sycohsa - Tumblr blog

sycohsa · 1 month ago

Text

Gravity Never Worked Right

pairing — DAA pilot!caleb x hunter!reader

Summary : They said it was just for show—a fake relationship to keep rumors at bay, to make things easier. And maybe it was, at first. But between secret glances, bruised silences, and the way his hand lingers too long in yours, something shifts.

word count — 7.7 k

genre/tags - fake dating, emotional repression, unresolved romantic tension, possessiveness, deep yearning, quiet tenderness, slow realization, emotional angst, jealousy, unresolved feelings

Warnings : Mild alcohol mention (scenes set in a club, side characters drinking)

═════════════════════

This year marks his final one at the Deepspace Aviation Administration (DAA), on his way to becoming a full-fledged fighter pilot. We made a promise years ago: he’d be in the sky, and I’d be fighting on the ground.

I was out with my classmates when my phone buzzed with a call from him. I stopped listening to what they were saying, excused myself, and found a quiet place away from the noise.

“Wow, that was pretty quick. Missed me already?” I could hear the smug grin on his face.

“I was starting to think you forgot all about me,” I said, softer than I meant to. My voice betrayed me — I didn’t want to sound that gloomy.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb said right away. “Didn’t mean to neglect you. The DAA’s been on my ass the past few days — last year stuff. They made me the course rep and I’ve been stuck writing the graduation speech. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, okay?”

Caleb’s always been considerate, always made time even when he didn’t have it. Meanwhile, here I was — acting like a kid, like I didn’t understand how much pressure he was under. Of course he’s busy. Of course he can’t be by my side forever. But still... a small, selfish part of me wished he would be. Always.

“No, it’s okay. I was the one being inconsiderate. I… just missed you, that’s all. Haven’t heard your voice in a while.”

Silence. Then the faint sound of him exhaling, amused and pleased.

“Oh? Did I just hear something real from you? I think the connection’s breaking up, could you repeat that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying nice things to you, Caleb.”

“Ouch. Worth a shot. It’s been a while since I’ve heard you say anything nice. You used to tell me, ‘Caleb’s the coolest,’ ‘Caleb’s the best of the best.’ Now it’s just, ‘Caleb’s such a dummy.’ Can you blame me for wanting to hear your praises times to times ?”

“If you want me to say nicer things, maybe stop embarrassing me every five minutes.”

“But then I’d miss your cute, flustered face.”

“I’m ending the call.”

“Wait! Before you do, I need a favor.”

A favor? That was new — Caleb never asked for help unless he absolutely had to.

“That’s new. Graduation already changing you? Since when do you ask me for favors?”

“I tried to avoid it, trust me. But this one’s different. It’s about the graduation party. I thought Gideon would help me get out of it, but he totally sold me out — told everyone I should bring my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. Right. We made everyone believe we were dating so Caleb could avoid attention from the swarm of admirers he never wanted.

He never showed up to campus parties. Hated the noise, the music, the spotlight. But this time — the final time — he gave in.

“Don’t make me suffer alone,” he’d say, like it was a joke. But I always knew there was more to it.

He didn’t just want company.

He wanted me there.

“If even Gideon couldn’t help you, then yeah, you’re really screwed,” I teased. “Need your agent girlfriend to help you one last time?”

“You still remember that nickname?” he asked, surprised.

“Of course I do. We were the cutest couple on campus. Remember what they used to say about you? How you were the perfect boyfriend”

“And when you thought I forgot my phone and called me the moment I landed, of course I remember I never forget anything if it’s about you” he said, laughing quietly.

Good thing we were on a call, or he would’ve practically heard how fast my heartbeat sped up.

“So does that mean you’ll come?”

“Of course I will, Caleb. Besides, now I have an excuse to treat myself and go shopping.”

He chuckled. “Thank you. Seriously. You’re helping me out more than you know.”

Before I could answer, I heard someone from my group calling my name. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been on the phone.

“You with someone?” he asked, curious.

“Yeah, I’m out with classmates. We finished our finals and went for ice cream. But I have to go now — I’ll send you my train ticket to Skyhaven tonight, okay? So you can pick me up.”

“Ooh, eager to see me, huh? But thank you again, pipsqueak. When you arrive, your personal chef will have your favorite braised chicken wings ready. My treat.”

I ended the call, slipping the phone into my pocket, but I didn’t move right away. My friends were still chatting, laughing, but everything felt quieter now — or maybe it was just me, stuck in the echo of Caleb’s voice.

“You’re helping me more than you know.”

He always says things like that — soft and careful, like he’s trying to slip his real feelings between the lines.

I headed back toward the group, but I wasn’t really there. I smiled when I had to, answered questions when someone asked something, but my mind was halfway across the country.

A message buzzed on my phone as I was finishing the last bite of my ice cream. From Caleb, of course.

CALEB:

Don’t forget to send me that ticket. Also, what color dress are you wearing? Just so I don’t show up looking like a traffic light next to you :p.

I smiled, typing back quickly.

ME:

Haven’t picked one yet. You planning to match me now? Since when are you fashion-conscious?

CALEB :

Since I found out my fake girlfriend is a real menace when I don’t match her in pictures.

ME :

You think I’d let you near me in a neon suit? Please.

CALEB :

So you are letting me near you. Interesting :)

I stared at the screen. He always did that — turned every casual line into something with double meaning. And yet when I tried to call him out on it, he’d just grin and pretend it was a joke.

But it wasn’t. Not always.

The graduation party was only days away now, and I knew this would be the last time we'd share a moment like this — in his world, at the edge of something ending and something beginning. I wasn’t sure what would happen once he was no longer a student, no longer anchored to Skyhaven or the DAA.

Would we still talk like this? Would he still call me out of nowhere, asking for favors with that half-playful, half-serious voice?

Would he still need me?

Or worse — would I still need him?

I closed the chat and stared up at the sky, wondering how long it would be before he was up there, flying above the clouds while I stayed grounded.

We’d promised: he’d be in the sky, and I’d be fighting on the ground. But now that the moment was almost here, it felt less like a promise and more like a goodbye.

And I wasn’t ready for that.

═════════

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

The train slowed as it pulled into Skyhaven Central, the brakes screeching softly as the platform came into view. I gathered my things — not much, just a small suitcase and an overnight bag — and waited as the train came to a full stop.

“Skyhaven. Doors will open from the left.”

A flock of passengers stood immediately, ready to hurl themselves out the moment the doors slid open. I stayed seated with a sigh, recoiling from the chaos. No rush. I’d go once the crowd thinned.

It had been months since I last saw him in person. We talked often, sure — calls, texts, voice notes at 3 a.m. — but there’s something different about seeing someone for real. The way the air shifts around them. The way they feel in a room. Especially when that someone is Caleb.

I peered through the crowd, scanning the platform — and then my heart stuttered.

There he was.

Caleb stood by a pillar, arms crossed, his usual smugness in place. That boyish, handsome smile. Slightly eerie, like he knew something no one else did. But his eyes… they lit up the second they found mine.

And just like that, I was home.

He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on and started walking toward me — not quite smiling yet, just wearing that look he always had when he was trying not to show how much he felt. Trying not to give too much away.

I beamed through the crowd and waved at him, a little too eagerly. My heart was already five steps ahead of me.

Grabbing my things in a frenzy, I rushed out — and slammed right into the solid wall of his chest.

“Ouch—” I rubbed my forehead, and he broke into a fit of gentle laughter, already reaching to ruffle my hair.

“Were you that excited to see me?”

We stopped. For a second, neither of us moved. Just stood there, looking at each other like maybe we were both still catching up to the moment.

“You cut your hair,” he said quietly.

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s the first thing you’re gonna say to me?”

He finally smiled — wide, easy, and unfairly pretty. “You look good. Really good.”

I shrugged, trying to brush it off even though my chest had already clenched. “Had to match your fake-girlfriend standards, didn’t I?”

“You always did set the bar high,” he murmured. His eyes flicked down — like he was checking if I was really here, really standing in front of him.

Then he glanced at the suitcase in his hand. “So… 4:16 PM train, right on schedule. I guess your agent side still believes in precise timing.”

I rolled my eyes. “I sent you the ticket. You could’ve at least pretended to be surprised.”

He grinned. “Oh, I was surprised. Just not that you were here — more that you actually trusted me not to be late.”

I laughed, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like we were just us again — fast words, soft jabs, quiet smiles.

Then his gaze softened. Just slightly. The space between us stilled.

“I missed you.”

The words landed between us. Quiet. Honest. Unfiltered.

I swallowed. “I missed you too.”

There was a pause. A beat that stretched too long to be casual — then he reached for my bag without asking, tossing it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the exit. “Let’s get you home.”

We walked side by side through the station, our shoulders occasionally brushing. Outside, Skyhaven was golden with late afternoon light — the kind of light that makes everything feel slower, softer. The air was warm, tinged with the scent of salt and sun and a hint of summer.

He’d gotten bigger since the last time I saw him — more filled out, more solid. The way he moved felt… different. Grounded. Like he’d grown into himself while I wasn’t looking.

He opened the passenger door for me and bowed dramatically. “Your ride, my lady.”

I rolled my eyes and climbed in, heart still thudding in that quiet, familiar way it always did around him.

Because as much as he joked — and as much as I pretended not to care — the truth was, something had shifted.

And whether either of us was ready to admit it or not… this wasn’t pretend anymore.

The car hummed to life as Caleb pulled out of the station parking lot, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually by the gearshift. The windows were cracked open just enough to let in the summer air, warm and thick with the scent of sun-heated asphalt and blooming trees.

Music played softly from the speakers — something chill, instrumental, probably one of his pilot focus playlists. He always claimed it helped him stay sharp, but it was also just... very him.

I leaned back into the passenger seat, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. The sunlight hit the side of his face, casting long shadows across his jaw and catching the gold in his lashes. He looked peaceful. Tired, but peaceful.

“You got taller,” I said suddenly.

He snorted. “I didn’t. You just got shorter.”

“Rude.”

“You walked into my chest like a missile lock. That’s on you.”

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. “Yeah, well. You are a walking no-fly zone.”

He smirked. “That was terrible. You’ve been waiting all year to use that one, huh?”

“Maybe.”

A comfortable silence settled between us for a few seconds — the kind that only exists between people who know each other too well. The road stretched out in front of us, the world blurring a little through the open windows, like time was slowing just for us.

“Hey,” he said, voice quieter now. “You really didn’t have to come, you know.”

I turned my head. “I wanted to.”

He glanced at me, eyes flicking back to the road. “I know, I just… with everything going on, the party, graduation — it’s kind of a mess. And I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

“You’re not dragging me into anything, Caleb.” I paused. “I know you don’t like all the attention, and the speeches, and the noise. I figured you’d need someone to make fun of it all with.”

He smiled at that. “Well, you are good at mocking my pain.”

“Someone has to keep you grounded, flyboy.”

Another silence. This one heavier.

He drummed his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. Then he spoke, voice quieter than before. “Feels weird, you know? Graduation.”

I turned slightly, watching the way the sunlight hit his profile. “Weird how?”

He exhaled slowly through his nose. “Like everything’s rushing forward and I’m stuck walking through it in slow motion. Everyone’s hyped. Parties. Future plans. Speeches. But for me…” He paused. “It doesn’t feel like an ending. Or a beginning. It just feels like… leaving.”

That word hung in the air. Leaving.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to let it sting.

“I thought you always wanted this,” I said carefully.

“I did.” His eyes stayed on the road. “Still do. I’ve dreamed about the sky since I was a kid. You know that. And it’s not fear, exactly. It’s just…” He hesitated. “No one tells you that chasing your dream sometimes means leaving things you didn’t realize were part of it.”

Like you, he didn’t say.

But I heard it. Felt it.

I looked down at my hands. “You’re going to be amazing up there, Caleb.”

He glanced at me, his expression softening. “You don’t sound very excited.”

“I am,” I said, too quickly. Then quieter: “I am. It’s just… I guess part of me always thought I’d have more time.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just let the silence settle again, this time heavier. Thicker.

“I don’t want you to think I’m leaving you behind,” he said eventually. “That’s not what this is.”

“But you are leaving,” I murmured. “And the sky… it doesn’t come with round-trip tickets, does it?”

His fingers tightened just slightly on the wheel.

“I wish I could take you with me.”

That one sentence — so small, so impossibly big — lodged somewhere in my chest. My throat felt tight.

The world outside was still rushing by, but inside the car, time had slowed to something fragile. Breakable.

I didn’t know what to say to that — I wish I could take you with me. It should’ve made me smile. Instead, it lodged itself somewhere between my ribs like a quiet ache.

“You always said the sky was where you felt most alive,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady.

Caleb let out a soft, almost self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah. But even the sky feels small lately.”

I turned to him, and this time I didn’t look away. “Then what feels big?”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw tensed like he was chewing on the weight of the words, then slowly, his hand slipped from the wheel and reached for mine — careful, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“I don’t want to leave you behind,” he said again, softer now, more like a confession than a promise. “But I don’t know how to stay either. Not without giving something up.”

I gripped his hand. “What if I’m not asking you to stay?”

He glanced at me, confusion flickering in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m saying,” I said, voice low but steady, “I’ll find a way to be part of this. Even if we’re not in the same place. Even if you’re in the sky and I’m on the ground. You’re not the only one who can make sacrifices, Caleb.”

He didn’t say anything — just stared at me like he was trying to memorize every piece of this moment. Then he pulled the car to the side of the road, switching off the engine as the hum died into silence.

Caleb's voice was barely above a breath.

“Say it again.”

“What?” I asked, though I already knew.

He didn’t look away, didn’t blink. “That you’ll be part of this. That you’ll stay. Even if it’s hard.”

I swallowed the knot in my throat. The silence between us pulsed like a heartbeat.

“I’ll be there,” I said quietly. “Even if we’re far apart. Even if we don’t know what this is yet. I’ll still be there.”

His shoulders dropped like he’d been holding his breath for years. Then he leaned forward, forehead resting lightly against mine. No kiss. No dramatic moment. Just closeness — trembling, uncertain, and impossibly intimate.

“I used to think pretending to have you was enough,” he murmured. “But now I know it’s not. It never was.”

My heart squeezed.

“We don’t have to define anything yet,” I whispered. “But don’t pretend I’m not already yours. You never had to ask.”

He exhaled slowly, like the weight of a hundred unsaid things was finally releasing. “You’re going to ruin me, you know.”

“You’re already ruined,” I said with a small smile. “I’m just the final blow.”

He laughed — quiet, breathless — and pulled back just enough to see me clearly. His hand stayed wrapped around mine.

Outside, the sky was starting to turn gold, bleeding into shades of pink and orange, like the horizon itself couldn’t make up its mind — like it didn’t know whether this was an ending or a beginning.

But I did.

The party, the goodbyes, the looming future — they could wait.

Right now, there was only us. In a quiet car, on a sun-drenched road, hearts beating toward something terrifying and beautiful.

Something real.

═════════

The car rolled to a stop in front of the DAA dorms, a sleek, modern building that stood tall against the late afternoon sky. The campus was quieter now—most students had already scattered for the summer—but the energy of the place still lingered in the air.

Caleb turned off the engine and glanced over at me with that familiar half-smile. “Welcome to home base.”

I grabbed my suitcase and swung the door open, stepping out into the warm air. The faint hum of distant conversations floated from the courtyard. Caleb stretched his shoulders, then turned to unlock the door with a swipe of his card.

Just as we stepped inside the lobby, a familiar voice called out, warm and teasing.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Caleb’s mystery guest.”

Gideon emerged from around the corner, tall and easygoing, with that mischievous grin that always made me feel instantly at ease. He was Caleb’s roommate and best friend—always the first to welcome me, and the only one who could get away with poking fun at Caleb.

Caleb rolled his eyes but didn’t hide his smile. “Gideon. You’re late. As usual.”

Gideon shrugged, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. “Hey, someone’s gotta keep this place interesting. And apparently that’s not you.” Gideon shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Had to keep you guys waiting a bit. It’s tradition.”

I laughed, feeling right at home around the two of them. “You guys are impossible.”

“True,” Gideon agreed, bumping Caleb’s shoulder playfully. “But we’re glad you’re here. The dorm’s been too quiet without you.”

Caleb nodded, his eyes softening. “Yeah, it’s been a long few weeks.”

We walked down the hall toward Caleb’s room, Gideon falling into step beside us. The easy back-and-forth between the two felt natural, like watching two halves of a whole.

Once inside, Caleb dropped my bag near the bed and slumped into his desk chair with a tired sigh. Gideon collapsed onto his bed, stretching out comfortably.

“So, graduation party’s coming up,” Gideon said with a grin, looking at both of us. “Any plans for officially making it more than just the act?”

Caleb gave me a quick glance and shook his head with a smirk. “You know it’s all just for the bluff.”

I smiled back. “Partners in crime, through and through.”

Gideon chuckled. “Well, fake or not, it’s good to see you both together. Caleb’s been carrying a lot lately—you two make a good team.”

Caleb met my eyes and said quietly, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After a while, Gideon stretched and stood up, clapping his hands together.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t make me regret stepping out,” he teased with a wink before heading toward the door.

Once the door clicked shut behind him, the room felt quieter — just the two of us.

I smirked and crossed my arms. “So… where’s that famous braised chicken wings you promised to make me?”

Caleb grinned, leaning back casually. “Patience, pipsqueak. I said I’d make them tonight, didn’t I? Just wait and see.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You better not be slacking. I’ve been dreaming about those wings.”

He laughed, eyes twinkling. “I’m not one to break promises.”

I shook my head, smiling. “Alright, Chef Caleb. I’m holding you to that.”

He gave me a mock salute. “Consider it done.”

The playful banter melted away the tiredness, making the moment feel easy and warm — like coming home.

I wandered around the room as Caleb stayed slouched in his chair, watching me with quiet amusement. The space still looked the same — a mix of order and chaos, neatly stacked pilot manuals beside a mess of wires and flight sim gear.

His uniform jacket was hanging over the back of the desk chair, half-buttoned, like it had been tossed there in a rush. It smelled faintly of his cologne — clean, sharp, familiar.

I trailed my fingers along the edge of the bookshelf. “You cleaned,” I said, pretending to sound surprised.

Caleb grinned. “Don’t act so shocked. Who was the one doing all the chores in the house and suddenly ‘fell sick’ the moment I mentioned the word cleaning, huh?”

I turned and narrowed my eyes at him. “That was strategic illness. Very real. Very tragic.”

He let out a low laugh, the kind that made something warm unfurl in my chest. “Yeah, tragic for me, maybe.”

“Hey, I supervised,” I said, lifting my chin. “That counts.”

“You sat on the counter eating cereal and told me I missed a spot.”

“I was motivating you.”

Caleb stood and stretched, arms overhead, shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin. My gaze flicked away before it could linger.

“Do you want to rest for a bit?” he asked, voice softer now. “Long trip. You must be tired.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, letting the mattress dip under my weight. “A little. But I think it hasn’t hit me yet that I’m actually here.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

He exhaled softly, then said, almost to himself, “That’s the thing about you.”

I glanced over, uncertain. “What is?”

His eyes stayed on the wall, as if looking directly at me would make it too real. “You can be in the same room, the same breath… but part of you is always somewhere else. Like I can almost reach you, but never quite hold on.”

My throat tightened. I hadn’t expected that. Not from him. Not now.

He finally turned to face me, eyes searching mine — not accusing, just honest. “I don’t know if it’s because you’re scared, or because you’ve just gotten good at not needing anyone. But I feel it, every time you pull back before I can even ask you to stay.”

The silence that followed wasn’t soft. It throbbed — heavy with the weight of everything neither of us had said, and everything he’d just named.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The late afternoon sun slanted through the window, casting soft gold light across the floor. It danced over Caleb’s face, lighting up the curve of his cheekbone, the faint crease in his brow — like the universe had paused, just for a beat, to give us this quiet.

He smiled faintly, almost like it hurt. “That’s the thing about you. You never ask for permission, but somehow… you never push too far.”

I looked down at our knees, still touching, and felt the weight of that silence settle between us again. It wasn’t uncomfortable — just full. Full of things we both wanted to say but didn’t dare. Not here. Not yet.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he said, so quietly I almost missed it. “Whatever this is… it’s the only thing that’s felt real in a long time.”

I didn’t move, didn’t speak. My heart thudded too loudly in my chest for words. Instead, I leaned my shoulder into his, just enough to say I understood.

The room felt smaller now, like the space between us was folding in on itself.

Outside, we could hear the muffled sound of someone’s laughter echoing through the hallway — distant, removed, like it belonged to a world we’d both stepped out of for a while.

He tilted his head toward me, voice barely above a breath. “It’s easy, when you’re here.”

I swallowed the ache in my throat and smiled softly, not trusting myself to answer.

So instead, I reached for his hand, let my fingers find his like they always did — no fanfare, no declarations.

Just presence.

And that, somehow, was enough.

═════════

The graduation party finally arrived.

Inside, the club was a tempest of strobing lights, racing bass, and bodies moving as one. I stayed close to Caleb, leaning into the steady weight of him—not just his presence, but what he represented: safety, familiarity, something real. Every pulse of the music felt like an invitation to let go; yet I held myself close, wary of how much I could cross that boundary.

I leaned in, the thrum in my ears. “You know, you’re lucky I put up with this bullshit. It’s too loud. These lights are trying to eat my skin.”

He smirked, breath warm against my ear. “Yeah? I’m lucky you even showed. Most would’ve bailed.”

The edges of my lips curved up. “Lucky you, then. But don’t expect me to bust a move.”

He laughed—low, intimate, a blade cutting through the noise. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I gave his hand a squeeze, feeling the steady beat of his pulse beneath my fingers. The music was overwhelming, but somehow, with Caleb by my side, it felt manageable — even kind of thrilling.

Just then, one of Caleb’s guy friends approached, holding out a plastic cup with a sly grin. “Hey, you gotta try this,” he said, nudging the drink toward me.

I hesitated, eyes flicking to Caleb, silently hoping he’d notice. Of course, he did — immediately.

His hand slid over mine, firm and grounding. “She’s good,” Caleb said quietly, voice low but carrying enough edge to shut down any argument.

The guy’s smile wavered but he tried again, leaning closer. “Come on, it’s just a drink. Lighten up a little.”

Caleb’s jaw tightened, his stance shifting as he positioned himself between me and the guy. His eyes locked on the intruder with fierce protectiveness.

“No thanks,” Caleb said smoothly but firmly. “Back off.”

The guy gave a brief, reluctant nod and stepped back, and Caleb’s friends closed ranks around us like a shield.

I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, leaning into Caleb’s side. “Thanks,” I said, voice barely audible over the music.

We moved through the crowd together, Caleb’s arm casually draped over my shoulders as if he owned the whole place — or at least owned me. The music thumped relentlessly, but it felt like our own little rhythm pulsing between us.

Every now and then, one of his friends would come over, nodding a greeting or tossing a playful jab his way. I caught their curious glances, some more obvious than others — sizing me up like I was some kind of prize.

Caleb noticed, of course. His grip tightened just slightly, subtle but enough to let me know he was watching every move, every word.

“Relax,” he murmured in my ear. “They’re all talk.”

I smirked, leaning into him. “You sound jealous.”

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Maybe I am. Don’t blame me for wanting to keep what’s mine.”

The heat in his gaze made my pulse quicken, the tension between us thicker than the music that surrounded us. For a moment, the noisy club faded away, and it was just us — two people tangled in something neither of us could deny.

As the music shifted to a faster beat and the crowd around us grew louder, Caleb leaned in close, his voice low but clearly annoyed.

We kept moving through the sea of people, Caleb’s hand never leaving mine. It was like a silent promise — no matter how wild or noisy the night got, he’d be there, grounding me.

A group near the bar caught my eye — loud laughs, shots being raised. I spotted a familiar face from Caleb’s circle and waved, grateful for the small moment of calm in the madness.

Caleb noticed me smiling and leaned in, voice barely audible over the music. “You’re holding up better than I thought.”

I gave a playful shrug. “Well, I have my personal bodyguard.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Guess I’m doing my job then.”

Suddenly, the DJ switched tracks, dropping a slow, sultry beat that changed the whole vibe. Couples pulled closer, and the crowd swayed as one.

The slow, sultry beat hung in the air like a secret as Caleb pulled me closer, the noise of the club dimming into a distant hum. His hand rested firmly on my waist, grounding me amid the swirling chaos around us. I could feel the heat radiating from him—steady, warm—and it steadied the flutter of nerves in my chest.

Our eyes locked, and in that gaze was a mixture of something vulnerable and fierce. He wasn’t just asking me to dance; he was asking me to trust him, to be present with him in a space that neither of us was entirely comfortable with.

His breath was soft against my cheek as he whispered, “I don’t usually do this.”

I smiled, brushing my fingers lightly over the rough fabric of his shirt. “I know. That’s what makes it worth it.”

The flickering club lights cast shifting shadows across his face, highlighting the faint crease of his brow—a sign of his concentration, or maybe his hesitation. I wanted to tell him it was okay to let go. To be himself, even if it meant being a little lost in the crowd.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing but sincere.

“Only for you,” I teased back, my heart pounding louder than the music.

He chuckled, and the sound felt like a balm against the roaring club atmosphere. Then, his expression softened, eyes melting into something deeper—something unspoken.

“Thank you for being here. For staying,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing small circles on my back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised, voice steady despite the heat rising in my cheeks.

His forehead pressed gently against mine, the world narrowing down to the two of us—the pounding music, the flashing lights, the crowd all fading into insignificance. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of his skin, grounding me more than I expected.

“Good,” he whispered. “Because I need you.”

The song swelled, the rhythm urging us back to the noise and chaos, but I held onto that moment—the fragile thread of connection that made everything else fade away.

As we pulled apart, his hand lingered in mine, the silent promise of more to come.

The night hadn’t just shifted—it had transformed. From overwhelming to unforgettable

We moved together toward the edge of the dance floor, weaving through groups of laughing, shouting faces. The air was thick with heat, sweat, and the sharp scent of spilled drinks, but with Caleb by my side, it felt less suffocating.

He pulled me close again, voice just above the music, “You did better than I expected.”

I rolled my eyes, smirking, “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He laughed—a genuine, easy sound—and I felt the tension between us ease a little.

Caleb’s hand slid up to rest on the small of my back, guiding me toward the quieter side of the club where the music softened a little, and the lights weren’t quite so harsh.

“Thanks for coming,” he said quietly.

“For dragging me here?” I teased.

“For everything,” he said, and his gaze held mine in a way that made my chest tighten.

“I hate how fast everything’s changing,” he admitted quietly. “College ending, the DAA, me flying off into the sky... Sometimes I feel like I’m losing grip on everything that keeps me grounded.”

I squeezed his hand, voice soft but firm. “Then hold on to me. You don’t have to face it alone.”

He swallowed, breath hitching, and for the first time in a long time, the tension between us shifted—softened by the weight of unspoken feelings finally finding their voice.

Suddenly, I couldn’t help but grin a little, teasing. “Is it the lighting that’s making you emotional? Or is it the drinks?”

Caleb shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Mhm, you’d need more than that to make me drunk, you know.”

I laughed softly, the sound light and real in the midst of the storm around us.

“We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.” He nodded, eyes dark and earnest. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

Then, almost like a flicker of mischief breaking through the seriousness, he grinned again. “Besides, I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”

I met his gaze, the unspoken promise hanging between us. It was more than comfort — it was a connection that ran deeper than the night, stronger than any fear or change.

Just as the heat between us was thick enough to drown in, a sudden tap on Caleb’s shoulder pulled us apart. He turned, and I saw the familiar face of one of his guy friends weaving through the crowd.

“Hey, Caleb, can you come help me out with something real quick? Someone blacked out and insists they want your help—won’t listen to anyone else,” his friend’s voice cut through the thick beat of the music, urgent but controlled.

Caleb’s eyes flickered to me, a silent apology swimming in their depths. “I’m sorry. It’ll be quick, okay? Can you wait for me?”

I forced myself to nod, swallowing the sudden tightness in my throat. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

His hand squeezed mine—warm, steady—and then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd.

The moment he left, the noise around me seemed to swell and press in harder, like the walls themselves were closing in. The bass thumped against my ribs, pounding with the frantic beat of my heart.

I took a shuddering breath, trying to steady the whirlwind inside. Caleb’s absence carved a hollow ache that caught me off guard—how could one person’s distance feel so vast?

The brief heat of his possessiveness, the way he’d held me like I was the only thing that mattered, had opened something raw beneath my skin.

I pushed through the throng, seeking refuge in the bathroom, the harsh fluorescent lights and cracked mirror a sharp contrast to the swirling chaos of the club.

I stared at my reflection, my fingers trembling as they traced the edge of the sink. How had it shifted—from a simple fake relationship to this tangled knot of feelings? Wanting him, needing him, staking silent claim in ways neither of us dared voice.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the club’s chaos slammed into me again—louder, more overwhelming than before. The pounding bass vibrated through the floor, the flashing lights slicing through the haze. But my focus snapped instantly, zeroing in on Caleb.

Only he wasn’t alone.

There she was—one of his admirers from before, the girl who’d been watching him all night with those sly, hungry eyes. Her laughter was slurred, a reckless, uneven sound that grated against the music. Her arm was tangled possessively around Caleb’s waist, pulling him closer as if he was the only thing keeping her upright. The scent of alcohol clung to her breath, a bitter, sour reminder that she was too far gone. Her glassy eyes, half-lidded but fiercely fixed on Caleb, made my stomach twist.

Caleb’s face was polite but strained, the tight smile barely masking the discomfort as he tried to gently pull away without stirring trouble.

But the girl was relentless. Her grip on his arm tightened like a vise, and her words slurred yet dripped with unwelcome insistence. “Come on, Caleb. Don’t play hard to get. Just one kiss.” Her breath brushed against his cheek as she leaned in far too close, pressing her forehead against him like he belonged to her.

Caleb’s eyes flickered to mine—filled with a silent fear that I might misunderstand. He quickly pulled away from the girl, careful to be gentle and respectful despite her drunken clinginess.

My heart clenched, a sharp, searing ache exploding inside me, raw and fierce.

Without thinking, I pushed through the crowd, every step pounding with jealousy and determination, until I was standing right at his side. My hand slid into his with a possessive grip that surprised even me.

“He’s mine,” I said, voice cutting through the chaos, low but fiercely unwavering.

Caleb’s head snapped to me, startled — and then I caught the faintest blush creeping up his neck, the darkening of his eyes not with surprise, but something deeper, something primal… possession.

The girl blinked, confusion and irritation flickering across her flushed face. “Oh? Since when?” she sneered, voice slurred but sharp like a knife.

I tightened my grip on Caleb’s hand, the heat of jealousy burning through my fingertips like a flame I couldn’t control. My voice dropped low, steady but edged with something fierce.

"Since always. You’re pretty bold to act this clingy—especially to someone who’s already in a relationship.”

The words felt heavier than I expected, loaded with all the protectiveness and pain I’d been trying to bury all night. My chest ached with a strange mix of anger and vulnerability, like this moment was a fragile boundary I refused to let slip.

Caleb’s eyes met mine, dark and unwavering, as if silently saying, I’m yours.

The girl’s confusion flickered into something sharp and bitter, but I didn’t back down. Not now. Not ever.

The girl’s face twisted with a mix of frustration and disbelief, but Caleb’s steady gaze didn’t waver. Instead, he took a slow step closer to me, his presence grounding, shielding.

Caleb’s voice cut through the noise like a blade—low, steady, and utterly unflinching.

“I let it slide because you were drunk,” he said, eyes hard now. “But don’t mistake that for permission.”

He stepped forward, placing himself firmly between her and me, his hand still gripping mine like a silent claim.

“Don’t touch me again. Don’t speak to her like that again. Whatever you thought this was—it’s not.”

His tone didn’t rise, didn’t falter. It was cold in a way that left no room for doubt, no softness to cling to.

Then, without turning to look at me, he added—quiet, but razor-sharp:

“She’s the only one that matters. Get that through your head.”

His words cut through the haze of her drunken haze like a blade, leaving her momentarily speechless. I felt a surge of pride and relief, a fierce warmth spreading through me that this was his side, his defense — not mine.

The girl’s eyes narrowed, her lips trembling as if she wanted to retort, to lash out with more venom. But Caleb’s steady presence, the calm but unshakable strength in his voice, seemed to drain the fight from her.

She stumbled backward, swaying on unsteady feet, muttering something incoherent before turning away, disappearing into the crowd like a fading shadow.

Caleb released my hand slowly, but not fully—his fingers lingered, like he couldn’t quite let go. When he looked at me, his eyes weren’t just soft—they were aching. Full of something I couldn’t name but had felt for weeks, maybe months. Something tender. Something raw. Something terrifying.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, voice low, barely cutting through the music. Then, with heartbreaking gentleness, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my face like I was something fragile he didn’t want to break.

But I shook my head, throat tightening. “No. I should be the one saying that. She was practically forcing herself on you, and I wasn’t there. I left you alone, and that was my job—to stay beside you, to play the part."

My voice cracked at the end, and I hated how small it sounded, how real the guilt felt. This wasn’t just fake anymore. It hadn’t been for a while. And that moment had shown me exactly how much I’d started to care.

Caleb’s brow furrowed, the muscle in his jaw twitching like he was holding back anger. “Hey,” he said firmly, his hand cupping my cheek now, grounding me like a storm anchor. “It’s not your fault. I could’ve pulled away. I wanted to. But she was drunk and not thinking clearly, and I didn’t want to embarrass her during her last night here.”

His voice softened, but his eyes blazed.

“But don’t ever apologize for this. For protecting yourself. For protecting us. I won’t tolerate anyone—anyone—disrespecting you. Not even for a second. I didn’t hold her off. I didn’t walk away faster. But from now on? No one crosses that line.”

His thumb traced slow, steady circles on the inside of my wrist, and I realized I was trembling. Not out of fear—but out of release. The built-up tension, the weight of pretending, of wanting more but being too afraid to ask.

“I didn’t like seeing her touch you,” I whispered. “It made me feel like… like she was taking something that wasn’t hers.”

Caleb leaned in, just enough for his forehead to press against mine, his breath warm and steady. “That’s because she was.”

His voice dropped to something rougher, deeper. “I’ve only ever wanted you to touch me like that. You're the only one who ever made it feel real.”

My heart thundered, louder than the music.

There was no script for this. No act.

Caleb didn’t move.

His forehead stayed pressed against mine, our breaths tangled in the narrow space between us. The bass of the club thumped in the distance, blurred and irrelevant now. All I could hear was the soft rasp of his breath, the weight of his unspoken feelings curling between us like smoke.

“I meant it, you know,” he murmured. “When I said you’re mine. I didn’t just say it to get her to back off. I said it because it’s the only thing I’ve been sure of in weeks.”

My throat tightened.

I searched his eyes—dark and glassy under the flashing lights, but steady, like he wanted me to see everything he’d been hiding. And I did. The fear, the tension, the fierce protectiveness... and underneath it, a tenderness so raw it nearly undid me.

“Caleb,” I breathed, not even sure what I meant to say. His name alone was a whole question and an answer all at once.

“I didn’t think this would happen,” he whispered. “Not like this. Not in the middle of a club, not with people watching and fake dating turning into…” He stopped himself, like the word was too heavy to say out loud.

My fingers curled into his shirt without thinking. “But it’s not fake anymore, is it?”

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, like he wanted to memorize my face. “No,” he said. “Not even close.”

There was a beat—a single heartbeat—where everything hung in the air.

And then someone bumped into us. We jolted slightly, pulled back, blinking like we’d surfaced from a dream.

“I should get you out of here,” he said, his hand brushing against my lower back.

I nodded, the thought of being somewhere quieter, somewhere just us, almost too tempting to ignore. But we didn’t move.

Instead, he looked down at me again. And I saw it happen—the moment he broke.

His hand cupped my jaw again, the pressure firmer this time. His eyes flicked to my lips, then back to my eyes, like asking permission.

He didn’t need to.

I leaned in first, barely an inch—but it was enough.

The kiss wasn’t sudden or clumsy. It was inevitable.

Soft at first, searching. Then fuller. Hotter. Like we were finally letting go of all the restraint we’d been forcing onto each other for too long. His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer, and I melted into him like gravity had never worked properly until this moment.

The world spun, but he stayed constant.

And when we finally pulled apart—just barely, just enough to breathe—he rested his forehead against mine again.

“Tell me this isn’t just pretend,” he whispered.

I shook my head, tears pricking my eyes, breathless. “It never was.”

It never had been.

It was real.

it was ours.

And it was just the beginning.

#SO GOOD #love and deepspace #°⋆☆ fic recs

106 notes · View notes