even a few booze cruises that pass by with music playing from speakers and the inhabitants’ laughter floating across the channel.

A healthy distance remains between you and Zayne when you get to the street fair. You remain close enough for others to know that you are there together but just far enough for people to know that you two aren’t together.

Zayne follows you as you rush to one of the vendors’ stalls. Their table is filled with glasswork, much like the butterfly that hangs from your bedroom window in Skyhaven. You gasp, clasping your hands together. Zayne watches you from behind, an amused chuckle leaving his throat, your excitement infectious.

“These are so pretty!” You smile, eyes scanning the different glass trinkets. The business owner smiles at you. A look of recognition flashes across his face, the man now pointing at you.

“I…I remember you!” He exclaims. Both you and Zayne stare at him, your heads tilting to the side. “You were my very first customer! Ten years ago, you bought an orange and blue butterfly from me! If it weren’t for you, I would have packed up shop a long time ago!”

“I still have your butterfly! It’s hanging in my apartment right now! It’s my favorite decoration,” you smile at him, turning to Zayne. He was there when you bought it, you know, having been the one who gifted you the last collar you were missing.

“Wait here! I’ll get you another butterfly for your collection! Wait here!” The owner turns around and begins to dig through his boxes in a fury. You nudge Zayne’s side, catching his attention, and wiggle your eyebrows at him. He shakes his head and looks away, keeping his hands inside his pockets, a habit he picked up since becoming a surgeon.

The owner turns around and holds out an intricate, medium sized glass butterfly. It hangs from a thin metal chain that is decorated with pearls and reflective pieces of white glass. The glass is a shimmering iridescent purple color, matched with lighter blue and pink glass, held together with flawless welded metal. Underneath each of the wings hangs a short metal chain, adorned with the same sparkling pearls and white pieces of glitter glass. Its wings are outstretched and the owner holds it next to a lamp, showcasing the vibrant hues against a white backdrop.

“It’s...gorgeous. You’ve outdone yourself!” You chuckle, impressed with the man’s skill.

“It truly is a work of art,” Zayne adds to your compliment. The owner’s smile grows, showing all of his teeth, overtaking his entire face.

“Let me wrap it up for you!” He boasts and turns away from the two of you.

You watch the owner delicately places the butterfly in parchment paper and bubblewrap, taking extra precautions with the fragile piece. Zayne’s eyes burn into the side of your face, watching as you stare at the man with awe and wonder in your eyes. Once he passes over the piece, you and Zayne say goodbye, making your way deeper into the street fair.

The two of you partake in many activities and games. Zayne wins a mini plushie of a snowman, which you insist that he must have, and you even win a bet in a quick game of darts, popping more balloons than he does.

You sit at a plastic table, placing the black bag with the butterfly inside on the table next to you, as Zayne waits at one of the food trucks. His snowman plushie sits next to your dragonfly plushie, leaning against each other. You look around as people pass you by, engrossed in their own conversations. Your smile from before has yet to disappear.

A band begins to play live music from a stage not so far away. You turn to watch, the sound of the band’s guitar making your body sway along to the beat. The singer’s voice is beautiful too, as she sings a lovely melody about love and how distance will never keep her away from her lover.

A figure sits in the chair across from you. You blink and turn your head, expecting to see Zayne, but are met with Caleb’s hardened gaze, scowl on his face. Your back straightens, goosebumps littering your skin.

“Caleb…what are you doing here?” You look towards Zayne, whose back is facing you, “you need to leave. Now.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to Linkon.” His voice is snappy. His lilac eyes flit to the plushies that lean against each other. His eyes narrow when he turns his attention back to you. “Are you here with someone?” His voice is low, dangerous. You swallow the spit in your mouth, nervousness flooding your body.

“I am, actually. Now if you could leave—”

“You’re in my seat.” Zayne stands behind you. He holds a bowl of strawberries, covered with a heavy pour of chocolate, and two forks in his hand. The snack is a perfect combination of Zayne’s sweet tooth and your love of fresh fruit.

“I’m fine where I am, thanks,” Caleb snaps at Zayne. His eyes never leave yours, though.

“Suit yourself,” Zayne responds. He sets the bowl down on the table. He pulls the empty chair out from beside you and sits down. Caleb huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What are you doing here with him?” Caleb’s eyes are cold. There is no warmth behind his purple hues. Just a bitterness that you can taste on the tip of your tongue.

“I thought you said you had a Deepspace mission or whatever, why aren’t you there?” You ask. Before Caleb can respond, Zayne speaks.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead? Was your grave not comfortable enough?” Zayne shoots back, his words just as icy as Caleb’s are venomous.

“Enough,” your hand moves to Zayne’s forearm, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He looks to you, eyebrows raised. What? It’s a fair question. When you shake your head, he nods, relaxing into the plastic chair.

Caleb watches, heart burning with fury as you touch Zayne so casually. He remembered when just a little over a month ago that he was the one you were touching, your fingers unable to break free from his rough skin.

He was the one who you were laughing with, not him. Caleb was the one who you wanted to share a dessert with, not this lame ass doctor who sits beside you.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Caleb’s eyes dart back to yours. You shrug and lean forward, fork in hand as you poke a chocolate covered strawberry, popping it into your mouth. “I deserve an answer.”

“You think you’re entitled to a lot of things,” you turn to Zayne, signaling to him to have a bite. “It doesn’t mean that you’re going to get what you want.” Zayne takes a bite from a strawberry, granted it’s more chocolate than it is fruit, and nods at you.

“It’s delicious,” he murmurs to you. You smile and nod, going in for a second bite.

Caleb uses his Evol to move the bowl away from you. You glare at him, leaning forward. He matches your movement and your faces are inches apart from each other, darkened and angered gazes burning with nothing but passion.

“Stop being difficult,” you snatch the bowl back and pull away from the Colonel. He doesn’t budge, though, and remains where he is.

He watches as you and Zayne share nonchalant glances. Zayne holds the bowl for you two and lets you have first pick of the contents.

It sickens him to watch. Out of all the people in the world, you just had to be with Zayne, his childhood rival despite always acting like a friend towards him.

“Why are you with him?” Caleb pushes his luck by asking again. When you don’t respond, his fists clench. Zayne’s eyes flicker to the Colonel’s hands, up to his glare, before looking back at the strawberries.

“I’m surprised you aren’t here with her.” Zayne’s words freeze your body. You stop chewing, the strawberry becoming sour at the mention of her name. You chew slow, begrudgingly swallowing the bit of fruit.

“Fuck you, Zayne,” Caleb stands from his chair, slamming his hands onto the plastic table. You look up to the dark haired man, watching as he holds his hand out to you. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?! He’s clearly using you against me!”

“Caleb. Go home. I’ll dismiss the fact that you followed me here and interrupted Zayne and I’s time together,” you breathe out. Your anger cools, lingering under your skin. The numbness you once felt returns to your body, leaving you feeling more indifferent than depressed or furious.

You feel dead.

Zayne stands, his hand resting on your shoulder. His touch is warm and comforting, something that you’re unable to find within Caleb’s current demeanor. Your eyes dissociate and you stare into nothing, tears stinging your eyes.

“Let’s not cause a scene,” Zayne cooly says, “I’ll make sure that she gets home safe. Let’s not ruin her night.”

“Stay out of this, Zayne,” Caleb snaps at the doctor, “this is none of your business.”

“You made it my business by coming here and demanding answers from her,” he narrows his eyes from behind his glasses. “Why does it matter who she is with? Would it have made a difference if it wasn’t me? I bet you’d still be having a tantrum over it.”

“I’d choose your next words very, very wisely,” Caleb’s fists ball up. You look at his hands, noticing a blur forming around his hand.

“You didn’t care for her when you were younger, so why start now?” Zayne speaks as if he’s not under any pressure. “She has always been your backup.”

“What did you just say?” Caleb pushes the words through gritted teeth. “Since when have you been friends with her? You were always a loner.”

“I’ve always been friends with her,” Zayne relaxes back into the chair next to you, “you were too busy with her to notice.” You look at Zayne, a frown overtaking your face.

The night, which is now ruined, leaves you feeling cold and hopeless. You turn and stare into the distance, watching as happy people pass by, looking at the three of you with weird looks and hushed whispers. You shake your head, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

You wouldn’t be in this predicament if it weren’t for Caleb. You wouldn’t have been made out to be some kind of social pariah that has to be avoided at all costs if he had just stayed away. Your night with Zayne has become that of a public spectacle, one that you don’t wish to be a part of anymore.

“We’re leaving.” Caleb demands. Zayne moves to defend you but you shake your head and sigh. You pat his hand and wipe a tear away from your face.

“I’m going to go with him. It’s the only way to get him to calm down and I don’t want either of you ending up on the news for murder,” your sad attempt of a joke earns no laughs. Zayne releases a deep, long sigh. He nods and reaches over, grabbing your dragonfly plushie and places it inside the black bag that holds your glass butterfly. You take it from him and weakly smile.

Caleb circles the table and takes your wrist into his large hand. His calloused palm is rough against your gentle skin. He pulls you up from the chair and you move with him, unable to fight against him anymore. You can feel his Evol wrap around your waist, hugging it tightly as he begins to move you away from Zayne.

“Thank you for tonight, Zayne!” Your voice is hoarse. He waves and takes off his glasses pinching the bridge of your nose. You turn your attention back to Caleb, the heat of your anger turning back to a boil when your eyes land on the smug smirk on his face.

It’s not long before you are back home. You watch Caleb’s back, his muscles tense and flexed, as he unlocks the door to your childhood home. He steps to the side, his Evol guiding you inside. You storm down the hallway and into the kitchen. He slams the door shut and follows you, watching as you set down your belongings onto the table.

Caleb feels his body slowly calm down. He knows that you’re safe. You’re here with him, nobody else. Now he can finally explain what you mean to—

You slap him across the face, tears welled in your eyes, silently falling down your cheeks. Caleb doesn’t flinch, turning his face turning back to face you. Your fingerprints appear on his cheek, a light pink color contrasting against his tan skin.

“Do you feel better now?” He asks in a calm voice. You shake your head. He nods. “Go ahead. Get it all out.”

“Fuck you!” You yell at him. “Why the fuck did you have to ruin my night with Zayne?! We were just hanging out!” You smack your balled up fist against his chest. You grab his shirt and shake him back and forth, your anger taking over your body. “I hate you!”

“You don’t mean that,” Caleb shakes his head.

“I do. I fucking mean it with every fiber of my goddamn being,” you spit the words at him and push away, creating distance between you two. Caleb follows close behind, unable to handle being far away from you despite your already close proximity. “You’re always there! You can’t seem to catch the hint that I don’t fucking like you! You are a parasite that I can’t seem to get rid of! I want this nightmare to be over!”

You rush up the stairs, heading to your bedroom. Caleb is close behind, his eyes glued onto your back. You dip to the right and find yourself in your room. Your walls are covered with posters from magazines your mother got you, mixed in with photos of you and your friends from high school. Neither Caleb or her are in any of them.

“Is what he said true?” You turn around, looking up at Caleb. “Am I just your backup plan? Did she reject you so now you’re coming for your consolation prize?”

“No!” Caleb yells the word, barely able to breathe.

“Then why are you here?! Why are you playing with my head?!” You cry out, throat becoming raw from your yells.

“Because it’s always been you!” Caleb shouts. You pause, shrinking into your shoulders. “It’s…it’s always been you. I know that it sounds ridiculous. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t want to hear it or believe it either but it’s true. I am in love with you. I always have been. I’ve been in a constant denial about it but I finally realized that it’s you.”

You shake your head at him, bottom lip trembling. What he’s saying can’t be true. It’s all one big mind game that he’s playing with you. You’re his prey, weak and helpless, while he has all of the ammunition to bury you.

“The only reason I ever stuck around her is because it was expected of me. Everyone saw it. Our friends teachers, Zayne…you. You all saw that I was devoted to her so I felt the need to be what you all expected of me. To be her protector, her guardian! Hell, the only person who saw through the rouse was Gran! She always pushed me to go to you but I was a fucking idiot and didn’t listen.” His voice cracks.

Your feet remain cemented into the ground, unable to move. He inches closer to you, his eyes refusing to leave yours.

Your hearts pound inside your chests, beating the same bittersweet beat. He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. Caleb wipes away your tears with his thumb, his touch so inexplicably warm against your skin. Chills run down your spine.

“Every room I walked in, I looked for you. I wanted to take you to the homecoming dance but she  made sure that I forgot about it so I came up with some lousy excuse to cover my ass. Every game I didn’t attend was because I didn’t think you needed me. I should have showed up. I was an idiot who didn’t fight for you. I should have chased you down and kept you close to me instead of her. That’s a mistake I plan on repaying to you for the rest of our lives,” his voice lowers to a whisper. “I’d rather you hate me but be in my life than be out of it. I can’t lose you. Never again. I can’t go through that pain.”

“Caleb…” your voice trembles.

“You’re the one I want. You’re the one I love. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I need you in my life. I can’t live without you,” he admits, unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth.

You reach up and grab his wrist, enamored by his words. You squeeze his arm and he sighs, looking at your touch before his eyes return to yours. He cups your other cheek, holding you in front of him, both of your breathing heavy.

“Fuck it,” Caleb mumbles under his breath.

He leans in, his lips crashing onto yours, capturing them in a slow yet fiery kiss. You gasp but immediately melt into him. You pull away for a brief second, your breath mixing with each others. He opens his mouth to say sorry but you draw him back in, pulling his head back down to meet yours.

The kiss your share is both bittersweet and filled with nothing but longing and desperation. Caleb pushes you backwards, guiding you to a nearby wall, pushing you up against it. Your lips parted, acting as an invitation for Caleb to slip his tongue inside, his tongue toying with yours.

A quiet whimper escapes from your throat, hidden by the sounds of ravenous kisses. The two of you become breathless, lips swollen, chests rising and falling. Caleb pulls away, despite his aching body begging him not to, and rests his forehead against yours.

You stand in his grip, mind dazed, feeling the tip of his nose graze against yours. You open your eyes to meet his. He grazes the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, wiping away leftover saliva from your kiss.

“I don’t care how long it takes for you to forgive me. I will wait for centuries if it means that I can see the light in your smile, the way your exude warmth to those who need it. I will give up my life as a Colonel if you don’t want to see me at work. I just want to be able to hear your jokes and laughter and be a part of your life because…I love you,” he whispers.

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Caleb stares deep into your eyes, unable to look away or say anything else. You blink, tears falling from your eyes.

Caleb’s words have mended the fractured fragments of your heart. He’s healed the torn open seams of your agony and has made you feel whole again. His admission has you captivated. Your shared kiss left you wanting more despite the warning bells sounding off inside your mind. It makes you want to slide into his arms, to wipe away the salty tears that fall from his violet eyes while also wanting to run away and hide from him so that he’ll never be able to find you ever again.

You’re moved by his love but can’t deny the fact that it has come too late.

There are too many open wounds and scars that time and words of love simply cannot erase or fully mend. It leaves you even more confused than before. Your head hurts. Your body aches. You feel like you’re about to pass out into his arms and fall into a sleep you’ll never wake up from.

“Caleb,” you breathe his name out. He looks at you, hanging onto the way you said his name, the way your hand fits perfectly into his. “You need to leave.”

You tear your hand from his. He stands in front of you, unable to comprehend what you just said. He watches as you back away form him, your hearts shattering by the actions you take.

“Why? Why are you pushing me away?” Caleb pleads. He takes your hands but you rip them away. Your force yourself to look away.

“I…I don’t know how to feel. I’m so utterly confused right now,” your throat feels like barbed wire is being fastened around it, slowly turning tighter and tighter until you are unable to breathe. “You…you need to go. Please. For my sake.” You move behind him, hands attaching to his broad shoulders, forcing him towards the door.

Caleb doesn’t fight against your touch. He moves with your momentum, his mind having gone blank. You guide him down the stairs and to the front door, opening it for him as he steps out. He turns to look down at you, his chest aching at the sight of your trembling body and silent cries.

You begin to close the door but his hand stops it, the glass within the wood rattling.

“Will you…will you please think about what I said?” Caleb whispers, looking down at you. You nod. He removes his hand and watches as you close the door., vanishing into the darkness of the home.

[chocoposum]

|| series masterlist ||

genre(s) -> fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au, requested paring(s) -> ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> nothing :D words -> 1.8k

abstract -> why not celebrate two holidays instead of one...

y/n’s perspective

“Can we celebrate Christmas this year?” Wooyoung had asked me since last year we couldn’t since… Well, I got San two months before and celebrated when he wasn’t adjusted and even Wooyoung wasn’t something I wanted to force upon. So even though I did get them gifts we didn’t go all out since we didn’t feel up to it. 

“Ooh! Can we?! I heard you make gingerbread houses and decorate a huge pine tree and–""You’re exaggerating” Yeosang scolded Wooyoung who pouted and glared at the Doberman hybrid.

“Hmm? Do you want to celebrate?” I asked and they nodded. I chuckled and said why not… “Can we get a tree then? Even if it's small?” Seonghwa asked and I chuckled. “Get the biggest tree you’d like within reason of fitting it in the elevator of course,” I said and they grinned.

“We should do Secret Santa! I remember you did it when you were still in high school” Wooyoung suggested and I was surprised but everyone else looked confused. “Why don’t you explain to them what it is first?” I asked and his bushy tail moved back and forth as he explained the concept which everyone agreed. 

They’d share with each other but since I was the one with money… the one who got me would have to buy it with my card and id just trust what it is. 

Meaning… Some were unhappy with who they got. 

Unfortunately… Sometimes things don’t go as planned and we don't celebrate Christmas as planned. With the whole lawsuit, I was in and out of the apartment and settling it. As well as adjusting to Mingi and the entire situation with Yunho running away, it was the end of January when everything was settled and the living room still had Christmas decorations.

Sure we briefly celebrated  New Year’s but… they were upset we didn’t get to do everything as planned. Until… someone spoke up about it. 

“Why can’t you celebrate a late Christmas?” Yunho asked and everyone was silent in thought before looking at me. I chuckled at their perplexed faces… “If you guys want–” “YES!!” they yelled, not letting me finish. “And Valentine's Day is coming up too” Yeosang pointed out as everyone looked at each other. 

Well… combining two holidays in one day was an interesting thought. Everyone had re-pulled who they would give as Secret Santa and like before… but were unhappy with who they got. 

San -> Hongjoong. Hongjoong -> Yunho. Yunho -> Seonghwa. Seonghwa -> Mingi. Mingi -> Yeosang. Yeosang -> Wooyoung.  Wooyoung -> me. 

“Angel… who got Seonghwa?” Yeosang asked first and I sighed. “Why?” I asked and he groaned softly. “Cause he’s the easiest to get something for and Wooyoung… Well, he doesn’t like me giving gifts” he explained, which was true. Every time he suggested Wooyoung try something, the fox hybrid didn't like it. 

“You got Wooyoung?” San asked suddenly joining us and the Doberman nodded. “I’ll trade you? I have Hongjoong” he said and Yeosang scoffed. “He’d be harder to get something for” he scolded and I laughed. 

“You’ll figure it out,” I said and they sighed as I walked off wondering what they’d get from each other. Of course, it would be cheating for me to get them a Secret Santa since… Well, I already got everybody's gifts on actual Christmas and then a bucnh of stuff for Yunho and Mingi already. It was mainly an event for them to look forward to.

I just hope this month of February will be… happy memory for them since they have never experienced the holidays before. 

Seonghwa wanted to use the tree we got but never used it and decorate it pink. Which Yeosang and Wooyoung were ecstatic about. They decorated it with hearts, roses, and other red and pink decorations. It was Valentine's Christmas!

We’d do “Christmas Eve” on the day before Valentine's Day to make it a full effect. Cause while we did have a feast for actual Christmas it wasn’t the same.

“I want to switch Secret Santas!” Mingi whined for the hundredth time. “What’s so wrong with Yeosang?” I asked and he pouted. “I wanted Yunho” he muttered and I chuckled. “Besides he only likes expensive things I don't understand!” he complained and I was gonna offer help when I heard a laugh behind me. A familiar white-striped tail made its way to my waist before he grinned. “I know who Yunho? And he wants to switch!” he said and Mingi lit up. “Will he want Yeosang–” “I want Yeosang so I'll make him a deal” he said and his tail had happy syndrome. 

“Ok! I have to look for things now!” he said, running to his room. “You have Mingi,” I said and he nodded. “I also know Yunho wants to trade for Mingi,” he said and I sighed. “What's the point of a Secret Santa?” I asked and he chuckled “I don’t know, all I know is that Yunho probably has me if Hongjoon has been asking to trade with him,” he said and I sighed. 

“There’s no point in the secret anymore huh?” I asked and he kissed my head before laughing and walking off. “Yunho has Seonghwa?” Yeosang asked now out of nowhere… I laughed. “Yeah? You’re gonna have to fight Hongjoong for that”

Mingi successfully bought and secured a gift for his traded Secret Santa… Yunho. Whilst Mingi is the same… for Mingi. However, there is a current… bribe going around. Yeosang has been bothering Hongjoong to get Seonghwa, while Hongjoong wanted to get Seonghwa something lego or animal-crossing related. Yeosang wanted to get a perfume and skin care set they’d both been looking at. 

It was all for selfish reasons since they’d share it so he’d be getting himself a gift. I already offered to buy him one he denied it and wanted to get his way. 

Seonghwa however… bought the set they’ve been looking at for him… and maybe himself. So… in a way, Yeosang got what he wanted but he’s pouting while looking for Wooyoung’s present that is hard to find. 

San was also having a lot of trouble with… well Hongjoong. Meaning there wasn’t any more trading happening. It was officially set. 

Hongjoong → Seonghwa Seonghwa → Yeosang  Yeosang → Wooyoung  San → Hongjoong Wooyoung → myself  Yunho → Mingi  Mingi → Yunho 

Now what was left if they waited for the days to go past a celebrated with one another as they fully believed in the skit of it being Christmas. 

when it was finally the day after our "Christmas Eve" we all woke up early either in valenties or Christmas pajamas. huddled around the Valentine's Day tree as we saw who would go first.

They decided the oldest would go first, and they'd decide after that.

"I got Yeosang!" Seonghwa announced as he got the fanciest wrapped box. Yeosang looked surprised but... Mingi's tail was wagging since he got to switch from the fellow canine.

"Here I was hoping for the biggest box "Yeosang teased and as he opened it, he was soon in a state of shock. "It's the set we've been talking about!" he said with a grin as he for once thanked the older.

The image shocked everyone as Yerosnag actually hugged Seonghwa. Until he pulled away realizing and huffed as he got his big present and put it in front of Wooyoung.

"Ah... I was kinda hoping you weren't the one who got me" he muttered as the Doberman glared. Wooyoung chuckled as he opened it and his fluffy talk wagged. He then looked at Yeosang in shock.

'This is one of a kind!" he said as he looked at the jacket Yeosnag was able to get. He had me talk to Wonyoung to help me get it... but it was a one-of-a-kind jacket that Wooyoung only had now.

Wooyoung had one hobby in common with the Doberman... to collect all kinda of clothes.

"I... have you. Do you want your gift now or last?" Wooyoung soon asked as he carefully folded the jacket as he looked at me expectingly. "I'd say hers should be last" Hongjoong announced and everyone agreed.

Now they went with Hongjoong as the second oldest.

"I got Seonghwa," he said as he gave... Seonghwa is the biggest box. He looked shocked. He started opening the cute pink stared swapping paper as it revealed...

A Star Wars Lego set and some animal crossing in-game good cards. Seonghwa's eyes got all big and his tail was swaying in content as he talked the fellow tiger in a hug.

"The tigers are showing PDA again" Yeosang complained and I chuckled. The next now was Yunho as he was the next oldest that hasn't given his gift.

"Mingi," he said as he handed the gift to the boy and he was happy to see he got a gift from the one he admired most from here. He opened it and he revealed... a Tokyo ghoul manga set.

He's been reading the digital version on my tablet but has also stated he might be collecting manga soon.

He was so happy he started showing off the art style in it. It was cute seeing Mingi get excited and something to look forward to in the next few days.

"I also got you!" Mingi said as he clumsily stood up to grab the gift in heart wrapping for the other giant. Yunho opened it carefully to reveal... "A PlayStation?" he muttered in shock as he looked at it carefully. It had a spiderman design as he even found a venom figure inside it.

Everyone seemed happy with their gifts... even though some of them cheated. Honestly... most of them cheated.

"And yours!" Wooyoung as he was now in front of me. I was most curious to what he did since he said he wasn't planning on buying me anything.

I opened it to reveal... a small little book.

"It's... a story about us! About how the heroine saves her seven princes... it may not be as good as your writing but it ends happily and-" I cut him off with a hug. While... it may have seemed small it meant everything.

The writing was everything to me so... "Thank you, I bet it'll be my favorite book" I said and he chuckled as he hugged me back.

"It's actually not badly written. I'll give it to Wooyoung for that" San said and I chuckled. "It's all of us... but written a little different. Everyone helped with their section. I really hope you'll like it" Wooyoung explained and I nodded. I know he liked to read what I wrote since we met... but seeing how he actually wrote something for me, made me want to tear up.

"Of course I will!!" I said and he smiled. "One more thing, and something from all of us!" he said and suddenly they all pulled out roses.

"While we're celebrating our own version of Christmas it is also Valentine's Day! So who will you choose to be your Valentine?"

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[chocoposum]

Man....

Rotten Apples, pt. 3

masterlist , part one , part two

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you go out with caleb but things turn south.

word count: 8.1k words

warnings: extreme loathing, kinda funny, sad at the end, a good mix of everything! a hint of foreplay! mentions of death! not proofread!

author's note: hi all! this is a bit on the longer side so i apologize! part four is most definitely in the works, though! i hope you enjoy the chapter! i hope i got everyone who asked to be tagged! please yell at me if i forgot you!

taglist <3 : @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexizia , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @jexizia

Seven o’clock is approaching fast and you have yet to find anything to wear. Your closet has been emptied, clothes scattered across the vinyl flooring of your apartment. Dresses, pants, and blouses fill in the blank spaces of the floor. You tip toe around the messily laid out outfits, sending pictures to your closest friend for her opinion,

It doesn’t really surprise you when she video calls you, laughing at how seriously you’re taking this dinner.

“Are you trying to impress him?” Your friend snorts. You prop your phone against a book on the counter. “I thought you didn’t like him?”

“I don’t,” your response is immediate and snappy, “I would like to have a nice dinner, though.”

“How do you know you’re actually going out to dinner? What if he’s there to kill you, you know, like some serial killer type shit.”

“He is our beloved Colonel, after all. I can’t pass up the opportunity he’s handing to me.”

“An opportunity to what? Find another military sugar daddy that wants you on his arm? Bitch, please,” Your friend rolls her eyes and shakes her head when you hold a red dress to your body. “I don’t think you should go. My expertise tells me that this is a bad idea.”

“Your expertise?” You throw your head back and laugh. “Your expertise from what? All of the true crime documentaries you’ve watched?”

“Yes, actually,” she proudly states, a ‘fuck you’ smile spreading across her face.

“I’m going,” a fake smile spreads across your face when you glance at yourself in the mirror. “It’s a free meal. I’m not going to pass it up!”

“You’re making a major mistake! You should go in sweatpants. Put in no effort whatsoever. He’s the guy you’ve been trying to forget, right?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, glancing at her face on the phone screen, “he’s kind of hard to forget, though. He’s—”

“A dreamboat? Got you a single butterfly toy when you were kids? Has the prettiest eyes? This is going to end up horribly and you know it. I’m not going to stop you…just don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart.” Your friend hangs up after that.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, eyes focused on the dress that you hold up in front of yourself. It slips out of your sight and your eyes drop down to the baggy sweatpants you have on.

They haven’t been washed in a couple days and there’s a stain from the takeout you ordered the other day when your favorite show had its season premiere.

Sweatpants, you roll your eyes with a chuckle, he’d hate that.

A slow smile spreads across your face. Maybe you will be in sweatpants and the shirt you sleep in when he shows up. You never agreed to the dinner, after all. What could Caleb possibly be expecting from you?

It’s not like this dinner is going to solve all of your problems. It’s not going to wash away the sins he’s committed against you nor will it bring you much solace even if things go well.

A black dress catches your attention from the corner of your eye. The hanger finds itself between your fingers. you slowly lift it into the air, silently examining it, before holding the dress against your body. Your steps are slow and meticulous. They’re almost hesitant to see what it looks like on you.

Your hands trail across the soft fabric of the dress. It has a box neckline, cutting low on your chest, with long sleeves, and a skirt that stops just halfway down your thigh. You squint at the dress, familiarity tingling in the back of your mind.

It couldn’t be…no…right?

The dress falls to the floor. It pools at your feet, your body shuddering. You grasp the spot over your heart, feeling the beats speed up. A faint ringing buzzes in your ears. You didn’t expect to see the black garment in your closet.

Did your mother pack it without you knowing? She was horrendously overbearing while you packed your room up. The move from Linkon to Skyhaven was brutal on her. She had almost convinced your father to follow you so she can have the peace of mind knowing that you know somebody there. Thankfully, he talked her down, but it didn’t make her maternal instincts go away.

Out of all the things she helped pack for you: did she have to pack that dress?

Grumbling obscenities under your breath, you cleaned your apartment, wasting time.

You simply weren’t going to go. Your friend was right, all this is going to do is bring back bad memories and ruin your night. With the floors now cleared and free from your disastrous attempt at fashion, you flop onto the couch, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table. The television switches on, the laughs from Skyhaven’s news anchors filling the silence of your apartment. You roll your eyes and click to the next channel. A reality show pops up with older white woman screaming at each other.

It’s trash but it works.

You grab your phone and the screen lights up. Just as fate has it, a notification pings, the banner floating at the top of the screen. You don’t recognize the number and shrug it off, swiping it away. You move to a familiar app and begin to play the game.

It only feels like a few minutes, when in actuality it’s been an hour, when there’s a knock at the door. The sound floats in the air before it comes again, much more demanding this time. You turn around, looking over the edge of the couch you have sunken into, and raise an eyebrow.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air. The knocks don’t continue nor can you hear anyone, like your landlord, calling your name. There are no alarms and no sound of chaos from the hallway.

Huh. Weird.

 You turn back to your game, groaning when your tiny character falls off the platform and into the lasers below. You chuck your phone into the other side of the couch, head rolling back and over the arm rest. You stare at the door, laughing to yourself.

That would be so fucking crazy if that were Caleb at the door. How would he even know where to find you? You definitely didn’t tell him where you live nor did you confirm this dinner he invited you on.

Life is weird though. Dead men come back to life and they suddenly pay attention to you. What’s even crazier is that the dead man wants to see you tonight.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Your body jumps from the couch, the sudden sound scaring you back to life. You land on your feet, sharp pain shooting through your ankles. You gasp and collapse back onto the couch, loudly whining.

You hear your name through the door followed by continuous knocking. Quickly making your way to the door, you swing up open and quickly dodge a balled fist that misses the door.

“Woah!” Caleb’s voice causes you to groan. “I almost got you there! Sorry about that!”

Your eyes narrow at him and that damn charming smile of his. You lean against the doorframe, pulling the door to your side to block the view of your messy apartment. Caleb’s a head taller than you, though, so your efforts are in vain as he cranes his chin up, looking inside.

“How did you find my apartment? How the fuck do you know where I live?” You ask, completely baffled by his presence.

“I may or may not have abused my power when you didn’t answer my texts,” he says it so casually that even you think that what he did was okay. You blink for a couple seconds, comprehending what he just said, when your eyes get caught on his outfit.

He wears black dress pants matched with a white dress shirt. He sports a black jacket over his arms and shoulders with no tie hanging around his neck. unconsciously, your eyes drift to the collar of his shirt. You expect to see a certain silver necklace around his neck, one that you’ve seen in countless social media photos.

It isn’t around his neck.

Hope strikes your heart, causing it to skip a beat. Your cheeks heat up.

You hate how easy it is for you to like him again. Is the bar that low that him opting not to wear a necklace has you wanting to go to dinner with him?

Fortify your mental walls, dammit! Do not give in to the temptation that is Caleb!

“I love the sweatpants look. Very classy. But you should probably change, our reservation is in thirty minutes,” his purple eyes scan the small sliver of your apartment.

It’s actually a lot different than from what he initially imagined. The couch is in the middle of the room with the television pushed up against the wall. Behind the couch is a small table with two chairs. He assumes that the kitchen is to the right of it because your bedroom is to the left. The walls are somewhat bare. Only a few pictures and decor hang from them.

At least your place feels alive and lived in compared to his.

You raise an eyebrow. He mimics you with a chuckle. You purse your lips and Caleb has to mentally tell himself to not close the distance and kiss you.

“A reservation?” He nods in response to your question. “I can’t. My heater broke I’m…waiting for maintenance to come by and fix it.”

“I can fix it,” his reply is immediate.

“No, it’s fine, really—”

“It’ll take me five minutes! You can get dressed while I fix it,” he speaks over you so casually as if this were everyday banter between you two.

It’s like that with his pipsqueak, but never you.

Caleb pushes some of his weight onto the door but you push back. He stops and looks down at down, brows furrowed.

Why won’t you let me help you? He thinks to himself.

Caleb rests a hand on the door, palm flat and fingers stretched out. He leans down and inspects your face.

You wear a large frown which is matched with a deadly glare, one that he isn’t particularly fond of since your years together in high school. Your eyes keep moving away from his, looking everywhere but at him, and he frowns.

“You’re lying to me,” Caleb states. His posture straightens, arms crossed over his chest. You match his posture, throwing him a dirty look.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes. Yes you are,” he leans down to your eye level. You get a closer look at his eyes, noticing that the gold you saw before is actually more of a bronze. Perhaps he’s never been a golden boy this whole time. Your hardened expression falters. “Go get changed. I’ll wait inside for you.”

Caleb takes a step towards you, the door creaking open. Your hand smacks against his chest, right on top of his heart. His heart thumps inside his chest. Your fingers involuntary curl into his chest, pushing him back. Your eyes remain trained on the top button of his shirt.

“No,” you say, finally looking up into his big eyes. “Stay…right here.” You swipe your foot in a line in front of your apartment door. He watches then looks back up at you. “Don’t cross this line. I’ll be right back.”

You slam the door in his face and quickly lock it. Caleb stands out in the hallway. He blinks at the door, unsure of what just happened, and turns around to face the hallway.

Progress. That’s what this is. It’s progress. Progress towards you two reigniting the spark of friendship. The Colonel hopes it turns into something more. He needs it to be more than slammed doors and tense moments in interrogation rooms and apartment hallways.

Caleb watches as people pass by in the hallway. He can’t hear you inside, most likely deep inside your bedroom getting changed.

Getting ready for him.

The thought of you getting all dolled up for him gets Caleb excited. His smile grows with every passing second. A few men walk by and Caleb makes for sure to glare at them, arms crossed, chest puffed out, asserting dominance over them.

He sighed when the last one disappeared into the elevator. The faint click of the door’s lock catches his attention and he takes a single step back, watching as you slowly open the door.

His heart pounds in his chest, ears and cheeks growing warm from the sight of you.

You look absolutely stunning in the black dress you wear. He likes how the sleeves cover your arms yet it leaves your upper chest exposed. It’s like you’re teasing him, luring him in for more. Your hair is pulled back and out of your face. Your face isn’t beaten, instead opting for a more natural and casual look, and you shrug your long purse strap over your shoulder. You’re much taller, too, and his eyes fall onto a simple pair of heels. Looking back up, Caleb smiles.

You are the image of perfection.

His eyes barely skim over the top of your head now. Maybe his neck won’t hurt as much looking down at you.

“You look…amazing.” Caleb can barely get his compliment out, fumbling over his words and growing feelings towards you. His heart swells at your small smile and nod. You turn, keys jingling in your hand. You take a second to breathe. The warmth in your cheeks irritates you.

You hate how your body constantly betrays you when he’s around. It’s a curse, not a blessing.

“Ready?” His voice quips once you turn around from locking your apartment door. You hesitantly nod, forcing a smile onto your face, but it falls once he extends his hand to you.

You stare at his fingers, which have a few scars wrapped around his skin, before looking back up at him. Caleb’s smile is so hopeful. The corners of his eyes slightly crinkle. You sigh, stepping around him, his fingers brushing against your arm.

Caleb watches as you walk down the hallway, your jacket draped over your arm, purse bouncing against your side. He releases a disappointed sigh, fingers curling back into his palm. He forces his feet to chase after you, watching as you press the elevator button.

The Colonel attaches himself to your side, making sure to keep a respectable yet close distance. It’s silent. The faint dings from the elevator grow louder. The doors slide open and you step inside, Caleb following suit.

The metal box slowly lowers. Caleb’s eyes remain on you, utterly captivated by the sight. You look forward, opting for the buffed metal door.

Caleb would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of the door.

“Where are you taking us?” You break the awkward silence of the elevator. You glance at him and your eyes meet. You slowly bat your eyelashes at him, sighing.

Please prove me wrong, you internally plead, inner voice desperate, please prove that you aren’t the same boy I knew in high school.

Before he can respond, the elevator slide open. An obnoxiously large group stands on the other side. They wear bright pink cowboy hats and sashes, their eyes half-lidded.

Oh shit. It’s a bachelorette party. That’ll be fun to listen to tonight.

They wave hi, which you and Caleb return. As they slowly pile into the elevator, their voices grow loud, causing your ears to ring.

Caleb slides in front of you, gently pushing you against the back wall. His forearm rests against your head, the man trapping you in your spot. You look around him.

The elevator is completely packed. The inhabitants push together, morphing into one big blob. Your eyes dart to Caleb’s torso, noticing that there’s a few inches of space between you.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You look up, his face hovering in front of yours.

Your lips barely graze over each other. He’s slightly hunched over, face slightly grimacing from the bachelorette party bumping into him, stepping on his feet.

You hold back a laugh, covering your mouth. Caleb turns his attention back to you, a half-amused grin tugging the corner of his lips up.

“You’re laughing? At a time like this?” Caleb whispers into your ear, leaning in. The strands of his hair tickle your forehead. He leans in closer, lips grazing against your ear. “C’mon now…cut me some slack. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

His breath is hot on your ear. Shivers run down your spine, the tingles making themselves at home in your stomach. Frozen in place, your eyes move to his shoulder.

A small speck catches your eye. Inside the small elevator, you push your arm against the pressure from the other people. Caleb’s gaze follows your hand. You breathe in sync with him, both watching as you pluck a single eyelash from his cheek, right below his eye.

Your fingertips graze against his skin, leaving electric shocks in their wake, and scoop the small eyelash from his skin. You inspect the eyelash with close eyes. Your gaze flits to his, his purple eyes staring not at your eyes but your lips.

“Make a wish,” your whisper fills the tension between your bodies. His bottom lip quivers. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, feeling them heat up.

Caleb tilts his head down. He slowly slows at the eyelash on your finger, the hair disappearing, your eyes meeting once again.

My wish is you.

His breath is cool against your skin. It brings you no relief. Instead, your body inches closer to him, burning under his gaze of desire.

The two of you don’t even realize that the elevator is now empty. There is no bachelorette party cornering you. There is no reason for you two to be so close.

You hate to admit it but you don’t want to move. Caleb doesn’t either. He can’t get enough of your perfume, the way your touch was so light and careful against his face, almost as if you were scared to get even closer to him.

Do you feel it?

Do you feel the center of gravity that is pulling us together?

You clear your throat and dip under his arm. The further you get from him, the easier it is to breathe. You don’t even look at him from over your shoulder, scurrying out of the small enclosure.

Caleb hangs behind. His fingers curl against the elevator wall, eyes closed. He grimaces, harshly biting down on his lower lip. Your perfume lingers in the air. The warmth of your affection tickling his skin. He lets out a haggard breath, his back slowly straightening. He fixes his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt, and exits the elevator, finding you outside.

You stand alone and off to the side, just hidden enough for people not to notice you but visible enough for Caleb to immediately find you. Just as the purse strap slips off your shoulder, Caleb collects it in his hand. He slips the jacket from your arms as well and eases your hand through the first sleeve, helping aim your next arm through the second.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, your breath visible in the cold night air. He nods, clearing his throat. “I think you were interrupted before.”

“Was I?” Caleb’s eyes flutter, looking down at you. You chuckle and raise an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah, I was, wasn’t I?” You nod. “A colleague recommended the restaurant to me. I thought you may like it.”

“Oh?” His intention takes you by surprise.

He actually…thought of you? Wow. You didn’t know he could do that.

You don’t give it much thought, though. It’s probably due to her not being here.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

The outside of the restaurant takes you by surprise. The outside is made up of dark metal with grooves in it that imitates wood, which is a stark contrast to the rest of the Skyhaven’s white metallic look. A long window surrounds the perimeter. It’s a thin line and doesn’t take up much of the wall space. A faint, golden glow seeps into the glass.

Caleb’s long strides keep with your pace. He walks close to you, your purse acting as a boundary between your hips. You glance inside the restaurant’s window, seeing couples and semi-large parties inside the main dining room.

The Colonel opens up the business’ door, smiling down at you as you step inside, quietly thanking him.

The atmosphere is warm, the chilled air tingling away from your skin. You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, shrugging your jacket off of your body. You watch him with an intense gaze.

His shoulders are so broad. You swear you can watch as his muscles tense then relax under the fabric as she hands over your jackets to an employee. Caleb turns to you, nodding as the hostess walks away. You swallow whatever spit you have in your mouth. You tell your feet to move, goosebumps forming across your skin when you feel his touch on the low of your back.

Caleb sticks close behind you, fingers grazing up and down your body. His eyes stare at the exposed skin of your neck, eyes drifting up to the side of your face. He smirks, watching as your lips part with a gasp, his fingers inching their way around your side. He’s unable to get a full grip of your side, though, when the hostess places menus on the table before you.

You step to your chair but Caleb is too quick for you, dragging it out. You roll your eyes at him and sit, the man pushing the chair in to meet your body. He sits at the spot in front of you, the table circular and on the smaller side, with a lit candle in the center of the table.

Taking a glance around the restaurant, you notice that you and Caleb are more towards the back. It’s like you’re hidden away so nobody can see you. Couples at other tables lean in, smiles adorned on their faces over the candle light, the dim lighting of the restaurant casting shadows over their faces.

The scenery and atmosphere is…strangely romantic.

“You look great in that dress,” Caleb’s voice brings your eyes back onto his. They drop to his arms, where his white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. Your breath gets caught in your throat. You tear your gaze away and settle back onto his eyes.

“Thanks. I haven’t worn it for a year,” you respond with a shrug.

“Yeah?” He leans forward, his smile growing, “when was the last time you wore it?”

“Your funeral.”

Oh. Well. You know…I don’t know how to respond to that, Caleb thinks to himself. He purses his lips, brows knitted together, eyes narrowed from unease.

You stare at him with your arms crossed over your chest. You raise an eyebrow at his sour reaction. He was the one who died and magically came back to life with no explanation.

He sits up in his chair, resting his hands in his lap as his piercing violet eyes tear into yours. You shift in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as he comes up with the proper words to respond.

A waiter approaches the table, their face just barely illuminated from the light. He wears all black clothing and his smile is a little too friendly, his eyes dragging across your bare chest. You suck in a breath and glance at Caleb, who glares at the waiter.

“Good evening. May I start you two off with a bottle of wine or an appetizer?” The waiter asks, looking at you, not even a second to stare at Caleb. You simper at his gaze, only feeling slightly uncomfortable, as you take the wine list from his hands.

“He’s paying, so we’ll make it an expensive bottle,” you muse with a quiet chuckle. Caleb’s eyes break from the waiter and land on you. Goosebumps litter your skin as you pretend not to notice the intensity radiating from his body. “We’ll do this one,” you point out a name on the list to the waiter.

He dips down and his putrid cologne tinges your nostrils. You lean away, wincing from how his scent burns the inside of your nose. His lips curl into a toothy grin.

“Great choice. I’ll have it out for you in a few moments.” He walks away and you watch him. You relax into your seat when he vanishes from your eye line, turning back to Caleb. 

“Could you get even closer to him?” Caleb’s raspy voice cuts through the low lighting. You raise an eyebrow, confused by his sudden possessiveness towards you.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Caleb,” you roll your eyes and lean forward, dress grazing against the table, “you’ve only been in my life for twenty four hours. You don’t get to have a say on who gets close to me.”

“Don’t I?” He matches your lean, his purple eyes glowing from the candlelight. “I was in your life for a good amount—”

“Emphasis on was,” you interrupt him. He swipes his tongue over his teeth, shaking his head ever so slightly at you.

You know you’re teetering on a very, very line and fragile line with Caleb. A small amount of payback won’t kill the man. He did lead you on for that good amount of time he was in your life for so if it’s any consolation for you, it’s deserved.

“Let’s have a nice dinner,” you sigh. His darkened expression softens, his eyebrows relaxing. Catching a glimpse of his fists, you see them relax as well, his knuckles no longer white. “However, I do think you owe me an explanation about your so-called ‘death.’” You pause, looking to the side, before rushing to get the words out, “and I don’t want to talk about her either. I…I don’t particularly have fond memories of the three of us since things ended badly. I hope you can understand that.”

Caleb’s eyes slightly widen. A part of him knew that this was coming. He had been distracted all day, sitting at his desk, ignoring all of his duties as Colonel. He went through every memory that he could remember, ones that weren’t influenced by the chip in his body, and came to realization that towards the end, you weren’t there.

In the memories that you were in, you were in the background while she took center stage. It made Caleb feel like a fool, truly. He agonized over it. Just to know that he could have caused you so much pain and emotional turmoil ripped his heart apart. He plans on repaying and making up for it until his final breath.

Even in death, Caleb will find ways to make you feel important, that you matter.

“I promise,” he breathes out, eyes never leaving yours, “to not bring her up. Consider her banished from our relationship.”

You lean into the back of the chair, putting your full weight into it. You stare at him, wondering if what he said can be trusted. You sigh and nod, forcing a small smile onto your face. He beams at you and nods, sighing from relief.

The side of your heel glides against his leg. He sucks in a breath and you bat your eyelashes at him. You take your bottom lip between your two teeth, knowing that it will drive him absolutely crazy. The Colonel shifts in his seat, his eyes taking all the liberties he wants.

His demeanor has shifted so many times within the last minute. He went from happy, to sorrowful, then his anger took over, and now the look on his face tells you that he’s feeling some form of lust. Adrenaline runs through your veins because you simply don’t know what Caleb you’re going to get next.

He licks his lips when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You turn your attention to the dining room, looking upon the other couples and groups that mingle inside. A soft chuckle shakes your body.

The waiter comes back with a bottle of white wine and two glasses in hand. He sets the glasses in front of the two of you, but neither dare to break their gaze.

Caleb’s eyebrow slightly perks up and you tilt your head to the side, a sly smirk forming on your face.

The wine is poured, the pale yellow alcohol sitting pretty inside the glass. You make the first move. The glass is cool in your hand and you swirl the wine around, bringing the glass to your glossy lips.

The first sip of the Pinot Blanc has an exceptional fresh taste to it, complimenting the dryness to the wine. The aroma is fruity with hints of apple, Caleb’s favorite, and a side taste of citrus.

You glance at the waiter, who hovers at the small table. Caleb clears his throat, glaring at the man. The waiter doesn’t pay attention to Caleb, his eyes staying on you.

“The wine is delicious, thank you,” you set the glass down, fingers resting on the base of the glass. He nods but stays in his spot. Caleb’s fists ball on top of the white cloth. He opens his mouth to speak but you’re quick to tap his knee with the tip of your high heel. You roll your eyes and take a deep breath, leaning towards the waiter. “As you can see, I’m here with him and not you. So, if you could please give us some privacy, that would be nice.”

Caleb watches you in awe. Your dominance is refreshing and is something he hasn’t experienced with her in a long time. She typically gave up after five minutes but you? You are fiery. You know what you want and you also know how to tell people to fuck off in ways he never knew how.

Has he finally met his match? Can you be the one to meet his fiery passion and loyalty?

“You can leave this here,” you reach out to the waiter, tapping the label on the wine bottle.

The waiter obeys, scrambling away. Caleb watches it as if he’s at a magic show, completely enthralled with the display you’re putting on for him.

This is a completely different side of you, one that he’s never seen before but desperately wants to get to know. If Caleb didn’t know any better, he would think that you also want to indulge in the sweetness of your blossoming love.

“Try the wine,” you grab your glass, emptying the contents into your mouth before refilling it. Caleb watches with an amused smile, tasting the wine as you said to do, and pauses. It’s…it’s delectable. It hits all of the flavor notes he’s been dying to taste in a good wine.

And you were the one who managed to find it.

“Hey,” he leans forward, capturing your attention. “Can we…start over? You know…a fresh start for us?”

Your eyes read humor and your smile is divine. You think about his proposal for a moment, tearing your gaze away, opting to look at the menu.

You know that he’s eagerly waiting for a response. Knowing Caleb, he’s impatient to know the result of your calculations. He watches you, focused on the way your foot taps against his shin and how your eyes scan the menu as if there’s anything remotely interesting on there.

Caleb is right there and he knows that he is way more interesting than the variety of food options the restaurant has to offer.

“What do you say?” He pesters. Your eyes shoot to his. Chills run down his spine.

“New life, new you, right?” You muse. Caleb can’t help but laugh, turning his head away from you.

Have you always been this funny? Your humor knows no bounds, truly. While some people would have groaned at your words, Caleb couldn’t help but see the lightheartedness behind them.

He knows that his death must have taken a large, emotional toll on you. It’s never easy losing someone you were once close to. Perhaps your humor is your way of dealing with uncomfortable and awkward situations. He can’t fault you for it. He too has been known to make light of many uncomfortable scenarios, such as failing his psych evaluation at the DAA. 

“Thank you,” he releases a sigh he didn’t even know he was holding in. You shake your head, his interest piqued.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” you bring the glass to your lips, licking them, “consider this dinner as your trial run.”

“Noted,” Caleb responds, eyes trained on your lips, wondering when he’s get a chance to taste the flavor of your lip gloss.

The dinner runs smooth, smoother than you or him could have ever anticipated. Your glasses never went empty and after a bottle or two, you could feel your tipsy giggles taking over your body as Caleb watched you with the biggest smile on his face.

Whenever you covered your face from embarrassment, he always made sure to peel them off so he can look upon your gorgeous face. He loves the way your cheeks turn a light pink color, an effect the alcohol has on you, and how your entire demeanor changes. You become light, airy.

Caleb basks in your delightful chuckles and you can’t help but feel closer to him every time he told you one of his stories from inside the Deepspace Tunnel.

The best part of it is that whenever you shared stories from your translator job, he didn’t make you feel insignificant or insufficient compared to him. Sure, you weren’t in a direct line of danger like he is. You don’t fight Wanderers nor do you patrol the Deepspace Tunnel like it’s nothing.

Your average Tuesday consists of translating, and sometimes even decrypting, secret messages and speeches that the Farspace Fleet intercept. To you, it’s a boring old desk job. To Caleb, you are one of the most integral parts of his job. Without you, his job would be much more difficult and he would be in shambles.

He always knew you were smart but your skills as a translator and linguist are truly impressive. He may be able to able to fly some of the most difficult planes and spaceships, but he’ll never be able to fully understand how to comprehend a different language.

It feels like there were no walls between you two. No angst for you to cling to and a time for Caleb to finally, and quite regrettably, get to know who you are after all these years.

To him, you’ve changed so much. You’ve broken free from your shell, one that him and her put you in, and have grown into a woman who is utterly captivating, someone who can control the room with a simple look and a voice that he never wants to stop listening to.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you breathe between quiet chuckles. You lean forward, a genuine smile on your face. “You’re telling me that you and your squad were scared of a creaking noise?”

“Yes,” Caleb leans in, slowly reaching out for your hand. His large hand lays on top of your tiny one and he is surprised that you don’t immediately pull away from him. The tips of his fingers trace the top of your hand, leaving random swirls and letters into your soft skin. His sight lowered to your hands.

It feels domestic to him, something that he never thought or imagined he would have with you. But here you are, allowing it to happen as you breathlessly laugh at his moment of stupidity while on patrol.

He loves it. He loves—

“Caleb?! Where have you been?! I’ve been worried sick!”

His fingers stop, eyes shooting up to you. Your posture shifts. Your back is as straight as a board, eyes dissociated from the world.

You have become an entirely different person when her voice shrilled form behind you.

You can’t bring yourself to turn and look at her. You listen for her footsteps, hearing them approach before stopping behind you.

“You forgot your necklace at home! I was worried that something happened to you. Who are you with?” She circles the table settling the space to the side of the table. Your hand retracts from his and Caleb can’t help but stare at the tears that brim in your eyes. You look to the spot around his neck, one where the necklace that dangles from her hand should be hanging. 

“I left a note for you—” Caleb begins.

“Is that who I think it is?” She says in a hushed tone to him, staring you with a look that says back off. 

Your eyes stagger to meet his. His lips part, staring at you like he’s just been caught red handed.

Of course. It was so easy to see what this is.

You tilt your chin up, finally looking up at her. She’s all dolled up, makeup absolutely flawless, elevating her natural beauty. She wears a simple blue bow in her dark hair, which travels just below her shoulders. Her outfit is pretty too, nothing that you can pull off anyways, and she radiates I’m better than you energy.

Your stomach turns on itself. You stare at the wine glasses, ears ringing, wondering why the fuck you had to drink so much. It’s because you felt comfortable with him, yes, but you should have known something like this would happen.

You’re nine years old. She feels left out so you give her a present to open. You hate sharing your birthday.

You’re twelve and sitting alone while they get ice cream together. You’re filled with disappointment when they forgot to get you something.

You’re fifteen years old again. The sting of rejection and embarrassment cuts into your skin at the sight of her when he says he can’t go to the dance.

You’re sixteen years old and watching as they leave your game, hand in hand, not even bothering to say goodbye.

You feel your inner child die. Caleb the Knight has finally slain the monstrous and rotten dragon that has done nothing but ask for love.

“How have you been? It’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” She beams at you.

“I’ve been fine,” you fake a smile but are unable to keep a cheery charade as your smile immediately falters, the corner of your lip twitching. Your nostrils tingle. Your throat throbs from holding back tears.

“You should have waited for me back at the apartment,” Caleb’s face never turns away from yours. A quiet gasp falls from your lips.

At the apartment? Are you sleeping with her? Are you two dating? Have I been made a fool again?

Questions flood into your mind. You’re unable to stop them, not that you want to anyways, as the realization of what’s happening weighs down on your shoulders.

This is the unmistakable feeling of dread.

You stare at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, as your hands grip onto the skirt of your dress for dear life. Your nails dig into the palms of your hand through the fabric, stinging your skin.

“I’ve been waiting! I didn’t know you were meeting up with someone,” she turns to you and looks at the plate in front of you. “Is that salmon? I love salmon!”

Suddenly, you hate salmon.

Thinking rashly and acting off of pure instinct, you stand from your chair. The table clatters, silverware clanging into each other, when the top of your thighs hit the table.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, glass of wine tipping over, splashing onto her. It shatters on impact when it falls to the ground. Embarrassment crashes through your body like a tsunami, ears turning a bright red color from the heat you feel in your head.

“Are you okay?” Caleb jumps to your side, grabbing your arm with kindness and sincerity. You rip your lib away from him, shaking your head.

“I’m fine,” your voice shakes. You look at her, who watches with a dropped jaw. “It was…so nice seeing you again.” You push the painful words out, your throat tightening around itself. Nausea sweeps your body and you grab your purse from the back of your chair, throwing the skinny strap over your shoulder. Without thinking, you turn away from the duo, who are so clearly made for each other, and rush through the restaurant.

You accidentally bump into a hostess who leads a couple to their table. You gasp and drop to the floor, helping her up, choking out apologies to her. You hear Caleb call your name from behind, trying to keep up with you, but refuse to turn around.

You simply can’t! You can’t see the look on his face, the one every man has when he realizes that he was caught being a two timing scumbag. 

This is just like high school. This is just like the failed homecoming dance when you cried yourself to sleep. This is just like the time Caleb ditched your game because she wanted to go home and watch a movie instead.

Hot tears streak down your face. You wipe your eyes, the fabric around your hands soon becoming soaked from the salty tears. You rush to the door, everyone���s eyes on you. The employee in the coat closet stares at you with bewildered eyes. You ignore him, leaving your jacket behind, as you burst into the ice cold night air.

There’s no rain but you really hoped there would be. You’d be able to escape into the night, going unnoticed as you ran to your apartment. It’s be cinematic, yes, but in all the worst ways possible. It would have been your punishment for being so fucking stupid.

How could you have thought that this would have gone well? Did you really think that Caleb, out of all people, could actually fucking care about you? He’s a man! He could care less about your feelings! As long as he ends the night in bed next to her, he’d be fine.

It wouldn’t matter if you cried yourself to sleep that night. It wouldn’t matter if you deleted and blocked his number. It wouldn’t matter if you ended up getting hit by a car, falling into a deep coma that you’d never wake from.

The only thing that matters is that Caleb is in love with her. Not you.

Your vision is blurred. Your mascara streaks down your cheeks. The street is busy, filled with cars from the night traffic. They whizz by at top notch speeds, your dress skirt getting caught in the air. You hold your hand out, trying to hail a taxi.

“Taxi!” You yell in a pained cry. Your legs wobble. Your arms ache. Your body feels as if it’s shutting down on itself from the grief you’ve just gone through.

Caleb breaks through the restaurant door. He scans the area, chest rapidly rising and falling, and his eyes land on you, who sways back and forth right next to the curb. His heart sinks into his stomach and he leaps towards you, hand outstretched.

You feel your body tense, going still. A tear stops halfway down your cheek. Your eyes dart around, looking for someone to help you. Your name shoots from Caleb’s mouth and you let out a cry, closing your eyes.

“Leave me alone!” You sob. His evol releases you but you’re immediately pulled into his chest. His arms trap you against him, body trembling from sadness and anger, his palms flattening against your hips. “Let me go, Caleb.”

“No. Let’s talk about this,” his chin rests on your shoulder, hunched over. He presses his nose into the side of your neck, his breath only making your body hotter than it needs to be. “Let me explain, please!”

“No! You don’t — Caleb!” You throw your shoulders backward. He stumbles back but takes you with him. His arms remain frigid. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“Caleb, I swear on my life that if you don’t let me go, you’ll never see me again.” Your words push through gritted teeth. Caleb stares at you, knowing that’s not true, that wherever you go, he’ll follow like a lost dog. He humors the sentiment, though, and slowly relaxes his grip.

You turn around and shove him away from you. Red eyes, ruined makeup, and a heart that has officially rotted, you stare at him. He tries to come close to you but you shove him away, using every bit of strength you can muster. He takes a step back, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I swear, it’s not what it—”

“What it what? Looks like?!” You yell at him.

People turn their heads and watch. They whisper amongst themselves, pointing and bringing their cameras out to record incase the encounter goes south. Cars honk and sirens blare in the distance.

“Please,” his voice cracks, a hand extending towards you, “this is all one big misunderstanding!”

“What could be misunderstood, Caleb? The fact that she came looking for you? Or the fact you brought me to a place that men take their mistresses to?” You turn away but he uses his evol to turn you back around. You let out a frustrated yell. He holds his hands up, shaking his head.

“Hey, hey, let’s try to calm down—”

“Calm down?!” Your screech interrupts him. You point to the restaurant behind you two. “Caleb! You made me your mistress! She literally showed up looking for you! She brought that stupid fucking necklace and asked why you weren’t home!”

“Please—”

“Shut up! Shut up!” You turn around, holding your face in your hands. Your breaths are deep, heavy, as your lungs burn from the inside, the lack of oxygen causing your body to ache. You hunch over, hand over your chest, fingers digging into your chest.

Maybe it’s the wine clouding your judgement, maybe it’s the walls you built from the constant years of betrayal and lackluster friendships, but you just want to disappear.

Anywhere but here would be better. Hell, even a date with George would have been better than this.

Caleb is quick to circle you. He drops to his knee in front of you, trying to get a look at your face, to try and have a conversation. He brushes hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“I’m so stupid,” your words are just above a whisper. Caleb shakes his head, fighting back tears of his own.

“No. No you aren’t. Don’t say that,” the words tumble from his mouth.

“Yes, I am. I thought I could trust you. I thought that things changed—”

“They did change! She’s just here on a mission and needed a place to stay, that’s all—”

“I don’t care. I don’t care,” you shake your head, lifting your head up. You take a deep breath.

You look at the chaotic street. Cars drive by and honk at each other. They don’t stop for anyone. All of the anger and sadness you once felt slips from your body. Your mind and body go numb.

“I don’t want to see you again.”

Your words shake Caleb to his core. He stands, looking down at you.

“No! No, please don’t do this to me—”

“I can’t trust you. You’ve made me look like an idiot.”

“Let me make it up top you!”

“I want nothing to do with you. Or her. I deserve better than this. Than you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“You haven’t changed. She’s always going to come between us.”

“That’s not true! I have changed!”

“You’ve broken my heart, Caleb.”

Caleb grabs hold of your shoulders. He cranes his head down so he’s at eye level with you. You stare into nothing, unable to stop the tears that roll down your cheeks. He stares into your eyes, his devotion and his everything.

That’s you. But you can’t see it.

“Caleb?” Her voice carries to the two of you. “Where are you? Let’s go home!”

You can’t help but laugh. Hysteria takes over your body. You finally come out from your dissociation, looking into Caleb’s violent and bronze eyes.

“You better hurry up or she’ll leave you too.” You shrug his hands off of your shoulders, stepping around him. You whistle and a taxi immediately pulls to the curb. You get in, the last part of your beating heart turning into outright decay, your core nothing but rotten scraps of the girl you’ve left behind.

[chocoposum]

This is so good, i love zayne 😔🙏

Soft Yandere!Self-Aware!Zayne with Inexperienced! Player headcanons

warnings: fem!reader, aged-up!reader (early to late twenties), nurse!reader, self-aware!au, obsessive behavior, OOC, ghosting.

Special thanks to @jinwoosbabyboo and @circeyoru for their help with beta-reading as well as proofreading the earlier stages of this piece so that it be posted on Valentine’s Day. I am happy to announce that Rafayel is finished and scheduled to be released on 2/22. I am hoping to finish the edits for Caleb on 2/28 but uncertain at this point due to putting in more overtime at the office. I will make a post or mention it in the author’s note for the next segment

With that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show~!

Although studies have shown that having hobbies can have a positive impact on a person’s physical and mental health, you weren’t too sure how the hottest mobile game on the market would count under that category. A coworker had recommended Love and Deepspace, praising the sleek game mechanics, the plot, and, of course, the good-looking capture targets. You had enough otaku knowledge from your high school and college years to figure out how otome games worked, but you never bothered playing them because it felt weird to have a romantic relationship with someone who didn’t exist in real life. Plus, it’s hard to find time and sit down to play games when you’re constantly on your feet at the hospital as a medic or running around town trying to finish all your errands on your only day off. Adulting can be super rough, especially in today’s economy.

However, you knew your coworker would not stop pestering you to give Love and Deepspace a chance, so you downloaded the darn game anyway after you got home from your twelve-hour shift. You ended up watching a few videos on how to play it, then tried to see how the game mechanics worked once you were fully awake. Customizing the Hunter’s appearance was easy. Farming gems, understanding the basics of combat, learning the importance of leveling up Memories and trying to not let the Energy Capsules expire? That took a lot longer to learn than just a weekend like your co-worker accomplished.

You ended up selecting Zayne as the love interest you wanted to romance after completing [Prologue to Tomorrow]. Between Xavier and Rafaeyl, the cardiac surgeon who treats the Hunter for her heart condition piqued your curiosity. Well, more like how accurate the medical terminology in the game was and how he treated his patients.

He was good-looking too, if that counted for anything.

A couple of YouTubers who have played the game recommended logging in daily for rewards on the off chance that you, the player, might even get Empyrean Wishes to help unlock Memories from the Wish Pools and get closer with the capture targets.

But what happens when you don’t log into the game for a month, leaving Zayne worried about you at Destiny Cafe as time slowly ticks by in his world? If you had known that by not logging in even once when things suddenly got busy in real life…would your current situation have changed for the better, or for worse?

Self-Aware! Zayne wasn’t sure what to make of you at first. He truly thought he was imaging things, caused by overworking and accumulated stress. After all, how could he hear someone else’s voice that doesn’t belong to his Hunter? But the more he interacted with Miss Hunter at the hospital or in public, the more he noticed your existence. How would he confirm you are real? That was another question entirely.

Then the incident happened.

Except for Miss Hunter, no one else knew that he had a sweet tooth. If it weren’t for his daily home workouts and balanced diet, he would have probably become prediabetic with multiple trips to the dentist to remove cavities. Yet one day out of the blue, he smelled the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and freshly brewed coffee.

“Oh yeah, these look absolutely delicious!” He heard a thunk, like a tray being placed on top of a stovetop, followed by two beeps, presumably turning off the oven. “Ari’s gonna love these when I bring some over tomorrow morning. Now for the icing-”

“Who are you?” He blurted.

“Huh?” You said. “Who said that? There isn’t a weirdo in my house, is there?”

“No, it’s just me.”

“Uh, when did the LADS app open up? Wait, why is Zayne talking to me? Like in real time and not in standby mode? I didn’t log in with my voice, did I? ‘Cause that isn’t an update I wasn’t aware of.”

He frowned. “I am myself. More importantly, how do you know my name and what did you mean by the LADS app-” The chiming of a bell suddenly rung in his ears, then silence. Zayne called out to you again. No response. He sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Did he go too far? He wasn’t sure.

While he was finishing up some work in his office before his two o’clock consultation appointment arrived, however, he heard your voice again, but it was faint alongside another person.

“-you sure that you haven’t seen that happen in the app before, Ari?”

“Nope, and I’m the one who’s been playing it the longest. Log in and let’s see what the home screen looks like.”

“Okay.”

Zayne heard the bell in his ear again; but instead of resuming his interrogation, he opted to test a hypothesis. If this sound was a signal of your arrival, what would happen if he acted as he heard nothing at all?

“I don’t know what to tell ya. He seems normal to me. Nothin’ glitchy or out of the ordinary. You sure you’re getting enough sleep, mama?”

“I think I am, but I stayed up late to watch the latest episode of The Great British Baking Show. Two more episodes and then the season finale!”

“Girl, those shows aren’t going anywhere. Seriously babes, go to bed early and no television or gaming tonight. God knows we’re going to need it with the season just around the corner. Oh, looks like Tonya is calling everyone for rounds. Let’s talk more later, yeah?”

“Fine.” Zayne could practically see the pout on your face. “But I still think I’m sane.” He was sure he heard Ari laughing and not you before he heard the bell chiming in his ear. You were gone, or had ‘logged off’ if he wanted to be technical.

This scenario would probably lead to Self-Aware! Zayne having a small existential crisis, or would immediately jump into the rational, scientific conclusion that you existed in a different dimension entirely. Why were you related to Miss Hunter? He couldn’t think of a conclusion yet, except that if he crossed paths with you again, he might get an answer.

Because all his initial interactions with you started at Destiny Cafe, Zayne expanded his investigation of the establishment on a whim. He really thought he wouldn’t find anything, at least until his hand bounced off of a pixelated barrier. He poked and prodded at it, but the fascinating thing is that no one even paid attention to what he was doing; people were continuing to enter, order at the counter, and then leave with their purchases as if it were just another day in Linkon City.

Quite unsettling indeed.

It took him almost two weeks to get past the barrier, not including crossing through the other gates shaped like different apps and the stars twinkling above him. Self-Aware! Zayne concluded this world was actually the inside of a cell phone. But how would he contact you from here? He highly doubted that you would answer if he pressed the Phone app. You could be working right now or even sleeping. The Message App was a possibility, and so was the Camera app. He decided to try the latter on a whim, speaking through it on Video Mode. A simple ‘hello’.

Self-Aware! Zayne didn’t expect to hear such colorful language leave the mouth of the person who resembled Miss Hunter to a startling degree, minus the scrub top and ID badge. At last, he could finally put a face to the voice he’s been hearing.

He watched you fumble over your words, excusing yourself from rounds to take a personal call in the breakroom as the screen above shook from your frantic footsteps. He heard the door close with a click before you looked down at him.

“What the fuck?” You whispered. “What the actual fuck? Please tell me that Zayne is talking to me because of another glitch in the game and that I am not losing my shit from all these extra shifts I’m taking.”

Self-Aware! Zayne frowned. “I am real, and I have been wanting to talk with you for a long time. I hope you aren’t losing sleep because of these extra shifts you’re doing, though. It’s good to be a team player, but it’s also important to take care of yourself.”

You swore again, even almost ready to faint from shock or exhaustion before he heard Ari’s voice from the other side, obviously worried at your unusual behavior. “You better go.” He said. “Perhaps we can talk during your break or after your shift? I imagine that this is…quite shocking.”

“Understatement of the year.” You grumbled. “But fine. When I get off of work, we’ll talk.” You glared at him. “If I find out that this is a prank, I swear to God-”

“I assure you it isn’t. Have a good day.” Then he disconnected himself from the Camera App, allowing himself to float back into his world until you contacted him at Destiny Cafe.

That was how his first meeting went with you. Not exactly something from the script of a cliched romance film, though the cardiac surgeon would like to think that his relationship with you has gotten better in the months that followed.

Self-Aware! Zayne is actually happy to meet someone who was also working in the medical field. He couldn’t discuss cases with you because of patient confidentiality, but he would share his day with you once you were online. He does his best to cheer up if you seem disheartened or stressed, suggests watching your favorite TV shows together on the couch. You need some space? He understands and hopes that if you need to vent, he’s here.

Self-Aware! Zayne takes an instant liking to the cooking shows in your world, especially the baking competitions. Coffee hangouts on your days off were especially delightful, especially when you have more than ten minutes to talk to each other before you have to log out to run an errand.

He understands you cannot always see him, though that doesn’t mean he isn’t thinking about you. If he were to be totally honest, he is looking forward to being in your company more than Miss Hunter. He loves to hear you talk about your family, your friends, anything that makes you happy.

“Hey Zayne, how come you haven’t been hanging out with Miss Hunter recently?” You asked as you were prepping your meals in the kitchen, getting ready for the next morning shift while your scrubs were tumbling in the dryer. “Is she out on another mission? Or do I dare think that you, the fluffy marshmallow that I know oh-so-well, is ignoring the childhood friend that he cares for so dearly?”

“I’m not ignoring her.” Self-Aware! Zayne said as he sat in the cafe, reclined in his favorite chair as his fingers tapped against the keyboard of his laptop. The hospital was especially busy this afternoon, hence why he’s rushing to finish his work before he can give you his undivided attention. Believe it or not, she’s free to do anything she wants. In fact, she just left the city to investigate the sighting of an Aether Core in the N109 zone.”

“So what do you call not responding to her texts? Ghosting? Because that is sort of the same thing, but a little more dick-ish. No offense, but you are way too calm at the fact that your friend is on an assignment in an incredibly dangerous area that is oozing with criminal activity.”

“You have nothing to worry about, [First Name]. Miss Hunter will be fine. If anything happens, she knows how to reach me. More importantly, did you drink an adequate amount of water and take a lunch break today? You mentioned last night that today was going to be….more stressful because a state inspector would visit your facility to make sure everything’s up to code. And eating an apple doesn’t count as a full meal.”

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away?”

Zayne chuckled. “Nice try.” He said. “What are you making for tomorrow’s meals?”

“Blueberry muffin with coffee for breakfast, then leftover chicken with broccoli, yellow rice, and a salad.”

“Eggs have more protein and fewer carbs than muffins, [First Name].”

“This is my cheat meal. Hush.”

“Fine, fine. Whatever you say.”

Self-Aware! Zayne could not imagine a life without you at this point. You were not a Hunter like Miss MC, and danger didn’t fill every corner of your universe. You’ve tried to push him to spend time with his childhood friend, someone he’s known for a long time, and was a person he thought he loved romantically. But you think otherwise, and that bothered him a little.

What could he do to show you he wants to be part of your life, through the ups-and-downs and everything in between? If he started expanding his reading into scientific journals about physics and parallel dimensions…would he be able to bring you to his world?

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