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cityselcouth · 2 months ago

Text

for research purposes

pairing: caleb x reader

summary: how on earth were you supposed to write a good sex scene with almost zero experience? good thing your best friend was always willing to lend you a helping hand.

themes: childhood best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, friends with benefits, college! au, slowburn, humour, fluff, angst, petnames, profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, explicit sexual content (oral fem receiving, fingering, nipple play, protected + unprotected sex, clothed sex), porn with so much plot, they're both down bad asf

word count: 25k

lyns notes: its been so long since i've written a full length fic like this, and it ended up being so much longer than I anticipated but please don't get scared by the wc 😭 its so self indulgent because i love caleb and I had way too much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy! <3

This was utterly insane, even for you.

The idea started small, though you supposed you couldn’t ever classify it as innocent. At the time, it had been just a flicker, a fleeting thought that slipped through the cracks of your composure. You were in your best friend's dorm, lounging on his bed like it was your own as you complained.

“I’ve been stuck for weeks now. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to write.”

Caleb glanced over at you from his desk, leaning back in his plush chair as the movement of his fingers over the laptop keyboard stilled for a moment. The expression you received was familiar, you had been on the receiving end of it for years now. One of his lips quirked up, deep lavender eyes alight with amusement, and one eyebrow raised as he took in your anguished state.

“You haven’t lost the ability to write, Pipsqueak, it's just writer's block. You’ve had writer's block before.”

“Not like this.” You shook your head, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. “I usually manage to overcome it in a week or so. It’s been like, three months.” Your annoyance with yourself was obvious to him, so clear in the slight pout on your mouth paired with that indignant expression.

It was true, you had been writing ever since you were little. Your imagination ran wild as a child, even before you could physically write, you would spin tales and make up stories to entertain yourself with, frequently getting lost in your own little world. You prided yourself on this talent of yours that helped you breeze through English essays and writing assignments, even going so far as to major in English at university. Writing was your bread and butter. It was more than just being good at it, it was the passion and fulfilment you felt when you did it.

Passion and fulfillment your ass, you couldn’t feel any of that right now.

You were writing a book, your very first one that you started penning in the summer before your sophomore year. The idea had come to you out of nowhere, and once you spent hours outlining all the details, you were certain it was something you wanted to bring to life. The need to finish it burned through you as you spent most of that break stuck at your desk, hunched over your laptop. Caleb had to quite literally drag you out of your room most days, muttering some nonsense about vitamin D and too much screen time.

He had always been like that ever since you were kids – protective, caring, attentive. It was built into his very being, you supposed, ever since he saw you cry outside the first-grade classrooms as a seven-year-old and promised to help you find your way to the correct one. Even now, as he hummed in thought, offering silent support for your frustration.

“You’ve gotten through a large chunk of it, right?”

“Yep.”

A slow, bargaining smile stretched out on his face. “Hey, you know, maybe if you let me read it–”

“Hell no.” You shook your head stubbornly. “I told you, I’m only letting you read it once it's finished, and I think it’s good enough.”

Caleb snorted, “So you mean never?”

You promptly threw one of the plushies on his bed at him. He deftly caught it, laughter slipping from him as he threw it back. The plushy was a grumpy apple one that he had won you back home at the arcade, but the pile of plushies on your bed was so huge that you graciously suggested that he keep it for you. Partial custody, you had joked, I have visitation rights.

“You’ll be the first to read it. I just….need to get through this one bit.”

Ah yes, the bit. The part that you seemed to be cursed to never finish. Everything before it had gone so smoothly, the words flowing and pouring out of you so perfectly. A fun romance novel full of twists and humour was what you aimed to achieve, and it seemed like you were succeeding.

That was, until you reached a part of the story that you truly had no idea how to write. The technicalities of it were.…..unknown at best, to you, who had almost no experience in the matter.

“You know, maybe you could tell me about it. Maybe I could help.” You knew the offer was genuine. Caleb had always been someone you could fall back upon for any assistance. Being two years older than you, in your eyes, he always knew what to do when you were in a pickle. He was the type of friend who placed bandages on your scrapes and offered you candy so you’d stop crying. He carried a hair tie around for when you wanted to tie your hair and helped you study for tests, and explained the concepts that you didn’t understand. Every time you had a problem, he never hesitated to help you in any way he possibly could.

But this….this was something you’d rather die than ask him about.

Immediately, you shook your head a little too quickly, shooting him a tight smile. “Nope, it's fine. Just something I gotta figure out myself.

He stared at you skeptically but shrugged. “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

You wouldn’t.

Would you?

Absolutely not. Even thinking about it felt like a betrayal. It was like opening a can of worms that held snakes. Deadly venomous ones.

And yet here you were, your teeth digging into the plush of your lower lip as he turned back to his laptop screen, continuing to work on whatever assignment he had due. He was in his final year and was infinitely busy, though he somehow still managed to make time for you.

Shamelessly, your eyes studied him. His arms, so well defined and firm-looking, were basically on display for you when he wore that white, sleeveless tee. Dark hair, unruly and messy, no matter how many times you ran your fingers through it in an attempt to fix it. A defined jawline that could probably cut you if you dared touch it. He had grown up unfairly well, no longer the lanky young boy you once knew, now a man. A hot man you had incredible chemistry with.

A very hot man who was completely off-limits.

Still. You supposed that his help couldn’t be the worst thing in the world–

A sex scene. That was what you were struggling to right. In terms of the story, it was a very natural next move for your characters, and it made sense, and while you could simply artistically describe the ordeal and fade to black, you felt it was a necessary addition. You wanted to showcase the desperation the two characters felt for each other, just how deep their feelings ran through something more primal. You wanted it to feel right, to feel magical.

The issue? You hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about it. In all your nineteen years of life, you had only had sex once, and it had been far from magical. It had been uncomfortable and rushed, the result of a very stupid, drunken one-night stand in your first year. The guy very evidently didn’t know how a woman's body worked, and even thinking back on it made you cringe and fold in on yourself. If it were possible to manually pluck the memory out and destroy it, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

So how on earth were you supposed to write the perfect sex scene when your one sole experience in the matter had been so terrible?

And you couldn’t ask Caleb for help. Even considering doing so made you feel as if you would spontaneously combust. He was your best friend, for crying out loud, and this crossed so many lines. You knew very well that he wasn’t a virgin by any means, having caught glimpses of the occasional hickey on his neck despite his best efforts to hide it from you. He was twenty-one, experienced and could probably talk you through it–

Nope. Not going here.

The idea of Caleb explaining sex to you was mortifying. You didn’t want to hear about any of his conquests, even just the thought of him talking about it made you want to throw up. The notion of him having sex only made your cheeks warm and your throat go uncomfortably dry.

Against your will, the thought festered. It burrowed its way into your mind and settled there as if it belonged, despite its having no business being there. This was completely unethical, but before you could stop yourself, your gaze zeroed in on his tongue darting out of his mouth, licking his lips in concentration as he typed out something. For a second, you wondered how it would feel if he dragged that tongue across the skin of your neck.

Oh my god. What if he simply showed you?

The moment that depraved idea popped into your head, you shot up, getting to your feet with urgency. Startled, he looked over at you, frowning at the alarmed look on your face.

“Are you good?”

“I’m great!” Your voice sounded funny, like you were trying to digest a rock. “I just– er– remembered I have some homework to finish for tomorrow. So I should get back to my room.” You padded over to his door, slipping into your shoes and waving at him. “See ya.”

“....Bye.” He watched your awkward, rushed movements with a puzzled look on his (very nice) face.. You nodded curtly before opening the door and escaping the confines of his dorm, out of his scrutinising gaze that could read you annoyingly well. Another minute in there and you knew he would be grilling you for your odd behaviour.

Jesus Christ. You were so screwed.

“Y/n? Girl, you gotta get your head in the game.”

Tara’s voice cut through your reverie, causing you to snap out of it. One glance up at her would reveal an unimpressed look directed at you, her hands on her hips. “Our darling editor wants to know why your article isn’t on her desk yet.”

Tara was your closest friend after Caleb, and you had met her when you joined the university paper as a student journalist. She was smart, pretty and always had your back no matter what. Blinking rapidly, you sighed, waving your hand.

“Tell Jenna I’ll have it there by the end of the day.”

“You better. You know how she is about deadlines.” Tara pulled one of the chairs from the desk beside yours closer and sat on it, resting her elbows on the armrests. “Seriously, though, why are you spaced out today?”

Well, there was no way you could tell her the truth about that. So you resorted to using a half-truth as an answer. “Writer's block.”

“Ah.”

You turned back to the screen of your computer, staring at the article you had been writing. It was almost finished, thank god. At least here, you had the facts to write around, having done your research. Very different to the situation you found yourself in regarding your stupid book.

Ugh.

“By the way, your boyfriend’s here.”

Your head snapped up at her words, already ready to argue, knowing exactly who she was talking about. Walking into the newsroom holding two coffees was Caleb, wearing that blue-orange jacket that you had bought him for one of his birthdays. He did this pretty often, sauntering in like he owned the place even though he was technically not allowed to be there. Jenna had repeatedly reminded him of this, but he brushed it off, and after a while, she simply stopped bothering. Thus, despite not being on the paper, he spent a lot of time in the newsroom.

This was another problem you faced daily: people mistaking him for your boyfriend. The number of times you had to rehash the fact that he was simply your best friend was astounding, and back when you were a freshman, the constant whistles about you dating an upperclassman– and none other than Caleb Xia– drove you mad. You chalked it down to none of them being fortunate enough to experience a friendship as fulfilling and real as the one you had with him.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You dropped your voice, keeping it just loud enough for her to hear your rebuttal that held a hint of venom, plastering a smile on your face as he closed in. Tara snickered.

“Sure, and I’m the queen of England.”

“Hey,” Caleb grinned down at you, his eyes momentarily flitting to your friend. “And what?”

“Nothing,” you said brightly, shooting her a murderous look that silently told her to zip it. She smiled innocently and shook her head, slipping back to her desk without another word.

“She’s an odd one,” he quipped, handing you one of the coffees and then shrugging off the jacket, dumping it on the free space on your desk. You already knew it was your regular order, something he had memorised years ago. You sipped the drink, letting the hot liquid calm you down, grateful for the caffeine. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, spending it tossing and turning in your bed.

And why was that?

Caleb leaned against your desk. “Are you free later today?”

A dejected sigh escaped you. “Unfortunately, no. I need to finish this article by the end of the day, and it seems like my writer's block has infected every aspect of my life.” It was ironic, just how true that statement ran.

“Damn.” You could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. “I was hoping we would have movie night. I stocked up on your favourite candy.” He reached over, his fingers brushing against the skin of your forehead as he pushed some of your hair that fell in front of your eyes away from your face, neatly tucking it behind your ear like it was second nature. It was, you supposed, considering he had done so about a hundred times.

But something was different this time, or perhaps you were paying far too much attention to every little thing. To how he pulled back and the way the muscles in his forearm shifted subtly, making you wish he had kept the jacket on. The brief touch lingered on your skin, burned into it.

Fucking hell, you were a mess. A tragic, down-atrocious mess.

Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment. Heat crept up your neck, and you coughed, rubbing it absent-mindedly, hoping to push down the flush you felt taking over your body. It had been like this ever since the day in his dorm when your brain had decided to work against you and infect you with the thought of sex with your best friend.

What better way was there to describe your state than calling it an infection? It certainly felt like some sort of sickness with the way it plagued you against your will. Somehow, it was worse than the doomed crush you had harboured for him back when you were in high school, because at least that had been innocent. That was born out of pure admiration, and you were sixteen. A lot of things done at sixteen could be brushed off under the excuse of being young and naive. You had quickly gotten over it.

You were evidently no longer so naive. In fact, you knew too much.

“Maybe next time.” You managed to choke out finally after a silence that had stretched a beat too long. Part of you hoped he’d leave you alone now so that you could calm down and refocus your attention to the article.

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he occupied the chair Tara previously had, complaining about one of his classes as you nodded along, sipping your coffee and glancing between him and your screen. The smooth cadence of his voice usually soothed you and calmed you down, but now it only put you on edge, flowing over scrambled thoughts like honey. Had his arms always been this nice?

You were going to hell.

All things considered, you held yourself to certain standards. You were a woman with morals and integrity, and you were not in the habit of staring at shirtless men.

Except when it was Caleb, apparently.

“Why are you half-naked?” You blurted out gracelessly, heat viciously curling up your body as your eyes dropped down to his torso. You gripped the Chinese takeout you had gotten on your way back from your evening class a little tighter as you took in his figure. A silver chain with a tag and apple pendant (something you had given him before he left for university while you were still struggling in high school) on his bare chest and perfect sculpted abs, running shorts hanging low on his hips.

“I was working out.” He said casually, taking the bag of takeout from your hands and walking back into his dorm, leaving you to follow him. You bit down on your tongue hard, almost hoping you’d draw blood.

This was ridiculous. You had seen him shirtless several times before and had never reacted like this. The other times hadn’t caused you to flush and definitely didn’t cause your heart rate to spike. It didn’t have you furiously fighting off thoughts that had threatened to consume you for over a week now, pushing them back into the furthest parts of your mind and locking them there.

“I’m almost done, could you grab sodas from the fridge?” Caleb placed the food on the table beside his bed. You wordlessly complied, picking the apple-flavoured sodas that both of you liked. Turning back to the main area of his dorm, you walked over, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Caleb was on the floor. Doing push-ups.

There was nothing inherently sexual about it in the slightest. You knew he liked to stay in shape, hitting the gym at least thrice a week to maintain his physique– a very nice physique that seemed to be your current undoing. His hair fell across his forehead, a little matted from sweat. You watched as he pressed down and back up, and in a moment of weakness, you wondered how it would be if you were under him instead of standing to the side and ogling like an idiot. Would his necklace dangle above you, swinging back and forth in your face?

Dear god. You needed to be sedated. Put down, even.

Finally, he seemed to be done, lowering himself down and then rolling onto his back. He sucked in a breath of hair, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. Finally, he sat up and looked up at you, a singular eyebrow raised.

“Why are you just standing there?”

Brilliant question. If only you could answer it.

Choosing to skillfully evade instead, you tossed him his soda can and grabbed his laptop from his desk, settling down next to him on the floor. Tonight, the two of you had decided to have dinner together and catch up on an anime you had started together a couple of weeks ago. It had been a while since you had properly hung out, and you knew damn well that it was all your fault.

You were avoiding him. Mentally and physically, especially physically. Caleb, however, being the understanding, saint of a man that he was, chalked it up to you being busy. He made sure to check in on you, shooting you texts or sending you funny videos he knew you’d like.

“We should try and finish all the episodes up until the latest one,” You said, opening up his laptop and logging into the anime site. “They released a new one on Wednesday.”

Caleb hummed, stretching his arms as he shuffled closer. Immediately, you froze, the close contact inciting pure panic within you. Jerking away from him, you glared, holding a hand out to keep an arm's distance between the two of you, much to his confusion.

“Put on a shirt.”

He frowned. “Why? It’s really hot.”

Indeed, it was. “Exactly. You’re all sweaty and gross.”

You really shouldn’t have said that. The moment the words left your mouth, his mouth curled into a smirk– one so disgustingly attractive that you were sure your knees would have probably buckled if you weren’t already sitting down– and his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint that told you he was up to no good. Carefully, he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and the contact has your brain short-circuiting and going into overdrive.

“I think that means you want a hug.”

“Wait– don’t you dare– Caleb!” You yelped as he tugged you harshly, forcing you to fall into his lap, his laughter resounding through the small dorm room. Awkwardly, you shoot your other hand out to steady yourself, placing it on his shoulder as you tumble into him, knee slotting in between his legs and body so dangerously close to his that you wanted to scream. Smoothly, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, circling it and somehow tugging you even closer, until you were flush against him.

“What are you gonna do now, Pips?” He taunted, voice just above a whisper right against your ear.

Unicorns, you bleakly thought to yourself. Puppies. Cupcakes. Sprinkles.

“You’re so annoying,” You hissed, throwing as much irritation into your voice as you possibly could in the hopes that it would drown out the shakiness you felt. His skin under your fingertips was warm, and you could feel that warmth through the fabric of your tank top. “Go fuck yourself.”

He laughed harder, the sound so contagious it broke you out of your downright sinful thoughts. You gripped his shoulder a little harder, mentally chastising yourself for the situation you found yourself in, knowing that there was no good reason for you to be this riled up. Playfighting with him was something you were used to; it was natural. It should not have had your blood pressure rising and heart slamming in your chest so violently.

Swallowing thickly, you barely processed how he let go of your wrist, his other arm also coming to rest around your waist as he pulled you further into his lap so that you were now sitting on top of him. Before you even had the chance to react to that, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled.

“Missed you this week,” He mumbled softly against your rapidly heating skin. You froze for a split second at the contact, hopelessly blaming the flush spread over your cheeks on the humid weather.

And then you softened.

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him back. “I missed you too,” You whispered, following up with a lie to keep him off your trail. “Just had a lot of work.”

“I know,” he said so patiently that you instantly felt guilty. He lifted his face from your neck so that he could stare at you, and it hit you just how intimate the position the two of you were in was. Although reserved with others, Caleb had always been pretty openly affectionate with you. His hand on the small of your back, fingers intertwined with yours, a light kiss to your temple in encouragement– he had been doing stuff like that to you since you were ten.

So why did it suddenly affect you so much? Why did something so normal for you make you feel so different now?

“Just….tell me about it,” he continued, those mesmerising purple eyes of his locked onto yours. “Shoot me a text. Let me know what's up with you. Don’t you remember the last time you shut everyone out because you were stressed?”

You did remember. It was during your finals last year, when the workload you had overwhelmed you so badly that you simply pushed everyone away until they were over. Caleb had to practically storm his way back into your life and demand that you take a break and slow down before you worked yourself to the bone. The fact that he remembered this only made your guilt worse because your distance this time had nothing to do with your classwork.

It had everything to do with him, though.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, slowly slipping out of his embrace and settling down next to him once again. You had to remind yourself of what he was to you, and all this thirsting for him was neither healthy nor something a good best friend would do. “I’m not gonna do that again.”

“I’m just saying. And what the hell am I supposed to do with my free time if you’re not here to bother me?” He flashed you that shit-eating grin of his that you were starting to think was more devastating than mischievous.

You had to resist strangling him.

There was only one possible conclusion: something was deeply wrong with you.

How else were you supposed to explain your borderline insane behaviour? It had gotten even worse lately, causing you to daydream at the most inconvenient times, like when you were trying to get an assignment done or even in the middle of class. It was a wonder your professors hadn’t called you out for it yet.

Some level of restraint seemed to remain, though, with you stopping your thoughts from crossing any lines. The moment you caught your mind straying into dangerous territory, you forced yourself to stop, desperately searching for another distraction.

But there was only so much you could do. Thinking was proving to be a dangerous activity.

You pressed your palms into your eyes, hard. It was almost three in the morning, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Earlier, you had tried to write around the damned scene, but emerged fruitless. It was like an obstacle you had to clear before you could get to the next level of a game, taunting you with its incompletion.

Something else taunted you, simmering underneath the expanse of your skin. Things that hadn’t even happened yet, but you had already dreamed of them– his mouth on yours, his hands tracing your body with a feather touch.

You were even wearing one of his shirts right now, the oversized tee reaching down to your mid-thighs. Several, just like the one you currently wore, sat neatly in your closet, having been stolen from him over the years. You could faintly smell his cologne; cidery and comforting, enveloping you in what felt like it could be his embrace. Turning onto your side, you pulled the blanket over your body and stared at the wall blankly.

Caleb had been your safe space for so long, and perhaps that was why you gravitated so easily to thinking about him like this. If there was anyone you trusted in such an intimate sense, it was him.

Even if it shouldn’t have been.

God knows you needed to get laid. Unfortunately, you didn’t want just anyone.

You swore you had never been this horny before, least of all for your best friend. Thinking about him in such a salacious way was strictly a new development that was quickly ruining your life, haunting you day and night. Even now, lying in your bed, heat that was impossible to ignore bloomed between your legs.

Maybe if you just indulged once, this madness would stop. Maybe you just needed an orgasm, and then you’d stop going insane over every single interaction you had with Caleb. It didn’t even have to be about him, and this was normal; everyone needed a release now and then.

Your fingers slipped between your legs, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, tracing the outline of your cotton underwear. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let your fingertips gently graze against where you needed them most, letting your legs fall apart just a little bit–

Deep purple eyes flashed behind your closed eyes.

Gasping, you retracted your hand like you had been burned. There was no way in hell you could touch yourself with him in mind; that was everything you had been avoiding for the past three weeks, ever since the notion had first sprouted. Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow.

This had to have been the stupidest cause of insomnia ever.

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : i better see u at the party tonight :D

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : will pick u up at 9

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : no buts.

Caleb supposed that this was technically his fault.

Mentally, he had already prepared for this outcome. It was why he had barely drunk the entire night, barely finishing two drinks and opting out of playing beer pong with the rest of his friends, despite Gideon's need for another member on his team.

“Come on, Pipsqueak.” He had an arm around your waist to help steady you, ensuring you wouldn’t fall flat on your face. You stumbled into the elevator, and he jammed the number of your dorm floor as you wrapped your arms around his torso weakly, leaning into him. Right now, he was the only thing keeping you upright.

You were drunk, slurring your words and unable to walk in a straight line without any assistance type of drunk. And yes, this was his fault.

Probably. Definitely.

One of the frat houses had thrown a party, and he had insisted that you come with him. He had always been great at reading you, and for the last couple of weeks, you had seemed tense over something, though you hadn’t told him what exactly it was yet. That was fine, he knew that eventually you’d spill, but for now, all he wanted to do was help you let loose.

That was exactly what he told you to do when both of you arrived at the party, even pouring you your first drink. Halfway through the party, you seemed more relaxed than you had in the last couple of days, swaying along to the music by his side. He made sure not to drink too much, wanting to be sober enough to safely get you back to your dorm just in case you overdid it.

His intuition always ended up being right when it came to you.

You whined as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. “Everything is spinning.”

“I know, honey, we’re almost there.” He helped you walk into the hallway, smoothly taking your handbag from you and extracting your keys. Holding you tighter, he opened the door and pulled you through, carefully seating you down on your bed and taking your boots off.

Like clockwork, he grabbed a bottle of water from your bedside table, unscrewed it and held it to your cherry-tinted lips. You only used that specific lip-tint when you were going out, and each time you did, he found himself wondering if it tasted like cherry as well. Even now, as he gently propped his index finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards, he entertained the idea of tasting it for himself.

But he wouldn’t.

“Drink up,” He said softly, “You’re gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

Obediently, you parted your lips, drinking with his help. Your cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol, hair a little frizzy from the heat, but still maintaining the styling you had done before the party. To him, you looked stunning at all times, but he could see the effort you had put in to look nice tonight, from your outfit (a black halter top and jeans) to your makeup, which he knew he’d have to help you take off now.

Once he deemed the amount of water you had drunk enough, he put the bottle back and went into your bathroom, knowing exactly where to find your makeup wipes. He had taken care of you like this once before, so his body moved like clockwork. There was no point in trying to get you to the bathroom– you’d probably just sit down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the night– so he took the wipes with him and crouched down in front of where you sat on your bed.

Smiling, he held your face again, this time a little firmer. “You’d hate yourself if you went to sleep before you took your makeup off,” he whispered, pulling one of the wipes out and dragging it over the apples of your face. Then, he glanced up and into your eyes, noting how you stared at him so keenly, even through a half-lidded gaze, lips slightly parted.

If Caleb could’ve kept your attention on him like this for the rest of his life, he would have.

“What's going through that head of yours?” He cocked his head to the side, studying your intent expression. Immediately, you looked away, but he wasn’t going to back down. Something had been troubling you, and he was determined to find out what. If you wouldn’t tell him outright, he would simply have to guess. “Is it your book, again?”

Your inebriated state made it hard for you to hide things from him. You stiffened in his touch, and he chuckled. “Bingo. You know, if you just told me what you were struggling with, I’d help.” He pressed your chin lightly, angling your face downwards. “Close your eyes.” He gently wiped over your eye makeup, making sure it was all off before continuing. “I know I’m not a writer, but I’m sure I'll be of some value.”

Finally done, he neatly folded the dirty wipe and placed it to the side. “Want some more water? Alcohol is dehydrating.”

And then, out of nowhere, you spoke.

“Sex.”

Well, blurting would probably be a better way to describe how you said the word. Caleb blinked rapidly, wondering if he had heard you correctly as his face snapped back to yours, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Sex.” You slurred a little bit as you leaned closer to him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout and repeating it once more for good measure. “Sex.”

“I heard you the first time,” Caleb could hear how strangled his voice was, unable to think straight at your sudden declaration. Oblivious to his mental distress, you thrust out your hand and pointed at the laptop that sat on your desk with drunken animosity.

“I can’t write a stupid sex scene.”

You sounded so crestfallen, and he would have totally started sympathising with you if not for the reason. A sex scene? What on earth were you writing?

“I–” He swallowed, “Well–”

“I mean, how am I supposed to write a good sex scene if I don’t know what good sex feels like? Or what even like, happens?” Alcohol had certainly loosened you up, and perhaps a bit too much, having erased any filter that you had. This resulted in you rambling on about everything you would have usually kept to yourself, and for good reason. “The sex I’ve had has been shitty.”

The sex you’ve had? Caleb almost bit his tongue off in shock, staring at you incredulously at the information you had dumped on him. He hadn’t even known you had been having sex, and thank every god for that, because he would have probably jumped off a cliff if you ever talked about your sex life with him. Surely, this was some sort of twisted fever dream he had found himself in. This could not have been real life.

“Christ,” He choked out, “I–okay, maybe I can’t help you–”

“Yeah, you can.” Your eyes cut to his, a little too intense for his sanity. “If you fucked me, I’d probably be able to write the scene.”

He gaped at you, about a dozen inappropriate thoughts running through his head before he could stop it. “What did you just say?”

Teenage Caleb would have died if he had heard you say that. Adult Caleb nearly did.

You sighed heavily, and it only succeeded in causing him to spiral even more. “I thought about it. I’m sure it would be good, y’know. You’d know what you were doing, you even look like you’re good at it.”

“You’re so drunk.” He tried to reason with himself out loud, but could hardly recognise his voice with how strained he sounded. Looked like he was good at it? What alternate dimension had he just fallen into?

“Oh, come on, Caleb. I need some hands-on learning, and you–” you slurred the words as you leaned close and wrapped your hands around his bicep, peering up at him through your lashes. “–have very nice hands. They’re hot.”

You, his best friend, his pipsqueak, had thought about sleeping with him. You thought his hands were hot. The news nearly killed him, and he had to force himself to look away from you, his mind running at a mile a minute. Heat prickled at his face and neck, impossible to ignore as he cleared his throat and stood to his feet, pulling away from your touch.

“You should sleep.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping away from you. “I–I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was as if he were going through puberty all over again, with the way his voice cracked embarrassingly as he spoke. He left your room hurriedly, barely getting his shoes back on as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Caleb exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the back of his head hit your door. All these years of barely keeping it together around you, carefully tiptoeing between right and wrong, only for you to come and crash into whatever self-restraint he had left.

Right and wrong.

All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if he was going to choose correctly anymore.

Death had to have been more merciful than the pounding in your head. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself like a cocoon, trying your hardest to block out all noises and sink even further into your mattress.

Unfortunately, your hangover-induced headache made it nearly impossible for you to go back to sleep. Cursing, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up and change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. Naturally, you gravitated towards an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling them on after a quick shower.

Then, you went right back to your bed, not wanting to face the day in the slightest. You had managed to resist throwing up so far, and even the thought of having to function like a normal human being made you recoil into your blanket and stay there for the rest of the week. Just as you began to genuinely entertain that notion, a sharp knock at your door caught your attention.

You would have ignored it if you didn’t know the pattern of this knock by heart. No one but Caleb knocked twice in sequence.

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled to the door and opened it, squinting as the bright light of the hallway outside nearly blinded you. There he stood, grinning down at you as he held up a paper bag.

“Aspirin.”

“Thank god,” you immediately let him in, taking the medicine from him and pouring yourself a glass of water. He stood right behind you as you took the pill, ruffling your already messy hair and staring for just a second too long.

“Bad morning, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You winced at the whiny nature of your voice. “It feels like my head is trying to stab itself.”

Caleb chuckled dryly, sitting down on your bed and watching as you settled at your desk and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth out the knots. Something was different about the way he was looking at you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“You’ll be fine,” He muttered, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. You frowned, taking in the way his jaw ticked, and placed your glass of water down.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” He said it a little too brightly, glancing down at your desk. Something flickered in his eyes. “Made any progress on that book of yours?”

A frustrated sound left you buried your face in your hands, elbows on your desk. The reminder of your stagnant writing somehow worsened your headache, as if that was even possible. Of course he’d bring that up. “As usual, no.”

For a while, you had hoped that inspiration would strike you eventually, but it seemed like you were well and truly stuck. It had only taken a turn for the worse, with you suddenly despising everything you had already written, unable to even skim any of it without cringing and wanting to hit delete. Your inability to write had morphed into impostor syndrome, which was a development you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“It’s okay,” he said, and you would have mistaken his tone for reassuring if not for the way his lips twitched slightly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to write eventually. After you fuck me, apparently.”

Silence.

Razor-sharp silence.

Slowly, you turned your head to face him, eyes wide as saucers. “What….did you just say?”

“Only what you said last night. You said you were sure it would be good, which I beg to differ. It would be amazing, thank you very much.” He dared to smile oh-so innocently, as if he hadn’t just upgraded the superlative of what sex with him would potentially be like.

If you thought you were going to throw up before, you were sure you were going to now. You almost choked on your spit, waves of unadulterated shock crashing through your system as you gawked at your best friend, who appeared much too pleased with himself at the moment. If you weren’t so utterly horrified, you would have tried to slap the smug expression right off of his face.

“No.” The singular word comes out breathless, much to your mortification, your gut churning at the implications of that statement. “No, no, no–”

“Oh yes,” He grinned wickedly, leaning back on the palms of his hands.

“What–what the fuck did I drink last night.” You tried your levity, but your embarrassment ran too deep. Reaching up, you covered your face with your hands in a pathetic attempt to hide away from him. Never, in a million years, had you ever accounted for having this conversation with him, of all people, and you were almost certain there was something in your drinks that had made you say what you did.

His velvety laugh echoed through your dorm, and you wanted nothing more than to fold in on yourself. This had to have been the worst moment of your life.

“I guess you don’t remember, huh?” There was an amused lilt to his tone that made you want to jump out of the window. “I can refresh you, if you’d like.”

“NO!”

The shriek that left you was nothing short of abashed. He leaned forward now, smirking at you conspiratorially. “What's wrong? I thought you needed,” he paused, as if recollecting the exact words you had said to humiliate you even further. “Hands-on learning?”

You pointed to the door, biting back a scream. “Get out.”

The smirk only grew. “Aw, but if sleeping with me is gonna help you write again–”

“OUT!” You glared, cheeks flaming. Your anxiety had prepared you for at least a hundred outright ridiculous situations that had no chance of ever occurring, but none of them accounted for the possibility of your best friend talking about sleeping with you. You couldn’t fathom how he seemed so unaffected by it, as if he were speaking about something as mundane as the damn weather.

Caleb tongued his cheek, evidently fighting off another bout of laughter. He raised his hands to his sides in a placating gesture, but it did nothing to soothe your frazzled nerves. If anything, it only distracted you further, your eyes betraying you and straying to glance at his hands. A suppressed memory from last night resurfaced in your mind's eye, much to your displeasure.

You have very nice hands. They’re hot.

That was it. You were never going to touch alcohol again. Sobriety was your way of life now, seeing that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when under the influence. The next time you need to let off some steam, you’d have an iced coffee.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go.” He moved towards your door, hiding his teasing smile behind his fist, disguising his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. “But Y/n?”

He didn’t use his beloved pet name. You straightened slightly, momentarily pushing away your embarrassment at the sudden serious shift of his voice. He opened the door and paused, hesitating for a single second. Then, he looked back at you, all-consuming, violent eyes locking onto yours.

“I would do it if you asked.”

You sighed heavily as you walked out of your last class of the day, rubbing the back of your neck and peering up into the darkening sky. Thursdays were the one day of the week when you had longer classes one after the other, which always resulted in you feeling exhausted by the end of it. You barely had the energy to even think about putting together dinner, which your best friend knew, always swinging by once your class ended with enough take-out for both of you and to walk you back to your dorm.

Which meant…

“I hope you’re in the mood for Thai food.”

Caleb slid into your view with that easy-going smile of his, though lately and much to your annoyance, there seemed to be a knowing glint in his gaze every time it settled on you.

“I’m in the mood for anything edible.” You sighed as you began walking back to your dorm. He easily fell into step beside you, as always, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You supposed it was, considering how long your friendship had lasted. It would be almost twelve years soon, and honestly, you could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t around.

He hummed, knowing how cranky you got when you were hangry. “So easy to please.” It was the way he said it, knowing and with a tone so low that it almost resembled a purr. It had goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. A little outraged at the way you reacted, you glanced over at him, only to find him already looking at you.

It was how he always looked at you, with conviction and every ounce of his attention. Yet, it felt different, more intense. Or maybe that was just your brain playing tricks on itself.

I would do it if you asked.

Those seven words had haunted you from the moment he had spoken them. The serious expression on his face mixed with the quiet way he had said it– it had undoubtedly fucked you up a little more than you would have liked to admit. You were beyond infuriated and in complete disbelief over how he had simply offered to sleep with you. Like it wasn’t a big deal or a very major, clear boundary that existed in friendships. In your friendship.

If you asked. Like it was that fucking simple. He left your dorm since you demanded it of him, but left you to deal with the aftermath of that absolutely criminal statement of his.

And then there was the teasing.

Relentless and unsteadying. Caleb would say something a little too suggestive or downright sexual before retreating and pretending like nothing had happened. He’d hold your gaze a little longer, or let his touch linger, before looking away with a satisfied smirk. He knew damn well what he was doing, and although you did too, it didn’t stop you from flushing or freezing up. It certainly didn’t stop scenarios from writing themselves in your head.

He was torturing you for your little slip-up. He found it hilarious, and now you were the punchline for every joke that blossomed from it.

He cocked his head to the side now, a small, tilted smile on his lips as he spoke. “What's going on in at head of yours?”

You realised you had stopped walking, and so had he, instead standing right in front of you and occupying every part of your vision. “Nothing.”

Caleb quirked an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “You sure about that? You’re obviously thinking about something.” The cadence of his voice had always been nice, but now the velvety smoothness of it put you on edge in more ways than one. “Are you maybe thinking about–”

“I am not thinking about that.” The statement tumbled out of you before you could bite your tongue. His eyes lit up mischievously.

“Oh, so you’re thinking about something after all, are you?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to findd to find a comeback to that. Somehow, he was even closer now.

“Mind telling me what exactly that is?”

“Stop it,” You almost snarled, shooting him a withering look as you pushed him away in order to reclaim your personal space. This teasing streak of his was getting unbearable, especially since it was anything but innocent and was driving you up the wall. “Or I’m gonna take the Thai food and leave you with nothing.”

An offended gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

He laughed at your threat and finally let up on you, going back to being the Caleb you knew. He spoke of his classes and the group project he had due at the end of the week, for which he had terrible teammates to work with. It was jarring, how easily he could shift back into acting like he hadn’t just insinuated something so….

Maybe it was just your dirty mind.

Unbeknownst to you, it definitely wasn’t just your dirty mind. Caleb was mentally punching himself.

Caleb had had years of practising self-control when it came to you. Years of holding back and hiding the feelings he had for his best friend, shying away from every opportunity to divulge them. He knew how to keep his hands to himself, his mind from straying and his tongue from running into dangerous territory. He hadn’t meant to do it, but your drunken confession had flipped a switch inside of him. The lines had gotten a little blurry, but he would never, in a million years, ever actually cross them.

So what the hell was wrong with him?

You still hadn’t written a word. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t even complain about it in peace anymore. Not if you wanted to maintain even a modicum of your sanity.

The reason for said dwindling sanity was sitting beside you right now on his bed, his arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing abstract patterns on the top of your shoulder. Usually, this would have calmed you down and even made you sleepy, but it achieved the complete opposite right then. You were painfully awake, his feathery touch like electricity against your skin.

God, you were so fucked. You had hoped that Caleb’s incessant teasing would have put a damper on your sudden, strong attraction towards him, but nothing of the sort had happened. It seemed to have only gotten worse, with you ending up being jumpy whenever he was around, and considering the amount you hung out with him, you were starting to resemble a kangaroo.

Around him, you were constantly tense and always on the precipice of being turned on. To say it was hellish would be an understatement.

“You’re distracted,” he murmured as the credits of the movie you were watching played. Finally, the two of you had managed to find the time to have that movie night you had passed on weeks ago. You shook your head, glancing up at the clock that hung on his wall. It was a little past midnight.

“Just frustrated,” you said finally, because it was the truth in more ways than one. Your frustration with your writing, or lack of, ran deep, but now it was intertwined with another very persistent reason. Being sexually frustrated wasn’t something you were used to dealing with.

He seemed to have caught on, though, his hand falling from your shoulder to your waist, curling around it. “Why are you frustrated, Pipsqueak?” He drawled, turning his head so that he faced you now. Of course, he’d pick this moment to torment you, when you were already frazzled.

“No reason,” you said quickly, voice clipped. A slow, languid smile stretched out on his lips.

“No?” He asked, the side of his mouth tilting. “Could it be….”

“Stop talking.” You despised how hoarse your voice sounded. You wanted– no, needed him to stop doing this before it became unbearable. He was your best friend, for fucks sake. The smile on his annoyingly perfect face melted into a smirk that would have had your knees weak if you weren’t already sitting down.

“I don’t think I will.” He whispered, pulling you even closer as he dipped his head down until his lips brushed against your ear. It was like he wanted you to break, and god, you were so close to doing so. His hand slid up your waist just a little bit. A shiver ran through you, one you couldn’t have suppressed if you tried.

“Tell me,” He mumbled, the words sounding much too loud even though he was still whispering. “Do your frustrations have anything to do with a certain sex scene you’re trying to write?”

You inhaled sharply.

Rationality was a funny thing. Every bit of it seemed to disappear whenever you truly needed it. Things you had no business thinking rushed through your head, courtesy of your bright imagination that chose the most inconvenient moments to work. Thoughts you had suppressed and pushed aside every time they had the nerve to pop up swirled around.

The spark that you had been trying so hard to put out crackled to life in your core, its flames spreading all across your body like wildfire. You were painfully aware of every part of you that was in contact with him, his hand just above your waist, sitting there so possessively, his breath fanning across your neck– fuck. It was too much, but somehow not enough all at once, and immediately you knew what you wanted.

More.

You snapped.

Something possessed you as you turned to look at him, a surge of confidence appearing out of nowhere as you drew closer to him. “Yeah.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Right then and there, three things became very clear to you. One: You wanted to write. Desperately and preferably sometime soon, because you did want to finish the first draft before you could go in and edit. Two: For some reason, you needed to have sex in order to get over the mental block you had when it came to writing it. Lastly, three: You only wanted to have sex with one person, and it was the man right beside you.

“My frustration has everything to do with the sex scene.” You said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice was. “But you can help with that, right?”

Without waiting for his response, you got to your knees, swinging a leg over him and settling down on top. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a second as your hands found his shoulders to maintain your balance, before he spoke again.

“Pipsqueak,” he started, voice low and careful, attempting to keep the teasing lilt in his voice but royally failing. “What– exactly– are you doing?”

“You told me to ask.” You muttered, dropping your gaze to his lips for a moment before letting it travel back up. “You said you’d do it if I asked. I’m asking right now.”

Caleb couldn’t respond, still staring up at you, eyes wide and ears a little redder than they normally were. Good. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. His hands found your waist again, and he blinked twice, slowly, and you prayed he wasn’t all bark and no bite.

You wanted him to bite.

“Y/n,” he muttered, “I….I know what I said.”

You raised an eyebrow, your hands slipping up his shoulders simultaneously until they were cradling his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of it. Was he shy? Now? After everything he had said and insinuated, he had the audacity to be all bashful? “So then you know what I’m asking for.”

“Well–”

“Caleb,” You cut him off, shifting so that you were closer. “I’m asking.”

Conviction laced those words. You could tell he was reasoning with himself, god knows you could read him well enough to know when he was conflicted, when he bit the inside of his cheek before exhaling shakily.

“Pips,” He rasped out your nickname. “You– you’re sure?”

You didn’t recognise the look in his eyes right then as he looked up at you, but it had you unravelling all the same. You leaned in subconsciously, but he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your mouth, covering it as his jaw clenched, still studying you. “I need you to tell me you’re sure, Y/n.”

Oh, so this was actually happening. You could feel the heat of your breath recoil against your face because of his hand. The ticking of the clock in his room filled the charged silence between him and you, his fingers brushing against your chapped lips. You swallowed.

“I’m sure.”

Whatever had shifted in you five minutes ago seemed to shift in him as well now. He let his hand drop from your mouth, shamelessly staring at it. “We shouldn’t.” But he pulled you closer, his arms circling your waist and palms splayed out on the small of your back.

“It’s for research purposes,” You breathed out, doing your best to justify how badly you needed him. “Please, Caleb, I need–”

He didn’t let you finish.

You gasped as he crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. The pressure of his lips against your own was dizzying, especially with the way they moved; slowly and precisely, as if he was committing the feel of your lips to his memory. You were hyperaware of his touch on your back, the warmth from his hands permeating through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you were wearing.

Pulling him closer, you tilted your head so you could kiss him better. For the number of times you had mentally chided yourself for even thinking about this, it felt remarkably natural to kiss him, your instincts taking over. Your fingers slipped into his hair, entangling in the dark strands and tugging lightly.

Caleb groaned, and you were on fire.

“God, Y/n.” There was nothing playful about the way he mumbled your name into the kiss, and the unfamiliarity of it sent a shiver down your spine. His lips, soft and just a little hesitant, moved in tandem against your own, slotting in between them perfectly like you were pieces of the same puzzle, meant to be pushed together like so. He nipped at your lower lip before swiping his tongue over it to soothe the sting, and the intoxicating sensation drew out a needy whimper from you.

The second that sound escaped you, all indecision disappeared from his end, and the temperature in the room seemed to increase, growing hotter with every smack of his lips against yours. Kissing him was addictive, it felt as if neither of you could bear to pull away from each other.

Without warning, Caleb lifted you off of him and pressed you into the mattress, swiftly climbing on top of you. For a moment, he hovered, looking down at you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and heavy breathing, proud to have been the cause of your breathlessness despite barely doing a thing. Going in once again, he brushed his lips against yours teasingly, before giving you what you truly wanted, the intensity of the kiss taking a turn for feverish.

A hand of his slid up your side until he cupped your jaw oh-so gently, turning your face to the side to give him better access to your neck, upon which he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that had heat rush right to your core. The ache between your legs grew, slowly becoming unbearable, and you rubbed your thighs together with a whine, chasing any sliver of friction.

“Shit,” he muttered against you, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt and coming into contact with your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise on the skin. Spreading his fingers and pressing lightly, he kept you from squirming. “Pips, you gotta tell me to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you almost snapped at him, impatient and so painfully aroused it was embarrassing. He couldn’t hold back the breathless chuckle that escaped him as he moved lower, teeth grazing your collarbone.

“If, at any point, you want to stop, tell me,” he gritted out, trying to hold onto any semblance of self-control he still possessed. “I don’t wanna do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

You nodded quickly. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed. Lifting his head slightly, he fumbled with the buttons of your shorts as he leaned back, all his weight on his knees. Once he managed to undo them, you lifted your hips slightly to help him tug them off your body. He settled between your legs, spreading them until the pretty cotton panties you wore were exposed.

Caleb swallowed, his breathing growing erratic and heavy. The wet patch on your panties was his undoing; everything about this situation was bound to be the death of him, but he was too far gone now. He let his hand trace up to your hips, hooking his finger through the waistband of your panties, toying with it.

“Is this ok?” The column of his throat bobbed as he stared up at you from between your legs. When you whispered a needy yes, he pulled the panties down your legs, his eyes darkening the moment they settled back on your core.

“Y/n,” He said your name like he was drunk, a certain sense of reverence infused in his tone that had your cheeks kissed rouge. “You’re even prettier than I thought.”

Than he thought? You would have to take the time to dissect that statement later, much too distracted to do so at the moment when he began peppering kisses along your inner thigh, starting from your knee and working his way upwards. The sensation of his mouth tantalisingly close to where you wanted it so badly was almost too much. Just the sight of him there was so erotic that it had your head swimming. You had never felt more vulnerable than you did right then, exposed and willing.

And then finally– finally– his breath fanned out over your soaked cunt, driving you insane. Liquid fire thrummed in your veins beneath the surface of your skin as your anticipation spilled over. He pressed a light, teasing kiss against your clit.

Caleb dragged his tongue over your slit, licking up it all the way to your clit, which he wrapped his lips around and sucked, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You gasped, bucking your hips up against him, and he chuckled, the sound sending vibrations up your body, from your toes to the top of your head.

“Impatient,” he chided. “Let me take my time with you, princess.”

The new pet name sounded so natural coming from him, and immediately, you knew you wanted to hear him call you that again. He flicked his tongue against the throbbing bud that had been aching for his attention this entire time, positioning your legs to rest over his shoulders. The sounds that left you were shamefully loud, and you had never been more grateful that he lived in a single dorm.

“Cal- oh fuck,” You mewled when he swiped two of his fingers through your wetness, rubbing your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he all but groaned against you, and you could feel more slick gush out of you at that. “Is this all for me?”

Your back arched off the bed when he pressed a finger to your dripping entrance, nodding with a sense of desperation you had never experienced before. “Yes,” you exhaled the word as he pushed his finger inside your pussy slowly, your jaw falling open at the pleasurable intrusion.

Slowly, he began pumping it in and out of you as he continued to give your clit the sweet attention it deserved, basking in the noises that you made. The pads of the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping you nice and spread out despite all your attempts to shut your legs around him.

When he introduced a second finger to your cunt, your hands found purchace in his hair, gripping and tugging as you panted, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tips of his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, crooking inside you so perfectly. It was as if he knew exactly how to push you to the edge.

Your best friend was eating you out like a starved man and you were enjoying every fucking second of it. He could feel your legs begin to tremble, your impending orgasm building. Shamelessly, you bucked your hips against his face, and the moment he realised what you were doing, he increased the pace of his fingers.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged you, flattening his tongue against your clit and pulling you closer, spurring you on even further. You ground against his mouth desperately, feeling the coil in your core draw tight, so, so close.

“Caleb,” you stuttered his name helplessly, but he somehow understood, knowing just what you needed. “I–I’m gonna–”

He scissored his fingers inside of you, hooking them just right as he gave your clit little kitten licks, determined to have you fall apart on his tongue. Your sweet gasps sent blood rushing straight to his cock, which was already painfully hard, confined in his jeans. Taking your mound into his mouth, he sucked harshly, thrusting his fingers knuckle deep in your sex.

A broken moan escaped you when your climax hit you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your legs shook, but he didn’t let up, grinning proudly against you as he drove his fingers back into your gushing entrance, helping you ride out your high and prolonging it. Once he was satisfied, he lapped at you, refusing to waste even a single drop of your essence.

Caleb pulled away, and the sight of you nearly did him in. Eyes screwed shut in ecstacy and hair fanned out on his pillow, undoubtedly tangled from all your writhing. You looked like the picture of sin, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He climbed back, hovering over you again as he licked his lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out and dark due to the sheer level of desire that coursed through you. You were stunning, and he was destroyed, knowing that he’d never be able to forget the way you were looking at him right then. The way you tasted.

When he kissed you again, it was different. It was a heady mix of heat and tongue and want, messier than the kisses he gave you earlier, the control he had before nowhere to be seen anymore. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned, reaching out to touch him.

You started at his collar, dragging your hands down, down, down until you reached the hem of his shirt, whining against his mouth as you tugged at it.

“Take it off.”

Who was he to deny you? He stopped kissing you, sitting up so that he could pull the shirt off, exposing his torso for you. The way your eyes raked over him hungrily was more than gratifying, especially when they caught on the silver chain that hung from his neck, the pendant sitting on his chest. Tossing his shirt to the side, he pushed your own up your body, exposing the skin of your stomach.

“Your turn.”

You let him take off your shirt, tossing it to the side and slipping his hands slip behind your back. He silently asked for your permission, which you gave to him in the form of an impatient nod to which he smirked, unhooking your bra and peeling it off of you, letting the discarded garment join the rest of them on the floor.

One look at you and he was a goner.

“Fuck,” he could feel himself straining his jeans as he took in the sight of your breasts, so perfect and plush. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate you in all your naked glory, before leaning back down, his mouth back on your overheated skin. He dragged his tongue down your neck, sucking and biting like there was no tomorrow.

His lips trailed downwards, kissing the swell of your breast before wrapping around your already hard nipple, stroking his tongue against the aching peak. He palmed the other breast, giving that nipple equal amounts of attention and rolling it under his thumb. You hissed in pleasure, breathless as you arched into his addictive touch.

You could barely think straight; everything he was doing to you sent you into complete overdrive. Every touch was criminally good, the simplest of them causing your arousal to increase tenfold. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you had last had sex, but you had never before felt so frenzied.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you could feel the outline of him pressing against your thighs. Angling your hips, you pressed your bare pussy against his bulge, the roughness of the denim rubbing you just right. He looked up at you from your chest through hooded eyes, earning another whimper as he pinched your nipple.

“You sound so good.” His words went straight to your head. “Tell me what you want.”

He said it like it was a command, and who were you to disobey, especially when you knew exactly what you wanted?

“I want you inside me,” you whimpered, voice heated with lust.

How could he ever refuse you? Caleb gave you one last kiss before reaching over to his bedside table, grabbing something from the drawer and sitting up and unzipping his pants. You couldn’t help but stare as he impatiently kicked off his jeans and boxers, eyes widening when you finally saw his cock.

Fuck, it was big. Long and painfully hard, you could hardly believe he was hard because of you, but the proof was in front of your very eyes. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you drank in the sight of him, hyperaware of the wetness that coated your thighs.

He tore open the condom packet, smoothly sliding it onto himself before settling between your legs once.

“W-will it even fit?” You squeaked, a spike of fear cutting through the lust-filled haze of your mind. He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing your fingers to them, kissing your knuckles soothingly as he bit back a smile.

“It’ll fit.”

“But– there's no way,” You spluttered, “It’s gonna hurt.” Not that the prospect of being in a little pain deterred you by any means, you were way too horny to stop now. Complaining was probably the least sexy thing you could have done in the moment, but he seemed unbothered, the dark, hungry glint in his eyes never fading. The amused look on his face, however, was not lost on you, nor was the way he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile. You glared weakly.

“Are you laughing at me?” You asked, incredulous. “I swear to god, Caleb, you’re going to split me in half, and you’re laughing?”

“Baby,” He breathed, “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say!”

You wouldn’t even blame him if he decided he was done with you and pulled his pants back on, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he gripped your hips, grounding you to the moment.

Both of you were completely nude, and despite this, you had never felt more comfortable. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were something sacred.

“Relax, Pips, I’ve got you,” He whispered, sensing your apprehension. You exhaled shakily as he pressed his hard-on against your folds, groaning at just how wet you were. “Eyes on me.”

The way he took control so naturally was alarmingly attractive. You looked up, locking your eyes with his, unable to stay silent when the head of his cock rubbed against your swollen clit. “O-oh.”

He shuddered at the feeling, dropping a little so that he was keeping himself up on his elbows. His necklace swung above you just like you had imagined as he ground against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Ready?”

You didn’t think you’d ever be ready, but you wanted it so badly you didn’t even care. Nodding eagerly, you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him press the back of your hands into the mattress. When his tip caught at your entrance, you whined. “Please.”

Having you beg him like that was dangerous. He squeezed your hands, and then slowly, carefully, sank into your wet heat, inch by devastating inch. Your jaw slackened, loudly moaning his name as he filled you up and stretched you out so pleasurably. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pushed into you until he bottomed out, going breathless himself. One glance down to where the two of you were connected had him actively having to fight off coming right then and there.

Caleb was in heaven, and he was fucking delirious. He forced himself to stay still, moaning lowly when he felt your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. “You’re doing so well, princess.” He praised, lowering his head to your neck and burying his face in the crook of it, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down.

There was so much wrong with this, so why did it feel so right? You felt so perfect, like you were made for him.

“Caleb,” You whimpered once the sting faded, letting go of his hands and looping your arms around his neck, “Move. I need you to move.”

He pulled out until only his tip remained inside of you, before sheathing himself again, causing you to curve off the bed, nails digging into his skin. He did it again and again, nearly growling when he felt you grow even wetter, coating the length of his cock in your slick. Wet sounds that had your cheeks burning filled the room repeatedly.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” He practically growled, contrasting the tender pace he set, telling you he was holding back for your sake. You could feel every inch of him as he dragged against your walls, reminding you how big he was with every thrust.

Your friendship was potentially ruined, but it felt too good for you to care. With your legs locked behind his back, you gripped his biceps, a wanton moan escaping you as your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure overriding every other sensation.

“So good,” words were hard to put together, and he understood and nodded, holding your hips so tight you were sure there would be marks, just like the marks that blossomed all over your neck and chest from his earlier ministrations. Right now, though, you didn’t care about that, consumed by the waves of euphoria rushing through you.

Slowly, the frequency of his thrusts increased, rendering you completely winded and unable to do anything but gasp for air. You felt another orgasm steadily build up inside you.

Then he tipped his hips a certain way, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that made you cry out his name, throwing your head back into his pillows. The look on your face was something he wanted to imprint in his memory; the desire lacing your voice was beyond exhilarating.

Caleb could feel his own impending high, so tightly wound because of just how long he had waited for something like this. When you clenched around him, he knew you were close as well, but the act nearly did him in.

“Don’t do that.” his voice was all scratchy and strained, but you promptly did it once again, high off the notion that you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. His hips stuttered against yours as his violet eyes flashed. “Fucking hell.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, “I can’t–”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “I want you to look at me when you come all over my cock.”

Never in a million years would you have thought your best friend would be so good at dirty talk, but the shock quickly melted into obedience as you managed to hold his heated gaze. Reaching between the two of you, his index finger found your engorged clit and rubbed circles against it.

You squealed, overly sensitive. “Shit–I’m gonna– Cal-!”

“Come for me.”

Caleb would never forget how you looked: at his mercy, crying out his name over and over like it was a prayer as you came, spilling over his cock with a euphoric sob. He snapped his hips to yours with renewed urgency, drawing out your second climax and prolonging the feeling. When he saw the fucked out look on your face, it hit him at once.

With one final thrust, he buried himself inside you, coming with a moan, burying his face in your neck once again. His body was damp against yours, his hair tickling you as you breathed heavily. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, recovering from the intensity of what had just happened.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of you gently, the sudden emptiness you felt having you whimper softly. Peeling the condom off, he tossed it in the bin next to his bed before climbing off of you, muttering something about being back. Seconds later, you felt a warm, wet cloth drag over your core. He cleaned you up, pressing little kisses to the inner side of your thighs.

Once he was done, he gathered you in his arms and pulled you close, kissing your temple.

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away just enough so he could try and gauge how you felt, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone as he cupped your face tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You shook your head and leaned into his touch, completely spent. “No, it was perfect.”

He sighed in relief. You curled into him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “You did so well,” he murmured into your hair, massaging your scalp gently. “You were amazing, actually.” Another kiss to your forehead made you simper as your eyes closed, exhaustion settling into you now that the adrenaline had faded. “Tired?”

“Yeah,” You mumbled. Your legs entangled with his, and he stopped talking, tracing shapes on your back while you drifted off to sleep. He watched you for a bit, savouring the skin-on-skin contact, his mind reeling from what had just happened.

This was strangely normal, no awkwardness or post-nut clarity hitting either of you. Your body lay against his with all of you pressed up against him like that was exactly where you belonged. He could feel the beating of your heart, strong and steady in your slumber, whereas his remained erratic and fast. This was more than just a taste that he had had of you; it was the entire deal, and the knowledge of it all had his morals scattered and all over the place, because now that he knew what he knew, well.

Caleb wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

At the time, you had justified sleeping with Caleb as research, something you needed to do in order to get it out of your system. You had assumed, albeit foolishly, that once it was over, you’d be able to go back to normal and continue with your life.

But research was an activity that required constant revisiting. Most of it had to be repeated over and over, especially if it included gathering data from an experiment. There was always a control, and then variations of the experiment would be conducted to record the differences in the outcomes.

At least, that was what you were telling yourself right now as you straddled him, his cock buried inside you.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how this had happened. After that day, everything seemed to be normal, until he showed up at your dorm to help you study for a class he had also taken when he was in his sophomore year. One thing led to another, or rather, one heated touch later, you found yourself under him once again.

And then it happened again, and kept happening. Whispers of it being just for research mixed in with both of your moans became a melody you were more than used to. This was all for your book, after all. For the sake of accuracy and your integrity as a writer.

Definitely not because of how mindblowing sex with Caleb was.

And it absolutely was.

He had made you completely insatiable for him, and almost every time the two of you hung out in one of your dorms, it ended up with both of you in bed. Every other aspect of your friendship remained exactly the same, though, which left you considerably confused. He didn’t look at or treat you any differently, poking fun and driving you up the wall, staying his usual reliable self.

Caleb’s hand cradled the back of your head as he kissed you now, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling slightly. You moaned softly against his lips, grinding on him.

You were in one of his shirts, panties tugged to the side since he hadn’t had the patience to take them off, needing to be inside of you as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier hurriedness, the pace the two of you settled on now was almost teasing, slowly rocking against him as you lazily chased the delicious high that you had gotten so used to experiencing these past two weeks.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, more to himself than you, hand slipping under your shirt and cupping your breast, squeezing. When he caught you biting your lip, he tutted, letting go of your hair and using his thumb to release it from your teeth. “Ah, ah, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself, pretty girl.”

“Too good,” you complained in that whiney, desperate tone he had gotten so addicted to. Pinching your nipple for good measure, he smirked up at you when you squealed.

Caleb quickly learned that he loved having you on top of him. Getting you all to himself like this was a privilege in itself, but fucking you while you wore his shirt? He was on cloud nine. He could feel himself throb in your sweet pussy that welcomed him so eagerly, in turn pulsing around him.

He cursed under his breath when you started to bounce, eager to get to the finish line with him. He sounded so good when he swore, you’d never understand it, just like how you wouldn’t get how he looked so pretty with a flush decorating his face and sex-mussed hair.

Gripping his shoulders, you tipped your head back, giving him access to your neck. He had taken to marking you up as and when he pleased, new hickeys surprising you every time you glanced in the mirror. Despite his tendency to leave them in places everyone could very easily spot them, you didn’t tell him to stop simply it just felt so good.

Everything with Caleb felt good, and not only did it feel good, but you felt completely safe. He was so attentive, doing the most to make sure you were never in any pain, often times focusing more on getting you off rather than himself.

He thrust up into you suddenly, his earlier impatience returning, and you cried out, falling into his chest. He held you, working you through it and dragging you closer and closer to release. One of your hands fell to his torso, tracing the hard lines of his abs and trailing downwards before your fingers found your clit and rubbed.

Shit. If having you ride him was good, being able to watch you touch yourself as you did was unbelievable. When you came, you came hard, and the feeling of it tipped him over the edge.

You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

You didn’t bother moving, clinging to him even tighter like you couldn’t bear to not be touching him in some way as you came down from your high. He smelled like sex, sweat, and that cologne of his that you loved. It was the reason you stole his clothes so much and why you were wearing his shirt even now.

Your first time with Caleb was the getaway drug, and now you were addicted to him, to having his hands caressing you all over and him whispering praises in your ear.

“Hey there,” He chuckled, rubbing your back. “All good?”

“Great even,” You mumbled, sitting up properly before finally lifting yourself off of him. You failed to register how jelly-like your legs felt, promptly losing your balance. He caught you before you fell, grinning.

“Can’t walk?” You could hear how smug he was without even having to look at him. It was then that you registered the burn in your thighs and huffed.

“Don’t sound so proud about it.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, leaving you to scoff as he helped you to your feet, following suit. “I’ll help you clean up. Do you wanna watch the new episode after?”

Ah yes. Of course, he’d start talking about anime after taking away your ability to stand. That had been the reason he had shown up at your dorm in the first place, but the moment he saw you wearing his shirt, it had quickly become an afterthought.

The whiplash you felt was indescribable, and you could only nod, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom. After a quick shower and change of clothes, the two of you settled down with your laptop like nothing had happened, your head resting on his shoulder as you focused on the show.

Neither of you bothered to talk about your redefined friendship despite having sex regularly. It was just….a new addition. A benefit that you were both taking advantage of, nothing more and nothing less.

But even as you reminded yourself of that now, you found yourself doubting it.

There was something to be said about formal events.

You enjoyed getting dolled up as much as the next girl, but that was where the fun ended. Having to sit through the event was boring and not the way you liked to spend your Friday evenings. You would have much preferred staying in and catching up on some much-needed sleep.

The editor of your university’s paper, Jenna, had organised an affair that was being held in one of the college halls. She had worked very hard on it, inviting several alumni who were all successful in the fields of journalism and writing back so that the current batch of students had the chance to make connections. It was open to the entire student body, but she had made it clear that everyone on the paper was obligated to attend.

Connections were what helped people get further in life. You were grateful for the opportunity to interact with industry professionals, but didn’t understand why she had insisted on keeping it a black tie affair. That probably had something to do with keeping up appearances.

You stood off to the side, sipping on your cranberry juice from a cup that was made for something much more refined. So far, you had spoken to a couple of the guests, but seeing that you had been here for over an hour already, your social battery was slowly dying out. The dress you wore was a black number, floor length, form-fitting and plain except for the slit that reached up to a little above your knee. Perfect for an event like this, not too much and on power with what everyone else was wearing.

Still, it was a little overstimulating. You guzzled down the rest of your juice and placed the empty glass down on one of the tables.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

You spun on your heels immediately at that voice, eyes widening and settling on the culprit who stood two, maybe three steps away from you.

“Caleb?” You asked in disbelief, taking in his presence. He was wearing a suit.

“The one and only,” he grinned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Here to rescue you from your boredom.”

“What are you even doing here?” To say this wasn’t his scene would be an understatement. He didn’t like wearing the whole suit getup, much preferring casual clothing. Hell, Caleb hadn’t even attended his high school prom (though when you asked why, he would never give you a straight answer), opting to spend the night in with you instead.

He looked unfairly good. The collar of his shirt hid those lovely collarbones of his and reminded you of how you had bit down on them the other day, the bottom of it tucked into black slacks. He had even worn dress shoes, instead of the sneakers he so loved and a tie around his neck. The entire getup.

“I literally just told you why. To get you out of here. Are you hard of hearing now?”

You returned his jibe with an exasperated sound. “I meant here, at this thing.”

“Oh. Well, you did mention it was open to anyone yesterday,” he shrugged, grabbing a glass of juice and sipping on it. “So that editor of yours technically can’t complain about me being here.”

That was true. Still, you found yourself bewildered as you stared at him. He was here. For some reason, even though he was allowed to be here, it didn’t make sense to you. You pressed your lips together and cocked your head to the side, studying him.

“So you dressed up and came here.…only to convince me to leave?” The notion sounded strange even to you. Why on earth would he do that? He finished up his drink and put it down next to your empty glass, taking a step closer to you. The simple movement had butterflies erupt in the pits of your stomach.

What the hell?

“Stop thinking so much. Do you want to stay?”

You considered it. “Not really, no.”

“Do you enjoy arguing with me for no reason, woman?” he muttered dryly under his breath, his eyes catching on something over your head. “On second thought, I think you should stay a little longer.”

Now you were just plain confused. One moment he was talking about saving you from boredom, and the next he was insisting you stay? Before you could undoubtedly start another argument just to spite him, he took you by your shoulders and spun you around, pointing in a certain direction. When you figured out what, or rather, who he was gesturing to, you couldn’t hide your gasp.

“Isn’t that the author you like?”

You could only nod dumbly. “Raymond.” Last year, you had a phase where you only read his books day in and day out, absorbing the stories he spun like a sponge. His books were the reason you had decided to start writing your own in the first place, inspired by his storytelling skills.

Caleb nudged your side gently, “Go.”

“How–” you cut yourself off, looking up at him. “How do you even remember that?” You weren’t sure why this entire interaction with him was throwing you off so much, but you felt completely unbalanced. You hadn’t spoken about Raymond or his work in a long time, so how did he know? He shrugged noncommittally.

“I know you.” He said it so plainly, like it was something trivial and basic, but his eyes bored into yours.

Had Caleb always looked at you with such quiet intensity?

He nudged your side gently, reminding you to move. Forcing yourself out of your stupor, you promised him you wouldn’t take too much time and walked over, buzzing with excitement.

The conversation itself wasn’t long, but it was insightful. He answered all your questions about the industry, and you even had the chance to share for appreciation for Raymond's work as well as ask him questions that you had about his novels. You gave him your utmost attention when he gave you advice, but when he started talking about his characters, your eyes and mind wandered.

Back to your best friend, who was waiting for you on the other end of the hall, leaning against one of the walls and scrolling through his phone. He didn’t give a flying fuck about this event, but had still come here for your sake, even when you hadn’t asked him to. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and flashing you a small smile.

Oh.

You looked away and back at Raymond, nodding politely and tuning yourself back into the conversation. Internally, however, you were freaking out. Something was very wrong; that was the only reason you could conjure up at the moment for what was happening to you. How else could you explain the sudden sweatiness of your palms, or the odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach? Maybe it was the excitement you felt from meeting the author you loved so much, but even as you considered this possibility, you knew it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This could not be happening. You plastered a smile on your face as you tried to pay attention to whatever Raymond was talking about, but the damage was done. Your brain had never been one to let go of a single thought you had, especially ones that had to do with Caleb. He had a hold on you that no one else did, and why was that?

Because you liked Caleb.

The horrifying realisation hit you, startling you out of your rapidly spiralling thought process. Blinking, you realised Raymond was done speaking.

“Thank you so much for your time,” You said, trying not to sound as troubled as you felt. The author smiled at you before turning to another student.

Swallowing the newfound lump in your throat, you turned around and walked back to Caleb. This was bad. Having sex with him was already vaguely immoral and probably something that shouldn’t have happened– and shouldn’t keep happening like it did– but having feelings for him? That was out of the question.

“Good talk?” He asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. The genuine interest he had in your excitement made the entire situation worse. Why were you noticing all this now, of all times? It wasn’t like he had suddenly turned into someone considerate. He had always been this way; it was written into his DNA.

You realised he had even tried to tame his hair for today. “It was great.”

“I’m glad. Now I can steal you away from this place.” His eyes were lit up with mischief, just like they did when the two of you were younger and he did something he wasn’t supposed to. Ever the rebel, this one.

You felt a little guilty. All this effort for you? It seemed completely useless. “Okay, but Caleb, seriously, you didn’t have to do this.”

He frowned. “Didn’t have to do what?”

“This!” You waved in his general direction and then gestured around. “I mean, you don’t even like wearing a suit, but here you are. It’s not like it's compulsory for you like it is for me. You could be doing anything else.” You were rambling, you knew, but it was hard to stop. He rolled his eyes.

“Has that stopped me before?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“I show up to your newsroom even though I’m sure Jenna wants to castrate me for breaking the rules so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “I attended that lecture of yours when you had a presentation. You know I’m here because I want to be.” You knew he said stuff like this all the time, you always were the recipient of his support. This was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. For fucks sake, this was the boy you had grown up with. He had seen you fall off your bike, fail tests and puke your guts out when drunk. In each of those situations, he had also been the one to pick you up and bandage your wounds, help you study and hold your hair back for you.

Did he think it was an obligation now?

“You….you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that.” You said slowly, but he didn’t let you continue.

“Oh, please. Everyone knows that where you go, I go too.” He flicked your forehead, immediately receiving a glare in return. “We’re like…….” He stopped for a moment, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing like they always did when he was thinking hard about something. Then he snapped his fingers. “We’re like those yoghurt-granola snack packs!”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

“You know.” He decided to explain his stupid analogy, as if your head wasn’t muddled enough. “Those things you can buy at the grocery store. The small yoghurt tubs that have a container filled with granola on top of them? Like, they’re both okay separately, but much better when together. People buy those packs for a reason.” He slipped his phone back into his pockets and beamed at you. “We’re like that.”

Oh my god. That barely made any sense. You weren’t sure if you were mortified because of that terrible explanation or because it hadn’t put a damper on your newfound feelings for him. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

He feigned offence, holding his hand over his heart. “Excuse me? You mean cute, right?”

Right. Wait, no, you didn’t. Ugh. “I thinkx ridiculous.”

“Are you coming with me or not, Pips?”

“But Jenna insisted-”

He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance before fixing you with a droll look. “Would you rather be here or be with me?”

Be with you.

You ignored the way your stomach flipped. You didn’t have the time or the mental stability to process everything that was happening to you right now. The logical part of your brain swooped in, telling you that you were just confused because of the sex. Yes, that was it. You did not have feelings for Caleb Xia.

Sighing, you relented. “You.” Saying that didn’t mean anything, after all. Nothing about the two of you meant anything, so there was no reason for you to be freaking out, even if it sounded like you had just confessed. A wide grin made a show on his face when he realised he had won, and he tilted his head towards the exit.

“Finally. Wanna get out of here?”

“Just to be clear, this is not what I meant when I asked if you wanted to get out of there.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, fingers curling around his tie as you tugged him closer. “No? Could have sworn you planned for us to end up in a janitor's closet.”

Caleb bit back a laugh of his own, knowing that making too much noise would get both of you in trouble. After leaving the event, somehow, his guiding hand on your hip had turned into the two of you making out in the hallway. You blamed the mess that your head was in for not realising what a bad idea that was immediately, but once you did, you did the most responsible thing you could think of.

And dragged him into the janitor's closet that was close by.

Naturally.

He braced a hand over your head on the cabinet that you were leaning against, essentially caging you in as he dipped his head to kiss you again. “Pretty sure that was you’re doing.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me first!” You protested against his mouth, but could hardly complain when he kissed you like it was a relief to do so. Honestly, he was probably the best kisser you had ever experienced.

That must have been the reason for your spiralling thoughts. That and the amazing sex that you were so weak to.

Yep. That’s all. Anyone could be susceptible to such things.

“Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself in this dress?” His free hand slipped into the slit at your knee, slowly dragging the rest of the dress up until it was bunched up around your waist. “You’re stunning.”

He couldn’t stop kissing you. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you out there like he had the right to, because he was well aware of the unspoken rules of this arrangement, but he couldn’t help it. If getting too comfortable with whatever you had going on with him was a crime, a sin, then he was a criminal of the highest order. The worst part? He didn’t feel a shred of guilt.

But you were wearing that fucking cherry lip gloss, and god knnows he had waited long enough to taste it.

Warmth spread over your chest first before it rushed to the apex between your legs. The control he seemed to have over your body was truly astounding. In his hands, you were putty.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You whispered back, loosening the knot of his tie and pulling it off completely, dropping it to the side. “This suits you.”

His lips twitched. “The suit suits me?”

“Shut up and kiss me, loser.”

He complied, grinning against your mouth as he pulled you into another earth-shattering kiss that did positively nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Stubbornly, you pushed down the feelings bubbling around the confines of your heart, refusing to give them any attention if you could help it.

You gripped the front of his suit jacket, helping him peel it off his shoulders and letting it join his tie on the floor. Without warning, he pressed a knee in between your legs, and you nearly melted against him.

Sex was great. Sex with him was phenomenal. This was just the lust getting to you.

Caleb gripped the leg that your slit now exposed and lifted it, propping it up against his waist. He trailed his fingers against your inner thigh, his touch feather-light yet scorching at the same time. When his index and middle finger pressed against your clothed cunt, you were glad for the hot he had on you, pressed up against the cabinet, because you would have surely buckled if not.

“Wow,” he mumbled amusedly, pushing your panties to the side and teasing your wetness. “You really like the suit, huh?”

The fact that this type of interaction was now commonplace should have been the first sign that things had gone too far.

Usually, you couldn’t think straight when he touched you like this, but today it was all a mix of feeling way too much and dangerous, fleeting thoughts that made you want to tear your hair out.

“Maybe,” You peppered kisses along the column of his throat, determined to get out of your head and focus only on how good he could make you feel. Pleasure and person were entirely separate entities, and you would make sure it stayed that way.

“Suit kink.”

“Never say that again.”

He only smirked, plunging his fingers into you. All you could do was cry out as you gripped the front of his shirt, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be quiet. Quickly, his palm covered your mouth, muffling any further sounds you could make. “Can’t have you being loud here, princess. What if someone catches us?”

The way you practically gushed the moment he suggested someone catch you in such a compromising position was downright embarrassing. Raising an eyebrow, he leaned even lower and whispered. “Oh? You like that?”

You whined against his hand, cheeks flushing furiously. You began fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt, and he chuckled lowly.

“For someone who likes my suit so much, you sure are trying to get rid of it quickly.”

“For someone who was dying to kiss me two minutes ago, you talk too much.” You rocked your hips against his hand even as you sassed him back. He moved his hand from your mouth into your hair, carding it through gently, tugging slightly to tilt your head back for him so he could kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made.

No one could sue you for being attracted to a hot man. That was just biology.

You could feel the familiar tightening of your core, signalling your impending crash. You broke away from the kiss, licked your lips and palmed him over his pants, earning a hiss of pleasure in return.

“Don’t– don’t do that,” He choked out, and you smirked triumphantly, refusing to relent on your movements. Batting your eyelashes, you stared up at him through them in faux innocence, unaware that it affected him so much more than you thought.

“Just fuck me already.” You whined, half out of desperation for him and party because now you needed him to fuck you to prove to yourself that this was just sex. To be able to brush away all the compliments he dropped that seemed to go straight to your head, to get the intoxicaing fucking way he kissed you out of your head and away from further dissection. To stop the slow-burning feeling of yearning that was growing inside of you for the boy you had grown up with.

Because you couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. You shouldn’t.

“Fuck, okay,” He slipped his fingers out of you and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock. You would never get used to the sight of it, precum already leaking out of the tip; the image itself sending shivers down your spine in anticipation of him.

He pressed back against you, grinding it against your fluttering pussy, going right back to making out with you. It was like he was devouring you whole, claiming every part of you like it had always belonged to him. You could feel yourself get carried away again, forgetting that this was just something he and you did now.

And then he froze.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t have a condom.”

You were too far gone to even care anymore. Cupping his face, you pulled him into another messy kiss, beyond delighted when he moaned, still rubbing his length through your slick folds with a want that rivalled your own. “Put it in.”

Caleb gritted his teeth. “Pips, thats–”

“I’m on birth control,” you kissed his jaw. “And I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

That was undeniably the truth. He was the one person in the world that you didn’t have to think twice about when it came to anything, no matter what the situation. He blinked down at you, pupils blown wide with desire but somehow still so focused on you, holding your sides so gently as he hesitated, silently dealing with the conflict in his head.

“I…..are you sure?”

Oh, this sweet, considerate boy. How could you not love him? The thought was instantly forced to be a passing one as you push it away, refusing to acknowledge it.

“Caleb, if you don’t stick your dick inside of me right now, I will cut it off.” The threat earned you a winded chuckle from his end, the strain in his face from holding back so painfully evident. Realising he needed another push, you looked into his eyes, bucking your hips against him and licking your lips as you purred. “Now, fuck me.”

There was a reason you phrased it like that. Crude and so filthy, the words set out a challenge for him. If there was one thing you knew about Caleb, it was that he could never back down from a challenge. His eyes darkened as he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them together above your head with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance.

Without another warning, he slammed into you, once again covering your mouth to soften the obscenely loud broken moan that left you. He pressed his fingers against your lips, smirking mischievously.

“This is what you wanted, hmm?” He groaned in your ear as he fucked you hard, making it increasingly difficult for you to stay silent. You knew he was doing it on purpose, remembering how he had briefly confessed that he liked it when you were vocal, but here? Here it was risky and stupid, and you couldn’t believe how into it you were.

“Yes,” You gasped, biting his hand at a particularly hard thrust, doing your utmost best to keep all your noises to a minimum. He was just so good, and the feeling of him bare inside of you was almost too much for you.

“God baby, you feel incredible,” he panted, never relenting on his pace for even a second. His breathing was heavy in your ear, almost pained, along with soft grunts that only succeeded in making you even wetter.

“So b-big,” you could only whimper, too caught up in it all to speak properly.

He had well and truly ruined you for anyone else. Your heart and mind were at war with each other, but your body was perfectly content with how he held you like this. With nothing between you, he fucked you raw, and it felt so much more intimate than you thought it would have. You could feel everything, hyperaware of every touch and kiss and overwhelming drag of his cock in your sobbing cunt.

For a moment, you almost wished it wasn’t this good. If only you had never succumbed to your desires that day, maybe you wouldn’t have found yourself in this position, fighting so desperately against feelings that felt so wrong and right at the same time. All this was supposed to have been a temporary fix, a means to an end. Not the start of something you could never see through.

When both of you came, it was intense and devastating, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. You could feel him fill you up with his cum and as you went limp, one last terrifying realisation making itself known to you.

It wasn’t just sex.

A shattered breath escaped you at the revelation, and you shut your eyes, trying to reason with yourself one last time, but to no avail. Caleb surrounded you completely, holding you up upright with so much care, so deliberately, that it made total sense why you felt this way. With unending affection, he pulled you against him and kissed the crown of your head.

“Thats my girl.”

Except you weren’t. And it would be better for everyone if you remembered that.

You were writing.

It had been so long since you had been able to write like this, but the ability had come rushing back to you all of a sudden. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as you steadily typed, focused and satisfied at the work you were producing for the first time in months.

It was two in the morning when you finally snapped out of your concentrated state, yawning as you shut your laptop. Stretching, you quietly padded to your bathroom to get ready for the night and go to bed. You couldn’t believe you had written almost half of the sex scene when even the prospect of starting it had sounded so unachievable not too long ago.

Courtesy of Caleb, you had plenty of material to pull from.

You splashed water on your face, hoping the cool temperature of it would help you stop thinking about him. To say you were frustrated with your feelings was an understatement; you outright despised them.

This was your fault, you knew damn well it was. If you were going to get a fuckbuddy, it should have been someone who you weren’t so close to, someone you had no personal connections with. Anyone but the best friend you've had since you were seven years old, who you knew like the back of your hand, who knew you like it was second nature to do so.

Gripping the sides of the sink, you shut your eyes, grounding yourself to the moment. Part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How on earth did you let yourself get in such a predicament?

You needed it to stop. For these confusing feelings to leave before things got even more complicated than they already were. Somehow, you needed to forget about them.

But how could you possibly do that? How were you supposed to forget the deliberate way he kissed you, or how good he made you feel when he looked at you that way? How were you supposed to get the scent of his cologne out of your sheets and closet, or pretend like you didn’t know what it was like to be touched by him?

How on earth were you supposed to get over being in love with him?

You didn’t even notice him walking in.

Writing for your book again meant that you had fallen behind quite a bit when it came to the work you had due for the paper. As a result, you had to stay behind and work late on the articles you had to present to Jenna, stuck at your desk in the newsroom when it was almost nine-thirty at night.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Your eyes flickered up to find Caleb standing in front of your desk, one hand stuffed in his pockets and the other holding a bag of takeout from a diner that both of you liked. He gave you a soft, knowing smile that made your mouth go dry.

“Hey,” you straightened up in your seat, knowing that your posture tended to get worse the longer you wrote for. “You were looking for me?”

“Not exactly.” He grabbed a chair and parked it next to yours, sitting down. “I just figured you’d be working and forget to have dinner.”

“Oh.”

He was right, and you would have been embarrassed if this hadn’t happened before. Wordlessly, he began unpacking the takeout he had gotten. “Take a break for ten minutes and eat, okay?”

This was just like him. Knowing exactly when you needed to be taken care of while being well aware you could do just fine by yourself. You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him, apprehensively nodding slowly.

“Okay.”

You grabbed a fry and began to chew, turning to face him and away from the computer. He looked the same as always, unkempt hair and all. It was like he knew you were tired and a little out of it today without you even having to tell him, falling into a comfortable silence as he ate with you.

There wasn’t another soul in this world that knew you so intimately. In the past, this wouldn’t have scared you, because you were so used to him and the ways he fit into your life so perfectly. Now, it frightened you to no end, reminding you of how much you had to lose when it came to Caleb. He was the most precious person in your life, which made it so much easier to fear losing him.

If there were rules when it came to having a best friend, you were certain you had broken all of them. Number one: Don’t sleep with your best friend. Already off to a rough start with that one, it seemed, but there was nothing you could do about it anymore. Number two: Don’t fall for your best friend. You doubted you even needed to go over the rest of the rules. Breaking those two had caused you enough damage.

Finishing up his food, he took a sip of his soda, noticing you were watching him intently. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t quite decipher the look in your eyes. It almost felt as if you were hiding it from him on purpose.

He tilted the soda cup to you, silently asking if you wanted some of his. You leaned closer and took the straw in your mouth, taking a couple of sips before looking away.

Something was off. “Is everything okay?”

You pressed your lips together and gave him a half smile. “Yeah, everything's fine.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at you, reaching out and propping a finger under your chin, lifting your face so you were forced to look at him.

“Pipsqueak,” He mumbled, dropping his gaze to your mouth for a split second, but it was enough to make you feel like you were set on fire. Like you were made of porcelain, he swiped his thumb next to your lower lip, rubbing away a stray crumb that had stuck there from your food. Then he looked at your mouth again, subconsciously leaning towards you as if he was about to kiss you.

Immediately, you jerked out of his touch. Guilt ate away at you when you noticed how he reacted to this, the flash of hurt that passed over his face as he frowned. As much as you hated being the cause of it, the way he was looking at you has started to inexplicably hurt. You were unable to stop the tenderness that unfolded in your chest anymore. It was potent, too real to fight against.

“We should stop.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could think about them any further, inciting confusion. He retracted his hand, the corners of his furrowed eyebrows tilting upwards. “Dinner? Because we’re pretty much done with that anyway.”

You could have taken advantage of his confusion and put this conversation off for a while, but you knew that letting this go on any longer would end up being torturous.

“No, Caleb,” You looked away, trying to ignore the way your throat seemed to close in on itself. “I’m not talking about dinner.”

“Then what are you talking about?” His voice took on that impossibly soft tone it did when he was trying to understand how you were feeling to properly help or sympathise with you. It was something he did when you were younger and got hurt, and he wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t dealing with it alone.

Sucking in a breath of air, you looked down at your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. “I think we should stop having sex.”

A beat passed. You could feel the weight of his stare on you. “Okay.”

You weren’t sure where to go from there, your heart pounding within your ribcage like it was trying to escape. The light from your computer felt too harsh and the ticking of the clock hands was unnaturally loud in the stiff silence that settled over the two of you. Clearing his throat, he spoke again.

“Did…Did I do something?”

“No,” the caution yet dejected way he said it made you blurt that out quickly, refusing to let him think something was completely wrong. “You didn’t. At all. It’s just…..” You trailed off, biting your tongue and regretting bringing this up already. “I….I wrote the scene.”

“The scene?”

“The sex scene. In my book.” The awkwardness in your cadence is foreign to your ears and his. You had never been so apprehensive around him because you had never had a reason to. This was a first you despised vehemently, scorning the way you had to phrase everything so delicately, as if you didn’t, the damage caused would be irreparable.

“Right.” Now he had an unreadable look in his eyes too, matching yours.

“Right,” you echoed softly. “So there's no reason for anymore…...research.” Because research had spiralled into forgetting your regular roles when it came to each other. Research had made you aware of feelings that had been dormant your entire life and should have stayed that way.

In an ironic twist of fate, you had literally fucked around and found out.

“I see.”

You didn’t know what possessed you to keep talking when it was so obvious that both him and you wanted nothing more than to move on from this conversation. You risked a glance at him to find him aimlessly tracing the edge of his soda cup, eyes trained on the straw. “So we can go back to being just friends. Regular friends.”

The clarification made you wince. When his eyes met yours again, you were surprised to find something different in the way he looked at you– those dark purple depths swirling with an intensity that superseded their usual levels, startling you.

“We’ll always be friends, Y/n.”

Caleb didn’t call you pipsqueak. A minute detail that shouldn’t have shaken you at all, and yet here you were stuck on it in spite of the fact that he had just agreed to being friends again. Or rather, the normal definition of friends, because you weren’t ever anything more than that. You swallowed, turning back to your computer.

“Okay. I should get back to working on this article.”

Your dismissal of him was quiet but obvious. The air had started to get suffocating and you needed as much space from him as you could get until you sorted out the mess in your head, one that was your cross to bear. Your fault.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod and get to his feet, turning to leave, but hesitating for just a moment.

It was only when he exited the newsroom that you realised it wasn’t any easier to breathe without him there. It felt even harder now, like someone had their foot over your chest and was putting all their weight on it, letting gravity do the rest of the work. You pushed yourself away from your desk, the wheels under your chair smoothly rolling away until the back of it hit the wall behind you.

Even the impact of that wasn’t enough to shock you out of your misery. Surely, love wasn’t supposed to feel as cruel as it did right now, like claws sinking into your skin and making you bleed. It shouldn’t have felt wrong, but you knew that it was. Perhaps this was retribution for allowing yourself to indulge in something that was so clearly off-limits to you.

A familiar pressure built up behind your eyes as you turned resentful. The sting of your sorrow manifested as tears welled up and caught in your lower lashes. You shut your eyes, but not before those tears slid down your face, cementing the bitter, indisputable reality of your heartbreak.

Caleb stayed away.

He had known damn well that whatever was between the two of you wasn’t forever. It wasn’t even real, solely for the sake of your writing and the book you were so proud of. It was his fault for getting caught up in it all and expecting you to never call it off, to stay in that limbo with him forever.

Saying no to you was something he wasn't capable of. Not when he was ten and you were eight, and you wanted the last piece of cake even though it was his favourite flavour. Not when he was fifteen and you used to beg him to let you wear his shirts because you liked how oversized they were on you. Not when you would give him puppy eyes and sweetly ask him to cook those braised chicken wings you loved so much.

And not when you needed help with writing about sex.

Even if it went against all his morals and everything he had forced himself to believe for the past twelve years he had known you. He had held himself together around you for as long as he could remember, hands to himself and thoughts strictly friendly. Caleb was used to the best friend role. He was good at playing it, even when the script pained him to recite, he did so anyway with a smile on his face.

Because smiling back at him was you. It was always you, with your bright eyes and angelic laughter.

Caleb had accepted this role when he was only nine years old and had stuck to it ever since. He let it consume him, living in ignorant bliss as he silenced the pleas of his heart and what it wanted, no, begged for.

How was he supposed to know where to go from here? The script had deviated too much for him to return to its safety. He knew how your lip gloss tasted, sweet and inviting and maddening, just like everything else about you.

So he stayed away from you and your cherry lip gloss, hoping the marks it had left all over him would fade.

It had been almost two weeks since Caleb last set foot in the newsroom.

Jenna was overjoyed and Tara was suspicious. The latter asked you where your ‘boyfriend’ was, to which you refused to look at her as you muttered the reminder: he’s not my boyfriend. It felt like you were reminding yourself more than her, lacking any of your usual annoyance.

You supposed this was your fault as well. It wasn’t like you had made any effort to reach out either, stuck in your pathetic little cycle of self-pity and fear. You felt his absence, though, cutting deep into you and leaving you with a Caleb-sized hole in your life. The last time you experienced something like this was when he left for university for the first time and you were finishing up your senior year, suddenly having to deal with not having him around for months on end.

At least he was calling you back then, and when you joined him at university, it never happened again. You hadn’t realised what a big part of your life he was until he was missing from it.

God, you missed him.

You missed that stupid, smug chuckle of his when he knew you were getting riled up because of something he said, and his terrible sense of humour. The smirk on his face when you were losing an argument, and how he’d stick his tongue out when he was concentrating on something. Hell, you missed the sound of his voice and the comfort it brought you.

After you finished your work for the day, you walked out of the newsroom and down the hallways of the university building. The cool evening air swept around you, making you think of one of Caleb's jackets that was still in your dorm from the last time he had been, draped over your desk chair. You almost wished you had it with you right now.

Your feet carried you to the dining hall, reminding you of your need to eat through the wall of your troubled thoughts. It was not so much hunger as it was a necessity. Your appetite had been less than robust these past few days, your emotions weighing you down in more ways than one. You didn’t have him to remind you to eat or sleep, or run like a normal human being.

Grabbing an apple to appease your stomach, you bit into it and looked around, mentally going over everything else you had to do that day. Start an essay you had due the next week, beg the members of your group to do their parts of the presentation that was worth a whopping thirty percent of your grade and polish the last scene you had written for your book.

It turned out that your turbulent emotional state had translated into you being more productive than ever, throwing yourself into your studies and writing like you had never before. Anything to avoid thinking about him and what you felt. An unhealthy coping mechanism for sure, but it worked for you.

Kind of.

Unable to stomach anything else, you tossed the core of the apple into a nearby dustbin and left the dining hall, eager to make it back to your room. You hadn’t slept very well lately, and you wanted to get all your work out of the way before crashing. Sleeping, you discovered, was another excellent course of action to take when you wanted to avoid facing something, and at least it wasn’t downright unhealthy. The dark circles under your eyes would certainly thank you.

When you turned the corner, he was there.

Caleb stood there, just a few paces away from you in all his six-two glory. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him, deep in conversation with his friend, Gideon. You were unable to do anything but stare, your pulse picking up in speed at the sight of him. You wondered if the chasm he had created between the two of you had affected him as much as it had you.

When he bid farewell to Gideon and turned, you panicked. When he saw you, you remained rooted to the spot, watching as his steps faltered and came to a stop. He looked almost as tired as you felt, dawdling briefly before speaking.

“Hey.”

Hey. Hey? Was that all he could say after refusing to look your way for over a week? Your apprehension flared up into anger, and you took three furious steps towards him, your docile stare melting into a glare.

“You sure talk a lot of shit about keeping you informed for someone who has been avoiding me.”

He winced. “I wasn’t….avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Could have fooled me.” You scowled at him as you took another step forward. You were pissed, and rightly so, but it stemmed more from how hurt you felt rather than any genuine anger.

Caleb didn’t bother to meet your eyes, opting to look off to the side instead. That stung a little more than you cared to admit. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Have you eaten yet?’ Barely five minutes around you, and he had already jumped into trying to take care of you. It was so infuriatingly like him.

Every time he didn’t want to face something, he would deflect and redirect the conversation. Your years together had taught you well, making it impossible for him to sidestep you even if he tried. You could tell he was avoiding you even when you were right in front of him.

“Stop changing the subject.”

You watched as his jaw tightened and relaxed, something he did when he was conflicted. All his tells were so laughably obvious to you, and yet you couldn’t make heads or tails of how he was acting right now, so forcibly distant and detached, like being close to you was painful. Your eyes burned.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, hating how your voice suddenly sounded so feeble. His eyes snapped back to yours, wide and defiant.

“I could never hate you.” The finality in the way he said it told you he was telling the truth, and yet, you couldn’t help but fall victim to the doubt creeping into your mind. He was looking right at you now– except he wasn’t really. It was more like he was looking through you.

“Then…then why?” You whispered, taking another tentative step forward. The space that both of you created, consciously or not, was unbearable. You just wanted things to go back to normal, was that so much to ask for?

“I don’t hate you. You just don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what the hell you had to do to make this conversation go somewhere, because right now it just felt like you were running in circles. “Caleb, please, just tell me why you’re avoiding me, because you are.”

He knew he was and hadn’t a single excuse, other than the reason he swore you never burdened you with. You were looking at him so pleadingly, grasping at straws to figure him out, but for the first time in his life, he found himself unable to give you an answer. Instead, his throat constricted, his anxiety keeping him silent.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Your face crumbled, and upon witnessing it, so did his heart. Your lower lip trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and you bit down on it to stop it from doing so, doing your best to stay composed. Running a hand through your hair, you let out a shaky sigh. “I knew it, I should have never– we shouldn’t have slept together. That should have never happened and now everything is fucked up, and its all because of me.”

Yes. No. The answer wasn’t as straightforward as he needed it to be, and it paralysed him. The anguish you felt was on display for him and anyone who happened to walk by you to see, plain as day, as it twisted your features. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut when you backed away from him.

Turning away, you walked off. You had ruined things, you were sure of it, and it killed you. Once again, you let the rift between him and you grow with every step you took to escape the crash you had been responsible for.

A hand on your wrist. You gasped as he caught you, spinning you around and forcing you to face him once again.

Caleb had followed you into the gardens.

“Do you regret it?”

The question cut through you, and you gaped at him. The fervour you were so used to seeing in him suddenly returned, burning brightly in his eyes as he pinned you in place with them, his grip on your wrist never letting up. Question for question, with neither of you getting the answers you wanted.

You scoffed, rapidly blinking away the tears that you felt coming on. “If it's the reason things are weird between us, then yes! I do regret it. I need my best friend, Caleb. I need you.”

How could you not need him? He was your constant, the one person who had been by your side through thick and thin. You needed him in your life, by your side, in whatever way you were allowed to, even if it wasn’t what you truly wanted anymore.

He let go of your wrist. “I can’t do it.”

Your biggest fear was coming true right in front of your very eyes, and you hadn’t the faintest idea of how to stop it. It was taking form, bleeding into existence. You were losing him.

“You can’t do what?”

“I can’t be your friend. I just can’t.” He shook his head, shutting his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

Your voice comes out weak. Small. “But you said we’ll always be friends.”

“Well, I lied, okay! I can’t be your friend, not when–” He sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to reign himself in, stopping his outburst before it could happen. It wasn’t fair to you, none of this was, but he was at his breaking point. “I could do it before, but not anymore.”

“Why?” You whispered, those tears you had so valiantly fought off surging back. Once again, you felt like you had been trampled on, pinned down by a merciless gravity that had no regard for your need to breathe. You weren’t sure there was a reason to fight against it anymore.

He looked up at the darkening sky, deflating. Staying away from you hadn’t made it any better– if anything, it had only made it worse, his yearning to be beside you bubbling to an all-time high. There wasn’t a point in hiding anymore, not when it was turning out to be detrimental rather than soothing.

“Because,” he paused, peering up at the cloudy sky. He couldn’t see the stars. “I can’t go back to being your friend when I’ve tasted you. How am I supposed to act like I’ve never kissed you when I’ve had you in my bed? To pretend like I don’t know how it feels to have you like that? God, Y/n, I can’t do it.

Caleb, whom you had viewed as strong and untouchable all your life. Caleb, whom you had endlessly looked up to, sounded almost tortured, like it pained him to even have to tell you this.

“What are you saying?”

You hoped you didn’t look as terrified as you sounded. It felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from beneath you, but the ground underneath it was falling apart too, leaving you to stumble around and try to find your footing amidst the cracks that remained. If you fell now, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get up.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had already fallen, and hard.

Caleb was stripped of his usual self-assuredness and confident smile. He was laid bare there in front of you, fixing you with a look that was so pained it tore through you.

“I’m in love with you.”

The confession ripped through you, although you didn’t register it at first. Those five words felt so improbable to have been said by him to you of all people that the only thing you could feel was disbelief. It just didn’t make sense. Why would something you longed to hear so badly be said with such sadness?

He mistook your stunned silence for aversion. He should have stopped there, given up and walked away, but now that he had finally, finally let it out, it was hard to stop. It was like a dam had broken within him; everything he had ever kept to himself when it came to you rushed out all at once.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n,” he said again, scoffing slightly at himself. No nicknames, just your name spoken in that reverent tone, like you were a divine being he was a devout follower of. “And it kills me because I know you’ll never see me as anything more than a best friend. You’ve made that very clear, and I never want to overstep, so I stayed away from you.”

“Caleb–”

He didn’t let you cut in. “I could do it when I didn’t know what it felt like to have you as something more than friends. The moment we crossed that line, it was all over for me. I would be your friend until I died if I didn’t know.” His hands were shaking, but they stayed by his sides, fingers curled into frustrated fists as he rambled.

“I–”

“But I can’t, Pips. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your best friend when I’ve loved you my entire life.” And you’re falling all over again, gravity pulling you down, down, down as something unfurled in your chest. “So please just–”

“Goddamnit Caleb, would you just shut up for one fucking minute!?”

You hadn’t meant to snap, but he was seriously to piss you off, going on and on without giving you the chance to speak your mind. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection he had imagined too many times to count in his head. You, on the other hand, thought you were going to faint, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. It was everything you had convinced yourself was impossible.

And yet…

You kept your eyes locked onto his as you closed the distance between the two of you, so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, combating the chill in the evening air. Swallowing, you asked.

“You’re in love with me?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew what the consequences were, he was ready for them. It was about time he faced the truth anyway.

What he didn’t expect was for you to start laughing.

You clamped a hand over your mouth as incredulous laughter left you, eyes practically sparkling. Oddly enough, it sounded a little watery, like you were crying at the same time.

And then he realised you were, in fact, crying, tears streaming down your face. Alarmed, he stepped forward and cupped your face, instinctively wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. This did nothing to dampen your hysterical laughter as you leaned into his touch.

“What the fuck?” He muttered, concern overtaking his previous, heartsick expression. “Are you dying or something?”

“Or something,” you managed to get out, gripping his arms, “We’re so stupid.”

“That…..okay, I’m officially confused. And a little scared.”

“Caleb,” you whispered once you stopped giggling, lethally soft. You looked up at him adoringly, eyes shining and tinged slightly red from your tears. “I’m in love with you, too.”

He froze, mouth falling open. He didn’t have to say anything, though, because honestly, he had said enough. It was your turn now.

You leaned further into his touch, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, but I only realised after….after everything that happened between us.” You flushed, trying to word it as delicately as possible. “And I drove myself crazy because I thought you’d never see me that way–”

“I’ve always seen you that way.” He breathed out, those captivating eyes of his trained on you in wonder. Butterflies came to life in your stomach.

“– So I called it off. I said we needed to stop because I was so scared I’d lose you.”

By the time you finished, you were both staring at each other wide-eyed. His grip on you tightened, one hand falling to your waist as he tugged you closer.

“You love me?”

“I love you,” you nodded. “It just took me a while to figure it out.”

“Pipsqueak.” You had never been more grateful than you were right then to hear that stupid petname. “Oh my god, we are stupid.”

Without another word, Caleb pulled you into a kiss. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smiled against his lips, unable to contain yourself anymore. He kissed you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, holding you like you were precious, which to him, you undoubtedly were. It was your first proper kiss with him without any pretence or excuse surrounding it, and you couldn’t have asked for more.

Chuckling when you dissolved into more giddy giggles, he wiped away any stray tears from your face and rested his forehead against yours. After all these years waiting and hoping that you’d feel the same way, he knew he’d never let you go now.

“I love you, too.” It was a relief to say out loud and to your face, coming out of hiding and letting the truth of his feelings sit out in the light. You pecked his lips again and hugged him, revelling in his warmth and the delight of your feelings being returned. Your best friend loved you back, and everything in the world made sense again.

“Don’t be my best friend,” You mumbled fondly, cheek against his shoulder as you laid out your final request. “Just be mine.”

He smiled, an expression so dazzling you’d never forget it. “I’ll always be yours.”

When Caleb looked back at the sky, he could see the stars.

“Are you done?”

“Shh.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping onto the pile of plushes on your bed as you pulled out your phone and went through your messages. To be fair, it had barely been two minutes since you handed him your laptop, but you were impatient, wanting to know what he thought as soon as possible.

Caleb’s eyes were focused on the screen as he read, humming occasionally as he scrolled through the scene. If anyone had told you a year ago that you’d be letting him read a part of your writing, let alone a sex scene of all things, you would have either laughed in their face or had a mental breakdown.

Yet here you were. Life sure had a sense of humour.

Finally, after an agonising ten minutes, he spoke. “Wow.”

“Is it good?”

He shut your laptop and put it back on your desk carefully, before walking over to where you were. Then, he dropped himself onto the bed as well, purposely caging you in his arms and making sure you were trapped under his weight. Squealing, you hit his arm playfully.

“Caleb!”

Your boyfriend laughed mischievously, lifting his head so you could see the smirk that curled on his lips. “It was good. Very good.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

“So I must be really good in bed, huh?”

There it was. You groaned as you tried to push him off of you, even though you knew it was a futile task. “Don’t even try, you smug asshole.”

“What?” He asked, dripping in faux innocence. “I mean, you did use me for research purposes. Is it not a fair assumption to make?” He was so proud of it, and knew damn well that the entire sex scene he had just read had been falicitated because of him. Every part of it had been pulled from things the two of you had done, the thought of which made your skin heat up and your cheeks burn.

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, giving up on trying to get him to stop squashing you. Instead, you adjusted, curling into him. Accepting this, he switched your positions, pulling you on top of him and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You like it.”

“Unfortunately.”

You yelped when he pinched your side, but it dissolved into giggles when he began peppering kisses all over your face. Slipping his arm around your waist, he held you close, grining against your skin. If you had to stay like this forever, in his arms and under the glow of his radiant smile, you would be content.

“You’re an amazing writer, Pipsqueak,” he cradled your face in his hands, his love for you so achingly obvious in the way he looked at you that you wondered how you had never noticed it before. Rubbing his fingers against your cheek, he kissed your nose. “It would be just as great even if I hadn’t– uh– assisted.”

Though you snickered at him, you couldn’t stop yourself from beaming at his praise for your work. “I’m glad you did though,” you let him pull you closer, arm looping around your waist as you propped a leg over his. “Otherwise we might have never figured our shit out.”

He snorted. “Thank god for research. You would have kept me in the friendzone forever.”

“Hey!”

He silenced any further protests that you could have made, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. All possible complaints fled your mind the moment he did, eagerly kissing him back. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of this and you had no idea how you had survived for so long while denying yourself of it.

Caleb had loved you for twelve years, steadily standing by your side and holding your hand even when you couldn’t see it. He had walked beside you through it all, the highest of highs and lowest of lows, lifting you up high over his shoulders with a grin on his face. He would never leave you behind, because he was your home. The one you had grown up with and wanted to wake up to everyday for the rest of your life.

He had taught you love without imposing it on you, silently showing it to you with every little thing he did. Your best friend. Your love. It had taken you a long time to catch up, but when you finally made it to the finish line, you found him waiting there for you patiently, holding out his hand for you to take.

The next time Tara called him your boyfriend, you didn’t correct her.

fin.

#love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #caleb smut #caleb fluff #lads fluff #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #caleb x reader smut #lads caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x y/n

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bizarrelovetriangel · 1 month ago

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needy.

they joke about you being needy but you take it seriously so you stopped kissing and sleeping with them and suddenly they're not laughing anymore.

mdni. 18+ only. grinding. suggestive but no actual sex. reader enjoys being an insufferable tease <3

sylus.

You pushed him down on the couch and straddled his thighs while one of his hand runs up and down your back, and the other rests on your waist.

He breaks free from your deep kiss with a playful smirk on his face.

"You've been quite needy lately, kitten."

You paused.

Needy?

"Oh."

Sylus froze as soon as he saw the lack of amusement on your face.

"I didn't mean — "

"No, you're so right." You suddenly got off his lap and expertly dodged the hands that attempted to catch you and pull you back down. "I really should calm down, shouldn't I ?"

"No — "

"That's such a great idea, Sylus." you smiled and pinched his cheek. "Let's do something else instead. Let's make cookies!"

That was the start of Sylus' awful week, when he didn't get to touch you at all.

No hand holding.

No hugs.

No kisses.

No sex.

Sylus thinks he might actually go insane.

But he can't lose your game so easily.

He'll toughen up if he must.

He lasted years without you and he had successfully kept his distance from you, no matter how difficult and tempting, until the time was right.

His patience and self-control are not to be underestimated.

He'll be fine.

That's what Sylus keeps reminding himself every time he gets the urge to hold you. Every time his eyes fall to your lips, he tells himself that he'll survive without them.

You're trying to punish him for calling you needy, but he won't give in.

He'll wait until you give in.

It's more fun that way.

Okay, so this is harder than he thought.

It's day two and he's already weak on the knees from the very moment you walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress for tonight's date.

Sylus watched you put on your heels, flashing him a part of your thighs while doing so, and he wanted to run a hand on it to feel your smooth skin.

"Sylus?"

He blinked out of his trance to realize you just asked him a question. "What was that, sweetie?"

"I was asking if it'll be cold in the restaurant you chose, so I can know if I should bring a jacket or not."

He shook his head. "You'll be just fine."

That was a total lie.

It turned out to be cold as your table was specially reserved at a rooftop of a building.

However, it just so happens that Sylus has a jacket and the cold wasn't affecting him, so he was able to give it to you.

With a grin on his face, Sylus pulled your seat right next to his and gently put the jacket around your shoulders, making sure his fingers brush against your skin even if it's only for a second.

"Thanks." as you gave him a smile, you slightly moved closer to his face. "I feel much better now."

Sylus made the mistake of looking at your lips. Without much thought, his head tilted down and his nose grazed yours before aligning your lips.

"Wow! This wine is so good! Try it!" You shoved your glass of wine to his lips before scooting your chair back to its initial place, a couple of feet away from him.

Sylus almost choked on the alcohol but gladly accepted your offer. He put his lips on the same spot that had your lipstick stain on it.

At the very least, he got to enjoy an indirect kiss that should keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.

Or so he thought.

Day four.

The frustration has gotten to Sylus.

It's like owning the world's most valued weapon yet not being able to use it.

He can look, but he can't touch.

It's much more difficult than he thought.

Especially when you're doing everything in your power to make him cave in.

Well, technically, you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.

Right now, all you're doing is hitting the punching bag in the exact way that he taught you, but the way you look at the moment is making him want to grab you and pin you down — or you can be the one to pin him down. It doesn't matter to him. All he wants is his body to be pressed against yours.

Sylus quietly growled under his breath.

He clenched his fist and started to hit the other punching bag, hoping to take away some of the tension burning inside him, particularly inside his shorts.

You tilted your head and watched curiously as Sylus' punches to the sandbag has gotten heavier, leaving such satisfying sounds at the impact.

"Whoa! So good! You look like you're getting ready to beat up some real nasty bad guys. Did anyone piss you off or something?" You picked up the clean towel nearby and held it up towards his face to wipe the sweat on his forehead. "You do look tense lately."

Sylus' left hand suddenly caught the one you're using to wipe his face. "You're a vicious little kitten."

He gave your hand a kiss before stepping back and patting your head before walking out of the room and leaving you alone.

"Hey, where are you going?! We haven't sparred yet!"

"Shower." He looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. "Would you like to join?"

You almost agreed in a heartbeat.

But you have to stay strong.

"Nope, I'll just stay here and keep practicing so I can kick your ass the next time we spar."

Your own answer only disappointed the both of you.

Day seven.

You and Sylus went out for a ride on his newest motorcycle at night, on the empty, spatious roads of N109.

It was the worst idea of all.

As the one that's manipulating the vehicle, you're the one sitting at the front and you took advantage of the close proximity by pressing your ass right against his crotch.

Sylus had to concentrate on making sure his grip on your waist doesn't hurt you, with the way his body had gone stiff. Every part of him.

Every bump on the road slammed your hips against him and he had to hold his breath every time. His pants became tighter and tighter by the minute, and his breath had gotten unsteady.

He was sweating throughout the entire ride.

And once you finally made it back to his place, Sylus' patience finally broke.

From the moment you got off the motorcycle, Sylus quickly removed his motorcycle before taking off yours.

As soon as your face was in clear view, before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sylus' left hand caressed your jawline before locking his lips with yours.

Your eyes widened with surprise, though you didn't waste a precious second to kiss him back and pull him close by grabbing onto his shoulders.

Sylus didn't dare to pull away until he was out of breath. Even then, he'd only stop for a second before diving back in like a starved man.

Every time you'd pull back to gasp for air, Sylus would come after your lips and slip his tongue between them to capture yours.

"You win." he huffs in between kisses while your hands run through the strands of his hair. "I yield."

"Heh?" you can't help but grin. "What are you talking about? What are you yielding for?"

"Don't play innocent, kitten. You know what you've been doing." He tapped your forehead as you laughed. "I won't call you needy ever again, so if you could stop teasing me, I'd greatly appreciate it." he whispered against your ear before kissing it softly, "I don't know how long I can keep holding back."

"Since you learned your lesson...." you pressed your lips under his jaw. "You don't need to hold back anymore."

That was all he needed to hear.

Sylus wrapped your legs around his hips and kept you up against him as he made his way into his bedroom.

zayne

You're drawing random patterns with your finger on Zayne's bare chest as you cuddle with him when suddenly, he made a lighthearted joke.

"Your libido has been rather high lately. Based on my record, your premenstrual syndrome symptoms shouldn't be showing up for another two weeks."

You looked up to see the playful grin on his face.

"Oh, is that right?" you huff. "Must be my diet or something. No worries, I'll fix it."

Zayne blinked with confusion. "Huh?" But he received no more response for an explanation as you closed your eyes and drifted oft to sleep.

It was only until the very next day when he realized his mistake when he received absolutely zero kisses.

He was quick to figure out what brought on such an evil scheme.

"Oh, no..."

Day three.

You stopped by his work to join him for lunch, just as he requested.

Zayne observed that you're not angry with him and you have no problem spending time with him. You act normal for the most part. The one big change with your behavior is that you refuse to give him any physical affection.

You didn't even give him a hug as you greeted him.

It feels strange. It's like he's forgetting something as important like his wallet or his car keys.

"Are you punishing me for what I said the other day?"

"What you said the other day?"

"You know... about your high libido...."

He could've sworn a vein popped out from your forehead just now and he does his best to suppress a smile of amusement. He's already in trouble. He doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper.

"Nope! I don't care at all!"

Despite the words that came out of your mouth, you continued to make him suffer.

Later that day, you met up aftet work to drink milk tea while taking a night stroll around the city during such a lovely weather.

The way you were smiling the whole time made Zayne want to hold your hand and keep you close to him.

And yet, you were constantly moving around so much, either on purpose or due to all the sugar from your drink, so he ended the night feeling somewhat emptyhanded.

He hasn't realized until now just how much he enjoys even the little touches you grace him with.

Day five.

You and Zayne attended a formal event.

It's a banquet for the hunters association and you were obligated to come, and he was your date, so you two dressed up nicely to follow the dress code.

Although, if he was being honest, Zayne wishes you two are still in your apartment, where he can have you all to himself.

Ever since he had come to your home to picked you up, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. And throughout the event, he has been rather... uneasy.

As you're eating dessert, Zayne can't help but imagine tasting it from your lips. It has been days since he last kissed you, and he needed to be reminded of your sweetness.

He needed to feel the warmth and softness of your skin underneath your dress.

Zayne lets out a shaky breath before loosening his tie.

It seems that the room suddenly feels hot.

Or maybe it's just his racing mind and heart and the blood rushing down below his hips.

"Zayne, are you okay?"

You scooted your chair closer to him so that your legs are touching. You faced him and put a hand on his forehead.

"You feel warm. Are you sick?"

Zayne lets out a laugh that was half-nervous. "Are you teasing me again?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just worried about you."

He detected from your tone that you are indeed teasing him.

On the drive back, Zayne was clutching the steering wheel as his mind continues to race, imagining all the things that he'd been wanting to do with you. Sitting still became difficult with a bulge rising through his pants.

But yet again, he ends the night without a single touch from you.

And Zayne has decided, he'll never joke about anything ever again.

Day six.

On his day off, Zayne had taken you out for a picnic and the torture continues.

Whenever you two have a picnic, there's lots of cuddling involved. This time, there's none at all and there's the Happy Snowman plushie sitting right between you two as a barrier.

You two are playing kitty cards and Zayne seems to be on top of his game today.

After all, he had a special proposal.

"Whoever wins must do something that the winner wants."

It's a simple but classic prize that no one can ever resist, so you gladly accepted the challenge thinking you'd easily win.

But Zayne's focus is unshakeable.

He's consecutively dropping assist cards to take away your points, and somehow he's stocking up all the sixes.

He won't even let you switch cards by acting cute. That's how serious it is right now. The stakes are high.

After six rounds, Zayne comes out as the winner.

"How could this happen?!"

Zayne chuckles at your dramatic cries, aggressively shaking Happy Snowman as if it was the one responsible for your loss.

Unfortunately for Happy Snowman, it's Zayne's turn to have your attention.

Zayne snatched the plushie out of your hands and set it aside.

"Darling, it's time for me to claim my prize."

You sigh and bowed playfully. "Yes, yes, congratulations for being crowned as the King of the Kitties. What can I do for you, Your Highness?"

Zayne smiled and gently held your chin with his fingers before guiding you to look up so you can lock gazes.

"Kiss me."

Your mouth drops at his request, face immediately heating up.

"Oh."

He found a way to end your silly little game.

He really is a clever boy.

"Your wish is my command~"

At last, you stop holding back against your urges and brought yourself on his lap.

Zayne eagerly welcomes you into his arms and wraps them around you tightly, making sure you don't try to escape.

His lips meets yours with desperation and his hands slides down to your thighs, encouraging you to sway your hips back and forth.

Between the deep and heavy kisses, he mutters, "I joked about you being needy yet here I am, being the needy one. But it's all your fault. Are you going to take responsbility for it?" Zayne pressed you down against his hips to let you feel just how hard he is for you.

"...should we end picnic early?"

"We should end picnic early."

caleb

You stumbled into his room while removing his shirt and almost tripped on his feet as you reached the bed.

"What's the rush, Pip-squeak? And here I thought I was the needy one."

Your hands come to a halt.

"What did you say?"

"I said there's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere — "

"No, you just called me needy just now."

Caleb chuckles at your furrowed brows.

"I was joking, Pip— what are you doing?" you picked up his shirt that you dropped on the floor and threw it at his chest before walking out of his room.

"Gonna be needy all by myself in my room. Goodnight."

"Wha — hey wait!"

It's too late. You stomped your way into your own room and Caleb is left all alone with a boner that remained standing until his mood died down.

Caleb sent you a bunch of stickers, hoping you'd come back beside him. Sadly, you ignored all of them and he was forced to sleep with a cold, empty bedside.

The next day, Caleb woke up early and prepared breakfast for the two of you as usual. You came out of your room and lazily greeted him a good morning, so he was relieved to know that you weren't really mad.

But once he tried to kiss you on the cheek after giving you a cup of coffee and you blocked his lips with the palm of your hands, he learned that he's not completely off the hook just yet.

"No."

"Huh?"

"No kisses."

"What?! Why?!"

You almost laughed at the way his face shifted, looking like a little boy who'd gotten his favorite toy taken away.

"Because. I don't want to seem needy."

"Come onnnn, it was a joke! I'm sorry!" he tried to embrace you from the back but you stood up and moved away.

"Wow, look how nice the weather looks today!" you exclaimed as you look out the window, admiring the clouds of Skyhaven.

Caleb pouts at the way you deflected him.

Knowing how you behave whenever you're being petty, he has to brace himself for the worst few upcoming days of his life.

Day two.

The pout hasn't left his face.

You two are working out together at his home gym and he's pouting as he's doing push ups.

You're not even sitting on his back and motivating him to do more reps. You're just doing your own sets of excercises in front of him while pretending he's not there.

"Pip-squeak, look. I'm doing push-ups with one hand."

"...."

"Now I'm doing push-ups with just one finger!"

"..."

No matter what he did to grab your attention, he just couldn't get you to look at him.

But what if....

"Whew, it's so hot in here."

Caleb took off his shirt and threw it aside.

He tries not to grin as he caught you sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.

Now, he'll do pull-ups on the bar right in front of you.

Or at least, that was the plan.

His shirt was thrown back at his chest just like the other night.

"Caleb you dummy. You'll get cold."

You walked out of the room and he was back to pouting.

Day four.

You went back to Linkon at Monday morning. Caleb couldn't believe he lasted four whole days without getting a single kiss from you. He didn't even get to hold your hand or pat your head.

The lack of physical affection and intimacy should be nothing to him since he always had to hold back from acting on his feelings for you. He was willing to wait forever for you.

But now that he thinks about it, he'd always been touchy with you.

Even before you were in a romantic relationship, he'd given you plenty of hugs, he'd given you lots of forehead kisses, he'd hold your hands whenever you let him, he'd hold you when you don't want to sleep alone, and he'd even kissed your cheek during the times whenever you pretended to be a couple.

Physical affection has always been a part of your relationship.

Taking it away is like taking away a pilot's airplane.

Well, maybe it's not that drastic but it surely feels that way to Caleb.

Now that he's able to kiss you and hold you whenever he wants, he can't stop. He loves being with you and becoming one with you.

He can't help but seek for your touch.

It's only been a few days but he misses your warmth. He misses how you taste. He misses the sounds you'd make.

Oh, he definitely won't survive for long.

This scheme of yours has to end now.

Day five.

You got a good jumpscare when The Colonel showed up at your doorstep at night, in his full uniform and all.

Before opening the door, you peeked through the peephole and took note of his serious expression, just as The Colonel often appears as.

But the scary demeanor vanished the moment you oppened the door.

His face lights up and you're flashed with the warm smile you've used to seeing.

"Caleb! What are you doing here?!"

"I just dropped by to bring you something you forgot at my house. It's pretty important so I thought I'd make a trip to Linkon so you don't worry about it."

You let him in your apartment, trying to recall what you could have forgotten. You were able to get through a long day at work without noticing anything missing, so what could've been that important that he had to give to you immediately?

"What did I forget?"

Caleb dug something from one of the pockets of his coat.

"Ta-da! Here you go~"

Caleb took your left hand and dropped something to your palm.

".....Are you being serious right now?"

A hair clip.

"What? It's something that you use every day, is it not? I know you were probably feeling weird without it. You're welcome."

"...I leave this behind on purpose. I always use it whenever I'm at your house, every time I'm doing my hair. It was meant to stay there."

Caleb laughs and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, my baaaad, Pip-squeak. Ah, but since I'm already here, might as well have dinner together!I'll help you cook~"

He removed his hat and coat before entering your kitchen. You're in the middle of making dinner too, so he somehow arrived perfectly on time.

You should've known he came in with a mission.

As he goes around the kitchen, he does everything possible to accidentally touch you.

He'd lightly bump into you and touches your shoulder as he apologizes.

His hand brushes against your waist to move you aside so he can pass by.

He stands behind you and reaching over you so he could get some containers on the cabinet, making sure to grind his hips against your ass just for a brief second.

Eventually, you found yourself cornered against the fridge.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinnner." you glare at him and he was quick to give you a pout. "...And trying to win your attention because you've been so mean to me by neglecting me."

"Neglecting?" you tilted your head. "But I thought I was being needy."

Caleb groans before completely losing his patience.

He pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry! I won't say it again! Please don't punish me anymore I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry — " his embrace starts getting tighter at every word, making you cough dramatically.

"Jeez, alright fine! I get it, now let me go — "

"Never!"

Caleb lifts you off the ground and nuzzles his face against yours. "So soft and so warm ~"

"Caleb, the pot is boiling!"

"The pot can wait. I'm busy."

"Caleb — " the sizzling noises from the stove forced him to jump away from you.

"Okay I'm coming!"

rafayel

"You don't need to be so needy cutie, I'm not going anywhere~"

You pulled away from his kiss and raised a brow at him. "Needy...?"

Rafayel's eyes widen as he realized what he just said. "I — I was just joking!"

"Right..."

You laughed along but five minutes later, the kisses suddenly stopped and your attention shifted to your phone to play a silly game (one that he recommended to you in the first place).

Rafayel didn't think much of it. He was able to cuddle with you as the two of you fell asleep that night.

But once he woke up, things started to seem weird to him.

As you left to go to work, you didn't give him a kiss. You always give him a kiss. You rushed out of the studio before he could even remind you about it.

He didn't get to see you for the rest of the day because the Wanderers robbed him all of your time and energy.

At the very least, he was able to videocall with you and chat with you about how your day went. Though, seeing your sleeping face made him wish he was next to you so he could comfort you and ease your exhaustion.

Day two.

You joined him for a stroll at the beach and helped him collect some shells. He tried to hold your hand but you not-so-subtly moved away from him.

The face he made was worthy of a drama actor award.

"Are you worried I'd give you a virus? Come here, cutie, I'm perfectly clean. I just took a bath an hour ago."

"No no, just don't wanna seem clingy, that's all."

Rafayel took a moment to figure out what prompted that response.

"Waaaait, you're not really mad about me calling you needy, are you? It was just a joke, Miss Bodyguuaaard..."

"Mhmm."

Rafayel sighs as he realizes you're going to prolong this cruel revenge of yours just a little further. It's good that you're not really mad, though he can't help but pout about it.

He had to walk through the beach with you so close yet so far from him, and his hands have never felt so cold and lonely.

You don't even always hold his hand, as sometimes collecting sea shells require all hands available, but now that he's aware of your punishment, he can't help but notice that he really loves holding your hand and giving you little kisses.

Without them, his day feels incomplete.

Day three.

You showed up at Rafayel's art exhibition and he's acting like you just dumped him.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to show up today, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

He showed you one painting that you haven't seen finished until now.

"This is inspired by the gaping hole in my heart because my beloved has left me."

Trying not to laugh, you flicked his forehead. "Your beloved saw you this morning for breakfast and watched you get scolded by Thomas because you weren't ready for your event on time."

Rafayel huffs. "Well, I would have woken up early and would've been prepared on time if only I went to sleep early. But I couldn't sleep early because my beloved is being mean to me and won't let me kiss her."

"Weeeell, that sucks for you." you patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check out that lovely painting over there. See you later."

Rafayel followed you the entire time, walking so closely beside you so his hand would constantly brush against yours.

Once you reached an empty room, he stood right behind you and put a hand on the wall next to the painting that you're admiring.

His lips brushed against your ear after taking a whiff of your neck. "This perfume... it's the one that I really like..."

It was indeed the scent that makes him act like a cat that's high on catnip. You wore it on purpose, solely to get the reaction that he's giving right now.

Rafayel's lips brushed against your neck like a feather, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away.

So far, you do nothing but stare at the beautiful painting he worked months on.

His right hand landed on your stomach and gently nudged you back so that your body is right against his.

His kisses grew a little bolder, lingering on your skin a little longer.

But then, the sound of footsteps coming close forced you to spring away from him.

You held back a grin at his red face.

"This has been a wonderful exhibit, Sir Rafayel. Thank you for the tour."

"...Hmph..."

He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Looks like his body craves for you more than he realized.

Day four.

"I got here as fast as I could! What's the emergency?!"

You slam the bathroom door open to find Rafayel chilling in his bathtub, naked body submerged in warm water mixed with pink foamy soap.

"...."

"Oh, good, you're finally here." Rafayel sighs with relief. "Miss bodyguard, you have to help me. I slipped from a paintbrush earlier and hurt my right arm, so I can't move it around easily because it hurts. Will you help me with my bath?"

"How did you get in the bathtub in the first place if your arm hurts so much?"

"Don't worry about it, cutie. That's in the past. I like to focus in the present."

You shook your head, though you're unable to hide a smile from his silly yet clever response.

You knelt down beside the bathtub and started petting his head. Right away, he closed his eyes and leaned in towards your touch.

You lowered your hand to his neck and brushed slowly your thumb against his skin just under his jaw, and you caught him gulping nervously.

Next, you slid your hand down to his chest, drawing random shapes between his pecs, causing his breath to stutter.

"But now that I think about it... how does one get help for taking a bath?" you asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Rafayel caught your hand before you could even think about pulling away and leave him hard, just like yesterday at the exhibit.

"I just need you... to move your hand... just a little lower...."

Your face heated up at his low tone. His face had turned into a dark shade of red, flushed from the warmth you've made him feel with just a few light touches.

"You better be careful." you whispered, moving your hands down as slow as possible. "With how you sound just now, someone might think that you might be a little....needy...."

Rafayel opened his eyes but didn't move a single muscle. His hand remained on top of yours, letting you wander to wherever you want to.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the needy one." he kept his gaze fixated on you. "I need to have you close to me. I need to hold you. I need to feel you."

Your face burned.

As did the rest of your body.

At last, your hand reached where he needed you to be.

Stiff and twitching, just for you.

Your core clenched as you recall the way he feels inside you.

"If.... if I'm gonna help you take a bath, you better make some room for me."

Rafayel has never moved so quickly.

xavier

Xavier breathes heavily on his bed, face flushed and chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You're lying next to him, equally spent after getting lost in each other's bodies.

"We've been doing it so much lately, I'm starting to feel sore." he says with a chuckle, putting one hand on his neck and shoulder.

"....You're right." you softly tapped on his chest as if to give him comfort. "Don't worry, I'll let you recover. Let's not do anything for a while."

Xavier's eyes widen. "What?! That's that not what I meant — "

You let out a yawn. "I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Xavier~"

"Wait — "

"Goodnight, I said."

Day one.

You had to be joking, right?

You were probably just so tired and blurted out such a hasty statement.

You probably don't even remember what you said.

Xavier didn't forget, though. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.

When he woke up at noon, you were already at work. You made breakfast for him. If you were really upset with him, you wouldn't have cooked anything for him.

So, everything should be fine.

He arrived at work and the very first thing he did is greet you at your station. You're behind your desk, busy with a report on your computer.

"Good morning."

He leaned down to give you a hug. Although you didn't return it, you didn't deflect him.

That means you really were just bluffing. Everything is fine.

"Good morning, Xavier."

Fast forward to a couple of hours later, you two are investigating an abandoned but recently used building that's been raided by Wanderers.

There was a suspicious man on site, so you hid somewhere so that you can observe him for any possible leads.

Xavier pulled you into a room that looks to be a supplies closet, which was luckily clean enough to not contain any foul smell that would make it unbearable for you to hide in.

You stood by the door that's slightly cracked open so that you can keep an eye on the suspicious man.

Xavier stood right behind you with absolutely no space between your bodies. His left hand made its way to your waist while his lips brushes against your neck.

Before he could do anything else, you turned around and covered his mouth with one hand.

"Hmm? What are you — "

"Shhh. We need to be quiet."

Okay, so you rejected his attempt to makeout.

But that was only because you couldn't risk missing out on any leads and had to focus on the suspicious guy, right? That's all. Everything is fine.

Everything is not fine.

He caught you on a conversation with Andrew and you were touching his shoulder. Then you spoke with Simone and you were touching her arm.

But when he talked to you, you didn't touch his shoulder or anything. You didn't touch his hand and you even moved away when he tried to touch yours.

For the final check: the Pocky test.

Once you're back in his apartment after work, Xavier decided to share his last box of Pocky with you.

As you were eating one, Xavier quickly went up to you.

"Wait, let me check if yours is good."

He continued to eat the stick of Pocky until he's closer to your lips.

But then you suddenly pulled back and ate the rest.

"Wah — "

You gently patted his cheeks. "Nice try."

So, it turns out you knew what he was doing and no, you were absolutely not going to give him kisses today.

And so, sulky Xavier makes his return.

Day two.

Xavier decided to get revenge for taking away kisses and cuddles by showing you the most horrifying scary movie on both of your watch list.

You two are sitting on his giant bean-bag chair, sharing a blanket while your eyes are glued to the TV screen, unable to look away at the bloody scene of another character getting ripped apart.

Little did you know, Xavier is mentally cheering.

For every jumpscare, you scoot closer and closer to him. Around halfway of the movie, you're sitting on his lap yet you're too focused on the movie to realize it.

Xavier kept quiet and rested one hand on your thigh, while the other casually shoves popcorn in his mouth.

As the end credits started to roll, Xavier got up to refill your drinks so that you can have more for the next film, which is another horror one.

"Wait where are you going?!" you grabbed his hand before he could start walking towards the kitchen.

Xavier almost laughed at your expression. "I'm just going to get us more drinks. I won't be gone for long. Just sit here and relax."

"You're not scared even a little bit?" you murmured, tightly hugging a pillow. Right now, your brain is imagining the killer in every dark spot of the apartment.

"I'll be fine~"

Five steps forward and he suddenly turns around.

"Are you really that scared?"

He uses his evol to shine a bright light on his face while pulling a silly expression, mocking the one that the killer from the movie wore.

"Ah!"

His plan worked a little too well because now, you can't sleep alone.

"Are you really that scared?" he asked, walking up to the bed, watching you hug Bunbun with your dear life. "We fought Wanderers that are much worse. If you were in the movie, I bet you'll make a good final girl that'll outlive the killer."

He sat next to you and smiled as he put a hand on the plushie.

"Bunbun can go now. I'm taking over his job in protecting you while you sleep."

You gasped as he snatched the plushie and threw him across the room.

"Xavier!"

"Ssshh, I got you."

After turning off all the lights, he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, with your back against his chest.

The second you closed your eyes, your mind starts replaying the scariest parts of the movies you just watched, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

You hear a faint gasp behind you, but you ignore it as you're trying to block off the scary images in your head.

"Ugh! It's no good! I need a distraction."

You turned around to get your phone on the nightstand, but then you come face to face with Xavier.

"A distraction?" he leans close to you so that your noses touch. "I can give you a distraction, if you want."

"....nope, I'm good." you turned back around with a huff. "Don't wanna make you sore."

Xavier laughs and nuzzles his face on your neck.

"I'll remember not to joke about something like that ever again. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"....are you also sorry for making me watch those really scary movies?"

"Well.... not really...."

They were excellent movies, after all. Aside from the scary parts, he could tell you enjoyed it overall.

"At least you're honest."

A few seconds later, Xavier starts to pepper kisses all over your neck and jaw.

"Do you still need a distraction? I can help you get your mind off of anything scary."

You let out a quiet moan as he softly pushed his hips against yours.

"Just focus on me."

From the moment he got on top of you, you forgot about everything — your silly scheme and the horror movies.

Right now, there's only Xavier.

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 5 months ago

Text

Good enough

Tags: Caleb x fem!Reader, smut, unprotected angry sex, Caleb’s back and he’s jealous, breeding kink, mdni, not proofread sorry, this shit is NASTY i fear.

An: This one is for a dear friend of mine 🙂‍↕️ Thanks for making me pull out of my writer’s block. LOOK i’m so sorry if this is bad but i had to write SOMETHING to pull me out of this funk… i hope you all enjoy

How did you end up trapped underneath your half-cyborg best friend who was legally deceased while taking the meanest deep strokes of your life? Well, there’s a simple answer. Caleb knew Xavier was home.

Actually, he knew everything: the dates, the tender moments, the secret times, the nightly rendezvous. Pissed was an understatement.

Had you forgotten? Had you forgotten all the promises you two made each other when you were younger? Had you forgotten that you were fucking made for him? You had to have. That’s why you were stringing along 4 different guys. You were trying to fill a hole that only he could fill.

That had to be why.

Regardless, Caleb knew Xavier was the type to listen to you through the floorboards of his upstairs apartment. He was a lot alike Caleb in that sort of manner. They were both possessive freaks who couldn’t stand the thought of you being with somebody else.

That’s why Caleb was fucking you so hard — pounding your pretty pussy so deeply into the mattress that you were seeing stars with each mean thrust.

He used his size to his advantage. It was fitting. He’d always loved how much bigger he was than you. That’s how you received your adorned nickname: pipsqueak.

He planned on his first time with you being a lot more gentle than this. He planned on being sweet and loving. He planned on cherishing your body the way you deserve, but you just had to go and give yourself to 4 other guys before him.

“Stop crying.” His voice rumbled as his piercing gaze found yours — so much different than the sweet childhood friend you had. His hand covered your mouth as he hunched over your figure, still ramming his cock head into you ruthlessly. “I know you can take it. I’ve watched you take it before.”

Your eyes blinked back tears as you looked up at him. He was being so mean. You couldn’t believe this was the same doting Caleb that you grew up with, and you didn’t even want to think about the face he had been watching you…

“Fucking pussy’s made for me, and you’ve been letting other men try to make her feel good.” He growled as he used his less-than-human arm reach down and gently rub against your small button of nerves.

“Caleb-!” You choked out as your body writhed beneath him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock splitting you apart, making you wholly his and his alone.

“That’s right… Say my name, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel so good.” He prompted with a confident smirk before he hauled your legs up above his shoulders, sinking even deeper into your dripping cunt.

Clawing at the bed, your back arched as you tried to cope with the intrusion. He’s so fucking deep it feels like you’re going to choke on him. “Caleb-“ You sob as your cunt pitifully clenches around him.

Feeling you wrapped around him so sweetly, crying out his name as you’re so overwhelmed with pleasure has Caleb revitalized with a new vigor. His hips work in tight circles, pumping his fat cock in and out of you as your cunt makes the most obscene squelching noises he’s ever heard.

“Such a fucking noisy girl. I should’ve know you were going to be a crybaby.” He teased before placing open mouth kisses along your neck snd shoulder.

“W-wait Caleb- calebcalebcaleb. I’m gonna..” You pant out nervously as his metal fingers were still rubbing languid circled around your cunt, and his tip was smooshing globs of precum against your cervix.

His fingers suddenly pinch down on your clit, making you cry out from the sensation. Your body went taut as you were being dangled on the edge of pleasure. His robotic arm wasn’t quite letting you get there.

You thought his arm was literally malfunctioning until you heard him chuckle from your suffering.

“You’re going to cum when I saw you can, okay baby?” He asked in that same condescending tone he always used when you two were younger.

His hips continued to roll after he was sure that you weren’t going to fall off the deep end, and he let out deep guttural groans, feeling your pretty pussy soak him. It was like you were practically trying to suck him in. He couldn’t believe he had waited this long to sink into your cunt like this.

and the best part about it was he knew your stupid upstairs neighbor was listening! Xavier knew you were down here getting railed, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Hell, if he even tried, Caleb would use his evol and force him kneel beside the bed as he drilled you even harder.

Fuck, the thought of slutting you out in front of every single one of your little boyfriends had his stomach tightening. His hips snapped forward into you with a pace that could only be described as feral.

You were a complete babbling mess at this point — utterly cock drunk as Caleb had you folded in half, filling you up to the brim with his length.

“Ohhh, that’s my girl.” He purred as he saw your glossed over look. “It’s coming, baby. I’m going to give you want you need.” He promised as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that completely contradicted the ruthless way his hips were rutting into you.

“C-caleb- Caleb no, wait.. Don’t cum inside-“ You stuttered out in a panic. You hadn’t been by the pharmacy yet to pick up birth control, so technically, this was all unprotected.

“Why?” He growled as his back curled over. He was fucking mounting you while holding your thighs in the prettiest mating press he’d ever seen. “You fucking let them fill you up. Am I not good enough to breed this pussy?”

His hips slammed into you. It felt like he was trying to push his way straight into your womb. It was mind-numbing pleasure, making black orbs and stars dance across your vision.

“Look at me, baby.” He ordered, dragging your face to look back up at him. You could barely see straight. It was all too much. “You’re going to let your best friend breed you, and you’re gonna fucking love it. You’re going to cum all over this fat cock until you can’t breathe. Understand?”

You dumbly nodded your head, halfway hearing his words. Your pussy was aching to cum. Your swollen puffy folds were greedily accepting him in with every thrust. You wanted this. Birth control be damned. Everyone else be damned.

Caleb gritted his teeth together as he gave you a few more good harsh thrusts for good measure. He then crushed his body against yours, burying himself all the way to your womb before his cock started to jerk and pulse inside of you, shooting rope after rope of his thick potent cum. The only thing on his mind was the need to see you, his childhood best friend, round with his baby.

He needed to see the look on each other of those pricks’ faces when they realized you were spoken for.

The cherry on top was when he felt your walls clenching around him, happily milking his cock for everything he had while you sobbed and hiccuped his name. It seemed like his childhood best friend was maybe just as twisted as he was. He’d have to give her an extra good reward for being such a good girl.

As the room went still and quiet — only filled with shared breaths and pants for air, the sound of someone stabbing a sword through the ceiling was heard, and Caleb chuckled deeply. He had definitely pissed Xavier off.

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caxasy · 23 days ago

Text

to do anything ; caleb x m.reader

cw: caleb is really stupid here, like genuinely really dumb and his reasoning for his actions don't make any sense, verbal harassment, caleb raises his voice a lot, very mean insults, manipulative behavior, guilt tripping, he's really confusing, he uses his evol on you, a lot of shouting - description of characters being scared/flinching due to the shouting, terribly written and open-ended ending, sorry guys i just really wanted to get this out to u all !!!

pairing: caleb x male reader, subtle (not so subtle) zayne x male reader

summary: growing up alongside lily, caleb, and zayne, you were always closest with caleb. that is, until you leave for university, come back, and everything has changed between you two in an almost irreversible way. the worst part is that you don't even know why.

wc: 21.5....this was that one request that i said would be done in two weeks (it took me more like a month and a week...im sorry)

notes: proofread, but please if there are mistakes have mercy on me, this was an absolute beast to read through and took me multiple sessions to read through it asdjhadjkahsda

you moved through the kitchen with ease, everything around you working in harmony and organization. the timing of each dish you were preparing was natural at this point, a practiced execution of the meal you were making. your soft humming was the only sound in the kitchen, besides the sound of meat sizzling.

just as you were reaching into the tupperware cabinet, you felt arms wrap around your waist in a hug. recognizing the tight, but gentle hold, you patted her forearms at your stomach and smiled, “good morning, lily, you’re up early,” she only squeals in excitement behind, squeezing you tighter.

“how could i sleep when i could smell breakfast from the other side of the house? it’s my favorite!” she used her entire body’s weight to rock you two back and forth where you stood, but it was more so lightly swaying due to the size and weight difference.

“i know,” you mused, moving so that your arm was thrown over her shoulder as you brought her to your side, rather than behind, “you’ve been working hard lately, i wanted to give you some special princess treatment,”

she smiles and coos at your words, pinching your cheek, “you’re the best oppa ever! this is so thoughtful,”

you smile softly at her praise, petting her hair down, “i’ll bring you the food, just wait at the table, m’kay?” she nods in understanding. on her way to her seat, she snaps a picture of the stove, which had the delicious food in all of its glory. undoubtedly she was going to post it on her story later to brag about how spoiled she was with you, most probably tagging you as well.

it didn’t take for the breakfast to finish cooking and, as promised, lily was served a platter of food thoughtfully arranged, “caleb didn’t come down yet?”

she shakes her head, grabbing her phone and taking more photos for her own safekeeping, “nope! i think he was up late, might want to be sleeping in,”

you glance at the clock, frowning, “alright, i’ll wake him up in ten minutes. he’s also been working so hard,” the frown only deepens, “what do you say me and you cook him up his favorite dinner sometime this week?” she brightens at the idea, grabbing her utensils with an excited look on her face.

“just promise to make me extras when you do!” she takes a spoonful of the food and audibly moans at the delicious taste. she rocks back and forth in her seat in an adorable way of showing how the tasty the food was affecting her. you smile, glad that it was to her liking before going to clean up the kitchen.

just as you turned your back, caleb came down the stairs which gave him a clear view of the dining area.

“what’s this?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.

“oh, good morning caleb! oppa made me my favorite,” she immediately says, showing off her plate, which caleb grimaces at.

“he made it?”

“well, duh, that’s why there’s such a mess in the kitchen,” she jokes, obviously exaggerating. but caleb didn't crack a smile.

“i could've made you some, pips,” he murmurs, ruffling her hair, “next time wake me up, i’ll make it for you instead of him,”

she pouts at his comment, not liking his tone, “heyyy, [name] made it really good though! try it!”

“no thanks,” his response is brief and he walks over to the fridge.

“caleb, have some,” you invite, grabbing a plate for him and going to prepare his food. but you stop when you hear a quick “don’t bother,” from him. he didn't even greet you a ‘good morning’ and was already giving you a snappy attitude.

you sighed, assuming it was the high stress of school and lack of sleep, so you didn't say anything. instead, you smiled and nodded (even though his back was turned to you), “well, do you want to get lunch together in between your classes? i can treat.”

you didn't want his only source of energy to be from the protein shake he was drinking now.

“pips, are you free for lunch today?” caleb asks after briefly looking at you, then focussing on her.

“i am, which is perfect! we can all-”

“i’ll wait for you outside of your class then,” caleb smiles as he walks out of the kitchen, not sparing you a glance or another word.

lily sensing his odd behavior frowns and reasons, “it might just be because of school, sorry he’s being so rude…will you join us for lunch still?”

“i don't think i can, actually. i might head in early at work,” you smile weakly, “it's fine though! take my card and it’ll still be my treat,” you go to get your wallet, but she’s stopping you with a glare.

“hey, you don't have to just give up your wallet for us. caleb or i can pay,” her tone is stern, not wanting to just rob you of your money, especially when you weren't coming. but you gently loosened her grip on you.

“no, it's okay, i want to still treat you,” and ignoring her weak protests, you hand her your card. “please? it’ll make me feel better knowing i was able to help him got some good food in his system,”

she sighs, taking your card reluctantly and standing up to hug you, “you should come,”

“it’s fine, really. i’m a little short on my usual hours next week, so going in earlier will help balance that out! trust me, that was my original plan anyway,” she doesn't seem to believe you but she doesn't press you further for answers.

“get to work safe, i’m gonna get ready now,” her tone and expression looking as if she is warning you, instead of simply telling you, which you weakly smile in response to.

“you too, see you later!”

when her back turns to you, the smile on your face slowly dims. thinking of the entire interaction with caleb you groan and run your hand through your hair. dealing with caleb lately has been frustrating and it’s been hard to ignore each interaction.

you were thinking of asking him about what was wrong, what this long lasting hostility was about, but decided against it. whatever this was would just hopefully pass. and as much as you cared about caleb, there were bills to be paid and a lot of other things to worry about. those things you worry about related to taking care of them as well, so you had to prioritize it.

you’re spinnin' me around

my feet are off the ground

i don't know where I stand

“[name] i’m glad you’re here,” zayne’s smooth voice is the first thing to greet you after you punch in. he seems to notice the tired smile on your face, a slight shift in his expression only noticeable because of how close you two were standing to each other. you’d say it was in between his trademark stoic expression and small frown, “have you been getting good sleep? you look tired,”

you attempt a smile, but it must obviously not reach your face, “i’m alright, just,” you shrug your shoulders, trying to avoid actually answering and he grants you that, nodding as if he understands.

“well, stick with me tonight and i’ll try being mindful of not putting so much stress on you,” his offer is tempting, but you don’t want to be a burden to him, especially in the work environment.

“i’ll be fine, zayne, thank you for worrying about me, but work is work,”

he smiles softly, “i can’t allow my favorite scribe to get overwhelmed or else everything might end up crumbling down into chaos,” you can’t tell if its a dry humor joke, but it does get a smile out of you. “let’s get to work, [name],”

“yes, doctor zayne,” you call out to him, mimicking a salute that earns a chuckle of amusement from the usually stoic man.

being friends with lily and caleb since childhood also meant that you were somewhat acquainted with zayne. he was more so closer to lily, but he was always kind and polite to you. you learned his stoic, but also shy, attitude was simply his personality and, although a bit off putting at the start, due to how different his behavior was in comparison to lily and caleb’s, you found it to be somewhat comforting.

you could always count on zayne to be honest with you as well as a good-objective advice giver. you’re sure if you told him about your troubles with caleb, he’d actually offer some good advice. realizing that you were thinking of the handsome man with purple eyes, you physically shook your head. this caught zayne’s attention and he tilted his head in question, “is something bothering you?”

“no, no, it’s nothing, sorry.” you apologize, but he just shakes his head.

“you don’t have to apologize, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says it as if its obvious. his nonchalant demeanor is unintentionally easing your worries, making your face heat up — for reasons unknown to you. “just make sure to focus up when we get out there,”

“of course,” you say in confidence, pushing the worries you had about caleb to the back of your mind.

“i know i can rely on you, so rely on me too, okay?”

his surprisingly heartfelt words make you admire him for a second longer before nodding, “i will,”

for the rest of that gruelling shift (13 hours), you two are working in harmony with each other. sometimes he’d be pulled away in urgent cases, but for the most part the two of you were working in tandem with each other. it was all seamless. and although you were tired by the end of it all, zayne offering you a cold drink from the vending machine made you feel reenergized.

“thank you, doc,” you smile, opening the water bottle and taking in hefty sips.

“did you have any food today?” he asks, standing in front of you. his tall figure casts a shadow over you, comically making him look like a light lined savior in your exhaustion. he may as well have been anyway.

“yeah, i was able to get a quick bite from the cafeteria,”

“was it nutritious? you seemed to have been sluggish the entire shift, when did you get that food?”

“hm, maybe halfway in?”

“that was hours ago. come on, let’s go get something to eat,” he says simply, already turning to walk away and expecting you to follow. but you shoot up onto your feet to stop him.

“it’s alright zayne, i’ve got to head back home anyway. prepare food for lily and caleb,” his expression hardens and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“and when do you plan on taking care of yourself in between that?” he sighs when he sees you go silent, “lily had messaged me earlier today, before we clocked in, said that she was worried about you. and that has made me worry for you as well. take care of yourself, [name]. put yourself first more often,”

you think about his words and offer, but still shake your head, “i will, but i still should head on home,”

zayne hums at your response, “very well. take care, [name]. see you next shift and get home safe,”

“see you, zayne!”

and you’re trudging along back home. you would have liked to be greeted with a warm welcome, the idea itself making a smile grow on your tired face, but instead it’s just silence for a beat. but then you hear it; footsteps rushing down the stairs and to the front door.

to your shock it’s caleb. and he’s actually coming towards you. not glancing at you for one second before scoffing and going off to the kitchen (it’s already happened a handful of times, you almost expect it at this point). no, he’s coming over to you— more like stomping to you, though. why does he look angry?

before you can ask him that exact question, his palm is splayed against your chest, knocking you back a couple of steps at the force, “don’t insult me like that again,”

you’re quiet only because you’ve been shocked into stupor. then, finally you collect your thoughts enough to utter a meek, “what?”

“this bullshit,” he sneers, shoving his hand against your chest again. thankfully, your footing is better and you barely budge this time. but when he moves his hand off of you, you barely react in time to catch the card that was in between you and him, “giving lily your card when we were the ones going out? i can take care of her just fine, y’know?”

“i know you can, but-”

“but you just always find a way to squirm your way back in,” his voice sounds annoyed and his expression is even clearer how he’s feeling. he’s angry, obviously, because he’s looking at you with narrowed eyes and his jaw is clenched tight. “don’t do something like this again, alright?”

“caleb, i just wanted to-” your attempts at fighting back are silenced by his voice booming over yours.

“and i just want you to stop. whatever you think you’re doing to help her, i am fully capable. why don’t you worry about yourself from now on? you look like you’ve been ran through,” he scoffs, a mocking smile on his face.

heartlessly that’s when he steps away and goes back upstairs to his room. it almost makes you want to laugh out of disbelief. you come home from a 13 hour shift, gone the entire day and afternoon working to provide for him and lily. and the first thing greeting you was caleb and his hostility that has become more familiar than his usual warm personality.

where did things go wrong? is all you can ask yourself, looking at the place that no longer feels a semblance of being a home. you had practically raised both him and lily, provided almost entirely for them as much as you could without running yourself dry. and caleb can’t even muster a simple thank you?

it hurts even more knowing how close you two used to be. back when you’d come home from school, he’d be the first to greet you at the door — faster than lily and definitely faster than josephine. back then, he’d cling onto you like a koala bear, practically hanging off of your figure like he was trying to climb you. he wouldn’t shy away from skin to skin contact.

now, he doesn’t even look at you if not to scorn you. you don’t know when this switch happened exactly, but you assume it had to do with you going away for so long for university. that’s what you liked to tell yourself at least. it’d ease your pain knowing that it wasn’t something you’d done directly to caleb, but something of your environment that split you two apart.

every interaction now stung when before it felt nothing but euphoric. to have him be so close to you, to simply trust you.

it hurts to know he doesn’t even want your care and love in the form of money, the most shallow exihibition of love, in your opinion. it’s already expected he won’t accept outwardly kind gestures, won’t accept the homemade lunch boxes you used to give him, won’t listen to you when you tell him to take care of himself more, get more rest.

but not even accepting your money? the money you make solely to provide for him? the money, which in reality, is the cheapest thing you could offer him to show how much you love him? that’s not even worth anything to him? it stung as much as an actual slap to the face.

you silently prepared dinner for lily and him, knowing that only lily would eat it, and left a note for her on the dinner table. you checked her location to make sure she was on her way home safe and shut your phone off when you confirmed it.

that night you spent an unreasonable amount of time in the shower, holding a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound of you crying. it was as if the moment the water came pouring down on your bare skin, the reality of caleb’s actions came crashing down on you.

why did everything have to change? was it your fault? for expecting things to stay the same from childhood. of course, he’d change, you expected that. but to this extent…

it wasn’t until lily was banging on the door, her whining audible through the wood that made you snap out of your breakdown. attempting to blow your stuffy nose and push your hair down as much as possible to cover your eyes, you tried to suit the image of nonchalance. someone unbothered. but when you roughly went past her, she caught your wrist.

she always knew when something was wrong.

“were you crying?” she asks bluntly, eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“no,” you sigh, avoiding her gaze and gently closing your hand around hers, pulling her hold off of you, “it’s nothing,”

“it’s not nothing if you’re crying,” she insists, grabbing your bare, still wet shoulder and forcing you to turn to her, “what happened? did someone make you cry? tell me,” beyond her control, her voice began shaking as well. she was always such a strong empath. if it was any other circumstance, you’d tease her for having such an easily swayed heart. but all you could manage was a sad smile.

“it’s alright, i’m okay, lily. just a rough day at work,” it was a lame excuse and her face only scrunched up more at the blatant lie, “it’s hard working long shifts,”

“then take time off. tell me honestly, why are you crying?” her tone is pushy, more aggressive than it usually is. it’s only out of her genuine concern for you. but you didn’t have it in you to deal with this right now.

“lily, i need to go to bed, please,” your voice and demeanor screams tired, but this is more than a regular physical fatigue. no, you look as if you’ve been tormented by something, for a long, long time. and her emotions quickly turn to anger as it all points to one thing- person that it could be.

”i’m gonna go beat his ass, that insolent piece of shit,” she curses, uncharacteristically so and she’s about to stomp off, but you grab her before she can reach his door. she’s about to berate you, scold you for allowing this to go on so long without telling him off, but she stills when she feels your damp hair against the side of her neck.

you, still standing in just your towel, hair wet with droplets of water, and nose now running again, were trying to stifle your cries into her neck, “please, don’t,” it’s a soft whimper and she’s never heard this level of vulnerability from you. “i can’t make him hate me even more,”

“he doesn’t hate you, he’s just being-”

a dry laugh from your throat that physically hurts you, makes you feel like you’re suffocating. as if the pipe that feeds you air and makes sure you can breathe wants to kill you, tightening and making it impossibly hard to talk, “lying to me isn’t going to make this any better,”

she grips the skin and muscle of your back tightly with her fingertips, borderline scratching you, “he doesn’t hate you, i know he doesn’t. he’s just…he’s just going through a phase or something, i don’t know! but he doesn’t hate you!”

you sniffle, squeezing her tightly, “just don’t…hate me like he does, please. i can’t lose both of you,”

her bottom lip trembles, eyes turning glassy as she nods against your shoulder, “i could never, you know i love you, right?”

“i love you too,” you say and for the first time in hours, you genuinely smile. even if its miniscule, even if she can’t see it, you smile.

and the momentary peace is disrupted. because caleb’s door slams open, his room being only a couple of doors down from the bathroom. the hallway is short, so it’s not surprise that he heard the noise a couple feet away from his door. it’s very obvious he doesn’t like the sight in front of him.

“what the fuck are you doing to her?!” he snarls, doesn’t shout, no because that’s not how he is. how well did you know him anymore, though? when caleb gets angry, he gets ferocious in other ways. using his build to intimidate others, glaring daggers that cut through you, spitting venomous words that not only sting but poison your mind. “you’re half naked, well practically naked, and you’re hugging her? you don’t think that’s disgusting?”

“caleb! stop!” lily shouts, dropping her arms around you and protectively standing in front of you. her eyes are still glassy with tears, but instead of being full of sorrow, they’re just angry.

“you’re crying?” he asks her, not you, noticeably softer than when he was talking to you. but that moment of kindness disipates in seconds because he’s glaring at you again, “you tell me what you did to her, or i swear to god- why is she crying?”

“caleb! shut up! shut up!” she shouts, her hands reaching in front of her to prevent him from coming any closer to you, “it’s because of y-”

“lily, stop,” your voice is stronger now. a front you have to put on to not give in, not show caleb just how much you care and love him that his words drive you to nothing but tears and sobs, “it’s enough.”

“no, no, you can’t just do that! you can’t just not tell him!”

“tell me what? what do you need to tell me?” caleb asks, but he’s not asking for a genuine answer. it’s mocking. you can hear it, as well as the smirk on his face, “need to tell me how you’re grabbing at lily, fucking naked, straight out of the shower? you’re wearing nothing but a towel too, it’s so fucking disgusting and vile,”

lily’s breathing is heavier than your own as she listens to him. you’ve gone still. it feels like world is off tilt right now. like none of this is real. caleb was seriously accusing you of being a perverted freak, copping a feel on lily? how lowly did he think of you?

“can’t defend yourself, huh? cause i’m right, is that seriously what you were doing to her?!” his voice raises and his fist slams into the wall next to him, stomping forward. the sound reverberates through the house and lily yelps, hands instinctively covering her ears.

seeing a reaction from her, shoulders ragged with her breathing and the sound of what seems like wheezing makes you snap out of it. caleb doesn’t even notice how him slamming the wall had affected her, too blinded in his misplaced rage in you to see how he was terribly, terribly scaring lily.

“caleb, stop it,”

“no, you’re the one that needs to stop! okay, i’ve been holding it in to spare your feelings, but this, this is taking it a step too far,”

“please, just stop.” lily’s words go unheard from caleb, but they make you frown and feel anger bubble in your stomach.

“always acting like you’re the man of this family, playing this role up when in reality — we don’t fucking need you! you put in those extra hours at the hospital then whine and complain about being tired! there’s no need for you to even be working, grandma’s will left us being able to pay off this house until we all move out! so why don’t you start using your money to save up for a place on your own, okay? because i can barely take your hovering, stupidly clingy and nagging behavior every single day!” he goes to step forward, to do whatever to you, but lily pushes herself in between you two.

now she’s fully sobbing and you’ve gone completely numb.

“you want me gone?”

“fucking out, get out of our lives,” he says it so casually, as if he’s been thinking about this long and hard.

“caleb! shut up already! you don’t mean that!” lily shouts, pushing her hands against his chest, barely making him budge.

“pips, i do, though,” he laughs as if its funny, “you think he can provide for us? that he’s capable? he complains everytime he comes home from work, he can’t even decide on a steady career for himself — lily, we only need each other. i’m not sparing the feelings of a guy i hate,”

silence hangs in the air and you nod in understanding, teeth grinding against each other. it takes you a couple of seconds to process everything, but when you do come back to reality, you’re stepping forward before you can even control yourself.

caleb doesn’t flinch as you stop right in front of him, standing eye to eye.

“don’t ever yell like that in front of lily again or you’re gonna be laid out on hard pavement, caleb,” lily flinches at the mention of her name, pushing the hair out of her face as she looked at you in bewilderment. “do you understand me?”

seeing as it was lily that was the topic of discussion now, he no longer cared for you. his attention shifted to lily in a split second and he was just about to go comfort her, but lily moved faster. she evaded his touch, glaring at him like he was the devil himself. her eyes flitted over to you, but you were watching caleb like a hawk.

her heart ached even harder to see wet streaks going down your face. when she turned back to caleb, her anger flared up so hard she shoved him so hard he had slammed into the wall behind him.

“don’t,” was the only thing she said to him, walking past him and grabbing your wrist to go into your room. she slammed the door shut before he could chase after you two, locking it and pressing her forehead against the door.

wordlessly, you grabbed your clothing and changed while her back was turned to you, using your towel to dry your hair as you sat on the edge of your bed. she was already waiting beneath the covers for you, watching you with sad eyes.

“are you going to really leave us?” her voice was shaky and she sniffled, hand gripping the comforter in frustration, “i won’t blame you if you do, but,”

“i’m not leaving, lily,” you assure her, running a hand through your hair and deciding it dry enough, “not yet, at least,” you laid down next to her, smiling as she immediately drew herself to you. she slotted against your side, head resting on your chest as you hugged her close.

she breathed a sigh of relief, “good, he shouldn’t get that satisfaction — if you left he would’ve thought he got to you or something,” you felt her jaw tighten against your skin, “that stupid idiot, why would he say those things? he’s not thinking straight. [name], please understand this,” she looked up at you, bleary eyes making you frown, “i don’t hate you, i never will. i need you in my life. even if you decide to leave this house sometime in the future, don’t leave me. please,” she put her head down, cheek resting on your chest, “i’ll support you whenever you do decide to go, but don’t shut me out,”

“i won’t, trust me, lily. i’ll still be around,” you speak in whispers, as if the two of you are scared of caleb barging in at any moment.

in the next couple rooms over, caleb was laying in his bed and staring up at his ceiling. he was impossibly still and every breath he took was ragged.

honestly, he does hate you. he hates the way you linger, longer than any other presence or person that he’s known he hates the way you are constantly fretting over him and lily, as if he’s not capable of taking care of himself and lily. you’re overall a clingy mess that he could name a million things that he doesn’t like about you.

but most of all, where this all started, caleb hated the way you left so easily. then came back as if nothing happened.

you were always seen as a reliable figure in the house. grandma could count on you to cook dinner, to take care of utility things as she got older, and she had high expectations for you and standards that she expected you to meet. and not only did you meet them, you exceeded them.

teachers at school praise your intelligience, peers relied on you a lot for academic guidance.

caleb was quick to notice these things when he was young. and he was so eager to be just like that, if not better. he wanted to be someone you could rely on, show you how he learns and admires you so much he picks up your tendencies. honestly, he likes being lazy, not doing more than is required of him. but then he noticed how much weight rested on your shoulders.

so he wanted to be the one to alleviate that, so you could rely on him. and if you relied on him, you’d think highly of him. and that is what he wants more than anything in life. he wants your praise, attention, special treatment — he wants all of it.

he thought it would be like this. you two the main providers and reliable men in the house while you both cared for each other and lily. it was going to be the three of you, forever.

but then you got whisked away. a scholarship that was too perfect to pass up on. of course, you’d be graced with amazing offers left and right due to your intelligence. it wasn’t a surprise. but he never thought that as you were weighing all your options, the farthest away university had caught your eye. surely, you don’t mean it? leaving him and lily alone? it’s always been the three of you, what are you going to do without them? what are they supposed to do without you?

you left like it meant nothing. as if you weren’t abandoning your everything. at least that’s what it felt like. you didn’t even look back twice, waving from the platform then running onto the train with a quick glance spared in time before the doors shut. and he ran after that train, until he couldn’t anymore, breathing heavily and his hands on his knees as he looked at the concrete below him.

“he’ll come back, caleb,” lily comforted him, sad seeing how distraught he was. caleb was always used to being strong in front of her and soft in front of you. now, he felt as if he couldn’t be completely vulnerable anymore. he had to be strong for lily.

so he hardened up. got more rigid and rough around the edges, only showing genuine care towards lily. and he fell into that hole so deeply he didn’t know how to claw himself out. didn’t even know how to come back to being who he truly was when you pulled him into your arms when you finally came back to visit.

you’d think he’d eventually get over your absence, but the truth is he never did. he was angry at you, so, so angry. so angry he didn’t know how else to communicate it without verablly berating you. trying to hurt you just as much as you did him when you left.

he hopes his words sting you. he hopes they keep you up at night. and he hopes they hurt more than anything.

because that’s how he had felt every single minute, second, you were gone. he didn’t understand how you could so easily leave him. he didn’t understand and he didn’t want to anymore, he was over trying to comprehend it. he just wanted to make you feel his pain tenfold. make it so you’re always reminded of what happened to him when you left him.

you want to leave again? just know that when you come back, he’ll be waiting to break you down to such vulnerability that you won’t have anywhere else to go but back to him. and you’d always come back like he hoped.

he didn’t know why. what type of sick person stays with someone that hurts them?

he doesn’t know that the reason is the exact same reason as a person hurting someone out of fear that they leave again.

obviously, if you had told this to caleb now he’ll say you’re lying, you’ve got him wrong, and that he doesn’t care if you leave or stay.

but if you ask caleb, the caleb that was left running after your train on the platform, he’d answer truthfully and admit; every harmful thing caleb has said to you has just been a voice of his own insecurities. the fear you’d realize you’re better off without him or lily, fear you’d leave and never come back, fear you’d find someone better.

and just as much as he fears that, he’s scared of being hurt again. he doesn’t want to stay up for hours on end anymore just because he’s thinking about you, wondering if you’ve had dinner, if you’re taking care of yourself. it leaves him walking around like a brainless zombie. he doesn’t want to endure that slow, stabbing pain in his heart every morning he wakes up and you’re not even in the same city as him.

he wishes he could just forgive and move on from this, but every time he tries, he’s reminded of how helpless you made him feel. he hates that feeling.

so he kept hurting you, hoping you’d simply understand why he had to even though it made no sense. hoped you’d see why he had to, to make you feel how he felt. and he hoped you’d never leave.

he rationalizes this is what you get for leaving, for abandoning him.

of course, you haven’t got any idea about any of this. so, obviously, from your perspective, it looks simply like caleb’s had a switch flipped and there’s no way to reverse it. the damage has already been done and the relationship has truly been shattered this time. and you’ll still go home — if you could even call it that — but, nothing will ever go back to the way it was.

“lily told me what happened,” zayne sits across from you, a rare meeting you two are having outside of work, “she has expressed concerns of you staying there, so stay with me,”

you blink at him in confusion, “sorry?”

he clears his throat, “my apologies, i suppose my voice was not clear. i am offering you, wait no…” he pauses, fingers resting beneath his chin in thought, “I am opening my doors to you, for you to stay with me until you find another place to reside.”

“i’m sorry, zayne, but what?”

“surely i was speaking clearer this time,” he’s speaking more so to himself, “i am asking you live with me and become my roommate. i think it would do you some well to be far from caleb. although she spared me the details, it wasn’t hard to infer how he spoke to you the other night. it’s unacceptable and frankly dangerous for you to be near someone so volatile, openly so at that. so the only solution i could reach was offering you my place to stay, until you get on your feet,”

“zayne, i can’t possibly accept. also! i told lily i wouldn’t be leaving any time soon, i can’t just up and out her life, it doesn’t work like that,”

“lily and caleb are grown adults, you know? they can and will survive without you there,” you let his words simmer in your mind, thinking back to caleb calling you clingy and useless to them. he senses he may have said something that set you off, continuing on, “not to say they don’t need you — lily does, believe me, she does. however, all the main household duties you fulfill are jobs that they can easily learn.”

“did she really set you up to this?” you can’t help but questioned reason behind zayne’s sudden hospitality.

“well, she mentioned it to me in passing, i took it upon myself to daw up a solution. it makes sense, no?” he asks the question as if its simple to decide to move out of your home.

“i can’t just up and leave, zayne. also, that’s asking way too much of you. also, also, you really don’t need to worry about thi-“

“the way lily had described it would leave anyone worried and concerned. for being as cautious and perceptive as you are for other people, you don’t seem to let people do the same for you,” zayne’s curt voice cuts you off and you sigh in frustration. “we are friends, aren’t we? won’t you let me help you? i’m obviously telling you now that it is okay with me,”

you glare at the doctor with your arms crossed over your chest. for some reason, zayne was being quite adament with you. you make a mental note to ask lily what exactly it was that she told zayne because it sounds like he’s speaking as if he was in the room when caleb said those things to you. he sounds personally offended and hurt. even his facial expression makes it seem as if he knows more than he lets on. a grimace on his face whenever he mentions caleb’s name or the incident in general.

so after much thought, and heavy eye contact with each other as if you’re trying to read each other’s minds, you finally say, “i will stay with you for a week or two, just for some space. i won’t even bring my clothes to keep, i’ll go to my home in the day and just sleep at yours,”

“a glorified sleepover, then. fine by me,” a small smile graces his handsome face and you think this is the first time he’s smiled since you two have sat down. maybe his worries were finally eased when you accepted his offer. he seemed more laid back, shoulders slumping as much as they could when you have perfect posture like he does, as well as leaning more into the back of his seat.

“with that out of the way, shall we order? my treat, to celebrate your new freedom,”

“zayne! don’t call it that!” you laugh, finding the way he said it to be funnier than he intended.

“i see it as such,” he shrugs, calling over a waitress as he prepares to order, “you want the [favorite food], right?” he quickly clarifies as she steps closer and closer.

you tilt your head in surprise, “uhm, yeah, that sounds perfect. how’d you know that?”

“i studied the menu beforehand and ensured they had your favorite. i remembered.”

and he’s placing the order before you can even properly process what he had just said. all you know was that it was nice to be remembered. it was a pleasant feeling, warmth blooming on your face and chest as you watched zayne easily order for the two of you.

maybe it’d be nice to have a somewhat “new” start with him.

caleb notices the difference immediately. well, it’s not exactly hard to spot it when it’s in the form of lily glaring at him anytime they are near each other, as well as possibly spitting out venomous words to him.

“you piece of shit,”

“you’re a heartless monster, caleb,”

“don’t come near me,”

things along those lines were delivered to him anytime he was near her. he had apologized repeatedly to her, but each time he tried, she would just scoff and walk away. as if he was wasting his breath. and, honestly, he was. because lily didn’t want an apology from him directed to her, she only wanted him to do that for you. and also to leave her alone. whenever he comes up to her, all she can see is your teary face from that night and how he was the cause of it.

and her anger spikes up all over again. it’s a never ending cycle.

but one day, lily says something that truly leaves caleb with a hallow feeling in his chest.

“when will you realize you’re the one going to get hurt from this? you absolute idiot,” a string of curses followed that declaration, but caleb was too busy thinking about what she was implying to care too much for her profanity.

as far as he was concerned, you were just avoiding him at home and that was as far as your response to him was. you weren’t lingering anymore, yes, but he preferred it that way.

obviously.

it didn’t bother or hurt him that he’d be leaving for his own plans just as you were coming back home from work. it didn’t bother him when he notices your house keys are always gone, never returned to their original spot for hours on end, which means you’re not home. but if you’re not home and you’ve brought your home keys with you, then where were you? he knew your shifts were never longer than 24 hours, so where you spending those other eleven hours you were off the clock — since you’d obviously not be home.

not that caleb cared. because he didn’t. he was just curious, to say the least.

this is exactly what he told you to do anyway. what he said and convinced himself he meant in that heated moment.

meanwhile, as caleb was slowly turning his brain inside out trying to think of what you were getting up to nowadays, you were finally able to somewhat relax and detattch yourself from the situation.

living with zayne was awkward at first. he was a very light sleeper, you found out quite quickly. you went to get a glass of water one night when you couldn’t sleep and he was already standing in the door frame of the kitchen, messy hair standing upright in every which way.

“i didn’t mean to wake you, i’m sorry,” you apologize sincerely, shutting the cabinet door as quietly as you could.

“don’t be sorry, i was rather restless in bed. who knows, maybe being up for a bit could tire my brain out,” he pulls back the seat at the dinner table, rubbing at his eyes underneath his glasses, “are you not able to sleep?”

“it’s just weird,” you say sheepishly, taking the seat in front of him and feeling suddenly bashful at his very watchful gaze. “not sleeping at home,”

“i can only imagine,” he comforts, albeit in his usual monotone and collected voice. it does well to soothe you though, knowing that you are simply being heard was a relief in of itself. it felt like you were rarely ever even heard nowadays, “i hope sleeps finds you easier, though. late night walks to the kitchen at,” he checks the clock on the wall, “4 a.m. will hardly do you any good in the long run,”

you nod in understanding, sipping your water and just tapping the glass. then, you hear a yawn come from him. it’s an odd sight. seeing the usually composed, very precise doctor zayne yawn like a tired cat in front of you, covering his mouth with his hand as he does so. without realizing, a smile has come onto your face at the sight.

“am i so funny to you?” he deadpans, squinting his eyes at your expression.

“no, not at all, zayne, you just,” you laugh a bit before speaking your mind, “you looked so innocent, it reminded me of when we were little,”

he hums, quirking his brow, “you like reminiscing?”

you shrugged, “it’s nice to think about. before you were a slave to the medical field and were working over 20 hours a day sometimes,” he seems to think that’s an entertaining comment, the slightest upturn of his lips being a reaction to your words.

“i remember you clearly,” he says, an unreadable look on his face.

“huh?” your face must have been funny because he actually chuckled at your reaction, “that was so out of nowhere,”

“not really, you were talking about me and now i’m talking about you,” he explains smoothly, “i remember you very clearly from our childhood, that’s all i was saying.”

“like what?” you ask in curiousity, “hm, i never thought you paid me much mind. you were always thinking about bigger and better things,”

he remains silent, fingers tapping the table before settling to be still and laying his palm flat on the surface. he pushes up, standing above you and nodding his head back to the direction of the door frame, “let’s go to bed,”

“hey! you can’t just not answer the question,”

“i’m feeling rather forgetful all of a sudden, we should go to bed to regain our recollection of what we’re talking about after a good sleep,” his excuse is so lame you think it must be a joke, his unique sense of humor. that being said, it doesn’t do anything to ease your wondering, but it’s obvious he’s not going to answer you properly. right now at least.

“fine, i’m getting this answer out of you later,” you huff as you stand in front of your room’s closed door. he leans closer, reaching behind your torso and twisting the doorknob open for you. he’s so close you can smell the lingering scent of his shampoo and body wash.

“sweet dreams, [name],” he whispers quietly, smiling as he pushes the door open behind you and leaving you standing in a stunned silence.

since when was zayne so suave? you had no idea. but you were not going to stay up all night wondering what the answer to that was.

as time went on, you and zayne got closer. it was natural, of course since you are living together. but now you’re spending more time with him, rather than just rotting in your room in your despair. he often is able to lure you out with a game of kitty cards and from there, conversation just flows naturally now.

after pressing him for more answers one day, it seemed that as children zayne was very fond of you. he thought you to be more mature than lily, and caleb — who would oftentimes be the one to entertain lily and her childlike, rambunctious wonders. he liked that. you two were in the same boat when it came to tending to caleb and lily since they were younger.

and he only ever spoke positively of you when he talked about those times. there’s an odd look on his face whenever he did, too. as if he could remember all those things as clear as day, when to you, it’s all kind of blurry.

a lot of conversations looked like:

“you really don’t remember scraping your knee on the pavement so hard, you needed to be comforted for 20 minutes?”

“are you sure that was me, zayne? that sounds too much like lily,”

“monkey see, monkey do,”

“hey!!”

him telling you a story from childhood, you not remembering a single bit of it, then him poking fun at you and your younger self. you wish you knew what was so special about these moments that made him remember them so vividly, but you just chalked it up to his exceptional memory that you assumed he had. medical professional and all, he must have photographic memory…

“are you ready for work?” he asks, already waiting by the door for you. you’re grabbing your work bag and nod in response. he holds the door open for you, locking it behind you as well. then he’s clicking the car key to unlock the doors and driving the both of you to akso hospital. talks in the car are mainly you yapping about whatever is on your mind and zayne attentively listening.

that’s how he likes it, though. hearing you talk so animatedly and carefree before a long, tiring shift gives him an extra boost of energy. generally, too, he just much prefers listening to you go on tangent after tangent versus having to be the conversation starter.

like right now, as you talk with your hands, leaning on your seat in a way so that you’re more so facing him than the road. your seat belt is on, of course, but he still can’t help the nagging feeling in his mind.

“[name], sit properly, please,”

you adjust quickly, not letting his interruption stop your story time. he smiles at the simpleness of this new routine he has with you. he’s quite happy it’s all worked out to be like this, instead of possibly awkward.

it’s unfortunate what the circumstances which you got closer in were, but zayne doesn’t dwell on it further. thinking more of the future rather than the past, he just wishes it stays like this for as long as you need. selfishly, he finds you company to be the best he’s had around him in a long while.

the part where you told zayne that this arrangement would only last a week or two turned out to be an unintentional lie. to his relief and happiness, you had decided to semi-permanently move in. you didn’t haul all of your belongings from your house into his, but you did start leaving your clothes in the guest room drawer and bringing toiletries with you to keep in his bathroom. this was just the temporary solution until you found a unit that was close enough to the hospital and cheap enough for you to pay the rent there, as well as the bills that you were still responsible for at the house with lily and caleb.

lily was sad to hear your decision, but she supported you. it wasn’t like it was goodbye forever, anyway. you weren’t that far, too. if she really wanted and needed you, she would be on zayne’s front doorstep in thirty minutes by taking public transport.

the three of you were sat in a cafe, a shared favorite amongst you three, when you told her.

“so does caleb have any idea about it yet?” she asked after a beat of silence. the mention of his name made you nearly choke on your water. “sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you like that,” she watches with a bashful expression as zayne rubs up and down your back to comfort you from your coughing fit. “not that it’s really his business! i just got curious,”

“hm, have you two spoken one on one since that night?” zayne asks, eyes carefully scanning you once you stop coughing to ensure you’re okay.

“uhm, no, i haven’t told him, and no we haven’t talked,”

“you should probably tell him,” zayne murmurs, cutting into his food and wrinkling his nose when he sees a slice of carrots on his plate.

wordlessly, you move your fork over to his plate and take the vegetable, eating it as you answer, “i should tell him, but do i really have to?” your tone is almost a whine, but you’re just joking and teasing. lily giggles at it whilst zayne finds it anything but funny.

“should i accompany you when you tell him?” he asks in all seriousness.

you think about it for a moment, eating another slice of a carrot before shaking your head, “it’ll be fine, i imagine it’ll be quick,”

your heart still hurts thinking about everything he said to you that night, but you try to shake off those thoughts and feelings every time they creep up on you. you hate thinking about how much of what he said he meant, hate remembering the genuine pain in your chest that you felt in the moment. the embarrassment of it all.

zayne and lily notice your bout of silence, lily reaching across the table to hold your hand, “if you need me or zayne there tell us, okay? it’s not weak to ask for support,”

you smile weakly at her, squeezing her hand before letting go, “it’s okay, i’m a grown adult,”

“grown adult or not, facing the person who humiliated you is rather daunting of a task. perhaps, you should give him a taste of his own medicine,” zayne reasons, you assume to comfort you, when in reality you just sweatdrop at his blunt words. living and working with him though does make you somewhat used to it. as for lily, her jaw drops at zayne’s suggestion.

“zayne!” she cries out incredulously.

“what?” there’s a dumbfounded look on his face, so innocent and confused, which makes you break out into laughter.

your laugh being contangious to the both of them leaves them slowly easing into their own giggles. lily tries stiffling hers, but eventually she’s holding her stomach to ease the soreness. zayne’s lips quirk up in an open smile as he watches you laugh.

“for that one, i think zayne should treat us,”

“i hardly see how that correlates,” he shoots back instantly, a feeling of pride swell in his chest as you immediately laugh at his response. he likes being the one to make you laugh, he realizes. even if his dry humor doesn’t always land properly, he’s happy that you laugh quite often with him.

lily wipes the corner of her eyes, nodding in agreement with you, “i think that’s the perfect idea, oppa,”

“thank you for paying up, zaynie,” you tease, throwing your arm around his shoulder and pulling him in close. it’s awkward, seeing as his posture is still perfect while he sits and you are only the tiniest bit shorter than him. he is being forced to physically slouch to accommodate the height difference, all with a stoic look on his face in comparison to your very cheerful one.

it makes lily break out into laughter again at the sight.

needless to say, the lunch was a success and you all walked out of the restaurant feeling lighter.

“i’ll take you home,” you tell lily, following after her as she walks to the bus station.

she shakes her head, “no, i can’t let you do that! go home with zayne, [name],” she chides, sounding like a mom scolding their child. unfortunately for her, her tone is nothing but cute to you. so you ruffle her hair, look over your shoulder to wave bye to zayne, then hold her hand as you drag her towards the bus stop.

“hey! i said i’ll be alright,”

“i know you will, but i also needed to stop home to grab a set of scrubs anyway,” she rolls her eyes at your excuse, not sure if she should believe you or not. the two of you wait in silence for a couple of minutes before she finally speaks up.

“so, how do you feel after spending some time away from caleb?” her words are careful and slow, “any better? worse? do you hate him?”

you crack a smile at her rapid fire question, offering her a knowing look, “i think we both know me and hating caleb don’t really go in the same sentence,”

there’s a sad look in her eyes that you can very easily read, “don’t look at me like that,” you scold her, “c’mon, i’m gonna be fine.”

“how? how can you not just want to see him miserable after everything he said to you?”

you shrug your shoulders, “i don’t know, i just don’t. all i really feel towards him is,” a lot to say in such simple terms, honestly. you still harbor strong, strong, strong feelings of love and attachment to caleb, but your pride and self-respect are far too strong to make you grovel at his feet and wait for an explanation, or apology, “so much, but nothing at the same time.”

she nods in understanding, leaning on your arm as she looked ahead.

“i’m sorry, [name],” she says sincerely, “i don’t know what happened…but i feel like i’m responsible,”

immediately, you hold her shoulders and shake your head, “don’t say that, this is not your fault in any way and you do not owe me an apology,” your voice is stern, a familiar one you use only in moments of seriousness, “lily, none of this is your fault,”

“i wish i could change it, though. i wish caleb didn’t change so much,” her voice is shaky, “it’s wrong to say because caleb is caleb and maybe this is how he always was, always was meant to be, but still…i can’t help miss how things used to be. we all used to be so close and now, i hate how he’s turned out,”

you sigh, rubbing your thumb up and down her bicep as you squeeze her tight, “you don’t mean that, lily. you could never hate him, like how i could never hate him,”

she shakes her head, “your love is stronger than mine, [name]. because the only thing i feel towards him is hate, all those things he said to you, i don’t think i’d ever be able to forgive him. he tore us all apart,” her words sound like they’re coming from gritted teeth, “you are stronger and better than me, i can’t be as forgiving as you.”

you bite your lip, thinking of your next words carefully, “i really hope you never love someone as much as this, lily. because it hurts.” she sniffles at your confession, pressing further into your side, “it hurts so much. but i can’t find the will in me to hate him,” a weak and dry chuckle escapes your lips, “it’s so stupid because i’d hate anyone else that do something like this to me, to anybody i knew, i’d hate them. someone that embarassed me as much as he did, but i just can’t. not with caleb,”

“i know,” she comforts, squeezing your hand tight, “but at least this means a new chapter in your life, moving out and stuff. i know you won’t forget about me, so i’m not worried,” she manages to lighten the mood with a weak smile, “truthfully, in my opinion, he doesn’t deserve a bit of an explanation from you,”

you smile at her defensive words, finding it so endearing that she’s so protective of you and your pride.

“but you’re too kind to leave him in the dark,” she sighs.

you can only hum in response, forcing a smile once you see the bus arrive at your stop to pick you two up.

you wished that it could have been planned better. could have been orchestrated in a way where you knew everything you wanted to say, had the proper amount of confidence to say it, and then be done with it. like ripping the bandaid off.

but, of course, that doesn’t happen. instead, one of the days of the week you come back home to grab your other belongings, caleb is there and lily is not. it’s a more so “if not now, then when?” mixed in with the feeling that this opportunity shouldn’t be ignored.

so as he’s sitting in the living room, watching tv and ignoring you, you clear your throat for him to look at you.

“i’m moving out,” the words are blunt, but also misspoken, so you quickly follow up with, “well, i’m looking for a place and then i’m moving out. i’ll still be the one responsible for the bills and stuff, but…yeah, i just wanted to let you know,”

caleb’s expression is hard to read. you can’t even begin to theorize what he could be thinking because you feel like you don’t really know him anymore. he’s shut you out so well that you no longer could predict what he could say.

but you didn’t expect silence. you expected a scoff, a “who cares?” or any other snide remark. but instead you got silence.

you can’t help the crushing feeling of disappointment fill you, the feeling that he really, truly doesn’t care enough about you to even say anything. so you fill the silence, promising this was the last of it and you’d be out the door, “i’ll be out of your way now, just as you wanted, but i’ll still be here for you if you or lily need anything. just call or text me whenever, okay?”

more silence, but at least now he’s looking at you. his purple eyes are zeroed in on you and his eyebrow is furrowed and pinched together, lips in a thin line. if you had describe it objectively, you’d say he looks conflicted. but realistically, this was probably just him getting ready to amp up whatever insult he was going to direct to you.

so you turn away from his gaze and walk towards the door. except, you really can’t move your muscles after the first couple of steps. it’s as if the air around you is holding you hostage. you panic for a moment, struggling where you’re stuck before remembering the one thing that can cause this. caleb’s evol was stopping you from moving any closer to the door.

“you’re leaving? is that what you’re telling me?” his voice is now centimeters behind you and you barely have the strength to turn and look at him.

“caleb, stop your evol! this isn’t comfort-“

“you said you’re leaving?” he persists and you wince at the feeling of his hard grip around your wrist. he turns you to face him, still holding you still with his gravity, and forces you to back up in the wall behind you.

now you can see his face clearly. he’s angry, it seems. his eyes are dark, teeth gritted against each other and his shoulders are square and broad, as if he’s sizing you up to intimidate you.

“caleb, turn off your evol, now,” you muster up the strength in your voice to say that, but that was enough to get you breathless.

“why? so you can just walk out that door?” he laughs, a dry, humorless laugh. it’s almost like he’s mocking you.

if only you could really see inside of his head right now. you’d be more terrified than him simply mocking you. you’d be scared to see how fast his mind was racing, the crazy conclusions he was jumping to, the unethical solutions he was thinking of to keep you here. to make you stay.

“well, i need to go back to- caleb, just turn it off,” you’re getting restless now and annoyed. he’s throwing such a temper tantrum just to taunt you and you won’t take it anymore. you want nothing more than to leave.

while caleb will do everything in his power to make you stay.

“go back to where? this is your home.” his words throw you off, the stern tone he takes with you making you blink rapidly in confusion, “this is your home, this house is where you belong and where you will stay. where are you possibly going back to? some dingy, disgusting motel?”

why does he suddenly care? you tilt your head to the side, looking at him with an offended expression, “caleb, you don’t get to care now where i go. all that’s your business is that i need to go and i don’t want to be here anymore,”

“you’re not leaving! stop saying you’re going to leave!” he shouts and it throws you so off guard you flinch backwards, “you’re not leaving! okay?! i won’t let you leave, you’re not going anywhere. you belong here, you stay here, you don’t get to leave!”

he’s shouting now, voice booming and it feels like its rattling the walls around you.

“what is wrong with you?!” you shout back, trying to fight against his evol. just to push him away from you or something, anything to create distance between you two.

“what is wrong with me?!” he laughs as he repeats it, glaring at you, “no, no, no, what’s wrong with you?! why does you always want to leave, always want to fucking leave me?! what is wrong with you?”

“caleb, what the fuck are you talking about?! you literally told me two weeks ago you didn’t want me in your life anymore!”

“you’re not supposed to leave,” his voice is quiet now, as if he’s talking to himself as he shakes his head repeatedly ‘no’, “you’re supposed to come back home and stay here, you’re not supposed to leave. don’t leave…you’re not allowed,”

“i’m not allowed? what am i, you’re little brother or something? a little lost boy you have to watch over?”

for some reason that ticks him off even more because now he’s yelling again, “don’t say that! don’t! you’re not any of those things to me!”

“oh, you’re right, i’m nothing more than the dirt under your shoe, you’re right,” you sarcastically exclaim, trying your best to move beneath the pressure of his evol, “caleb, let me go home,”

“this is your home! where else is your home?!” something flickers in his eyes and a crazed look comes across his face, “who is it? what is it? tell me right now or i swear to fucking god,”

he’s now pressed against you, chest to chest as he begs for answers, repeating the same questions over and over. you avoid his face being close to yours by turning to the side and snarling, “why is that any of your business?”

“so there is someone? what is it? who is it? who is it?” he’s repeats once more, grabbing your cheek and forcing you to look at him, “tell me. who is it this time? who’s taking you from me again?”

this is the most erratic he’s been the entire night, and that’s saying something, “what? this time- caleb, what the fuck are you talking about? i’m not telling you anything,”

“i deserve to know,”

“uh, no, actually, you don’t!”

“i deserve to know who’s taking you from me again. who i need to go and fucking kill.”

“what are you talking about?!” you scream, genuinely being at a loss of words at what he had just said, “are you going insane or something?! what are you talking about, caleb?”

his face looks devoid of emotion, but he keeps talking with the same amount of passion and feeling, “you’re leaving me, again, to go back to someone else. you’re leaving me for someone else. tell me who it is and i’ll go kill them,” he repeats it as if he’s just reading off simple, boring current events.

“caleb, what has gotten into you? why, why are you…like this,” your questions is ragged and asked with such levels of venom it makes caleb visibly flinch.

then, he’s laughing, an empty laugh.

“why am i like this?” he pauses, tilting his head back and breathing in a deep breath, “you’re the one who did this to me. you’re the one who made me like this, you don’t get to ask why i am like this.” you blink in confusion, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

“this is all your fault. if you hadn’t left, if you didn’t leave me here, all alone, none of this would be happening. you wouldn’t have to ask why am i like this — if you just stayed!” his voice is shaky now, “you left me first and i’ve been like this ever since. do you know what that does to a person? to see the one person you love and care about leave without even looking back? you didn’t even care you were leaving me to die. you didn’t even,” he pauses, breathing going ragged and now you’re genuinely concerned for his well being, “you didn’t even look back at me. you didn’t care, you were the one who left and you didn’t even care.”

now you’re speechless. what the hell was caleb talking about?

“you don’t even know what i’m talking about — that’s how little you care about me,” he accuses, pushing against you and forcing you to look into his eyes, which have now become teary, “you’re the reason i’m like this, [name]. you’re the reason why i won’t let you leave again. you don’t get to leave, don’t be so fucking selfish,”

“what the hell is wrong with you caleb!? you call me the meanest things, you say the most vile shit you could say to someone who cares about you — and now you’re calling me selfish on top of it, for what? for choosing to no longer be near you, just like you asked?! you asked for me to get out of this house, so i’m leaving! what does it matter to you-”

caleb falters and it looks as if he’s remembering everything he said to you. as if there’s flashes of memories going on in his mind.

“[name], please don’t leave,” as if a switch flipped in his head, his voice goes soft, “don’t leave me, please, please don’t leave. i’ll explain everything to you if you promise me to not leave,”

“i don’t want an explanation from you anymore, caleb,” you sneer, thinking his request insane and disrespectful, “you didn’t let me into your life for so long and now you’re begging me to stay, promising me an explanation? as if a singular explanation could justify how you’ve been treating me,”

“i’m not saying it will justify it, i just have to tell you, to make you see from my perspect-”

“caleb, i really don’t want to have this conversation with you. from what you’ve told me, you want nothing else to do with me anymore — i’m giving you that out, right now. i don’t want to hear it,” you’re surprised with your own steady voice, but you’re proud of yourself for speaking so steadily, so sternly. his evol finally loosens off of you and this makes you immediately push him away.

“don’t go, i’m begging you, [name], don’t go. don’t go,” his voice is shaky and his grip on your wrist is so tight it almost hurts. just as you were about to reach for the door, he had grabbed your hand. and after securing your wrist in his hold, he dropped to his knees and tugged hard, as if he was trying to weigh you down to the floor with him. “don’t go, i’ll tell you everything, please,”

“caleb, i’m not-”

“you left, for university. and you didn’t even think twice before leaving me here, you left me here alone. and i hated you for it. you left without any regret or remorse, you acted as if you didn’t even care when in reality you were scarring me. i hated you for that, hated that you so easily chose something else over me, when i would never do that to you,” his words were rushed, knowing that it was now or never, “we were inseparable and you didn’t even care that you would be so far from me, that’s why i’m so bitter and i can’t let you leave now. do you understand now? i can’t let you walk out that door,”

you blink, processing his words. he waits for a reaction, any reaction from you. waits for you to realize what memories he’s talking about, waits for you to tell him your side of the story. then finally, you take in a deep breath and say, “are you fucking kidding me, caleb?”

he flinches at your harsh tone, tightening his hold on you as he realizes you might actually leave now.

“you berated me, you humiliated me, you harassed me — for years! — just because i went to another university?! a university that i went to for the betterment of this entire house?! that school was one of the only schools that gave us scholarship money, it helped keep you guys afloat here and you’re telling me; you’re mad at me for choosing that place?!” you’re screaming now, a frantic look in your eyes. this was the entire reason caleb hated you for years, or supposedly hated you? “you chose to bully me and belittle me for years because you thought i didn’t care?! i had to choose that school, caleb, or else we would’ve been without a home, without a place to sleep.

“josephine’s money was running low — i had to take that university’s scholarship offer or else we all would’ve been fucked!”

“then why didn’t you tell me that?” he practically cries, tears glistening in his eyes as his lip trembles.

“you were just a kid, none of that was your business! if i had told you, you would have tried scraping together some money, god knows how, and i didn’t want to push that responsibility onto you!” you shout back, feeling so incredibly frustrated you couldn’t contain it in the mature way you usually would.

“josephine was running out of money?” he echoes, catching that detail, “you told me that her will was paying off our bills and would be able to for a long time?”

“yes, of course i’d lie about that to you! you were too young to know the truth! why do you think i started working at the hospital instead of getting my master’s degree?! we need money, you asshole, and i had to pick up extra shifts to not worry about you, how i was getting food onto our table, and how to keep this house as our own!” you try tugging your hand away, but caleb is holding onto it like it’s a lifeline, “every single decision i’ve made was for you and lily. i love you two too much and all i’ve gotten from you caleb was spite and hatred. you cannot expect me to care at all about the reasoning behind your behavior — all i know is that you treated me like shit for years, for no reason,”

“you never told me,” he brokenly whispered, nuzzling into your palm. he mimicked a dog begging for forgiveness, “you never told me, i would’ve helped and i would’ve understood,”

“would you have? because last i remembered, you said me picking up extra shifts and complaining about being tired made me weak and useless!”

“i would’ve helped!”

“it’s not about you not helping or not knowing, caleb! it’s about you being a dickhead for no reason!” your breathing is shaky and you work up the courage to say, “do you have any idea how it feels to hear the one person you love say how much they despise you?”

that makes caleb’s grip falter. his head snaps up to look at you, still on his knees in front of you, “what?”

“i loved you, caleb. so much. but i don’t think i love you enough to begin to even understand your whole reasoning behind this behavior. you hurt me in the worst ways possible, calling me clingy and useless. can you even imagine what that feels like, caleb?” you take a deep breath, “it’s as if lily told you she hated you and wished you stop trying to be in her life, if that’ll help you understand,”

caleb’s head tilts to the side, “how is this about lily? what do you mean you loved me? what do you mean by that, [name]?”

you scoff at his question, rubbing your free wrists to ease the tender flesh, “i don’t need to explain to yo-”

“i love you, too,” he confesses quickly, rushing his words to ensure you hear him and his confession.

you’re shocked, genuinely feeling as if your heart dropped to your stomach. he’s still nuzzling his face into your palm that he’s holding in an iron grip, looking up at you expectingly. he didn’t mean that, you tell yourself. it’s another sick way of his to hurt you.

“caleb, let me go,” you say, willing yourself to speak despite wanting to just vomit out your guts. this was so painful, more painful that you expected it to be. why was caleb so deadset on hurting you so much?

“no, no, i won’t let you-“

“caleb, please.”

“i won’t-“

“caleb, let me go.”

he hears the difference in your tone. there’s not even an ounce of emotion, no anger, no sadness, no begging. just monotone with a stoic look on your face.

“[name], i love-“

“caleb, stop it, i’m tired. please, just let me go,” you plead with him, voice and resolve weak as you can’t will yourself to speak any louder than this hushed tone.

“no, listen, i love you too that’s why i can’t let you go. i’ve loved you since we were children and that’s why you leaving hurt me so much, but now i understand, hyung. i understand and i’m not mad and i’ll stop being such an asshole and i’ll be better, please. just don’t leave again, please? this is your home, isn’t it? stay, please,” caleb’s words are rushed, fighting the urge to hug your legs to his chest to truly prevent you from running away. but, he thinks that his confession of his true emotions are enough. or, he hopes they are.

of course, it isn’t enough. his words just leave you looking even more devoid of emotions and tired than you were before this conversation started.

“caleb, please let me go,”

“no. hyung, please say something…i just, i can’t lose you again, please.”

“what do you want me to say? what? that i love you too?” your voice is still missing that anger that you wanted to convey, but you had no energy to. but the look in your eyes alone show the passion you have in setting caleb straight, “i’d be fucking lying, caleb. i don’t think i could love you the same way i did before. this is completely,” you shake your hand, finally being able to set yourself free and rushing backwards from him, “untrue, you don’t mean a single word right now. you’re just lying to get me to stay, a last ditch resort.”

“that’s not true! what can i do to make you see i mean it? tell me, [name], i will show you. i’m not lying, i mean it,” his voice cracks and he clears his throat as he holds you tight, “don’t leave me please, i’ll prove it to you, i’ll show you,”

“you’re going to show me? caleb, just let me go,” you sigh, shaking your hand out of his and finally feeling some relief to see that he actually let go, “you need to set yourself right before you can prove anything to me, caleb. i honestly am not interested in you doing any of that either, so i’m not promising you anything. i still care for you and i love-” you cut yourself off mid sentence, knocking your forehead with your closed fist to physically prevent yourself from slippning up. with a deep breath, you continue on, “i’ll take care of everything still, but it’d probably be best if we just left it at that,”

“left what?” his eyes look as if they’re shaking in worry and fear.

“just sort yourself out first, caleb.” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and moving to walk out, not turning back once to look at him.

a million thoughts were running through caleb’s mind. you were actually walking away from him and it sounded as if you had no intent in ever coming back. it’s just like before…but then he wondered, what if he made you stay this time? didn’t let you just up and leave like he did before when you were children?

he was stronger than you, his evol alone gave him an advantage. he could bring you into the house again, force that door shut and locked and make it so you’d have no escape. keep you here until you worked through all your differences.

but then he remembers that look on your face earlier, the sheer, utter disappointment on your face when you learned the truth. caleb hates disappointing you, but he hates seeing you walk away from him perhaps even more.

he couldn’t even form a proper coherent thought though because he noticed you were gone before he could have acted on any of his impulsive desires. he leaned forward, falling slowly onto the ground until his forehead was touching the wooden flooring.

he didn’t know how long he stayed there, but he does recall lily rushing to his side and forcing him up. he didn’t hear anything she was saying, but he could tell she was speaking to him.

“what happened? why were you on the floor?” she asks him, roughly dropping him onto the couch. as much as she wished she didn’t care about his wellbeing since she was so mad a him, it wasn’t in her nature to just leave him on the floor like that.

”did you know?”

“know what?”

“know that he’s leaving, did you know?” the words are hoarse and caleb is now hyper aware of how dry his throat feels.

a look of realization flashes on her face and now it all makes sense now. why he was so stationary on the floor earlier, weighing his body down as she tried moving him from his spot.

“yeah, i knew,” she didn’t bother saying anything more than that, watching him carefully.

“and you didn’t tell me?”

“caleb, respectfully, fuck you,” she said, going to walk away, rolling her eyes at his glare that was now fully directed at her.

“you didn’t tell me, lily. why didn’t you tell me?”

“why is it your business?”

“it’s my business!” he shouts so loud that it makes her jerk backwards in shock. that snaps her out of her stupor, throwing the pillow on the cushions at his face with no remorse and stomping off to her room. “why the fuck didn’t you tell me, lily?! why?!”

“caleb, shut up!” she shouts, going to her room and locking the door behind her. “as if you would’ve cared,”

“i care! i care more than you ever could!” he accuses her, banging his fist on the door to get her to open it, “where is he going? where is he staying now? is it some hotel? just give me a name and i’ll go and fix this all! it’ll be like before, when we were kids! don’t you want me to fix this?”

lily runs a hand over her face and goes to unlock her phone, opening her messenger app. she sends a quick text to zayne, not wanting to stress you out with this right now, and explains to him the situation. she warns him to be more careful now, worried that somehow caleb may put two and two together. just to be cautious of his surroundings and to not tell caleb too much about your current whereabouts.

“i know you know lily, just tell me, c’mon,” his voice is softer now, but she doesn’t give in. she just changes out of her outside clothes, goes to her bed and lays down, waiting for caleb to go away as she scrolls on her phone. she tries to not pay attention to his presence outside her door, but every now and then she hears the doorknob jiggle and she has to fight the urge to shout at him.

zayne looked at his phone screen with furrowed eyebrows, dropping it onto his desk after re-reading the texts a couple of times. he looks over at the schedule for his shift, noting down the fact that they were surprisingly overstaffed for the night. there was another surgeon that was working his area, along with their own team and the patients that were under his care were not high tonight.

he pocketed his phone, fixed his glasses and grabbed all of his belongings. he walked out of his office and made a beeline to yvonne.

“there is an emergency i must attend to, please tell the team i apologize for this, but i really must go,” yvonne didn’t even bother masking her shock. in all of her time working at the hospital, this was the first time zayne was early dismissing himself. of course, it was for an emergency, but that didn’t make it any less odd to see zayne walking away seven hours before his actual shift ended.

there would usually be repercussions done onto whoever was performing such reckless actions, but this was dr. zayne they were talking about. he was too good at his job and attendance for anyone to really say anything.

the doctor walked through the streets, a grocery bag hanging from his nimble fingers and swaying with each step he took. in the bag were a different assortment of items that had little to nothing in common with each other. it was your care package, zayne assuming you needed some support and food from them.

he arrived at his apartment and noticed how quiet it was. he sighed, discarding his jacket and shoes before going to his room to change into more comfortable clothes. he was already very clean and tidy, but living with you after a while, he noticed a certain quirk that you had.

you never set yourself to lay down in bed with your “outside” clothes on. even to just sit on the mattress was unheard of for you.

zayne picked up on this habit himself rather quickly because he agreed with the intention behind it and also because he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to rest with you unless he did change. so he changed first, into his more casual, pajama-esque clothes and knocked on your door.

“[name]? can i come in?”

he heard a sniffle behind the door and he bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. you didn’t deserve to cry, no less due to whatever it is that caleb and you discussed.

“i don’t think i’d be good company right now, zayne,” you honestly tell him, voice somewhat shaky from the behind the door.

“nonsense,” he immediately says in return, “allow me to drop off these things i bought for you, then,”

you sigh, rubbing your sensitive, dried with tears eyes and walk towards the door. twisting the knob slowly, you see zayne standing there with a sad look on his face and a bag full of goodies for you.

“for you,” he holds the bag up to show you and steps into your room. he gently places them onto your table and frowns when he sees you not even have the energy to look into the bag, “do you want to talk about it? i can’t assure you i’d be the best fit for you to tell your feelings to since i don’t think i can offer much wisdom, but i am here for you.”

you look up at him with sad eyes, presenting a deflated and dejected figure that makes you seem smaller than you really are. he hates the sight of you like this, teary eyed, the tip of your nose red, your sleeves damp with tears. he hates to see you so heartbroken.

“no, i think i’ll be fine,” you decided after a moment of silence, “i think i can manage for the rest of the day. i’ll be fine by tomorrow morning,”

“why? do you have important plans tomorrow morning?” he asks, which you shake your head to, “then why do you insist you will be fine by tomorrow? there is no rush for you to force yourself to feel better. we can talk whenever you feel up for it,” zayne’s voice, opposite of yours, was stern and sounded confident.

his kind words make your bottom lip tremble, the utter sincerity already making your eyes tear up once again. he notices it and immediately begins fretting over your reaction, “i’m sorry, i did not mean to make you cry!”

“no, it’s not because of you zayne- well, it is, but they’re not bad tears,” you quickly explain, feeling bad to see him so worried about his wording.

he sighs, in what you assume is relief, as he speaks softly, “tell me about what is bothering you whenever you are ready, [name],” he speaks with authority, as if commanding you to at least listen to his words, “i don’t like seeing you sad,”

the words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can think of reeling them back in, leaving both of you shocked at his sudden confession. he masks it better than you can, though, who looked up at him with your red eyes blown wide.

”that’s really kind of you, zayne,”

“it’s just the truth,” he settles on your bed, looking off to the side as he thinks about how he can make you feel better. if you didn’t want to let out your problems for him to listen to, he supposes distracting you and taking your mind off of the situation at hand could do you some good as well. “when we were kids, i didn’t like seeing you sad either,”

“you seem to remember so much from our childhood while i can’t remember anything,” your pout makes the corners of his lips upturn just the slightest.

“doctor’s memory,” he jokes, tapping the side of his temple with his pointer finger and smiling when he sees it gets you to grin ever so slightly. “when we were children, i found that whenever you got sad, there was almost always the same thing being the root of your sadness. either caleb or lily,”

your eyes watch him carefully as he reminisces on the details of it all, “they were — are — your entire world and i don’t blame you for being so emotionally invested in them,” he speaks carefully, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. but he wants to be honest with you, “the way caleb had a sway on your emotions then and now is hardly any different, but you can change that, [name]. back then, i never said anything because you were happy and it would only be moments of sadness. now, i can no longer bite my tongue. there must be something done to stop your tears from being wasted-” he cuts himself off, finding himself going on a tangent longer than he intended.

it’s silent for a moment and he almost wishes he could just up and walk out of the room right then and there to save himself from his embarrassment. until you chuckle softly and lean back into the pillows behind you.

“you remember a lottt more than i thought,” was the first thing you said, doing little to ease his anxiousness, “but, you’re right, i suppose. i care so much, maybe too much — as caleb said before, it’s coming back to bite me in the ass,”

“caring too much is not the issue,” zayne’s head shakes in disagreement, “it is the fact caleb has abused that care for many years, he expects kindness and special treatment from you despite doing nothing to return those same gestures to you. that is what makes this situation wrong,”

zayne defends you as passionately as if he were defending himself. his eyebrows are furrowed together, as if he is genuinely confused or very frustrated at the situation, hands palming at his knees as he tries to calm his evol from spiking, and his leg jittery the slightest bit as it bounces up and down from the floor.

“you are not the one at fault in this, [name]. i don’t know much about what you two exchanged or said, but i do know that much. there is nothing you could have done that would be considered wrong,” he comforts, looking at you so intensely it almost makes you break eye contact.

“thanks, zayne,” is all you can muster, genuinely speechless at the articulate way zayne defends you while also, shockingly, critiquing caleb rather brutally.

a part of you deep down already knew these things all along, but to hear someone else verbalize them had made you feel levels of validation you didn’t know were possible. the insecurities that caleb had planted in your mind regarding your “clingy” nature and “overbearing” attitude were still present, but to hear zayne speak so casually of that behavior and seemingly validate it definitely made you feel better.

“i’m glad i could be of any help,” he smiles softly at you before standing up, “please, indulge yourself in everything i had bought — it’s all for you,”

you look over at the bag on your table, nodding ever so slightly. “thank you again, i really appreciate it,”

”of course, don’t mention it.”

as the days gradually went by, you and zayne talked about everything that you and caleb had said to each other. to your surprise, instead of remaining as neutral as you expected him to , he was rather biased in your favor and even made several snide comments about caleb and his childish attitude. his expressions were a bit entertaining too, scowls and sneers whenever you mention caleb’s behavior. it was a little refreshing to see him so expressive.

the usual stoic and level-headed zayne was replaced with the best reactive listener, lending you all the support you had needed in youurtimes of vulnerability.

“just to clarify, he does not know you are living with me, right?” zayne asked you one day, in his office while you two were on your lunch break. assuming he was talking about caleb, you nodded your head in confirmation.

“i think it’d be best if he didn’t know,” you murmur, voice trailing off as you tried to imagine caleb finding out. he never really played well with zayne, ever since they were children. the doctor used to view him neutrally, but now he definitely shares his fair amount of distaste towards him. caleb very obviously never liked him.

“just wanted to make sure because yvonne just notified me that a, and i quote, very angry looking, muscular, tall, and handsome man is demanding i speak with him in the lobby, end quote. was just wondering how i should approach the situation is all,” he grabs one of his napkins to wipe his face, then stands up, making you immediately follow.

“if he’s out there, you do not have to talk to him,” you say in a stern voice, “zayne, this is the only chance we get at some peace and quiet in here, don’t you think we should spend the time winding down?”

“we have approximately twenty minutes left of our meal, i plan to make this a quick five. now, i’d ask you to stay here, but it’s unfair if you obey my orders whilst i disregard your own. just please, let me handle it. i’d rather he not focus on you and say something else absurd,” zayne requests, making you roll your eyes and open the door.

you weren’t just going to stand there and be silent if caleb tried to pull some disrespectful behavior, but you’ll try holding your tongue until that moment occurs. zayne rushes to walk in front of you, adjusting his white coat as he does so. he sees caleb before you, tall frame covering the man from your sight.

“where’s [name]?” caleb asks, seemingly not seeing as you followed behind zayne’s much taller figure.

“caleb, this is highly inappropriate,”

“zayne, just answer the question,” caleb groans, stepping forward as if he were trying to walk past zayne. but as he got closer he finally caught sight of your figure, a wide smile stretching across his face as he tried to get to you, “[name]!” he called to you cheerfully.

he was about to reach for you, but zayne had lifted his arms up and blocked him from doing so, “i thought i told you this was inappropriate,”

caleb’s violet eyes narrowed and he glared at zayne with no shame, “this is a really personal matter, dr. zayne,” he spits out the title like venom, “so i suggest you move out of my way and let me talk to him,”

“we have nothing to talk about,” at the sound of your voice, caleb looks like he almost physically goes weak in the knees. he turns to you like a puppy hearing their owner’s voice after a long time and if he had a tail, it’d be going a couple hundred miles an hour right now.

“[name], don’t say that. there’s so much we need to talk about. please?”

“as if i’d allow you to interrupt our work right now,” zayne emphasizes the word ‘work,’ reminding caleb just exactly where he is.

“i couldn’t give a shit if you were working, i need to talk to him. what is your problem, zayne? since when did you even care when i talk to [name]?”

“since it is now interrupting our work schedule,” zayne’s eyes narrow as well, “i care if it involves him regardless,”

caleb’s genuine smile was replaced with a sarcastic, mocking look on his face, “oh you care? well, if you care for your own well-being, then you’d get out of my way,” he goes to shoulder shove zayne out of the way, but the doctor reacts so fast it surprises you.

his hand, which was slightly icy now, lands on caleb’s shoulder and holds him still, “caleb, you have to leave. this is not the place you wish to act out in, our security will be called on you if you take a step further,”

“your security doesn’t scare me,” caleb attempts shaking off zayne’s grip, but it only makes the doctor tighten his hold.

“then i will personally deal with you,”

“oh, you definitely don’t scare me,” caleb turns to zayne, voice lowering so it was only audible to the doctor, “get your hand off of me before i make you a patient. i need to talk to [name] and i’m in no mood to deal with you right now,”

“and [name] so eagerly wishes to speak to you?” zayne’s snide remark is delivered with such harshness you almost flinch for caleb, “he does not want to speak to you,”

“you know what he wants?” caleb’s voice is dangerous now and the room begins to feel heavier, “remind me where were you in our childhood all the other times he needed somebody? were you there?”

”i would have been if i was not shut out,” zayne’s voice raises ever so slightly and that comment makes you tilt your head in confusion.

caleb’s teeth grit in frustration, “know your place,”

“my place is with [name]. you should know yours because i assure it is not with him and it is not here,”

that goads a physical reaction from caleb, who slams his forearm into zayne’s chest and forcefully pushes him into the wall, “what did you just say?”

yvonne is scrambling to call for security, her voice rushed and she gives them your guys’ current location and how they have to hurry. you rush to pry caleb off of zayne, but the doctor raises his hand and shakes his head to prevent you from interfering.

“you are nothing to him, you’re simply his boss. i’m the only person that deserves to say my place is with him. zayne, watch your tongue,” caleb’s words are almost hard to understand with how tight his jaw is clenched. “don’t make me-

“make you what? pin me to a wall and use your evol? you’ve already done that caleb, what more could you possibly want from this entire debacle?”

caleb’s dry laugh echoes in the tense environment, “oh, you don’t want to know what i wish i could do to you. for standing in my way, for not knowing your feeble significance, for stopping me from just talking to [name],” as caleb lists these things out, you feel yourself growing restless in being quiet and inactive.

so you move forward and place both hands on caleb’s shoulders and pull with all your strength to get him off of zayne. it works, pulling him back far enough that you can plant yourself in between him and zayne.

“caleb, security is going to come to escort you out soon and i suggest you collect yourself before they do. unless you wish for more severe measures to be done onto you,” your tone is curt and emotionless, caleb’s widely blown eyes watching you carefully as if he’s trying to memorize your face, mannerisms, and even your vocabulary.

as he watches you turn to zayne and quickly ask if he is alright, he feels his anger be almost pushed past a breaking point. since when did you two care at all for each other? he tries to chalk it up to your gracefully natural caring personality, but something about the way you so softly address zayne that makes him feel unsettled. your kind expression directed at zayne while you could spare him nothing but a stoic glare.

since when was this the way you were going to treat him? he thought a couple of days could have been enough for you to be open to talking to him. is there something he’s missing? why in the world did you suddenly care about zayne and if he was “okay”? what about him? because he’s not okay at all, not since you left him a couple of days ago. he hasn’t known peace since then. so why weren’t you checking up on him?

he feels his hatred for zayne grow every millisecond he watches you fret over him. that should be him who you were so carefully tending to, not zayne.

he can’t even say anything else that could be held liable against him because the uniforms of security guards cut into his vision. their words are muffled to his ears as he watches you guide zayne away, your hand grabbing the doctor’s icy ones with a concerned look on your face. caleb swears he sees red for a split second at your close contact.

something here wasn’t right.

as he was kicked out of the hospital, with little resistance from his end, he feels himself grow more and more focused on your guys’ closeness. you defended zayne, checked in on him, even went out of your way to touch him — while all he got was a glare and words that almost sounded robotic. this wasn’t right. caleb couldn’t accept this. he couldn’t sleep if this is the only thing racing through his mind.

so he put his good snooping stalking skills to use.

the cameras on the perimeter of the hospital were easy for him to gain access to. he’s done worse, anyway. he watches all the employee exits, clicking the one that he sees you and zayne walk out of and he nearly breaks something in his anger when he sees zayne open his car door for you, meanwhile you’re entering his car with a laidback, tired smile.

since when did zayne ever give you rides to and from work? how did that make sense? that never happened even when you were still living in this home of yours. not once did zayne ever step up to drop you off. this was completely unnatural.

caleb shivers at the sight of you climbing into zayne’s car. his mind was racing. was zayne even a safe driver? that car he was driving, caleb didn’t trust it. what was the level of safety that that car even had? it didn’t look safe. and even if it was. caleb did not trust zayne with your safety at all.

you were only safe with him.

it didn’t take caleb much more effort to follow the drive that you two were on. this was needed, anyway. he’d finally be able to find out where you were staying, he could drop by in the morning and fix this with you, a one-on-one conversation.

imagine the look on caleb’s face when he watched you and zayne both leave his car, walk up to an apartment complex’s entrance, take the elevator all the way up to where the private estates were, and then disappear behind the sleek door.

his face was stoic, emotionless as he breathed raggedly, uneven as he tried to control his anger. this was unacceptable. he wasn’t dumb or naive enough to come up with a childish excuse as to why this was happening, why you were brought to zayne’s home. he knew exactly why.

the room began shaking, books and notepads from caleb’s shelves and desks were levitating, sporadically falling and being tossed every which way. a ruckus was being made, loud enough it drew lily out of her room. she was yelling profanities at him for causing such a disturbance in the middle of the night, but then she saw it. the computer screen that had the cctv footage of that familiar hallway. she gulped and looked nervous, something caleb noticed immediately.

“you knew,” he growls, fists clenching at his sides and making the things in his room go even more haywire and move unpredictably through the air. he hasn’t lost control of his evol like this since he was a teenager. coincidentally, you were the cause of that episode as well.

lily immediately shook her head no, suspiciously too fast seeing as caleb didn’t say anything besides the single question.

“you didn’t tell me,” he continues on voice rough as he force the door to shut behind her and effectively trapping her in his room where his own emotional tornado was ripping through all of his belongings. “you knew that he was spending time with [name], living with him,” caleb cuts his own imaginative theories off to prevent himself from actually turning blood hungry, and attempts to move past that detail, “you knew and didn’t tell me? lily, be honest, do you even care for me fixing things with him? do you really just want me to not try fixing this?”

“you had your chance,” she shakily defends herself, but he’s not taking that as an answer so easily.

“i’m making another one,” he says curtly, “you are okay with him living with zayne, of all people?”

“zayne is better suited to take care of him more than you ever could!”

“no one is better for him that me! why does no one understand that?! you think he’s better, you think you’re better?!” caleb’s voice raises with no warning, making lily screw her eyes shut, “lily, you are lucky i think of you as my sister or else you’d be dead to me by now. dead.”

she can’t even bring herself to hide her relief when she feels the door slightly crack open behind her, swinging it open and immediately running away to her own. she is tempted to call you, notify you of how scary caleb’s behavior has turned. but just as she was about to ring you up, she thought about how much you already had on your plate.

she couldn’t afford to add more onto it, especially when you were already so stressed out about caleb to begin with. if she told you everything that happened just now, she’d be forcing you to deal with him when everything was still so fresh. that wasn’t something lily wanted to make you do.

so she’ll stay silent about it for now. but honestly, she doesn’t know how long she could possibly tolerate this aggressive behavior from caleb. the caleb that was once so sweet to her, and you, was seemingly long gone.

the only remedy was you.

caleb knows he shouldn’t be here. knows that it would only make you more angry and annoyed with him if you knew he was here. but he couldn’t help it. ever since he had found out you were now living with zayne, he had grown obsessive in constantly knowing what was going on between you two. he, unfortunately, could not gain access to the inside of zayne’s apartment. but he still was able to see the cameras at the entrance and exit of the apartment building. which is when he would time his departure from his house and go out to follow wherever you two were going, eyes trained on his phone screen as he walked to match your guys’ pace.

he felt sick every time he saw the two of you hang out so casually, so intimately. he learned that you and zayne enjoyed frequently cafes together, so long as there was a dessert menu for zayne.

that big man baby, caleb thought to himself.

you’d always order a drink to keep you energized while zayne got some sugary sweet treat. caleb hands balled into fists as he saw you two share your orders together, you taking bites from zayne’s spoon and zayne sipping directly from your cup. it actually made him feel sick to his stomach.

he watched zayne offer you your napkin, the tiniest smile on his face as he watched you carefully clean your messes up. that was supposed to be him, caleb was the only one meant to be this close to you. he wishes you could have just heard him out and understood his explanation, then you wouldn’t be so far out of reach from him and he wouldn’t be creepily watching you a couple of shops down as you now spent all your free time with zayne.

caleb hated zayne for taking that spot next to you which was meant to only be reserved for him.

after a couple of days of watching and seething where he sat, caleb decided to take the risk in texting you to ask you to talk. he was worried you would block him the instant he sent it, but was easily reminded of your level headed behavior and how that would be very unlike you when he saw that you texted him back hours later.

you agreed. lily offhandedly mentioned to you an episode caleb had that was rather intense and assuming the worst, which is what happened, you assumed that he had seriously scared her in that influx of emotions. that was enough for you to swallow down your current personal feelings and approach this conversation in respect of lily and her peace of mind. caleb’s behavior is inexcusable, especially so when it involves scaring lily.

“caleb, i only came back because we seriously need to talk about you and your behavior,” your voice is stern, that familiar tone you used to use on him when you two were younger. it was the first thing you said to him the moment he walked into the room. not even a simple greeting, he realizes with a devoid look in his eyes.

“do you want any water? anything to eat? i can make your-”

“just please, sit down,”

“you don’t want to talk in your bedroom? somewhere more comfortable?”

“you’re lucky i didn’t choose the restaurant down the street instead of the kitchen, so how about being a little more compliant?”

he didn’t respond to that, gulping and taking the seat at the dinner table that was across from where you were sitting. you followed soon after him, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning into the back of your chair.

”you need to quit taking your frustrations out on things around you. do you understand that you’re scaring lily? and if anything happens to her, anything that you do so much as give her a bad dream at night, i’ll take her away from this place — from you, and make it so you’d never be able to hurt her again,”

“i don’t mean to hurt her, or scare her,” caleb quickly cuts in, trying to make you understand — once again, “i just…get so frustrated sometimes. you’re not here anymore — even though you easily could just come back! — and i don’t know where else to put those feelings,”

you scoff, “right because before you’d just take it all out on me,” your eyebrows furrow and caleb feels hope bloom in his chest as he thinks he sees concern on your face, “caleb, why are you so frustrated? what is making you so angsty all the time? it’s been weeks since we last talked-”

“time doesn’t change anything, it only makes things worse,” he weakly chuckles, almost not believing that you really didn’t understand what your absence does to him. has he not already made it obvious how detrimental you not being here has been on his mental health? “i can’t do anything knowing that you hate me,”

your breath hitches and your demeanor shifts ever so slightly, “caleb, i don’t hate you. i never said that,”

he blinks at you, wide eyed and the smallest quirk on the ends of his mouth, “really?”

your outer expression hardens at his words, catching his tone immediately, “don’t. i thought we already established i was quite far from hating you. but we aren’t here to talk about that-”

“why can’t we?”

”i don’t want to,”

“well, i need to. i need to talk about it with you, [name].” caleb’s breathing is shaky as he hesitantly reaches across the table to hold your hand in his, fingers shaking as he does so, “i don’t understand, you have to make me understand. if you love me, i need to know why you don’t want to be with here, with me? we could be so happy,”

“because it’s not that easy, caleb,” you pull your hands away and caleb almost vocalizes something akin to a whine at the loss of contact, “i can’t just erase my memory of everything you’ve said to me these past couple of years. i love you, i’ve loved you for so long, which is why things can’t just go back to normal as you want them to.”

“if you love me, does seeing me hurt like this not hurt you?”

“don’t you dare try guilting me!”

“i’m not trying to! i’m trying to understand, help me understand,” his mouth gapes open and closed as he thinks about how to word his thoughts, “can’t you at least come home? i can’t stand being physically far from you. we don’t even need to talk or see each other whenever you’re too busy, i just can’t sleep well at night knowing you’re not in the next room over,”

“caleb,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation, “we can’t just pretend that everything is fine and ignore it, which means i can’t just move back into my room. i think i still need space from you. we’re not even here to talk about us, we’re here to talk about you and how your behavior needs to stop,”

“i won’t stop until you come back,” his words are finite, the resolve in his eyes almost scaring you, “i’ll do anything to have you come back to me,”

”scaring and borderline threatening lily will do anything but make me come back,” you remind him, words icy as you hope they sting him where it’ll hurt.

“then how can i make you come back, let you know that i’ll change and be better? how can i prove that to you if you’re not even in the same building as me?” caleb’s love is best translated through physical touch and acts of service, both of which require you to be here in order for him to execute them.

you’re silent and it seems as if you’re genuinely thinking about an answer, which alone makes caleb excited to think he has a chance at winning you back into his arms.

“i’m not moving back in, not for a while at least. i’ve realized that i was limiting myself,” you say with finality, “caleb, i don’t want to be near you right now. i need you to understand that because i feel like, i tell you how i feel and everything is going in one ear and out the other,”

“please, don’t say that. i listen, i do! and i want to try making things better, but you won’t let me. why won’t you let me? why won’t you just come ho-”

“because things are going quite well for me right now! and i know that it’s selfish, but my entire life i’ve been nothing but selfless for you,” your words are unwavering and caleb physically deflates at your words and tone. you sound so excited, so excited talking about how well you’re doing without him. “zayne takes really good care of me, caleb. he’s really attentive and treats me well,”

caleb’s jaw sets into a tight clench, which you are unable to ignore, “and you can’t even be mad at him and how i prefer him right now, because he’s just treating me like a normal person would, how a kind person would. you didn’t treat me with a fraction of care in years that he has in weeks. so i hate to tell you this, but i prefer the company i have with zayne over staying there with you,”

you’re not even calling it your home anymore, caleb thinks with teary eyes. he listened to your ramble, trying his best to ignore the boiling anger and annoyance at how you were so passionately talking about zayne. instead, he tried actually listening to what you were saying and the criticism that followed. he was the one at fault, he understands that. but he just hates that you were relying on someone else as a crutch rather than wanting to come back home and work things out with him, living under the same roof again.

“but i am willing to see you more often so we can work this out. it’s hurting lily a lot, i think, to see us fighting and not talking to each other. and i feel like i need to remind you how your behavior in particular has been awful.” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest with a frown on your face, “i’m busy with work most days, though, but whenever we have free time-”

”i’ll always be free for you, just call or text me,” caleb nods his head rapidly, not going to reject your proposition even though it is far from the solution he was hoping for. his hands are sweaty in his lap as this entire conversation sent him spiraling where he sat.

“will you stop being such a prick to lily now?” you ask, eyes glaring into his soul. but at least you were looking at him. he smiles softly, nodding his head in obedience. “apologize to her as well, a real sincere one.”

“i will, it wasn’t- i wasn’t thinking straight,” he admits, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about his past behavior. he was just so caught up in trying to reach you again, ensure you came home, he was willing to do that by any means. even if it meant hurting the one other person he held dear to his heart…it seems he has a habit of hurting the people he loves.

“okay, so,” your voice trails off for a couple moments before you finally stand up, “well, i’m gonna head out now,”

caleb is following after you, shooting up from his seat and reaching his hand out, “c’mon, no, stay for dinner at least, please. i haven’t cooked for you and lily in so long, please, just let me make us dinner,”

your eyebrows furrow and you back away, “i really would, caleb, but i promised i’d eat dinner with zayne tonight.”

he huffs in annoyance, “then just invite him, i don’t even care. just, can we please have dinner together tonight? he can be here if you really want him to be,” he can’t believe he’s even saying this right now, but he’s desperate. he really wants you to stay.

you think about it for a couple of moments before nodding in agreement, “i’ll go call him,”

“okay, perfect, let me see what we have in the fridge.” he leaves the living room and heads to the kitchen, the most genuine smile on his face in a long time. he already knows what you guys have to cook as well. it’s the ingredients to all your favorites. he’s been making your comfort meals to comfort himself the past couple of days, attempting to fill the void you left him with.

it was always a depressing sight as well. him sitting alone at the dinner table since lily would take her portion up to her room. he’d be alone, eating the food so slowly that it would usually end up going cold before he even realized it.

but now, his nights of going through that were closer to being done with. even if only just a little bit, you were giving him leeway in making this better, in fixing this situation. and then you two could maybe even be closer than you were before. his face blooms with heat as he thinks about what you two could become, beyond that bond you two shared before. something deeper.

he watches you talk calmly with zayne on the phone, a small smile on your face and his eyebrows furrow at the sight. he has to be patient, he repeats in his head like a mantra. if he is patient and works hard in regaining your trust, your love, your care! then one day, he’ll be the one on that receiving end of your sweet phone calls.

he just has to fight back his selfish desires, suffocate them down into the back of his mind. he’s determined to show you he can change, he can be that man that you need him to be, turn back into the man you love.

caleb is willing to do anything.

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bibbysstuff · 2 months ago

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S in Sylus stands for Simp

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aleksatia · 3 months ago

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10 Ways You Ruin His Day (and 10 Ways You Ruin His Self-Control)

I originally made this list as character notes for future stories — I love digging deep into their dynamics and really breaking them down. But honestly? I couldn’t not share. Would love to hear your thoughts too: what do you think drives them absolutely mad, and what turns them into helpless fluff puddles? 🖤

🍎 Top 10 Things That Make Caleb Absolutely, Irrevocably Mad

1 He doesn’t know where you are Even when it makes sense. Even when you’re safe. Even when he’s on the far side of a tunnel with no signal and too much time to think. The silence eats at him, turns every breath into a countdown. By the time he’s back, no one on the base dares talk to him until you’re in his line of sight again.

2 You come home with a bouquet of flowers from another man It’s not jealousy, really. It’s… fury dressed in olive green. You’re standing there, smiling, saying some poor man gave you flowers because you saved his life. Great. Fantastic. Caleb’s thrilled that his girlfriend is both competent and accidentally irresistible. But now he has to pretend this isn’t bothering him while mentally comparing the man's face to strategic punching surfaces.

3 You climb on unstable furniture to reach something You know, nothing fancy—just a stack of books on top of a chair that’s on top of a bench. And you? Balancing like a gremlin in fuzzy socks. He walks in and suddenly the war flashbacks begin. You think it’s funny. He thinks it’s a workplace hazard, and you are the HR violation.

4 You rearrange his model planes He adores you. Worships the ground you walk on. Would throw himself in front of an oncoming dropship for you. But if you dust his shelf and dare to reorder his starfighters and aircrafts by vibes instead of model number? He's already rewriting his will. In blood.

5 You do something reckless and then smile about it You say “relax, I had a plan.” He hears: “I almost died, and I’d do it again, because I’m cute and unstoppable.” That smile? That grin you give when you know exactly what you did and you’re proud of it? That’s why he needs stress meds. And maybe a punching bag with your face on it. (Lovingly.)

6 You casually mention the girl he used to date You say it with a smirk, like it’s just some harmless teenage memory. But he doesn’t see her—he sees you. You, standing in the doorway that day. You, catching him with her, both of them half-undressed. And you looking at him like something cracked between you. Back then, you were off-limits. You were the girl he wasn’t allowed to want. So he wanted someone else. Easier. Safer. And now, years later, you bring it up like it’s nothing—while he’s still trying not to remember how badly he wished it had been you.

7 You weren’t his first kiss—but worse, he wasn’t yours It never comes up. Not out loud. But he remembers. Vividly. The hallway. The way your face lit up. The boy leaning in. You smiling. And Caleb—watching from across the room, fists clenched, jaw tight, playing the role of older brother when his whole body screamed mine. You never talk about it. But he never forgot. Never will. Because that moment should’ve been his—and someone else took it first.

8 You walk away during a fight, or shut down emotionally You call it “space.” He calls it “psychological warfare.” You shut down. He short-circuits. Nothing drives him more insane than trying to fix something while you’re actively ghosting him across the living room. He’d rather you screamed. Threw something. Anything. But this quiet? This distance? That’s the one thing he doesn’t know how to fight.

9 You cry—especially if it’s because of him And then he’s done. Game over. His spine straightens like he’s under military command and his entire soul just went through the paper shredder. You cry, and suddenly he’s the villain. You say “it’s not your fault,” but that doesn’t matter. He’s already rewriting the past and taking full responsibility. And yes, he’ll suffer in complete silence. Like a man.

10 You secretly try to uncover what he’s hiding from you You call it curiosity. He calls it a breach of protocol punishable by full emotional lockdown. You think you’re clever. He thinks you just walked into classified territory barefoot, blindfolded, and with a target on your back. You were never supposed to see that side of his world. And now that you have? He doesn’t know whether to yell, hold you, or lock you in a room with military-grade firewalls and a blanket.

🍎 Top 10 Things That Turn Caleb Into a Complete Fluff-Mess

You wearing his dog tags / uniform shirt / flight jacket Instant puddle. No chance. He sees you in his gear and his brain just... shuts off. All he can think is mine mine mine, and he gets this dumb, soft little smirk like he’s trying so hard not to combust.

You falling asleep on him—especially mid-conversation You’re curled into his side, mumbling something about dinner plans, and then: silence. He looks down, sees you asleep on his chest, and that’s it. Whole day ruined. Cancel all missions. He’s not moving.

You bringing him coffee exactly the way he likes it—without asking That quiet, thoughtful act? Hits him right in the soldier-shaped heart. He doesn’t even know how to process being taken care of, so he stares at the cup like it just proposed to him.

You absentmindedly touching him—fiddling with his fingers, tracing scars, playing with his hair He pretends he doesn’t care. He does. He cares so much he forgets how to breathe. Just turns into a warm, red-eared statue trying not to whimper.

You whispering “I trust you” or “I feel safe with you” in a soft moment Core memory unlocked. He stores that one like sacred intel. Will literally whisper it back to himself at 3 AM when he’s lying awake, missing you. It breaks him in the best way.

You clinging to him in your sleep / pulling him closer without waking up Caleb.exe has stopped functioning. He will lie perfectly still for HOURS if it means not disturbing that moment. Bonus points if you mumble his name while doing it.

You defending him when someone questions his methods or past He’s used to being the shield—not having someone stand in front of him. The second you raise your voice on his behalf? He falls in love with you all over again. Might even cry. Secretly.

You gently helping him out of his gear after a long day Soft hands on his buckles. A kiss to his shoulder. A low “You’re home now.” That’s how you make a Colonel melt. His fingers twitch like he wants to worship the ground you walk on.

You surprising him with something dumb and heartfelt, like a handmade gift or bad sketch of him He acts gruff—says “the hell is this, Pips?”—but then puts it in his locker or keeps it in his chest pocket for missions like it’s sacred treasure. Because it is.

You calling him “baby” / “handsome” / “sweetheart” when he least expects it He acts like it’s annoying. It is not annoying. It turns him into actual butter. If you do it with a teasing smile? He short-circuits. Might drop something. Might combust. Definitely blushes.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne’s Calm Snap Like a Microsurgical Thread

You ignore his instructions when you're sick You had a fever of 102°F. He left explicit care instructions—bed rest, fluids, minimal movement. You, sweating and glassy-eyed, decided this was the perfect time to rearrange the furniture. When he came home and found you dragging a bookshelf across the room “because the light felt wrong,” he genuinely considered sedating you. Not as punishment. As damage control. For both of you.

You order greasy fast food instead of going somewhere “nutritionally viable” He offered to cook. You said no. Twenty minutes later, you’re eating fries from a paper bag while half of it spills on his clean table. You grin. He stares. Not angry at the food. Angry because you rejected his precision, then settled for processed chaos.

You leave wet towels on the floor after every shower He’s not sure when it started. Day three? Day five? But every time he walks into the bathroom and steps into cold, soggy cotton, something in him fractures. You claim you “forget.” He suspects a psychological experiment.

You casually mention spending time with male friends You think it’s harmless. Lunch with Caleb. Training advice from Xavier. You light up when you talk about them—and that’s the problem. Zayne doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t raise a brow. But the sudden over-fixation on his email inbox says everything.

You receive a speeding ticket. Forty miles over the limit. You wave it off like it’s a funny little anecdote. He sits in absolute silence, calculating the stopping distance of your car vs. standard reaction time at that speed. You think he’s judging. He’s actually trying not to scream.

You poke his ass. Specifically, between the cheeks. You call it “affection.” He calls it “emotional terrorism.” He flinches like he’s been electrocuted, whips around with murder in his eyes—and you’re giggling like a gremlin. Later, you regret nothing, but your thighs may beg to differ.

When you diagnose him with internet psychology You’ve read one book on attachment styles and watched three reels about emotional unavailability. Now you’ve decided he has "clinical avoidant tendencies with a hint of fear-based control fixation." He stares at you, deadpan, like he's about to perform your autopsy.

You keep spoiled food in the fridge and expired meds in the cabinet You say “it doesn’t smell that bad” or “maybe it still works.” His eye twitches. His gloves are already on. He’s not even mad at you—he’s mad at entropy. You’ve become its agent.

You watch reality shows. About infidelity. Willingly. You claim it’s “just background noise.” But he walks in and hears someone scream “that’s not even your baby, Kyle!” and your eyes are glued to the screen. His soul briefly leaves his body.

You washed his white lab coat. With your pink unicorn pajamas. It’s not just the color. It’s the betrayal. The symbol of his clinical neutrality now smells like bubblegum and looks like cotton candy. You say it’s cute. He looks personally violated by the washing machine.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne Soft Against His Will

You bring him lunch at the hospital He never asks. You just appear—arms full of neatly packed containers, face lit up like this isn’t the third double shift he’s worked this week. He complains about the timing. The smell. The disruption. And then eats every bite with frightening focus. You leave. He stares at the empty container like it’s proof someone still believes he’s human.

You quote him back to himself like a philosopher You remember something he said weeks ago—some throwaway line about time or structure or entropy—and you drop it casually in conversation, like it’s wisdom from an ancient text. He doesn’t know how to react. You turned his logic into poetry, and he’ll never recover from that.

You wear the little seal keychain he made He didn’t think you’d keep it. Let alone turn it into your everyday keychain. But there it is—always with you, worn smooth from touch. You twirl it absentmindedly while talking to him, never noticing the way his gaze lingers. Never realizing how something so small can hit him so hard.

You put a photo of the two of you on his desk It appears one day. No fanfare. Just… there. A moment frozen in light, sitting quietly beside his surgical reports and diagnostic schematics. At first, he moves it to the edge. Then back to center. Now it lives next to his pen. He doesn’t talk about it. But it’s the only object on that desk he wipes clean with his bare hand.

His work shirt smells like you You borrowed it that morning, wore it while dancing around the apartment with wet hair and no real purpose. Hours later, when he pulls it on between rounds, the scent hits him like a loaded memory. He short-circuits mid-button. Everything feels warmer than it should.

You leave your phone with him while you shower No password. No hesitation. You toss it into his lap with a breezy “can you clear out whatever’s making it lag?” and vanish behind steam. He sits there, phone in hand, suddenly trusted with everything. He opens nothing. But the fact that you’d let him? That’s the part that shakes him.

You ask for his opinion on minor discomforts A papercut. A weird freckle. A suspicious sneeze. You hold out your hand, utterly serious, asking what he thinks. It’s laughable. Ridiculous. And it absolutely wrecks him. You could ask a dozen others—but you ask him. Like he’s the one who makes things better.

You’re on top He likes control. Precision. Strategy. But when you climb into his lap, all instinct and fire, hands braced on his chest and lips already parted—his brain stops cooperating. There’s something about you taking the lead that makes him unravel. Quietly. Violently. Completely.

You argue with him about complex theories—and mean it You don’t just nod. You push back. You challenge. You quote sources he hasn’t thought about in years. You spark. You flare. And he watches, fascinated, lips twitching with something dangerously close to pride. No one does this. No one dares. But you? You never flinch.

You whisper “I love you” in your sleep It’s not loud. It’s not even clear. Just a faint breath in the dark, like a dream half-remembered. But he hears it. Every time. And though he never says a word in return—not while you're sleeping—his fingers tighten around your waist like he's anchoring himself to the only thing that matters.

🎨 Top 10 Things That Make Rafayel Absolutely, Irrevocably Annoyed at You

You told him his painting was “nice” You stood in front of a piece that cost him three sleepless nights, a minor existential crisis, and two broken brushes—and said “Nice.” Just like that. No gasp, no poetry, no tears. He aged five years on the spot. Somewhere in the distance, a violin cried for him.

You dragged him to a cat exhibit You thought it would be cute. Enrichment. A bonding experience. Instead, he spent the entire time perched on edge, eyes darting like prey. You said “they’re just kittens.” He said nothing. He was too busy making sure none of them came closer than ten feet.

You cleaned his studio You thought you were being helpful. But you moved The Pile. The sacred, unholy, perfectly calibrated mess. Now he can’t find his favorite brush, and also he’s deeply offended by how cheerful you looked doing it.

You didn’t reply to his messages for over an hour He sent three texts, one meme, and a “thinking of you 💭” voice note. You replied 67 minutes later with “sry was showering.” By then, he’d already decided you were breaking up with him, joining a cult, or possibly dead. He had a whole monologue planned. And now you’ve ruined it.

You cut your hair He loved your long hair. Adored it. Worshipped it. You showed up with a sharp little bob and said “it’s just hair.” It is not just hair. It is the collapse of a visual era. He’s still adjusting. And by adjusting, he means mourning with wine.

You made fun of his driving You muttered “technically, you were meant to let the tram go first” He muttered “technically, silence is golden.” His driving is instinct. Vibe. Energy. If you didn’t want drama, you shouldn’t have sat in the passenger seat of a man who parallel parks like he’s in a ballet.

You woke him up too early He went to bed at 4 a.m. because inspiration struck. You woke him at 7:12 like it was nothing, and said “you have that interview, remember?” He does remember. He also remembers specifically telling you that if he ever falls asleep before sunrise, you are to let him die peacefully, cancel all earthly obligations, and throw his alarm clock into the ocean where it belongs.

You hid your phone screen when a message came in You were probably teasing. Just being playful. But now he’s spiraling. Who was it? Why the secrecy? What do you have to hide? Congratulations—you’ve just activated his inner opera villain.

You got jealous Which is absurd. He’s the one who invented possessive affection. But you being jealous? That makes him unreasonably indignant. What do you mean you “didn’t like the way that gallery girl looked at him”? Of course she looked. But he didn’t see her. He saw you.

You burned the bacon You say “it’s fine.” He says it’s charcoal. The entire kitchen smells like culinary war crimes. And now he’ll have to burn incense and replant three garden beds to recover emotionally. Who even let you near the stove? Who hurt you? Was it… the bacon?

🎨 Top 10 Ways You Accidentally Turned Rafayel Into a Purring, Love-Drunk Work of Art

You massage his head He’s mid-rant. Arms crossed. Absolutely furious about the lighting in that gallery. And then your fingers slip into his hair—and just like that, the war is over. His entire body melts like he’s been tranquilized. He’ll deny it later, of course. But the way he leans into your hand? Case closed.

You claim him in public It’s an art gala. He’s dressed to ruin people. And then you slip your arm through his, fingers just tight enough to say mine. You smile like a goddess. He pretends he’s unaffected. Inside, he’s writing vows in ten languages and considering printing matching business cards.

You actually listen to his advice He knows he can be dramatic. Unfiltered. Emotionally volatile. But when you sit there, really listening, nodding like his words matter—you destroy him. Suddenly he’s not the chaos. He’s the compass. And that? That’s love.

You share every detail of your day over dinner You talk about everything—the lady at the store, the funny email, the awful latte. You give him your day like a story, like he’s the only one you wanted to tell. He leans in, listens too closely, files away each emotion like a collector of rare art.

You’re always down for his wildest ideas It’s 3 a.m. He wants to hike 2.5 miles along the beach, take a boat to a tiny island, and watch the sunrise with wine. You say “give me five minutes.” And just like that, you become the only person worthy of his wildest, most beautiful chaos.

You let him photograph you Nothing compares. Not awards. Not praise. Nothing rivals the moment you look into his lens—bare, unfiltered, unashamed. Especially when you’re nude, glowing, and laughing like the world doesn’t exist. That’s when he falls in love with you all over again. And again. And again.

You let him choose your dress You come out in the one he picked. Elegant. Perfect. You spin for him. And the way he watches you? Like he made you. Like you’re the gallery and he’s the only one with the key. It’s not fashion. It’s trust. And he adores you for it.

You sing when you don’t know he’s home Wearing socks and earbuds, dancing with a broom, serenading your way through burnt pancakes. You’re off-key. Glorious. Real. And he stands in the doorway, silent, just watching. Because in that moment—you’re not posing. And he’s never loved you more.

You take care of him when he’s sick He has a fever of 99°F and insists he’s fading. You bring tea, stroke his hair, whisper that he’s “very brave.” You don’t mock him. You take his dramatics seriously. He will never forget it. He may also write you into his will.

You join him in the bathtub without asking He’s already halfway submerged, music playing, steam curling in the air—and then you slip in behind him, no warning. You nudge your legs around his hips, hand him your shampoo, and let him wash your hair while you giggle. He tries to act unimpressed. But when he starts kissing your toes? Yeah. You win.

✨ Top 10 Behavioral Anomalies That Triggered Xavier’s Internal Alert System

You break an agreement—even if it's “just a small one” It’s not about control. It’s about structure. You promised. And when you bend the rules—just slightly—he doesn’t react outwardly. No visible shift, no sharp breath. But something behind his eyes goes cold. Because for him, even small deviations mean recalculating everything. And that means risk. To you.

You create drama “just to get a reaction” You push. You poke. You escalate. And he gives you… nothing. No outburst, no flinch. Just that flat, unreadable stare while he mentally exits the room. He doesn’t get angry—he just shuts off the part of himself that wants to stay.

You refuse his protection—on principle You call it independence. He calls it a strategic vulnerability wrapped in pride. He won’t argue. He’ll just be one step farther back the next time, quietly cataloging how to stop caring just enough that it won’t kill him if something happens.

You call him cold—especially when he’s holding himself together for you You see stillness. He feels restraint. You accuse. He remembers what it takes to not become the darker version of himself. If only you knew how much energy it took to stay composed. If only you knew it was for you.

You’re late Five minutes. Ten. No message. No explanation. And his pulse ticks upward—not with impatience, but with pure, trained alertness. He starts looking for signs. Traffic reports. Emergency alerts. By the time you arrive, he’s smiling. But it’s the tight kind. The kind that says never again.

You skip training You’re tired. You had a long day. You say you’ll make it up later. He doesn’t argue. He just recalculates survival probabilities and mentally adds you to the list of people who might die because they were unprepared. And he will blame himself for letting you get soft.

You pull away from his touch when you're angry It’s not the rejection. It’s the meaning behind it. He reaches out—small, careful, calculated—and you shut the door in his face with a single backward step. He doesn’t try again. He doesn’t ask why. But the space you leave behind? It echoes.

You use a photo of Lumiere as a bookmark You think it’s cute. Maybe even sweet. He sees it—and freezes. He’s not jealous. Not exactly. But the idea that you might admire that version more—the legend, the mask, the sharpness—it unsettles something deep. Something he can’t name.

You secretly believe you’re not good enough for him You never say it out loud. But he sees it—in your deflections, your nervous jokes, the way you doubt his love like it’s a glitch. It doesn’t anger him in the usual sense. It just…hurts. Because you’re the only one who never had to earn it.

You throw yourself in front of him during a mission It’s instinct, you say. Split-second decision. You didn’t even think. And that’s the problem. He does. Always. Every variable, every movement, every risk is accounted for—except you breaking formation to protect him. You think it’s brave. He sees it as catastrophic miscalculation. Not because you acted without logic. But because you decided his life was worth more than yours. And that? That’s the one conclusion he refuses to accept.

✨Top 10 Things That Quietly Break Xavier’s Walls and Leave Him Unreasonably Soft About You

When you start reading the same book he’s readingYou don’t announce it. You just show up with the same title, a few chapters behind, and start casually asking questions. He plays it off. But inside? He’s spiraling. Because this—this—is how you speak his language. Silently. Precisely. Together.

When you knock on his door like you’re trying to break it downIt’s loud. Impatient. Inappropriate for the hour. But he knows that knock. That rhythm. That you. You need him. Not his solutions. Him. And somehow, that chaos pounding on his door feels more like home than anything else.

When you hug him from behindYou wrap your arms around his torso mid-task, face pressed between his shoulder blades, palms splayed across his chest like you’re anchoring yourself to something ancient and steady. He stills. Every time. Like someone just whispered a secret to his bones. He never asks why. Never moves away. He just tilts his head slightly—listening, as if your silence said everything he needed to hear.

When you touch his sword (the actual weapon, calm down)He never lets anyone handle it. Not even for cleaning. But your fingers skim the hilt, gentle, curious, reverent. And somehow… it’s okay. You’re not just touching steel. You’re touching him. And he lets you.

When you act like a little girlYou scrunch your nose. Say something ridiculous. Blush like you didn’t mean to. And he watches—utterly disarmed. Because he knows exactly what you want. You want him to carry you. Wrap you up. Keep you safe. And he will—without hesitation.

When you join him on a morning runYou complain. You lag. You swear this is “not your vibe.” But you still show up. Same hour. Same route. And when you match his pace for those few precious minutes? He doesn’t say it—but he’s proud. Painfully proud.

When you share your dreams—and say “we”You’re rambling. Light spilling from your words. Talking about the future, the maybes, the next steps. But you don’t say I. You say we. And that sound? That tiny shift in grammar? It settles deep. Irrevocable. Permanent.

When you make matching braceletsYou say it’s silly. Handmade. Slightly uneven. There’s a charm shaped like a rabbit. He never takes it off. Not in combat. Not in sleep. It rests against his wrist like a pressure point—and grounds him better than anything else.

When you remember his habitsYour shopping list always includes his cinnamon. His brand of shampoo. The exact instant noodles he pretends not to love. You don’t make a show of it. You just know. And that knowing? It destroys him in the softest possible way.

When you trust him completely in bed—even when his darker side surfacesThere’s a moment—quiet, charged—when the softness shifts. He waits. Watches. Braces for resistance. But you don’t pull back. You open your hands. Arch into him. Let him take control without fear. That? That’s what breaks him. Not the pleasure. The trust.

🖤Top 10 Things That Push Sylus Into Maximum Sarcasm and Mildly Homicidal Disapproval

Your outdated, unreliable weapon Yes, he gets it. It’s vintage. It’s “standard issue.” It’s approved by the Hunters Association. Congratulations. That won’t matter when it jams and gets you killed. Every time you return one of the sleek, upgraded firearms he hand-delivers like he’s your personal armory concierge, he has to resist asking if you've already made a draft of your death wish. Alphabetically sorted. With floral headers.

You chew gum—and pop it It’s not the gum. It’s the snap. The sudden, violent pop of sugary air bubbles that hits his trauma response like a trigger. He knows it’s just a noise. His shoulder still twitches. He’s this close to reaching into your mouth and extracting the gum like a gentleman. A very sarcastic, deeply annoyed, half-feral gentleman.

You try to shake your tail (him) You use stealth tech. You block your signal. You go dark. Adorable. You’re forgetting that the very system you’re relying on was developed by his own syndicate. The only person who ever really evades Sylus is Sylus. And maybe the cat that lives under his car. But not you. Never you.

You don’t introduce him as your boyfriend to your old classmates You panicked. He gets that. You called him “a friend.” And now he’s deeply committed to the bit. For the next seven days, every time you said anything, he replied with “Of course, as your friend…” in front of waiters, dealers, and one extremely confused ambassador. You only managed to shut it down by hastily posting a photo of you two with the caption “my boyfriend and the love of my life.” Acceptable recovery. Barely.

You refuse to use his resources His private jet? Untouched. His cars? Collecting dust. His black card? Sitting unused like some kind of insult in your purse. You say you’re “independent.” He says you’re actively offending his entire lifestyle philosophy. Do you have any idea how disrespectful it is to ignore an entire walk-in wardrobe prepared for you in his estate? Honestly, it’s almost admirable. Almost.

You once smoked a cigarette, and he saw it He didn’t say anything. At the time. Just looked at you. Silently. Like someone had drop-kicked a kitten in front of him. He’s not judging. He’s just picturing your lungs in an ashtray. And adding another page to your death wish list.

You speak in riddles and expect him to “get it” You want something—time away, a trip, his attention—but instead of asking, you sigh dramatically and murmur, “It’s fine. I guess some people just don’t want to escape the city with their girlfriends…” He blinks. Slow. Dangerous. “Was that a request, a riddle, or an emotional booby trap?” If you want something from him, Kitten, try using nouns and verbs. Not cryptic guilt puzzles.

You suggest another woman would be “perfect for him” It’s a joke. Offhand. Barely a breath. But your voice wavers—just slightly—and that ruins it. He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want options. He wants you. And now, thanks to your charming lapse in self-worth, he has to waste the rest of the evening reminding you that this face, this power, this entire empire already belongs to someone. Guess who.

You sneak up on him You never mean to. But somehow, you're always the one person who slips past every alarm, every trained instinct, and ends up whispering behind him when his brain is still in kill mode. It takes everything in him to not react on pure reflex. You think it’s cute. He thinks it’s potentially catastrophic.

You don’t believe him when he says he’s fine Yes, he’s bleeding. Yes, his shirt is soaked. But he said “it’s a scratch,” and when he says that—he means it. His body heals like a myth. Your worried face? It makes something in him ache. Because the real wound isn’t on him—it’s in you, for thinking he’s anything less than unbreakable.

🖤 Top 10 Things That Make Sylus Dangerously Soft for You (And Yes, He’s Keeping Score)

When you finally spend his money It started with coffee. Small. Harmless. But the alert hit his phone and, for a moment, he genuinely wondered if his card had been stolen—until he saw your name. And something in him shifted. Not because of the cost. Please. He could buy the city it was brewed in. No, it was the fact you used it. You. Willingly. Now? You’re bolder—little dresses, shoes, jewelry you don’t need. And every time you do, he rewards it like you just proved you understand the assignment: what's his, is already yours.

When you give orders to his men like you're the boss You don’t ask. You instruct. Calm, certain, completely in charge. One of his men hesitates—just once—while you’re directing them to rescue a terrified kitten stuck in a tree. Sylus doesn’t interfere. He just watches, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth as armed professionals scramble to obey you like you're the patron saint of lost animals. Somewhere in his mind, he’s already fitted you for a crown. With tiny cat ears.

When you secretly pet Mephisto The mechanical raven used to drive you insane. Now? You’re sneaking him treats and absentminded scratches under the jaw. Sylus sees it. Says nothing. But deep down, he knows: if you’ve accepted the bird—you’ve accepted all of him. And that’s lethal. To him.

When you make him a playlist You never explain them. Just send a link and say nothing. But he listens—every time. Alone. In his car. In the bath. Eyes closed, calculating your every choice like it’s encrypted intel. Each track? A hint. A mood. A coded message from you to him. He doesn’t ask for them. He just waits for the next one. And when it arrives, he treats it like gospel.

When you leave a trail of chaos in his car Your hair on the seat. Your gum wrappers in the cup holder. The seat so close to the wheel he practically has to fold in half. And the music? A full-volume love ballad ready to ambush his eardrums at ignition. It's obnoxious. It’s inconvenient. It’s perfect. His life, now featuring you.

When you eat from his plate You swore you weren’t hungry. You said “no carbs this week.” And now? You’re stealing fries from his hand and dipping into his steak sauce like it’s your birthright. He doesn’t stop you. He just watches you chew with that look that says: mine. forever.

When you talk and talk and talk Something happens. You spiral. Words spill. Thoughts tangle. You’re not even aware you’re rambling—but he is. He listens to everything. Stores it all. Because there’s something magical about your voice when it’s unfiltered. You don’t realize it, but he falls a little harder every time you forget to censor yourself.

When you crawl into his lap while he’s working He’s in the middle of paperwork. Calculating things. Dangerous things. And suddenly—you. Right there. Knees on either side, arms around his neck, like the world’s most beautiful interruption. He tells himself he needs to finish. But his hands are already on your hips.

When you call and ask for help A jar. A stuck zipper. A ride. It doesn’t matter. You’re a trained hunter—you’ve faced things with claws, fangs, and no name. But you still call him. Because you want him. And that? That wrecks him in ways he’ll never admit. He’s already on his way before you hang up.

When you scream his name right before you come There’s a lot he’s proud of. His empire. His power. His record. But nothing—nothing—satisfies him more than the moment your voice breaks open with his name. Like prayer. Like surrender. Like he’s the only thing in your world. Which, of course… he is.

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