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kiramilki · 9 days ago

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────── caleb x miki ; paper rings ; promises for the future. ᰔ

aka 2.2k words of fluff. established relationship, timeline post-"loml" (pt. 1&2), bts of the lvl 100 affinity rings.

"you're the one I want; in paper rings, in picture frames, in all dreams."

Late afternoon: Sunlight spilled warmly into the kitchen; long, honey-colored beams catching speckles of dust suspended in the air. It was all the light they needed, really. The tiled floors reflected golden, glinting off even the butter-slick plates that sat on their table. The air smelled faintly of grilled cheese and strawberries—a large bowl sat in the center, sliced fruit of Miki's favorites nearly filling it all the way through.

…Well, it was supposed to.

Miki herself sat curled in one of the chairs, bare legs folded close to her chest, toes hidden under the hem of the shirt she wore—Caleb's. A loose cotton grey, duller in color like most of his clothing, but she didn't mind wearing it when it was just the both of them. The sleeves reached nearly by her elbows, fabric hanging off her smaller frame almost to drown in it; her braid was lopsided. She'd barely bothered to tidy it up, settled for allowing strands of ginger to curl against her cheek. Part of her felt a little sleepy in the summer sun, and it was evident in the quiet that surrounded them as she popped another strawberry into her mouth, thumb brushing absentmindedly against her lip as if to wipe away a drop of juice.

She wasn't at all much awake to notice the eyes that had trained on her; it was simply one of those hours in the day. And even spending lunch with Caleb—sitting across the table, stretched out in his chair, shirt clinging lightly at the collar and damp with beads of sweat from the heat— Not even that could shake her out of it.

Not until he reached for his glass to take a slow sip, and his foot moved to gently nudge hers beneath the table.

An easy fondness settled in his expression when their eyes met.

Miki's attention drew away from the blank staring she'd been doing at the table, and when she looked at him, her first reaction was to nudge him back.

Were you staring?

She didn't ask it out loud, but the very slight pout forming on her lips spoke enough of it.

Caleb laughed. "You didn't finish yours," he nodded at her plate. "Don't you think you've been havin' too many strawberries?"

"But you prepared a lot…"

Her voice came out a quiet huff, and she blinked down—half a grilled cheese sandwich, perfectly toasted and perfectly good, but—

"I just— I just have my preferences, that's all…"

"So you don't like my sandwiches?" Caleb raised an eyebrow.

"No! I mean, I— I do! You know I do! It's just, um… um, too good to eat…?"

Her gaze turned sheepish. A blush rose to her cheeks. And Caleb laughed, another warm sound that made her heart flutter no matter how many times she heard it. "Okay, so if it's too good to eat, and you're eating all those strawberries… I take it that it's better."

"…Well, better than when I make them…"

"Pshh, that's a low bar, pip-squeak."

"Hey—!"

Miki was pouting fully now, peeking up at him through her lashes with somewhat of a defiant glare.

Yet the moment settled.

Her pout melted into a tiny smile, and she adjusted her position to cross her arms over her chest. "J- just because the boiled eggs I made earlier didn't turn out perfectly boiled…"

Caleb leaned back into his chair, and grinned. "Eh, well. You really gotta learn, you know? But that's okay. You're lucky I still like bein' your personal chef."

"…You wanted me to need a personal chef," she shook her head.

"Only 'cause you know I like dotin' on you."

At those words, she couldn't argue.

Instead she ducked her head again, biting the inside of her cheek to hold back another smile. The sunlight warmed the tops of her knees, and she fidgeted with the napkin she'd taken to wipe some of the strawberry stains off of her fingers.

"We… should clean up," she mumbled then.

And she'd gotten so used to Caleb flaunting around his Evol that she barely blinked when the empty dishes had lifted from the table—instead she got up and stretched, more carefully setting aside the bowl of strawberries and that half-eaten sandwich. "I'll, um, eat it later…" she promised sheepishly, looking back at him a little guiltily as he settled the dishes into the sink. She caught the washcloth he'd so kindly drifted over to her, and at the sight of his little smirk, she felt her shoulders relax.

"You better," he hummed, "you can't be skipping on meals when I'm here, you know."

She laughed as she shook her head and turned her attention to the table, a familiar quiet settling between them.

Outside the birds chirped, and in the silence filling the air, the faint noise of a nearby radio caught her attention.

Her movements paused.

That's…

"Salut d'Amour."

Miki's head whipped around at Caleb's words, surprise written clearly on her features. "You recognize it?"

"Yeah? 'Course I do. You've been playin' it around the house last week or somethin', right? I saw your sheet music. You left it open when I came to visit, sooo I gave it a listen myself."

She caught the way he ran his hands through the tap water, gently settled the dishes back down—

When their eyes met again, Caleb grinned.

"Dance with me."

“H- huh? Now?”

“Mhm. Kitchen’s clean enough, right?”

"We barely—y-you were—" She hesitated, holding up the washcloth like a small shield. “I’m… I'm still holding this—?"

"Not anymore."

With a quiet laugh he stepped closer, and gently nudged it out of her grasp. Back on the table; hands free.

Miki's heart fluttered.

That rosy blush made its way back to her cheeks, and the way he looked in this moment—faint notes of Edward Elgar's composition floating into the room, dark brown hair outlined in golden shimmer…

She could melt.

Instead when he held out his hand again, she slipped her fingers right into his.

She would melt into him.

She allowed him to draw her in; slowly, gently, one hand on the small of her back while her own rest lightly against his chest.

"…I'll step on your feet," she murmured, voice muffled as she buried her face against him.

"Nahh. Even if you do, that's fine. Just means we'll have to start doin' this more 'til you get used to it."

And it was true; Miki wasn't used to dancing. Her movements felt clumsy at best, stumbling along to the tempo she knew well and her fingers knew well enough to play, but—the rest of her body seemed to refuse to follow. It awed her that in all the years she'd known him, she'd never realized that he knew how to dance, much less had learned the song so well that his steps moved gracefully along with the melody.

And though she was unsure, he kept her grounded.

Calm steps.

Always a gravitational pull she couldn't resist.

Their feet slid across the tile, music curling softly around them as he guided her, a slow sway back and forth in their own little world.

Her lashes fluttered shut.

"…I like this," she whispered.

And whether he heard her or not he gave no other indication but a chaste kiss into the crown of her head when the last notes faded away.

"You… might've inspired another pianist," he hummed lowly. "What are the odds that's the same exact piece you've been practicin', huh?"

"Maybe they just wanted to hear the whole thing without me messing up…"

"Oooorr they liked the piece enough to hear it more often."

Miki laughed.

When they pulled away next, she watched—

Caleb didn't return to the sink, only reached for the stand of paper pads by the counter—those apple-printed, larger-than-usual sticky notes that Miki liked to keep because they reminded her of him—and sat back down at their table.

"I didn't finish cleaning…" she pouted slightly, but still she'd be inevitably drawn.

Moth to a flame; heart to its hold.

She peered at him, watched the way his fingers moved over the creased paper. Practiced movements, that… felt familiar to her. Looked familiar to her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"You… You still do that," she murmured.

"Hm?"

"That… that's a paper plane. It is, right? You… You know I…"

Caleb smiled.

He glanced up at her knowingly, tilted his head a little to the side. "Yeah. I know."

"…Yeah."

They'd had this talk.

He did know.

The little airplane finished within seconds before he flicked it at her, spinning lopsided before nosediving to hit right at the edge of her plate—

Miki's eyes softened. There was a soft giggle as she picked it up delicately between her fingers, thumb caressing over its wings like it was something special.

Because it was just a paper plane, sure, but it was special.

"I haven't… S-since you came back, I haven't been, um, making them..." she whispered. "I mean, you— You knew that. You saw the box that I…"

"Miki."

Oh.

The lack of a nickname made her look up nervously, but she put the paper plane down—Caleb's gaze was soft, encouraging.

"You remember though, right?" he nudged her.

Miki quietly took a paper from the stand.

Her fingers moved slowly, a little unsure—She furrowed her brow, biting her bottom lip as she worked. Out of the corner of her eye she could tell he was watching her; leaning forward, elbows resting on the table.

"The corners," he probed gently, reminding her of a step she almost missed.

And then with a sheepish smile, she held out the airplane, lopsided and a little floppy and definitely not as precise as the one that he'd made, but—

Whole.

And full of nice things, and nice memories, and not… grief. Like it used to be.

Caleb reached over and tapped the edge of the wing, “See? And it's better than your cooking.”

"…Heyyy!"

He chuckled, and for a while, they sat quietly—two little paper planes between them, sunlight catching on their edges like sails.

Then Caleb reached for one more paper.

This time, he didn’t fold it for wings or a pointed tip. He worked it slowly, deliberately, all careful and steady. The rhythm changed—quieter, more focused. Miki noticed it right away.

“Not… another plane?” she peered curiously. "Is it a different kind…?"

He didn’t answer right away.

Her voice softened. “What are you making?”

Still the quiet, but then Caleb’s fingers moved in one last fold, and then stilled—

His eyes flicked up to hers.

"Let's not… fill any of this paper stuff with the bad things anymore."

His voice was soft.

"Caleb—"

"No, I… I mean it. I've always meant it, but now, I… I really do, you know? I won't leave you, Miki. You won't have to grieve over me, won't have to send all those paper planes into the sky just to wish me back… I'll always be here. I want to be."

Miki watched, stunned, as he gently pulled her hand towards him—

She felt it before she realized it.

Simple, plain, a little rough around the edges.

Nothing special.

But the band of paper slid nicely around her finger like it was meant to be there—just a small little paper ring, apple-printed like the planes they'd just folded together, and perfectly just so, so much like… him.

So. Him.

Miki stared at it—the ring, for a moment. And then she looked up at Caleb almost feebly.

"I-I mean, this— th-this sounds like a proposal?" she said nervously.

"Maaaybe it is…"

"C-Caleb—!"

He laughed, squeezed her hand. "No, I'm kidding. I know. Small steps, right? We talked about this, I wasn't about to spring up somethin' like that on you so suddenly. It's just… my promise to you, that's all. 'Cause I do want to take that step with you… eventually. Not now, but eventually."

Miki swallowed thickly.

She wasn't sure if her heart was still beating properly—her face felt red and heated, her brain a little foggy with lightheadedness. And if her heart wasn't working, maybe her vocal chords wouldn't, either.

So she did the only thing she could think of.

Wordlessly, without much of a warning—

She stood to lean across the table, yanked Caleb by the collar, and kissed him.

The warmth spread to her ears; all over.

And when she pulled back, he laughed.

"You're red as an apple."

"S-so are you…!"

Caleb smiled.

Softer, gentler, not one of those teasing smirks he often had on around her…

He pushed the chair back, opened his arms. "C'mere, angel."

She did.

Happily threw herself into his arms, curled on his lap like it felt like home.

"I promise, too," she whispered. "I want… to be by your side for a really, really long time. Longer than forever. Longer than paper wishes can take us."

"Yeah? Weelll this plane's flight path will never change, pip-squeak. It'll always find its way back to you."

☁️; — thEY DESERVED. THEY. DESERVED. THEY DESERVEDDDDD TO DANCEEEE IN THE KITCHENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN ive lost count of how many times ive written the 'dancing in the kitchen' trope for caleb oh my god akjxfhskjfhgkf ANYWAY,

happy 100 to them !! <3 this actually wouldve happened yesterday but i purposefully delayed getting yearly nostalgia so i could finish writing this fic first aksjfhskdg my appleberry they mean so much to me . . .

one day i'll be able to write out loml pt. 2 properly!!!! one day i will!!!!! 🥰💖

#(AAAAA i had to)#adminwrites 🤍#of the selfship #ys; appleberry

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