#chblurb

[calpops]

forgotten | c.h.

Its not unusual for your birthday to be forgotten by many; it’s never a surprise to receive last minute, half hearted texts from friends or belated cards from family. It’s always been easy to let it roll off your back when you have Calum by your side. But the first year he forgets your special day, it crushes you.

aka it’s my birthday and I’ll post relatable angst if I want to :)

1.8k words

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Copyright © 2021 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

* * *

Calum comes home with a heavy feeling in his chest as he notices all the lights are out. It’s only just past eight; usually there would be at least one glowing window lit up by lamp light with you sat with a book in wait for him. Tonight it’s dark and quiet as he enters the house. Soft music doesn’t spill around the corners. The tv isn’t a muffled call to your bedroom. Duke’s paws don’t even click as they come around the corner to greet him. It’s silent and empty and it all echoes around him as he slips off his shoes and goes in search of you.

The bedroom door is closed, no light spills under it. No noise breaks through the wood. His hand apprehensively reaches for the doorknob, trying to be quiet as the night falls on his shoulders. The door softly swings open with a sigh and as his eyes become accustomed to the dark he notices the shape under the covers. You’ve tucked yourself in, a spill of hair on the pillow, arms pulling the sheets taut up around your chin. Duke laying beside you, undisturbed and too uncaring to move from his perch. Calum smiles, soft and serene as he winds way around the bed to kiss you goodnight.

He stops short at the sight of you. Moonlight glimmers against tear tracks down your sullen cheeks. Red, puffy eyes stay tightly shut. Calum’s smile quickly turns to a frown, an ache consuming him as he drops to a knee and reaches gentle fingers out to stroke through your hair. He doesn’t understand why you’re feeling this way but it doesn’t stop him from consoling you. Your eyes flutter open slowly and as you register his presence you bite your lip as fresh tears gather in your eyes.

You pull away from him, bury yourself back under the covers and stay silent.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Calum’s voice is soft and encouraging, trying to coax some words out of you. When you don’t speak, only slightly shake as his hands glide over your arms, Calum feels crestfallen. The silence threatens to swallow him whole. Usually, he knows what’s wrong, can pinpoint the reason for your emotions and pain.

“It’s nothing, okay, it’s just stupid.”

Your explanation is shaken and does little to instill faith in its reason. Calum shakes his head. He wants to tell you that there’s no such thing as a stupid reason for being upset but the words stall in his throat as he tries to climb in next to you but you make no room.

“It’s like this every year. I should be used to it by now.”

Your next explanation further drives Calum to worry. In a snap moment, like a wave crashing over his head, he finally understands. His hand darts to his phone in his pocket, your birthday lighting up the date on the screen. He lets out a broken and uneasy breath as all of the implications try to drown him.

He forgot your birthday. You’ve been alone all day.

“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers with a strain in his voice.

He can feel his own tears pooling in his eyes, shame and guilt assaulting all of his senses. He’s never missed your birthday before. Has always been there from the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep. You’ve confided your dislike of the day to him multiple times; he’s noted that he’s the only one who remembers. Cards from family come in days late, texts from friends are last minute and half hearted. All you’ve ever wanted, all you’ve ever asked for on your special day is to have him around.

You shudder out a broken breath, shift under the sheets but make no move to let him in or come closer.

“It’s okay. You’ve been busy at the studio. That comes first, I understand,” you whisper so lowly it’s barely audible but it still cuts deep against Calum’s racing heart.

“It’s not okay, it doesn’t come first,” he tries to reassure and tentatively reaches out for you again. This time, you don’t flinch away. He takes it as a good sign. “I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not the first person to forget, you won’t be the last. It’s always been like this.” You finally shift up and Calum opens his arms for you though there’s little hope in his chest that you might collide into his embrace. It takes you a moment, bleary eyes being rubbed and lip trembling, to get collected. Your gaze meets his. “I’m just glad you’re home now.”

His faith nearly knocks him off his knee as you collide into him and wrap your arms around his neck. Bury your face against the strength of his shoulder. Weep in a small but heart breaking way.

“I’m home,” he repeats and furrows his brows, knowing it’s not enough. His entire chest aches and his eyes burn but he holds his composure, knowing his guilt needs to be put on the back burner for you; it’s small in comparison to the emotions and abandonment that have sat with you all day. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

He almost promises that he won’t let go, he won’t leave, but a plan burns through the back of his mind and he knows his departure is imminent. He takes solace in the fact you’re exhausted enough to be led back to laying down with heavy eyelids. He murmurs and hums to you until your eyes flutter closed and he’s sure you’re asleep by the sound of your even breathing.

He stands, stretches and keeps his eyes on you for as long as possible. When he finally cuts around the corner of the bed he pats Duke’s head.

“Stay right here. I’ll be back,” he whispers to the old dog, hoping if you wake again his presence will suffice until he’s back.

He’s not gone long. His plan is simple but he hopes it’s enough. You’ve never asked for anything, but the hopes of restoring your ruined day live in petals and icing and charms. He goes back into the house and makes a beeline for the bedroom, gently wakes you and guides you up.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you rub the sleep and leftover sadness from your eyes.

Calum shakes his head, winds his arms around you and helps you to your feet. Your wobbly at first, emotionally exhausted after all of the turmoil. You lean into his side and for the feeling of your warmth against him he’s grateful.

“Trying to make it right,” he answers as he guides you away from the bed and towards the door. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left. Let me try, okay?”

You nod as you’re led out of the bedroom and to the dimly lit kitchen. Calum walks you to the bar where flowers, some with already dying petals, sit in a vase. A lone cupcake with a candle and flame sits alongside the flowers. A small breath leaves you at the effort. While Calum feels it’s lame, the last picks at the store on the shelf, his heart still hammers at the genuine appreciation in your eyes.

“Come sit,” he encourages as he props a stool around for you. You do as he bids and he looms behind you to softly sing happy birthday in your ear; each line punctuated by a small kiss to your neck, shoulder, cheek, anywhere his lips can reach. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”

He brings the cupcake and the flaming candle towards you, gentle hands holding it within your breath’s reach. You turn to face him as you take the cupcake, his eyes soften as yours find his. You blow it out in one small huff and remove the candle. The frosting and cupcake are a bit stale but you share the treat with a few soft giggles and a swipe of chocolate to his nose. Though the petals are dying you pull the vase to the center of the counter before turning back to Calum to put yourself securely in his arms.

“I didn’t need the flowers or cupcake,” you start and before Calum can speak any words of you deserving more you continue on. “I just need you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. His fingers stroke through your hair and his hands come to settle on the small of your back. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. You’ll always have me. Any day. Every day. I promise.”

You nod against his chest, your trust and faith in him infallible even after the day of desertion and misery.

“Then my wish came true,” you whisper as your cheeks blaze at the confession. Calum chuckles as you further hide against him. “You can’t laugh at me. It’s still my birthday.”

And even when the sun rises the next day, birthday long gone and the heartache of being alone starting to be forgotten, Calum wakes you with a surprise. You sit up to see him throwing your clothes in open luggage.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, eyebrows furrowed as you watch him neatly fold and then haphazardly throw garments in the bag.

“Packing your stuff.”

He doesn’t further explain and it prompts a, “why?” from you.

“So you have clothes to wear on our vacation.” He gives you a broad smile as the words roll off his tongue and he reaches behind him to throw papers onto the bed. They settle at your feet and you reach down to retrieve them, blurry words coming in and finally being processed. Boarding passes.

“Vacation?”

“Two weeks. Just us,” Calum explains as he goes back to packing your things for you. “We leave in an hour.”

The time limit pushes you up from the bed, his effort and act of grandeur making you throw yourself into his arms. Your clothes drop to the floor in favor of him bringing you closer.

“That’s more than I could have asked for,” you whisper with a crack in your voice.

Calum only smiles and finally says the words he’d been thinking for so long. “You deserve even more than this. Sorry it’s late. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

* * *

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[nostalgiabones]

If You Love Her // C.H - Part One

Note: well, hello! I have no idea when I last posted a blurb, so I know it's been a while. I don't know how many people are still reading on here, but I've gotten back into writing, so I thought I would post this! It's based on the song If You Love Her by Forest Blakk and Meghan Trainor. I've decided to turn this into a little series of blurbs, inspired by different parts of the song, and this is the first one. I would LOVE to know what you think of this, as it has been a while since I posted, so any feedback would be really appreciated!

Word count: 1,302

“Can’t sleep?”

You huff and roll onto your back, suddenly feeling like there isn’t enough air in the room and the covers are touching you just a little bit too much. Calum had feigned sleep well, you didn’t know he was awake — but your tossing and turning had prevented him from falling into his own slumber. The heavy, bleary eyes and aching head is something that’s familiar to you — having never been one to fall asleep easily. You always need several aids for sleep to find you — whether it’s the TV, a podcast, or reading a book in bed until you eventually drift off. It hadn’t changed since moving in with Calum.

“No,” You sigh and shake your head, already sitting up, planning on accepting defeat in the battle against your own active mind. Calum hums sympathetically, spotting Duke curled up at the end of the bed — at least one of us is getting some sleep, he thinks. He has no intention of falling asleep and leaving you to sit and think, alone in the dark.

“Want to get some air?” He suggests. He has no idea what time it is, but he doesn’t really care — time is irrelevant now the world is locked down, all in a period of forced stillness. When it first came into play, he had tried to maintain some sort of routine — you had integrated your routine with his — but a few months in, it didn’t seem important anymore. You nod at his suggestion, knowing there’s no point in laying next to him, just staring at the ceiling. He pats your thigh with a warm reassuring hand, gesturing for you to follow him. “C’mon, gorgeous.”

You follow Calum through the house, bare feet padding against the wooden floors. It’s silent and still. He grabs his packet of cigarettes from the table and opens the back doors, leaving it open behind him to let some air in, and so Duke can follow you out if he wants to. He sits down first on one of the chairs at the opposite end of the garden, opening his arms, waiting for you to climb into his lap.

It takes a bit of manoeuvring but you manage to settle in his lap — your legs swung over his, one strong arm around your back, keeping you there. You tuck your face against his neck, finding comfort in the warmth of his skin and the scent of his cologne buried in the fabric of the hoodie he threw on. You press your lips to the column of his throat, leaving a kiss there — there’s nothing behind it, just a simple show of affection, and appreciation that he’s there with you.

“You shouldn’t think so much,” Calum murmurs, the hand he’s not using to hold you brushing over your temple; like he’s trying to soothe the thoughts away. You don’t say anything, just glance up at his face whilst he talks — knowing in the back of your mind that he’s right. “Too caught up in your head, angel. That’s why you don’t sleep.”

You sigh, eyes focused on the pattern of his hoodie — your fingers tracing the design. You were going to stay quiet but decide on a sarcastic comment instead; murmuring a “thanks, Dr Hood,” and receiving a playful slap to the thigh in return.

“Smart arse,” He retorts, shifting you a little so he can light a cigarette. It’s a habit you know he’s tried to quit, but not something you nag him about. Somehow, a smell that was once a nuisance to you now reminds you of your kind hearted boyfriend. “Well, if you don’t need me, I’ll just go back to bed, see if I care.”

You can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks, making sure he turns his head to blow the smoke away from you. You hum in acknowledgment, tucking your legs up closer to yourself, to retain some heat. Neither of you have checked what time it is, but it’s still completely dark — deep skies highlighted by flickers of stars, with no sign of the sun coming up any time soon. There’s a chill in the air, setting over your skin — Calum rubs his hand up and down your calf, a warm palm soothing the goosebumps that have risen. His chapped lips brush your bare shoulder between drags of the cigarette between his fingers, where his shirt has slipped down.

“Oh, but you do care,” You reply, reaching up to brush your pointer finger down his cheek, to coax him to look at you. He does, and it’s as intense as ever — you have these moments where you look at each other, really look, and it says more than any words could. “You wouldn’t leave your girl out here alone, would you?”

He chuckles a little, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, against your cheek. You know you’ve got him when he laughs like that, when he’s stumped on what sarcastic comment to make next. It’s not often he lets you win, but on this occasion, you’re right.

“I would never,” His tone is softer now — there’s no sarcasm behind it. He puts out the cigarette and pecks your lips once, then twice, the slight taste of smoke lingering on his lips. He nudges his nose against yours and kisses your cheek, staying there for a moment, before he moves to rest his cheek against the top of your head. “Can’t get enough of you, sweetheart. Even in the middle of the night, apparently.”

You don’t say anything else for the moment, just basking in the silence of the night — zoning out as you gaze at the stars, losing yourself in the feeling of Calum’s fingertips touching whatever skin he can reach. They trail up and down your thigh, and occasionally up and down your arms. His lips rest against your hairline, and he pecks kisses there every few minutes.

“As much as I love sitting here with you,” He murmurs after a little while, hand gently tapping your thigh, to get your attention. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t falling asleep in his lap, soothed by the night sky, his gestures, and just being around him in general. “I don’t think it would be very good for your posture to sleep here all night, my love. Also, I definitely have pins and needles in my arm now.”

You exhale deeply, and Calum laughs at how dramatic he thinks you are, since you only have to go inside — although he is quite comfy with you curled up in this lap.

“C‘mon, baby,” He coaxes you to stand up, warm palms sliding up your thigh. He kisses your cheek before you reluctantly pull away from him, climbing out of his lap, stretching your body as you go. He stands up after you, keeping a hand on the small of your back to guide you back into the house. “Let’s go to bed.”

Calum locks the back door behind him, and soon enough, you find yourself back in bed, except now — it’s Calum who's awake. He’s in the centre of his bed, one arm wrapped around your bare shoulders, holding you against his chest. Over the last few months he’s realised that’s your favourite way to sleep — face pressed against him, an arm over his stomach. You don’t always wake up in the same position, but as long as you’re touching each other in some way, you find yourself sleeping better. Duke, who clearly wasn’t phased by your little venture outside, is still fast asleep, his fur tickling Calum’s calf. It feels like home, he thinks; just where he should be.

Calum pulls his duvet up and over your back, covering you both, before he sets his phone down on his bedside table. He loves how the sheets smell of you and him combined now, after you’ve slept there for the past few weeks. It’s not just his bed now, it’s yours too. He brushes a kiss to your forehead, his thumb soothing over your hairline, and he takes a moment just to realise how thankful he is that you’re there with him.

“Sleep tight, baby.”

***

To be continued!

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[calpops]

he does | c.h.

The perfect wedding.

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The day is perfect.

The flowers are in bloom. The sun shines. The altar is beautiful.

The groom is perfect.

His dark eyes are shining, trailing down the aisle, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It’s a familiar smile. One you’ve seen a thousand times. One he’s given you around a laugh he tries to keep quiet. One that says more than his words can. One that speaks love into the air. A smile that was meant especially for you.

The bouquet in your hands shakes but you see the love that softens his face and you know there’s no stopping it.

You’re lost in the glamor of black and white, remembering fog drifting through the late night sky. His giggles as you compared the dark of the sky to his eyes. The dimple in his cheek you poked before he enveloped your hand with his. A bare ring finger begging for a promise squeezing against the back of your hand. Lifelines joining.

You’re lost in the way he sways at the altar, remembering the sway of a dance under the stars. The way his hands had settled on your waist and felt just right. The taste of his lips on yours as he whispered promises against them. The notion that someday a dance would be shared in front of family and friends, but the world behind you wouldn’t matter, you’d be too wrapped up in your husband’s arms to care about anything else.

You’re lost in the flowers living on the arch, remembering summer nights in twinkling gardens with cobblestone paths. Flowers tucked in your hair, tucked in his hair, spilling out of pockets. Petals trailing from the front door to the bedroom. The hope they may someday lead you to him and the altar.

You’re lost in the crowd of happy faces, eyes filled with tears, remembering the way they had tracked down your cheeks on an unusually cold night. The fingers that had gently wiped them away. The shaking breath that collided with the cold air. The arms that enveloped you. The way you wanted, wished and willed for them to never ever let you go.

You’re lost in the words of promise that echo through the crowd. Remembering vows you weren’t sure he could keep. Words that sounded too good to be true.

He smiles again. That familiar smile. The one that was meant for you.

He smiles at her as you stand by her side.

Your “best friend”.

His bride.

She’s more than you’ll ever be. More than a fleeting summer romance under the stars. More than wine drunk smiles and wandering hands. More than midnight moments of whispered secrets. More than flowers in pockets. More than empty promises.

She’s a lifetime. A toast of champagne and delicate fingers tucking hair behind ears. She’s lurid against the morning sun, wrapped up in slept in sheets. She’s bouquets and arrangements. She’s the vow he can keep that leaves his lips and lives in his eyes. She’s the perfect bride for the perfect groom.

The perfect couple.

You are abandoned.

Betrayed.

By him and then her.

Writhing in the heart ache of being alone. Of not being enough. Of standing by her side when she didn’t have your back or care about your broken heart.

Only broke it further.

He promises himself to her.

She says “I do” and he does too.

***

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[nostalgiabones]

Focus on Me // C.H

This is a completely self indulgent blurb that I wrote at 3am after a rough night of anxiety. This is what I felt I wanted at the time, so I thought I’d share it in the hopes of it bringing comfort to someone else feeling this way. So this features themes of anxiety, and comfort from Calum.

Word count: 1,332

“Hey, look at me.”

Calum’s fingertips gently but firmly tap your chin, tilting your face to encourage you to look at him. When you’re feeling like this, you’re sure no one understands — that no one in the world could possibly ease the weight on your chest. Calum knows better, though — throughout your relationship he’s picked up on what you need, and how to get through to you.

“Up here,” He murmurs, loud enough so you hear him, but quiet enough that the moment is just for the two of you — even though no one else is around. “I’m right here, my love. Focus on me.”

Calum has noticed little signs that you weren’t feeling your best all day — from the lack of keeping up a conversation to your fingertips tapping against the table as you ate dinner, he knew. He noticed how you showered before bed, and spent at least fifteen minutes trying to find something to wear for bed — each t-shirt you pulled out not sitting right — but you didn’t quite know why. He silently observes, you think he doesn’t notice — but he always does.

“Just breathe for a minute,” He says it like it’s so simple, and for anyone else, it would be. Yet you feel as though as soon as you release your breath, everything comes crashing down with it — somehow it’s easier to tense up and let your eyes focus on a random spot on the wall. His tone is smooth and reassuring — he makes a conscious effort to keep his voice soft, as he knows anything more will make you feel worse. He throws a leg over yours, almost pressing you against the soft mattress of the bed — he knows the weight helps you to feel grounded.

He’ll never forget the first time you had an anxious day when he was around; your eyes wouldn’t quite meet his and your hands trembled when he tried to hold them. He hadn’t been sure of what to do, how to make you feel better or whether he could. He’ll also never forget the way you pulled him on top of you, letting him lay almost flat against you on the sofa, finally seeing some relief in your expression at the release of the anxiety that had consumed you that day. As soon as he got home, he had ordered a weighted blanket — hoping the sensation would provide similar comfort to what he does, when he can’t be around. He still uses it now, when he is here — when he wants to hold you but you still need the weight of something against you. It’s tucked under the bed, and it’s been a while since you needed it — but he feels as though it could make an appearance tonight.

“You’re okay,” He reassures you, calloused thumbs brushing over your temples, trying to convince you to relax your face. He can feel your tensed jaw, knowing you’re clenching your teeth — but he knows he can only focus on alleviating one thing at a time. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you are. I’m staying right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. We’re gonna ride this out together.”

The unshed tears lining your eyes don’t go unnoticed, and it makes Calum’s heart ache that what he sees as so little is a big deal to you. He doesn’t have to think twice about trying to help, trying to convince your anxious brain that you’re not in danger. Yet he knows previously you’ve had no choice but to deal with it yourself, and now, having Calum around is a blessing.

He reaches over for the TV remote and turns down the volume as well as the brightness, not wanting you to be overstimulated by the surroundings — another thing he’s made note of is how restless you get when there’s too much going on. He doesn’t turn it off completely though — although he has no idea what show is on, he doesn’t care; it’s background noise to distract you from whatever thoughts are swirling around your mind.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” You murmur, your voice so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear you. You fear making it louder will disturb the lump in your throat. Calum shakes his head, his face so close to yours that his nose nudges yours when he moves. The words are true; although there’s only so much he can do, having him around makes everything feel brighter, easier — you wake up looking forward to what the day with him holds, rather than the emptiness you once felt every morning.

“You deserve the whole world and more, baby. I wish I could give it to you.” Calum admits, lips brushing yours as he speaks, ending the sentence with a soft kiss. He’s told himself time and time again that he can’t take your anxiety away, and you’ve told him that you don’t expect him to — yet he so desperately wishes he could. He wishes he never has to see you cry, or hold your hair in the bathroom of a social event you don’t want to be at. “You deserve to be happy, and to enjoy yourself. I wish you believed that too.”

Somehow, with Calum around, you’re starting to.

The more you fall for him, the more you trust him and his words — he truly wants you to be happy, wants the best for you, and it makes you want it for yourself, too. He doesn’t rush you though. He doesn’t expect you to be happy every day — he isn’t himself. You’re human and you have bad days, but he wants to be around to make sure they’re just that — bad days, not weeks, or years.

Calum’s gentle whispers against your forehead work wonders in getting your mind to settle down, he’s something to focus on — finally able to release your jaw, your tongue dropping from the roof of your mouth. He feels your shoulders relax for the first time in hours and he’s relieved too — it makes him feel better. His hand is warm as he smoothes it across the top of your back, a gentle pressure that grounds you and reminds you that he’s there. He feels your hands that were brushing through the soft curls at the back of his neck come to a stop, your grip loosening as you allow yourself to relax.

He’s sure he’ll never forget the feeling of you falling asleep on him — it kicks in an instinct he’s never felt before, like he’ll do anything in his power to keep you comfortable and protect you. He feels it deep in his chest, like he could explode with the love he feels for the person sleeping in his arms. It’s like the world stands still, so content that you’re comfortable enough to rest with him, to let both your mind and body sleep, knowing that he’s got you. He loves how normal it feels; that he can just sit scrolling through his phone or watching the TV whilst you sleep, and you know he won’t go anywhere. You’re a comforting weight to him, and he’s starting to understand why it helps when you’re feeling anxious. He finds himself keeping up the soothing gestures, even when you’re already passed out, convincing himself that you still feel it, in your sleep.

Calum takes the hand that’s clinging to his hoodie with a firm grip and laces his fingers between yours, gently squeezing, his lips pressed to your knuckles in a loving gesture. He doesn’t say anything but a smile graces his lips when you ever so softly squeeze back, and he can’t remember a time where he’s ever felt so loved.

He has no intention of moving, not until he absolutely has to; there’s nowhere else he would rather be.

“Goodnight, my love.”

**

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[calpops]

late night lullaby | c.h.

Late nights bring open balcony doors and lullabies played by Calum for you.   

1k words

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Copyright © 2021 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

***

The night is unusually warm as you step out onto your balcony. Stars dot the sky in a serene daze, a crescent moon brings little light to the otherwise dark world. Silence dances through the night as you settle on the plush cushion of your outdoor chair. You wrap your arms around yourself and find the balcony next door. It sits abandoned for the moment, all of the lights are off and the piano tucked behind closed French doors sits alone. No soft melodies envelop you. No gentle candle light glows from the other side. You sigh, flick on your balcony lights and wait with hope that Calum will show up.

For weeks you’ve settled into a nightly routine with your neighbor. You sit out on your balcony, a warm drink in hand, twinkle lights blinking against the dark, blending in with the stars. Calum’s music drifts from his home and heart to yours. The first time it happened was an accident. You needed an escape from the chaos of inside; you’d spent too much time behind closed doors, in stuffy rooms and behind screens that made your eyes bleary. You needed a breath of fresh air and a sight of the stars. His music welcomed you, beckoned you to take a seat and stay a while. The next night you went out in hope that he would already be playing. You were met with silence, until you turned your lights on and the first note struck. And it continued that way every night after.

You sit and wait, eyes scanning through the glass of the French door, hoping to hear the creak of them opening, waiting to see Calum’s small wave and blushing cheeks. You hope to hear his voice tonight and not just the soft melodies of the piano. Only a few times has he sung along to the songs he plays. Those nights are your favorites. His voice is alluring, soft but deep and soothing. The words he sings are always new to you; you wonder what they look like in his scrawl, knowing he must have written them down at one point. There’s a lot of things you don’t know about your neighbor across the street, but you do know your heart flutters when his balcony light switches on.

The doors open slowly and he peeks out into the night. Curls fall in his face and he’s quick to brush them back. He offers you a shy smile, cheeks already rosy, and lifts his hand for a small greeting. You nod back at him, feeling your skin prickle as he steps back inside to the piano angled at the door. All you can see when he takes up position in his shadowed profile and it leaves you wondering how it would be to see his fingers dance across the keys, if his face shows his concentration.

The song starts slowly and for the first time you recognize it. A lullaby from your childhood drifts through the night air and brings a soft smile to your face. No words are needed for the night though you crave to hear his voice again. Your eyes slip shut, completely content with the music and the warm breeze that floats by. You find yourself humming to the tune in a soft whisper, something so low you yourself can barely hear it. You don’t know how much time passes as you drift through the music and let yourself relax to the sounds of your childhood. Only when the music stops do your eyes spring open and warmth of embarrassment shoots through you when you find Calum’s gaze steadily on yours. He’s stepped out onto his balcony, hands clutching the rails and teeth sunken into his lower lip.

You stand and twirl, out of sorts and out of wits to carry you back inside. You don’t want to leave yet. You slowly approach the edge of your balcony, hands mimicking his as they reach for the ivy covered railing. Calum smiles as you lean forward, hoping to catch more than a shadowed glimpse of him. He’s lurid and calm under the lights. His rosy cheeks much more prominent. The tattoos on his hands catching your eye.

“Did you enjoy it tonight?” he asks and you realize it’s the first time he’s spoken to you since offering his name and disappearing when you first moved in across the street.

“Yes,” you answer and feel flames come alive inside of you. “It was beautiful.”

There’s a beat of pause that ensues between you. The silence echoes around the cavernous distance, an entire street keeping you apart. You shiver although the night is still warm. His gaze stays level on you and yours does the same; somehow the eye contact feels natural. After hearing the songs in his heart for so many nights, seeing his gaze doesn’t phase you.

“Do you think I could see you in the morning?” Calum asks and the quiet reverie is shattered. “We could have breakfast on the balcony. I could play you another song.”

You nod and your breath catches in the back of your throat at the thought of it. Calum under sunlight, music in the daytime and breakfast on balconies seems like a dream. “I’d really love that.”

Calum claps a hand to the back of his neck and grins. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“In the morning,” you promise and watch him disappear back into his home, knowing that morning can’t come soon enough.

***

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[calpops]

the mountains | c.h.

Scenic views of the mountains inspire an art filled morning in the tiny home.

1.1k words

tiny home masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world

Copyright © 2021 calpops. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

^^^

“Don’t move.”

Calum heeds the instruction and stays still. His cheek is pressed to his forearm, with comfortable cushions beneath him as a slight breeze and fingertips dance across his bare back. Her touch leaves him and he wonders where she’s gone. What she’s doing and why he must stay still. He feels the sun on his skin pouring in through the open window. His eyes are closed but visions of the mountains ahead infiltrate his thoughts. The loft is warm, a quiet summer morning affording them an escape from worries outside their small world; nothing but bliss between them.

Calum hears her moving around the loft, crawling in the minimal space and shuffling through unrecognizable items. She comes back to him in only a moment, her fingertips gracing the curves of his back once more, dancing on his shoulder blades and down his spine. He feels goosebumps raise on his skin at the soft contact. He smiles and keeps his eyes closed.

Her fingertips abandon him, the warmth that emanated from her touch turning cold. Calum turns his head in interest but one hand with gentle motion turns him away.

“Just trust me,” she whispers fondly and when the next swipe of cold hits his skin he understands. The soft bristles of her paintbrush tickle at him as paint creates art on his body. “Try to be still,” she further instructs. Calum hears her blow out a breath and can only imagine she’s attempting to get hair from her face without using her hands.

“You know, you have stacks of canvases taking up space in storage,” Calum teases and hears her small noise of protest at the lighthearted chiding. “If you’re just going to use me we could really use the space.”

Another lick of the brush hits just below his shoulder blades and makes him want to move; an attack on a soft spot she knows makes him squirm. He stays still though, determined not to mess up her art; even if he may never be able to see it.

“We’ll call this…” she says and muses for the right word for a moment. “A rough draft.”

Another swipe of paint hits his skin in a zig zag and Calum can only guess what she might be up to. A mountain range she stares out at from the loft window. A harsh wave she once saw on a horizon. Something so abstract he won’t be able to guess what it is, won’t be able to discern even when she divulges the details to him, or something else entirely.

“A rough draft, eh?” Calum asks and though he’s tempted to turn over and catch her eye, to see how content she is with a paintbrush in her hand, paint on her skin and sunlight gleaming against her hair he again resists the urge and follows her instructions. “Your art is always perfect.”

A little noise leaves her at the compliment and after years of witnessing her blushes and fluttered mannerisms Calum still manages to find himself missing the sight. He wishes he could turn away and imprint the sight of her humbleness into his mind, at least, another sight of it. He only has hundreds of those moments locked away, store in his mind and his heart.

“It won’t be if you keep wiggling,” she points out and through Calum’s every effort to stay still he realizes he’s acted on instinct to the feel of her on his skin. She uses her fingers along his spine, he doesn’t know why, but he appreciates the feel and the presence of her instead of the brushes. “Not much longer love,” she promises and Calum quells the urge to react to her once more.

Quiet settles around them as she continues to paint, only the soft hum of Duke’s snores and the occasional chirp of birds sounding around their small home. Calum is left to wonder; once more envisioning what might claim his back. He buries his face into his arms and hears her small sigh as he does so. He lays still, wishing her fingers weren’t coated in paint so they might trail up to his curls and offer him a different kind of affection.

She leaves him again but she’s not told him he can move and in fear of messing up her work he stays where he is. He hears her come back and only when a flash catches the corner of his vision does he turn. A Polaroid camera is in her hands and he knows she’s smiling behind it as she captures her work. The photo comes out in a moment and she grabs for it as Calum sits himself upright, curious to see the outcome and if his best efforts to stay still were worthwhile. Her fingers pinch the corner and she shields it from his view with a teasing smile.

“Oh did you want to see?” she asks and scrunches up her nose as Calum maneuvers himself closer to her. He nods and she lets out a mischievous giggle. “Maybe I should make you wait to see it until it’s on canvas,” she banters from his earlier teasing. “I am using up so much storage space, after all.”

Calum’s nod turns to a playful shake of his head. “I’ll do anything to see it now.”

She considers it with a lighthearted shrug and purses his lips for a moment. “A kiss for a sneak peek?” she bargains, knowing it’s a deal Calum could never resist; he wins both ends of the deal.

He smiles as he closes the distance and grants her wish and then some; a soft kiss to her lips tastes of cinnamon and a small peppering of kisses to her cheeks brings honey to his senses.

“Alright, alright,” she says through laughter and brings the photo around so Calum can see.

The mountains stare back at him, morning blues blending the sky and the tops of the peaks into one. It makes the world calm, serene and soft. He smiles.

“I told you,” he begins and gives her another kiss. “It’s perfect.” Her head shakes just a bit, hair falling in her face as she gets flustered. “Where to next?” he asks, wondering where their adventures would bring them and what painting and poetry might come of it.

“I don’t want to leave yet,” she admits and when Calum arches an eyebrow—her tendency to flutter from place to place seemingly idle—she shrugs. “I’ve heard there’s a secret trail we ought to find. I think it’d look beautiful on your back.”

Calum chuckles at her reasoning but nods. He’ll follow her down a secret trail, up a mountain, into the woods, to the bottom of the sea or the ends of the earth. He knows wherever they go something beautiful will come of it.

^^^

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[calpops]

seven days | c.h.

Your baby is born two months early. You and Calum face the complications and uncertainties with each other and the help of family.

10k words

dates with cal masterlist

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

<< >>

Calum’s world spins in slow motion. He sees you but you’re out of focus, his vision is hazy past tears. He’s numb but somehow he can still make out that your hand is in his, your grip is like iron, the hold you have on each other is unbreakable. He can hear static, white noise tumbles through his senses raised into a panic induced overdrive. He loses you and finds your baby and wonders why there’s no crying. The doctor has her in her arms and she’s saying something, Calum can see that her lips are moving but his mind can’t keep up, her voice is lost to him. Neither of you were prepared for this, the classes and books neglected to ready you for only seven months of pregnancy, ten minutes of labor and the doctor rushing your daughter out of the room. He looks back at you and sees your once outstretched arm fall, your lip quiver, eyes go wild through your weary and worried exhaustion. Your voice finally breaks him.

“Follow them,” you plead and though Calum wants to stay with you there’s someone else in the world who needs him too. Someone else he wants to be with just as much as you.

With every footstep down the sterile hallway he wishes your hand could still be in his. He’s stopped short, a nurse he barely recognizes from his disconnect while at your side stands in front of him.

“They’re bringing her to the NICU,” the nurse says and though her voice and eyes are kind Calum feels fear and frustration rising inside of him, boiling and breaking him as she stands in his way. “You can’t go in yet.”

“What—I’m—she’s my daughter,” he stumbles out, throat on fire and eyes burning just the same.

“They’re getting her in an incubator. She needs oxygen and vital care,” she says and goes on to explain it will take a bit of time. “When she’s ready you’ll be able to go in. You’ll need to scrub up and wash your hands first.”

Calum shakes his head, not quite able to process all of this information on the spot. He lets out a shaky breath, curls his fingers into his palms, feels the coolness of his wedding ring on his skin and it reminds him of you; he lets the thought of you attempt to calm him. His head shake turns to a nod though he’s still not sure he can completely comprehend all that is happening.

“When can I see her?” he finally manages to get out though it’s not without a fight or a broken syllable.

“Follow me,” the nurse offers and without thinking Calum is walking down the hallway again, trailing the nurse to a break in the white wall where a window rests. “You can watch from here.”

The view is startling. Machines and equipment line the NICU, doctors and nurses pass in and out and create fears with every step they take. It takes a moment to find the team that delivered your baby, joined by a few new nurses and another doctor. Just past the crowd he can see the incubator and your daughter being settled within, tubes for oxygen and the like disguising her small face. Her eyes are closed and though she looks peaceful the striking contrast of your sleeping daughter and the dire circumstances are enough to choke Calum. He can’t watch the rest, his eyes skirt to the floor but he stays put. He’s not leaving her, his resolve is shaken but stays intact. He wants you with him, he wants her to be on the other side of the glass, in his arms, welcomed to a world without complications.

Time passes in a blur, his eyes fixed on his shoes and the tile floor below. He’s vaguely aware of other people in the hallway. Doctors, parents, nurses and patients all pass him by without a word. The kind nurse is long gone and Calum finds himself wishing he had asked more questions. The silence is deafening. He wants to have your whispered words of reassurance in his ear. He wants the repeated mantra of “it’s gonna be okay” to be believable. His phone buzzes but he doesn’t reach for it. He knows he should make calls. Tell his parents, inform the guys he left with a million questions and concerns in their minds. He doesn’t have the energy or the will to do so.

His shoulders slump but he straightens himself when a doctor approaches.

“Mr. Hood?” he asks, clipboard in hand and cool eyes sweeping him up and down. Calum nods. “You can go in now. Follow me. We have to get you ready.”

Calum’s heart lurches with the first step he takes to follow the doctor, to be with his daughter. He thinks of you, doesn’t want to imagine the panic and pain that being alone is causing you. He reminds himself Mali is with you, that you told him to follow. He’s led to a solid door and ushered through. There’s a room connected to the NICU; cabinets with scrubs and gloves and sanitizer and a medical sink claim the small space. He realizes all parents must enter through here before getting to their babies. In a blink he’s wearing a gown, and his hands are thoroughly washed. He takes just one second to take a breath, to gather courage, keep you in his thoughts and ready his heart for his daughter.

“We usually encourage skin to skin contact to bond with babies while they’re being treated. You can hold her hand, talk to her, she’ll know your voice,” the doctor explains while they approach the incubator.

There’s a thousand questions swirling through Calum’s mind that he wants to ask the doctor beside him. But his breath catches in his throat at the sight of your daughter. Her eyes are still closed from when he first caught a glimpse of her through the window. The incubator is closed, she’s surrounded by the help she needs but holes provide a place for Calum’s hand to find her. The doctor talks to him, Calum knows he should be listening but the whir of the machinery and the thumping of his pulse inside his ears drown out the words. He keeps his gaze on her, swallows back a sob and feels the ache in his heart grow as he realizes you’re alone in the room down the hall, that she’s right in front of him but they’re separated by plastic and plexiglass.

He wants to say something to her, he can’t find words, more than anything he wants to hold her. He can’t. He sinks down to level with her and slowly reaches through to lightly hold her hand that’s so small it brings tears to his eyes. She doesn’t respond but he feels better having even the smallest form of connection to her. He doesn’t even know when he realized that he was right; your baby is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. Your bet is meaningless, winning and names are lost in the plight of life. The doctor leaves eventually but hospital staff still surrounds the NICU, nurses and doctors ready at a moment’s notice. It’s silent save for the hum of the machines. Only a few other babies are being treated, spaced out to afford families privacy. He doesn’t know how long he stays bent over with his hand lightly on hers before he finally finds words.

“We love you,” he tells her, knowing if you were with them you’d say it too.

It might have been minutes but is more likely hours by the time a nurse pulls Calum from her side. The mention of you finally rousing him from his state. He doesn’t want to leave but he wants you. He wars over it for a moment but nods, gives her hand another touch, tells her that you both love her and finds himself wandering the hallway back to you. You’re stricken when he enters the room. Mali is trying to be a calming presence, to keep you in bed, but it seems a losing fight.

“How is she?” you ask, breathless, hopeless and forlorn.

Calum swallows down a lump in his throat, bites back tears and tries to stay strong for you and for her. A rush of the doctor’s words come back to him. What scattered remnants of pieces he barely heard charge through.

“She’s beautiful,” Calum says first, sits down in the chair at your side and takes your hand as softly as he had taken hers. “The doctor said the first twenty four hours are the most vital. They’ll know more at forty eight and even more at seventy two.”

“I want to see her,” you say and Calum hears the edge of hysteria in your tone.

“You need to rest,” Mali tries but falls short when you and Calum both shake your heads.

“I didn’t even get to hold her,” you cry and it’s enough to bring Calum to you, his arms gently around your shoulders. You can’t hold her, he can’t hold her, but you can hold each other and hope. “I want to see her,” you repeat and the words hit Calum’s skin and wrench his heart.

“We’ll ask the doctor if you can,” he promises, not knowing how physically affected you are from labor, not knowing if getting up and going would be okay or not.

“I’ll go get her,” Mali says and excuses herself from the room to track down the doctor and to give you two a private moment.

You’re both quiet for a few seconds, content to hold each other together in the silence. Calum feels your grip on him tighten as you shift in the hospital bed and eventually pull away so he can see your face. He runs his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe away your tears.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, eyes wide and concerned. “I wish I could’ve been there with you. I don’t know how hard that must have been.”

Calum shakes his head as if he’s trying to shake away your worries. You feeling guilty for not being there with and for him was the same war he had about leaving you behind.

“‘I’m”—he says and sucks in a deep breath—“I’m okay. I’ll be okay. She’s gonna be okay,” he finishes and finds a new mantra though it’s hard to believe and each sentence sounds more like a question than the last.

You nod, a small shudder shaking your shoulders and racking your body. Calum reaches for you again, let’s his hands settle on your shoulders to give you strength and comfort.

“I know she will. She’ll be okay, she has to be, she’s half you and you’re the strongest person I know,” you rationalize, eyes lost to the wall in front of you. You look back at Calum and he sees the stony wall you’ve put up start to crack as you gaze at him. “But it’s okay to break sometimes,” you finish and Calum knows you’re saying it to him, reminding him that he can break into your arms and have you there to help him put back the pieces.

For the first time since your daughter was born Calum allows himself to crumble. The tears he’d been fighting back slide down his cheeks and his shoulders slump with the weight of the world. He’s brought back to you by your gentle pull and finds reassurance in the love you show him. Mali comes back in with the doctor and Calum tries to collect himself, wipes tears from his face and clears his throat.

“I hear you’re asking about your daughter,” the doctor says as she steps into the room and takes a sweeping glance at you, Calum and Mali. “Parents are allowed in at all times. Visiting hours for others are seven in the morning to seven at night. Only two at a time.”

“Can I go see her?” you ask, a fragment of hope clinging to your words and getting lost in your eyes at the mention of parents being allowed in whenever.

“In the morning,” the doctor replies and Calum swallows down a lump in his throat, knowing that’s not the answer you wanted. “Your labor was quick but very intense. Your body needs to rest, the drugs need to wear off, you wouldn’t make it down the hallway in your condition.”

Calum sees the refusal cross your face, the staunch disbelief that you can’t see your daughter almost enough to crack anyone’s resolve. The doctor keeps explaining to you but it falls on deaf ears and interjections. You ask if this way would be possible, if that way would, but nothing seems to be possible to the doctor who means to keep you in bed until morning.

“What if she doesn’t have a morning?” you finally ask and suck in a breath as if the words themselves strike physical pain through you. Calum’s nearly certain they did, just the thought is enough to make his chest feel like it’s caving in.

“She’s stable and comfortable. If anything was to happen we would get you in there. For now, please try to get some rest.”

The doctor gets paged and makes her escape. Calum clutches you, holds you and makes whispered promises he’s not sure can be kept.

“I don’t want her alone,” you whimper and Calum follows your gaze out the door.

“I’ll go—do you want me to stay with you? Where do you want me?” he asks, stumbling over his words, unsure where to go or what to do.

You nod. “Go be with her. Please. Make sure she’s okay,” you instruct and Calum can hear how much it pains you to let him go to her without you. He holds your hand, kisses your forehead.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a while,” he promises. “And I’ll take so many pictures of her. Sweetheart, she’s beautiful,” he adds, realizing his first time in the NICU was so filled with shock that not one photo was taken and the only time you’ve seen her was when she was being taken away.

“Thank you,” you whisper, eyes glossy. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answers without hesitation but takes an extra second to gaze at you before heading out the door.

He’s back with your daughter before he even realizes it. Her small hand is warm inside the incubator, her eyes are still shut and past the tubes that breathe life into her she almost looks peaceful. He takes as many photos as he can without disturbing her. He settles into the hard plastic chair beside her and tilts his head back until it gently thumps against the wall. His hands find his face and rub at his jaw. He hadn’t realized before but it’s been clenched and holding tension for hours. Time passes as he sits at her side, talks to her, sings and hums when she so much as stirs slightly. He’s able to lull her and he takes those moments as victory and ones to keep with him forever. Once more he wishes you were with them, knowing you would be able to do the same for her with the sound of your voice, the gentle touch of your hand. When it nears midnight and she hasn’t stirred in a while and a nurse has come in to check on her, Calum convinces himself it’s time to go check on you.

He knows he could call or text but he misses you. He’s faced with a conundrum as he gets one foot out the door of the NICU. Now he misses her. But he doesn’t have time to do much of either as the kind nurse he recognizes from earlier stops him once more. This time she has a clipboard with papers and pen in her hand.

“Forms for her birth certificate,” she informs.

Calum gapes at the papers. Even the easiest of questions and information seems impossible. You both still don’t even know her name yet.

“You can take your time on them. I’ll be around to help if you have questions,” the nurse says before excusing herself to rush off to help another patient.

Calum’s left with the clipboard in hand, aches in his heart and questions in his mind. He heads back for your room to find you awake and Mali gone. You smile to greet him but Calum can see how flat the gesture is and he can’t blame you.

“Where’s Mali?”

“Getting a coffee. I can’t sleep and she wanted to stay up with me,” you explain and Calum settles himself on the edge of your bed. He takes your hand and places the clipboard on his lap. “What’s that?”

“Forms for her birth certificate,” he says and sighs. “I can’t even fill in her name.”

You squeeze his hand in understanding. “Do what you can,” you reply and inch closer to take a peek at the papers. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you each get lost in your own thoughts. “I know you get to name her…”

Calum shakes his head. All bets off. “We’ll decide on something together. I love all the ones on your list,” he tells you and finally gets a genuine smile from you, eyes alight and all.

“I want to see her before we choose, I feel like I don’t even know her.”

Calum trembles at your words and the honesty in them. You carried her for seven months and had about seven seconds to see her before she was carried off. He leans closer to you, gives you many small kisses from your cheek to forehead as worries and fears tumble inside him, each one coming to life and bringing life to others. He drowns them out, for you and for her. He’s already crumbled once. He wants to be resilient. Mali comes back with coffee in hand and tired eyes but such a sheer will to stay Calum can’t even work up the nerve to even suggest she go home and get some sleep. And in all honesty he’s glad she’s here and can be there with you when he can’t.

“I called mum and dad, I hope you don’t mind,” Mali says when she takes a seat on the opposite side of you, sliding into the chair in a tired yet graceful way.

Calum shakes his head. He doesn’t mind at all. He wanted to do it but didn’t have the heart or the words or the right mind to even dial the phone.

“They’re flying out as soon as they can,” Mali further informs, then sips at her coffee. “We’re all gonna be here for you. Both of you. All of you.”

“Thank you,” Calum gets out past a choked up throat and stands to stride to his sister and give her a long overdue hug. She affords him comfort and when she realizes how tired his eyes are she gives him her coffee and says she’ll get another.

Mali leaves again and Calum spends the next few minutes drinking in the caffeine and soaking up some time with you. He wants to get back to your daughter but the war of you being completely alone confronts him once more. He decides to wait until Mali gets back to head back to the NICU. When she does stride back through the door he gives you a kiss, tells you he loves you and makes a promise to stay with her until morning; until you can be with her too.

He spends the night in the uncomfortable hospital chair, hand inside the incubator, finger lightly stroking her tiny hand in soothing rhythms. He talks to her when the moon is out, he shows her pictures of you and doesn’t let it bother him when her eyes don’t stay open for long. He comes to terms with the fact that she’s resting and when she’s resting she’s getting stronger each and every second. Through the night he shifts in the chair but never leaves it. There’s a kink in his neck and his muscles ache by the time morning comes but those pains are minimal in comparison. He rubs at his tired eyes after waking from a miraculous little doze. He straightens and finds her immediately.

“Good morning,” he sings quietly as he gets level with her. Her eyes are barely open. “You get to see your mommy today.”

He knows it’s not likely, probably impossible, but he swears she smiles when he tells her that. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He has no intention of answering it—he’s surprised it still has enough charge to buzz—but he checks who’s calling. Ashton lights up the screen. Calum sends him to voicemail and jumps when motion in his peripheral startles him. Ashton is standing outside the NICU window, looking in at Calum with his phone pressed to his ear. He frowns when he hears the voicemail greeting. Calum gathers up the courage to leave his daughter. He gives her a small goodbye squeeze on her hand, tells her he loves her and exits the NICU, the routine of leaving the used gown behind already set in stone.

“How is she?” Ashton asks, giving no time or thought to explaining how he knew where to go or why he holds a duffel bag in his grip.

Calum wracks his brain, trying to find the last update from a nurse or doctor but comes up short after his long night. He sighs and his shoulders slump.

“She made it through the night,” he says and hears the desperate intone of needing hope in his voice. “What are you doing here? How’d you know?”

“Mali texted, Luke has Duke,” Ashton explained and lifted a worry from Calum. He’d nearly forgotten Duke in the fray of it all. Ashton hoisted the duffel bag up. “I brought you both clothes, phone chargers, and I even have a present for her,” he continues and rummages around in a small gift bag until he pulls out a plush koala bear.

“She’s in a closed incubator,” Calum says though he knows he should be saying thank you instead. He can’t stop the words once they start. “She can’t have anything in there.”

Ashton nods, knowing the slight bite in Calum’s tone is not frustration at the gesture, just the circumstances. “It can go in her nursery.”

“We don’t even have it set up yet.”

Calum knows he’s starting to crack again but he doesn’t know how to stop himself. If it were anyone else he might have had a fighting chance of keeping himself together but Ashton’s been there for unspeakable highs and lows. He can’t fight himself into submission. He can’t keep himself together without a little help from his best friend. That’s exactly what he gets, a comforting hand on his back as the bags hit the floor and a hug to remind him that it’s not just you and him against the world. It takes a few minutes for Calum to pull himself together, to offer an apology for his tone that Ashton shrugs off in understanding and head for your room, the sudden remembrance that you get to finally see your daughter carrying his steps.

He finds you and Mali in the same spots as last night. He can tell you didn’t sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot and heavy but the smallest of smiles captures your lips when you see him.

“You ready?” Calums asks and you nod, needing no other prompting to understand. “Let’s get you dressed then we can go,” he adds on and searches through the duffel bag for some clothes as Ashton and Mali head to the hallway.

“How was last night?” you ask him as you pull a hoodie on.

“Long,” Calum answers and takes a breath. “But she made it through with no problems. I talked about you, showed her pictures, I think she’s excited.”

You laugh at Calum’s recount of the night and his projection of her possible excitement. It’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in nearly twenty four hours. It’s not as hearty and joyous as usual but it’s a start to feeling normal. You both hold onto that feeling as you exit the room and head to get ready for the NICU.

Calum doesn’t know what to expect when you enter and see her for the first time since she was taken away. He figures you might tear up, that you might clutch him or go straight for her. He doesn’t expect you to freeze in your tracks halfway to where she sleeps. He doesn’t know what to do when you wrap your arms around yourself and tremble where you stand.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, come on,” he tries with a soothing voice. He’s a step ahead of you and you continue to stand still. He backtracks to you, puts a reassuring hand on your back. “What’s going on?”

He focuses on the subtleties of your face and is drawn to your eyes. He sees the way they shine and knows that you’ll soon be biting your lip and scrunching your nose as you do your best to hold back your emotions.

“All these machines…” you trail off with eyes roaming the NICU and the sight of dozens of incubators and the like. Calum knows how overwhelming it is but he’s had time to adjust and get used to the hum and flow of the world your daughter lives in.

“They keep the babies safe and comfortable,” he says, knowing that’s what will get through to you. “I’ll show you, she’s nice and cozy, getting stronger every second.”

You nod and take very small steps with Calum at your side. He doesn’t rush you or push you along. He goes at your pace, his eyes skirting from you to your daughter. He knows you can see her from your vantage point. Her eyes are closed as sleep claims her once more. Calum is used to the tubes that give her oxygen and help sustain her life. It startles you when you first approach and Calum witnesses the tears that finally slide down your cheeks. You’re timid at the edge of the incubator, hands curled into fists and steadfast at your sides. He hears your breath shaking and reaches for your hand.

“You can touch her. Hold her hand. She likes that,” Calum informs, knowing his touch and voice had soothed her through the night whenever she stirred. “Like this,” he says and reaches his free hand toward her, lightly stroking the soft skin on the back of her hand. Her eyes open but she stays calm and content.

You go slowly, as if afraid to startle her or scare yourself. Calum retracts his hand from her but keeps his other in yours for support and comfort. It takes one touch for your fears and stone wall to come crumbling down. Your eyes soften as more tears make stride and a sob wracks your body.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you manage to get out through a cracked voice and Calum smiles at the choice of term of endearment. You’ve always been his sweetheart, now you have one of your own. You look up at your husband and Calum meets your eyes. “She looks just like you.”

Calum shakes his head. “She’s you too, look,” Calum says.

You giggle through another cry but Calum knows the tears and sobs are all born of something good. “She’s got your eyes and purses her lips just like you.”

Calum smiles at that. “But that nose and those cheeks are all you.”

“You think so?” you ask, turning away from her to look at Calum with hope in your eyes. He nods. You turn back to look at her and keep up the small rhythm you have of stroking her hand. “Yeah,” you agree upon further inspection with such adoration in your tone it makes Calum laugh.

For as hesitant as you were to enter the NICU it quickly becomes apparent that nothing in the world will tear you from her side. You take up residence in the chair Calum spent the night in, never once letting your hand leave her, keep your voice soothing as you talk to her. Calum finds his way to the other side, content to hold her other hand and listen to the sweet words you whisper to her.

“I love you so much,” you repeat, having found a new mantra. “I can’t wait to bring you home. You’ll get to meet your auntie Mali, grandma and grandpa, all your uncles. Your doggie, Duke. We’re all waiting for you, whenever you’re ready.”

“Some are less patient than others,” Calum says around a laugh as he spies two people on the other side of the window. You make a confused noise until Calum motions over to the window and you both take in the sight of Ashton and Mali waving behind the glass with glossy eyes and smiles to accompany them.

“They’re really special, huh?” you ask and smile, appreciative for all of the effort they’ve put in. You both know you wouldn’t be able to get through this without family by your side.

“The best,” Calum agrees with fond eyes.

You fall into silence, content to stay by her side and do nothing but gaze at her and each other adoringly. Calum doesn’t expect to look up and find you in tears again but he does and it nearly rips his breath away before he detects that though you’re crying it’s a good kind of cry this time.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” he asks.

“This is just—it’s all I’ve wanted,” you manage to get out with your gaze roaming from her to Calum and then to Ashton and Mali still watching from the window. “It’s our family.”

Calum smiles at the sentiment and the honesty in your voice and knows the gesture reaches his eyes and hopes you can feel it in your heart the way he does. He knows your rocky relationship with your parents and that you haven’t felt like family in a long time. They have still yet to meet Calum after bailing on a dinner and the wedding. He’s not sure if you’ve called them about the birth or if they even bothered to answer but he’s happy to see you content with the family that chose you.

You sniffle and meet eyes with Calum. “I have an idea for her name,” you announce and Calum’s heart skips a beat. He’s ready to start calling her by her name, to fill out the forms in his hoodie pocket, but then he laughs as he realizes he might more often than not call her a term of endearment, just like he does with you.

“Anything you want,” Calum promises, knowing that it will be perfect because it came from you and your heart.

***

Another day slips by and Calum finds himself alone with your daughter once more. You’ve been brought back to your hospital room to talk with your doctor and see where you’re at and when you’ll be ready to be discharged. Calum asks you to get some rest while you’re in there. You make no promises but heed his words. You both have thoughts of her name in your heads, still undecided, wanting more time with her to be absolutely sure but feeling that it could be right. Calum’s hanging on by a thin and tattered thread. He’s exhausted and nodding off in the chair when Ashton rouses him with a phone call and coaxes him out into the hall, but not before he spends the time to tell her that he loves her. He meets his best friend in the hall, a yawn falling from him, arms wide as they stretch out the aches and tightness from his prolonged position.

Calum rubs at his eyes. “Why’d you drag me out here?”

“I think you should go home for a while,” Ashton says, getting straight to the point. When Calum immediately refuses with a shake of his head Ashton sighs and continues, “just a little while. You’re running on empty.”

“No. No, I don’t want to leave her. I can’t leave them,” Calum refuses, head still shaking and eyes darting to the window.

“Go home. Take a shower. Eat something. Take half an hour to sleep. They need you to be rested,” Ashton says and Calum can almost hear the words he didn’t say. They need you to be strong.

It’s the implication and words unsaid that even marginally make Calum consider the proposition. He runs a hand through his hair as tangles of thoughts snarl through his mind. He lets out an accidentally long held breath and turns the shake of his head into a nod as his shoulders relax. He decides he will, but only after he’s sure you’re okay and can be in with her. He tells Ashton as much.

“Good, I’m on shift right now so I can be in there with them when you’re gone if you guys want,” Ashton informs. Mali had finally gone home to get some rest for herself and Ashton slid seamlessly into her role at your sides to fill in the gaps when you have to be separated.

“I’m sure we’d all love that,” Calum assures, utterly grateful for his family’s presence.

Ashton does as promised. Calum watches as the two of you enter the NICU, sticks by the window until he sees Ashton take her hand for the first time and glow with such love and adoration it makes Calum certain she’s okay in his hands. And yours, though he’s never had a doubt about that. He heads home after waving and blowing a kiss—and laughing when Ashton pretends to snag it from you and keep it for himself. He calls for a car, knowing he’s well past exhausted and being behind the wheel would be dangerous. The car stops at the curb of your home and Calum stops short when he steps out. Two cars sit in the driveway where your cars are usually parked.

He enters the house and is met with disgruntled noises coming from down the hall. He makes way to the back room and finds Luke and Michael in a mess of boxes and half put together nursery furniture. He laughs as he stands in the doorway and it catches his friends attention, they look up at him, wide eyed and startled.

Michael is the first to stand as he abandons a screwdriver on the floor among the mess of cardboard, bubble wrap, and probably unread instructions. “How is she? How are you? What are you doing here?”

“She’s getting better everyday,” Calum answers and doesn’t even question the knowledge they have of her and the troubles she’s been facing. He knows Ashton must have filled them in. “Ashton forced me home to get some rest. But the better question is what are you two doing here?”

Luke blows out an irritated breath. “Trying to build her nursery. We figured Mali and Ash wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon so we might as well be helpful in the meantime.”

“Do they know when she can come home?” Michael asks and tucks his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the mess of a nursery. He clears his throat.

“Not yet. Hopefully soon,” Calum answers with an arched eyebrow, also taking in the room.

Luke stands. “Don’t worry. We set up a bassinet by your bed. We read it’s good for newborns to sleep near their parents. Just in case,” Luke informs. “She’ll have somewhere to come home to and rest. Now it’s your turn,” he finishes and waves a hand as if to dismiss Calum from their presence.

“Alright, I’ll take the hint. Just… try not to break anything,” Calum says and excuses himself to head across the hall to his own room. He spots the bassinet immediately and gravitates towards it without thinking. He has the stuffed koala Ashton got for her in his hoodie pocket. He pulls it out and places it inside, optimistic that she’ll be able to come home to it soon.

Calum doesn’t linger at home too long. He showers, eats and struggles to sleep for a while. Luke and Michael make minimal progress in their efforts to put together the nursery. Before heading out again Calum stops by to thank them.

“We couldn’t do this without you guys,” Calum expresses his thanks and means every word of it.

“That’s what we’re here for. It’s what families do,” Luke reassures.

“You can thank us by showing us some pictures of her,” Michael states and tilts his head. “The only ones we’ve gotten are blurry and through a window from Ash and Mali.”

Calum is more than happy to comply, he’s taken dozens, likely hundreds, since the first one he snapped for you. With two of his best friends by his side he swipes through endless photos. Most of just her, nearly identical, some with you and her, some of him and her and a few taken by a nice nurse of the two of you with her. He’s not looking at Luke and Michael—much too busy staring at the screen, wanting to be back with her and you to look at them—but he can feel the smiles in their voices.

“She’s the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” Luke coos.

Michael makes a comment that she’s lucky she favors you over Calum and all three laugh. It’s one of few genuine laughs Calum has had over the past few days and even though it’s at his own expense he doesn’t mind. It feels normal. Michael and Luke aren’t treating him like glass and he feels less likely to shatter because of it.

“I gotta get back to her,” Calum concludes and locks his phone after the last photo is shown.

“Send us new photos when you get there,” Luke insists and lets Calum part with them after a hug for each.

Calum leaves the half finished nursery and hears his friends go back to squabbling.

“Where the hell did the crib go?” Michael’s voice asks as Calum heads for the door.

“I think it’s under the rocker,” Luke says. “Which is under that styrofoam.”

Calum leaves with a grin and gets back to you and her as soon as he can. He has to switch places with Ashton to get back into the NICU. He immediately greets you and her and though he’s sure at this point you both know he tells you he loves you.

“Will you sleep tonight?” Calum asks, knowing it will likely be your last night in the hospital, your visit from the doctor informing you that you could be discharged in the morning.

“No,” you respond.

“Will you at least try?” he questions with pleading eyes. He doesn’t want you to spend a night in a chair after all your body has been through though he knows you will without question. “You need rest,” he reminds. “I did. Now it’s your turn.”

You sigh and Calum can hear how tired you are just from that. You mull it over for a minute and finally nod. “I’ll try. Stay with her?”

“Always,” Calum promises and meets you around the incubator to give you a hug before separating for the night.

It’s another long and restless night for Calum but he finds small joys where he can. He’s happy to see her content and resting easily. He revels in holding her hand and talking to her. The doctor said she would know his voice and as time passes he starts to believe it. He can’t help but think back on all the times had talked to her before he was born. He found comfort in holding your bump and telling you both about his day or humming and singing familiar and beloved tunes. Those days aren’t so far gone and Calum feels a tug in his chest as he realizes how quickly they left. Seven months was too short. But as he gazes down at her he can’t help but be happy to have met her early. He laughs when the thought of her just wanting to meet you as soon as possible enters his mind and knows he’ll have to tell you that, knows it will make you smile. The night goes by without incident and it instills more and more hope into Calum’s heart that she could be going home any day now. He gets a text from you early in the morning when the sun is still making it’s ascent into the sky. 

He finds himself in your hospital room with a view of pink clouds on the horizon and the golden sun greeting you as the doctor says you’re okay enough to be discharged. You both listen to the instructions and advice the doctor gives you and Calum can see the relief and happiness on your face as you settle into the realization that you can be at your daughters side at any and all times. The doctor tells you to rest and take it easy but Calum knows nothing will be restful or easy until she’s home and you both know she’s okay. Your minds and hearts won’t have peace until she can rest in your arms. Calum helps you get ready to leave your own hospital room and head back to the NICU. Over the next couple of days you and Calum find an exhausting rhythm of being at her side. It takes a lot of convincing from Ashton and Mali to let them be there for her while you take just a small amount of time for yourselves. Though it’s hard and goes against all of your instincts to be there with her at every single minute you relent after nearly thirty six hours without real sleep.

The first time you and Calum leave and Ashton and Mali go in together you linger by the window and watch as they take up positions by her sides. Calum feels warm and okay as he watches, he even manages a smile when Ashton and Mali light up when they hold her hands. The first time eases the transition to being able to take small moments away, long enough to eat and stretch your legs. But you never stay away for too long and even when they’re in with her you always find your way to passing the window and checking in on her and them. Nights are a different story. There is nothing that will make either of you leave her side. Days go on with uncertainty and worries but having Ashton and Mali around helps take some of the pressures and anxieties off of your shoulders.

Night settles upon you both with weary exhaustion clinging to your minds, bodies and hearts. Your daughter has been doing well but there’s still no word of when she can go home. It leaves you reaching for fragmented pieces of hope. Curling your fingers around broken shards of optimism and the fabric of each other’s shirts, holding onto all that is dear. Calum tries convincing you to go home for a night but you staunchly refuse, you tell him that you’re okay though your eyes betray how tired and broken you really are. He doesn’t push the matter, just holds you close in the uncomfortable hospital chair and keeps his hand on hers and yours and whispers reassurances all three of you need.

“I don’t even care if we go home soon or not. I just want to hold her,” you whisper and cut through Calum’s attempts at soothing you. “It’s been what? Four days? Five?” you ask and furrow your brows, the concept of time completely lost.

“Six,” Calum answers and is only aware of it from the watch on his wrist. It feels like a lifetime and he realizes that for her it is. He nearly gets choked up but clears his throat and blinks his eyes rapidly trying to keep himself together. He feels you shake your head against his chest as if you can’t believe it.

“She’s so tiny she could probably fit in one hand,” you say and let out a forlorn sigh. “I don’t know if we have clothes small enough for her.”

“We can send Mali out for that, I’m sure she’ll have a field day. We might have to build another closet for her,” Calum says and a small laugh follows, you giggle slightly and it’s more than Calum has let himself expect in a long while.

You lapse into silence, too tired to keep talking but too aware and afraid to fall asleep just yet. Calum’s learned to blur out the noise of the machines and just focus on your steady breathing. It comforts him. Just as he knows the beat of his heart is comforting you with your head pressed to his chest. His lap is numb but he wants you as close as possible.

“Have you thought more about her name?”

“I like what you mentioned,” Calum answers, a tilt of a smile forming for you and the thought of her possible name on his face. “Let’s sleep on it one more night,” he says and hopes that you actually will be able to sleep.

He finds himself nodding off, neck crooked and head falling against the wall behind him. But slumber is quickly taken from him when he feels himself being shaken and hears your breathy whisper.

“Something’s wrong,” you say and he immediately perks up, heart lurching and breath catching at the two words. “Look.”

You point out the window of the NICU where a group of doctors have convened with sullen looks on their faces. There’s a moment where everything is palpable and tense. Calum’s throat tightens and his heart rate spikes with anxiety. He can hear machines beeping but it’s not uncommon. The doctors break their group and start to move.

“Please don’t come in here,” he hears you say but he’s too fixed on watching the doctors disappear from the window and waiting for the door to burst open. Waiting for a doctor to take his daughter away again. “No, no, no.”

Calum’s hand finds hers and it feels just the same as always, warm and soft and perfect. His heart drops. Nothing happens, the door doesn’t open and the beeping stops. He gives it another moment and clutches at his chest with his free hand. He lets out a breath that’s nearly painful. He doesn’t even notice that in the heat of the moment you left him and stood, but now he refocuses, where once there was white edging into his vision as panic picked up he blinks it away and notices your hands are shaking. When you turn back to look at him he sees tears in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says and reaches a hand out to bring you back to him. “It’s okay. She’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and settle back against him, and he can feel the tears on your face as you find a home against the crook of his neck. “I was scared.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have woken you. I shouldn’t have”—you begin but Calum strokes your hair and stops the words from coming out.

“That’s what I’m here for. I would’ve done the same,” he promises and assures. “She’s okay, we’re okay,” he continues when your small sobs and shakes don’t stop. He knows that you’re panic stricken and need to let the fear out. He holds you while you do, keeps his gaze flickering from you to her and lets the hum of the machines settle back in. He runs his hand up and down your back and hopes the rhythmic motion will help to calm you. He’s nearly certain sleep won’t be had any more for the night, he’s been running on coffee, anxiety, naps and adrenaline for days now. Once you’re calmed, or at least calmer, you pull away from Calum and he watches as you move back to her, settle so you can hold her hand and whisper to her. Her eyes are open and she’s calm. Calum notes and realizes how quiet she is, has been since she was first born. Even her cries are small and timid. He listens to you tell her that you both love her, that you can’t wait to bring her home and promise to always be there for her. Once the panic flees you both settle back in for the night but stay awake with closed eyes and hands on hers.

Morning comes in a slow creeping way. Doctors and nurses enter the NICU, you both watch silently as they make sure your daughter is doing well. It’s a silent and solemn affair to watch someone else be able to hold your baby—even if it’s just for a routine check in to make sure she’s making the progress she needs. Calum sees your arms flinching, watches as they calm when she’s back in the incubator and quiet. He knows it’s killing you to not hold her, cradle her in your arms and keep her safe from the world. It’s killing him too. Though you’re both somber and exhausted from the previous night, Calum finds that the morning is easier, he’s a little more light and certain. He won’t call it a good feeling as he doesn’t want to jinx it, but as he stares down at her and her eyes flutter open to meet his gaze he feels more calm and collected than he has in a week. His phone buzzes and though he doesn’t want to peel his gaze away from her he looks down and finds a message from Ashton.

“Ash says we should go get breakfast, he and Mali will come in for her,” Calum informs you and for the first time you don’t argue in favor of staying. Last night was too much, twenty minutes to recollect yourselves sounds good, and you’ve both come to trust Ashton and Mali to be alone with her.

“Alright, just get something quick from the cafeteria,” you agree and give your daughter one last touch and affirmation of love. You’ve both made it a habit to have your parting words to her be “I love you”.

Breakfast passes in a blur, remnants of blueberry muffins get swept into the trash and soon enough you’re both on your way back up to her. You’re stopped short in the hallway, a doctor calling out to you.

“Hoods?”

You both turn and a nervous feeling flutters through Calum’s chest. He holds his breath for a moment as he takes in the sight of the doctor. He exhales when the doctor seems in no rush and holds no note of concern. Calum supposes it’s a routine check in to tell about her progress and what the next steps are. Calum’s about ready to ask if you might be able to hold her soon, knowing how far she’s come and how much better she’s doing but the words get trapped as the doctor starts talking.

“She’s put on some weight. Her vitals are good. We’ll be transferring her to an open incubator for the day and if all goes well she should be able to go home by tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“What?” you ask, voice small in Calum’s ears, tinny and distant as you both process the news.

The doctor runs through it again, tells you slowly and answers questions that pop up during the explanation. Once it all makes sense, once it sinks in and the reality that her and home is coming sooner than either of you could have hoped for you’re both struck with a whirlwind of emotions. You freeze and for the second time the life of your daughter brings Calum to his knees. He doesn’t realize that he’s sobbing until you find him on the floor and your gentle hands and voice start to soothe him. Your fingers run through his hair and you repeat a new mantra that’s carved in stone and faith.

“She’s okay. We can go home.”

Your voice is a whisper and the NICU door opening and closing and footsteps all scream around you both. Calum clutches you and tries to catch his breath.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Ashton’s voice cuts through and brings you both to your feet. Calum doesn’t let go of you, face buried against your shoulder, but he finds some breath and wrestles with words and comes up empty.

“We get to take her home,” you explain and Calum suddenly hears Mali too, excited gasps and squeals sounding all around. Calum doesn’t let go of you but he feels his sister and best friend join the hug and appreciates their presence more than any choked up words could explain.

“Right now? I’ll go get the car,” Ashton asks and is reeling and ready to go but is stopped short.

“Tonight or in the morning,” you explain and Calum is grateful you’re strong enough to find words when he can’t. He continues holding you when Mali and Ashton break away, spilling their excitement out in bursts followed by tears.

He feels your hands in his hair again and the gentle sway of your body rocking him as he tries to ground himself into the reality that she really is okay. That nights filled with worries and days packed with exhaustion and waiting and waiting and waiting are going to be over. He breathes a little easier and finally detaches himself from you. You wipe his tears and he wipes yours and small laughs formed from disbelief and exhaustion spill past your lips.

“We have to finish her forms,” you remind and Calum doesn’t hesitate to dig into his jacket pocket where the papers for her birth certificate have been on standby. All that’s left to fill in is her name. “Should we go with…?” you ask and trail off as you peek at Mali and Ashton who are waiting with great suspense. Calum nods.

You fumble with the paper and pen and write her name out against the wall. You stay silent as you turn back to the group. You can sense Mali and Ashton are trying to be patient but the anticipation grows and keeps them on edge. All you do is silently hand them the paper so they can read for themselves.

“Mila Ashe Hood,” Mali reads in a breathy whisper coated with surprise. “She’s named after us?”

“After her godparents,” Calum says, finally finding some words but getting the wind knocked out of him once more as another group hug ensues. “Thank you guys, for everything, we couldn’t have made it without you.”

“That’s what family is for,” Ashton says without hesitation. “Now get in there and celebrate with her.”

***

“Do you want to hold her first?” you ask and look up at Calum with wide eyes. He meets your gaze, remembers your outstretched arm falling as they took her away, your pained and whispered words of just wanting to hold her, the way you flinched with fear at the sight of doctors outside the window. He wants to hold her but he wants you to have the moment you’ve been missing for seven days.

“It’s all you, sweetheart, you can go first,” he says and is content to watch with adoration and love as you reach into the open incubator she will be leaving for good momentarily to take her into your arms for the first time.

“Hi love bug,” you whisper as she settles in your hold; eyes open, quiet and content. “She’s so tiny and beautiful and perfect,” you say and softly rub her back. Calum sees tears in your eyes and for one of the first times in a week he knows they’re made of happiness. “Are you ready to go home?”

Mila doesn’t so much as squirm and you both take her contentment as a resounding yes. Calum lets you hold her for a few minutes more, takes several photos to capture the moment forever, knowing neither of you will ever want to forget. Mila’s eyes find Calum and his heart flutters.

“That’s daddy,” you tell her in a coo. “Do you want to go see daddy?”

The slow motion of Calum’s world stops as his entire universe ends up cradled in his arms. Mila weighs barely five pounds and Calum surmises your guess of her fitting in one hand would be right. But he holds her with all of the soft strength and love he has and wonders if he’ll ever be ready to let go.

“Ashton’s bringing the car around,” you inform. “Her car seat…”

“Luke dropped by and installed it,” Calum responds and laughs when you give him an uncertain look. “I’ll make sure it’s secure.” He would never let anything bad happen to his baby girl.

The transition from the hospital to the car goes fast in comparison to the agonizing wait of seven days. You both sit in the back with her, holding her hands, talking to her and enjoying the feeling of freedom from the incubator and anxiety. Mila is back in your arms and seeing her home for the first time in what seems like no time at all. The car ride flew by. Calum heads down the hall and takes a peek at the nursery.

“Sweetheart, come look,” he calls down the hall and pushes the door fully open when you and Mila reach him.

The sight of the finished nursery is breathtaking. You and Calum show Mila around her room; from the white crib and the pictures of woodland creatures above, to the rocker in the corner and the endless clothes that line her drawers.

“This is your room,” you coo, and shift your weight from one foot to the other, already noting that she likes a small rhythm when she’s held. “You’ll sleep right here when you’re bigger. For now you sleep right by mommy and daddy.”

You go across the hall to your room where her bassinet is set up and timidly ask Calum if it can switch sides of the bed so she can be near you. You explain it’s so you can feed her easier in the night but Calum doesn’t need an explanation, he’d do anything for you and her. He makes the switch and you gently lay her inside, kiss her forehead and clutch Calum as he stands by your side.

“I want to have more kids, I want her to have a sibling like you and Mali but I can’t go through that again,” you whisper and Calum can hear the heartache in your tone.

He pulls you close. “She will. We wanted to adopt, remember?”

You light up at that and smile with such sincerity it takes the ache right from your hearts. “Yeah. We’ll adopt,” you say and snuggle against Calum’s chest as a smirk grows on your face. “So, do you want to start that process tomorrow or?”

Calum bellows out a laugh and runs his fingers through your hair.

“Let’s take a breather, yeah? Enjoy being home with her for just a bit.”

“Okay,” you concede and Calum lets you drag him to bed where you can both rest. With his arms around you and your eyes on Mila who has fallen fast asleep you let out a content sigh and Calum smiles.

“I love you,” Calum says once and then again, one for you and one for Mila and you repeat the same back to them.

“I’m so happy to be home with my family,” you say around a sigh.

Seven months of pregnancy and seven days in the hospital have worn you both thin but in that moment there’s no other place you’d rather be. Beside your baby and in each other’s arms. The wait and anxiety are worth it once you find that all you have now is happiness and love. Calum and Mila.

<< >>

I can’t believe we’ve finally made it to this point in the dates with cal universe. I’m so appreciative of the support whether you’ve been around since the very first blurb, joined somewhere in the middle or are just finding this world. Thank you all so much. There is much to come, I hope you stick around for the journey.

Premature birth can come with many complications. What was depicted in this fic is one scenario of struggles parents and preemies can face. If you feel so inclined there are amazing charities to check out to help support families and babies in their time of need. Overall, stay kind and spread love and support.

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[calpops]

midnight into morning | c.h.

You and Calum spend your first night and morning at home with your newborn daughter and she meets her uncles along the way.

3k words

dates with cal masterlist

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

<< >>

Midnight quickly turns into morning, Calum is tired but every time he closes his eyes fear strikes through him. You’re at his side, tucked under the covers but unable to sleep for all the same reasons. Your daughter Mila is quiet in her bassinet and from the slight glow of the moon peeking through the curtains Calum can see that her eyes are closed. It’s the first night she’s home from the hospital after seven days in the neonatal intensive care unit, only a week old and so precious and small it worries Calum to take his eyes off of her, to lose her for even a moment. He sighs and a sigh from you follows.

“Have you slept at all?” you ask in a thick and tried whisper.

“Maybe for a few minutes,” Calum responds but can’t be sure of it. The night is getting hazy as time passes.

“I can’t sleep either,” you admit.

It’s the first night back at home, the first night in your own bed and not an uncomfortable plastic chair and yet rest doesn’t come any easier than all of the nights in the hospital. Calum nods at your words, understanding without explanation why sleep evades you. It’s the same for him.

“I’m just so worried,” you continue and Calum knows you need to talk about it, to get some weight off of your chest. “What if something happens? What if we’re asleep and she’s not okay?”

Calum doesn’t have answers to those questions and they only present thoughts he’d much rather never have to consider. He feels himself getting choked up but he shakes his head and shakes away the fear as best as he can. He trails his fingers along your jaw, soft and reassuring. A thousand thoughts spin through his mind and rocks the foundation of the world he shares with you and Mila. He comes to an answer though he knows it’s not a solution that is feasible long term.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“Last I looked it was almost four,” you answer and bite your lip, Calum catching the motion of worry from moonlight.

“You get some sleep. I’ll stay up with her,” he offers and not only sees but feels the disapproving shake of your head. “Sweetheart, one of us has to sleep. Your body’s been through so much. Mila needs you to be rested,” he adds on and knows the tactic is a little low but if you won’t sleep for yourself or for him the only other person you would do anything for is her. “Sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

You give him a pout but he sees that you’re relenting from the tired look in your eyes and the way they can’t stay open any longer. You nod, beg for a kiss with a small noise and puckered lips and finally settle in to attempt to sleep when he gives you a peck. Calum stays by your side while you war with slumber, keeps a hand trailing up and down your back in a soothing rhythm and has his gaze pinned on the bassinet at the bedside. Mila has only stirred a few times during the night, to be fed and changed and soothed. Otherwise she’s slept and been sound. Once Calum is sure that you’ve finally drifted and the clock reads five he slips out of bed and rounds the corner to get to Mila.

Just the sight of her makes him smile, brings tears to his eyes and has him at peace with the restless nights. He would give up anything for her. Sleep. Time. The rest of the world. He wants more than anything to hold her but he doesn’t want to wake her.

He settles for something familiar, a soft fingertip trailing over her small hand. For seven days it was the only form of contact he had with her. She doesn’t flinch or react in any way, she stays still and calm. After a moment eyes that mirror his own open but she doesn’t cry. She’s secure with his touch and it warms Calum to know his presence keeps her calm. He looks over at you, finally burrowed under the covers and asleep, then looks back at her and reaches into the bassinet slowly and carefully and quietly. She fits so perfectly in his arms, her small body tucked into his hold with ease.

“We’re gonna let mommy sleep,” he whispers and presses a kiss to the top of her head as he strides out the door and for the nursery across the hall. “Would you like a good morning story, lovebug?” Calum asks as he settles into the rocker near the crib. He borrows your term of endearment for her, having heard you call her lovebug in the hospital.

Mila stays quiet and Calum takes that as a yes. As the sun comes up he reads to her about a bunny and once the pages come to an end he proceeds to talk to her instead.

“Your mommy and I used to read each other to sleep,” he says with a fond and far off smile as he recalls the gentle nights of whispered words. It was a tradition created when sleepless nights after breaking up and getting back together ensued. He sits and rocks Mila, tells her stories about you and revels in the warmth of her and the sun coming in through the window.

Just as the story of meeting you enters his mind and sits on his tongue your voice breaks the thought away.

“Good morning.”

Calum’s eyes dart up and find you standing in the hallway, pajamas a rumpled mess and hair in disarray but a more restful look in your eyes. He smiles, unable to stop himself, the mere sight of you enough to make him happy.

“How is she?” you ask when Calum stays quiet.

“Perfect,” he answers without hesitation, wanting to put any fears or questions at bay for you. “You could go back to sleep if you want. We’re good right here.”

You shake your head. “I’m awake now, I should probably feed her.”

Calum agrees with a head nod and laughs when you enter the room with outstretched arms and wiggling fingers in your anticipation to hold her. Calum understands the feeling of wanting her in your arms. Seven days without her makes every moment that much more important. He gives Mila one last kiss on the cheek before standing and gently handing her to you. He watches with caution and admiration as you settle into his place in the rocker with her in your arms. Mila makes the transition from him to you with such ease it’s almost startling how easy she is after so much turmoil.

“Do my sweethearts need anything?” Calum asks and plants one knee on the ground to be level with you and Mila and darts his gaze from you to her.

“Breakfast?” you ask with a little smirk and raised eyebrows. “If it’s not too much?”

“Nothing ever is, I’m on it,” Calum promises and rises from his one knee position.

He doesn’t forget to give you a parting kiss before heading for the kitchen. The house is quiet and calm and it’s such a striking contrast to the constant activity and anxiety of the hospital that it nearly winds Calum. He doesn’t even have time to get a pan out before a soft knock on the front door has him running off.

“I brought breakfast,” Luke says as a greeting when the door swings open. “Thought you guys could use a break, make things a little easier for you.”

“Thanks,” Calum says and means it, nothing but appreciation coursing through him at the thoughtful gesture. Calum takes the bag of takeout from his best friend and a sudden realization hits him. “How’s Duke? Do you want us to come get him?”

Luke waves off Calum’s question. “He’s fine. He can stay a while longer if you guys want time to get Mila settled.”

“That might be good,” Calum says and contemplates. He’s not sure how introducing Duke to Mila will go over but from his protective nature of you during pregnancy Calum has a feeling Duke will be nothing but a guard dog to Mila. When Luke lingers, eyes darting into the house Calum smirks. “Anything else?”

“Can I see her?” Luke finally asks and Calum huffs out a laugh as he expected that question as soon as their eyes met. Calum steps aside so the entrance is wide open for Luke.

“Come on in. She’s being fed right now,” he explains and sets the bag of food on the counter. “Want any?” he asks as he starts to unpack the near buffet Luke brought for only two.

Luke waves off the offer as Calum sets to plating the food and waiting for you to come out with Mila. When you do, with slow footsteps and an easy smile at the sight of Luke he lights up at the baby in your arms. Calum watches as his eyes soften and his lower lip juts out in awe. Mila is small in your arms, face buried against you with her eyes closed, tiny hand curled into a fist. Luke immediately stands from his seat and suppresses a gasp, or that’s what Calum believes the chortled noise is.

“Is that her?” Luke asks in a breathy and unbelieving whisper.

“No, it’s some other baby,” you retort with a laugh. Calum chuckles and grins when Luke falters for just a moment and then joins the laughter.

“She’s so tiny,” Luke comments as he stands from his position on the barstool. “Can I hold her?”

There’s a tense moment of pause where Calum watches your body language. You turn at an angle so Mila is slightly away from Luke. Your eyes skirt to Calum and show fears and anxieties as clear as day. You bite your lip and then frown.

“Do you have even a slight sniffle or sore throat?” you question, worries born of getting Mila sick and another hospital stay lingering deep inside.

Luke quickly shakes his head as he picks up on the meaning of the question. “I’m the pinnacle of health. I promise.”

Calum gazes at you as you begin to let your guard down and slowly nod. “Okay, but sit on the couch,” you suggest and Calum smirks at the momma bear protective instincts already coursing through you.

Luke agrees to that plan and Calum walks over to the living room with you and Luke. He settles on the couch and reaches out for Mila. You hesitate for a moment, needing to give her one last little squeeze and kiss before giving her up and it makes Calum smile as he’s already prone to doing the same thing. Mila stirs when handed to Luke, tiny cries falling from her as she makes the adjustment into a stranger’s arms. Calum flocks to Luke’s side, the one you’re not already on, and gently takes her hand.

“Hey lovebug, it’s okay, this is your uncle Luke, he just wants to hold you, it’s okay,” Calum whispers in as soothing of a voice as he can amongst her small cries. His heart hurts with every little noise that escapes her, his hand is soft on hers and his words are even softer. “It’s okay, we like uncle Luke, he’s big and goofy and loves you.”

You follow suit and whisper soothing words to Mila who’s cries begin to taper off. It takes another moment for her to become comfortable and trusting in Luke’s hold. Calum isn’t sure if he can attribute it to Mila trusting Luke or Mila trusting your presence and comfort. Either way he’s overjoyed that she settles in.

“We’re good now right?” Luke asks as he looks down at Mila, finally quiet and content. “You guys go eat, I’ve got her.”

You both hesitate as if waiting for Mila to decide she’s no longer okay but she stays calm and soothed as Luke rubs her back and coos to her. Calum releases a breath and heads for the kitchen with you but keeps his eyes trained on Luke and Mila. You eat breakfast in silence, merely observing and listening as Luke acquaints himself with your daughter. Calum can’t hold back his grins and snorts at Luke’s antics.

“Hi, how are you?” Luke asks in a baby voice as he shifts Mila so he can cradle her in his arms instead of against his chest. Calum gazes at the two with just as much fondness in his eyes as Luke has in his for Mila. “You know, I built your nursery and put your car seat in the car and even helped your auntie Mali pick out those cute little pajamas you’re wearing. And we got your things you’ll grow into; pretty dresses and cute little bunny slippers,” Luke continues, his words like business but his voice is higher pitched and more gentle than usual.

“What are you doing?” Calum asks around a bite of muffin.

Luke looks over at Calum from his position on the couch and Calum arches an eyebrow.

“Just pitching to her why I should be the favorite uncle,” he explains and doesn’t hesitate to turn back to Mila to continue talking to her as if she understands.

The interaction and explanation make both you and Calum laugh. You’re both hasty in eating the breakfast Luke brought for you, wanting nothing more than to get back to your daughter though with the way Luke holds her and speaks to her you’re not sure he’ll give her up any more willingly than either of you would. You end up back in the living room after eating and sit on either side of Luke and Mila, letting him have a little more time with her before swooping in to take her back.

“I can’t get over how small she is,” Luke says when you both join him. He has a light hold on her hand and smiles when her eyes meet his. “My pinky finger is bigger than her hand. Look at her. She’s tiny.”

Luke continues to fawn over Mila while you and Calum watch from your perches on the couch and while both of you would rather have her in your arms you don’t rob Luke of time with her. Only another knock on the door rouses both of you from watching them.

“I’ll get it, you make sure Luke doesn’t run away with her,” you offer and Calum laughs but sweeps a skeptical eye to Luke. There’s only a moment before Michael walks into the living room escorted by you and awe at your baby in Luke’s arms.

Michael voices his awe and Calum grins at the softness of his voice and eyes and picks up on the flinch of his arms as he also desperately wants to hold Mila. Luke doesn’t seem to get the memo, or completely ignores it in any case, and continues to hold her.

“Alright, my turn,” Michael finally announces minutes after taking a seat and trying to be patient, not one to hold onto subtleties for too long.

Luke shakes his head. “Get your own baby.”

“You get your own baby,” Michael says around a laugh at the staunch look of not giving up on Luke’s face.

“Maybe someday I will,” Luke mumbles and sighs, gives Mila one last little coo and finally relents.

The transition from Luke to Michael comes with a small fuss but you and Calum stay by her side until she’s settled. Calum watches his lifelong friend hold his daughter and feels overwhelming warmth and happiness radiate through him. Calum concludes Michael must be feeling the same as he gazes down at Mila with watery eyes and a gentle smile.

“I love her so much,” Michael says and a crack in his voice alludes to the emotion his words promise. “But I am disappointed I was the last one to hold her,” he adds on with a pointed and somewhat joking look to you and Calum.

Calum throws his hands up in the air in surrender and defense. “Shoulda brought us breakfast like Luke,” he jokes and shrugs, to which Michael narrows his eyes but laughs along. “Besides, my parents haven’t even met her yet. They’re catching a flight out tomorrow.”

Michael concedes his argument and jokes and settles into gently rocking Mila, holding her hand and getting himself wrapped her tiniest finger. 

“You guys gonna get any rest until then?” Luke questions in the vein of mentioning how tired you and Calum look but it’s only asked in concern.

“Maybe,” you answer and Calum catches the slight frown on your face.

“It’ll be easier when they’re here,” Calum says and rubs your back soothingly. “It’ll be nice to have them around during the nights.”

“Well, if you need any help you know we’re here,” Michael offers.

“I’ll take her anytime. Can’t promise I’ll give her back though,” Luke pipes in and smirks. “I am her favorite uncle after all.”

“Says who?” Michael asks and gives Mila a little tickle as if to earn affection and the coveted spot of favorite uncle.

“She did. We had a little talk before you got here,” Luke says casually.

You and Calum both laugh at the little argument that ensues and in the distraction swoop in and take Mila from Michael. You hold her and Calum holds you. Ashton and Mali let themselves in through the front door and as they join the group you both know your family will always be there for you and for your daughter.

<< >>

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[calpops]

three month surprise | c.h.

Calum surprises you with a gift as your daughter turns three months old.

1.5k words

dates with cal masterlist

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

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Nights grow easier for you and Calum as the fact that Mila is okay starts to sink in. New rationalizations turn into mantras and coping mechanisms for long nights when neither of you want to sleep. The doctors wouldn’t have sent her home if she wasn’t okay. She’s okay. Calum repeats those words for him and for you, to convince you both that sleep is needed and when you wake she will still be in her bassinet by your bed, sound and sweet as ever. Though it’s a struggle, and for her first week you sleep in shifts just to be sure, as time goes on acceptance comes with it.

Calum’s parents’ visit helps with the anxiety. Having them on standby eases worries, having two more people around who love Mila reinforces the fact that if anything were to happen someone would be there, someone would help. His parents' adoration and instant love for her fills you both with warmth. The first moment they laid eyes on her a silence befell them, his mom’s mouth slightly parting with a tiny gasp and eyes wide with joy and disbelief. His dad stood still and quiet as he took her in his arms and finally broke to coo at her and sway with a rhythm that always puts her to sleep. Their help has been immeasurable in settling in at home and finding peace. Their departure came with tears and promises to visit soon—and requests to bring her to them so she can see where Calum grew up. You both have every intention to make a trip of it when she’s older and better able to handle that amount of travel. For now, zoom calls and FaceTime become a regularity so her grandparents can see her.

Time passes and her first month of life goes without incident and harbors love and laughter; tiny moments that add up to everything encompasses your time with her. Ashton, Luke, Michael and Mali all pop in and help out when they can. Her second month goes by in a blue and all too soon her third month of life approaches and Calum decides he needs to mark the occasion with something special. He keeps his thoughts to himself, wanting it to be a surprise for you, something sentimental you and Mila will always be able to remember.

“Good morning, little love,” Calum says in a soft whisper as Mila stares up at him from her bassinet. He gently picks her up, cradles her to him so her head rests against his chest and his arms wind around her. She’s still tiny, smaller than an average three month old though that’s to be expected. “We have big plans today, but you have to keep it a secret from mommy.”

Mila doesn’t squirm or squabble or make a noise and Calum takes it as a good sign of faith that their secret is safe. He carries her to the living room, planting little kisses to her smushed cheek as he goes, every moment with her precious and filled with love.

You’ve already left the house to run some errands and chase after some normalcy, as much love and happiness as there has been for nearly three months there has also been lingering anxiety and shutting out the rest of the world in favor of being with each other and Mila. You and Calum had a talk about it the night previous, thick words and teary eyes finally coming to the conclusion that something needed to give. You start with a baby step; going to a cafe with a friend and getting a few groceries on the way home. Calum uses your time away for the surprise.

He’s all set up for the surprise, supplies all laid out across the coffee table, his second in command curled up on the couch with a slightly wagging tail as he and Mila come into view. He settles on the couch next to Duke and in front of all the supplies needed. A long sheet of paper claims most of the table, paint, pallet and a rag claim the rest. Mila yawns in Calum’s arms, the little breath shutting her eyes for a moment and making Calum wrinkle his nose at how adorable everything she does is.

“This won’t take long, then we can take a nap,” Calum promises with a small laugh and gives her another kiss on the cheek then readjusts his hold so she lays on his lap and is held by his arms. He gently picks up one of her tiny hands and can’t help but coo, “Look at those hands, the cutest little things I’ve ever seen. Mommy’s gonna love this.”

Mila lets out a small noise, filled with joy, something akin to a laugh and Calum’s grin grows with the sound. She’s still naturally quiet and Calum enjoys the fact that you always tell him she gets it from him. But he loves to hear her little noises and can’t wait for the day that a true laugh sounds from her, until he hears dada and I love you. For now he’s content with the little noises of happiness and contentment she’s able to produce. Another small one comes from her as he takes her other hand and makes more comments about how cute she is, how tiny her hands are, how sweet she is, how much he loves her.

The surprise doesn’t take too long to make, Mila being compliant and relaxed helping the endeavor. Duke’s nonchalance and indifference also aiding in the smooth sailing. Everything is picked up and tucked away by the time you get home.

You’re not greeted by Calum and Mila as you mostly expected, instead you walk into silence and confusion. It’s only mid morning and usually Mila is awake and being tended to in some way. When you finish with the few groceries you find your husband and baby in the living room, one half asleep on the couch and the other sound and out in a strong and sure pair of arms.

“Cal, love, wake up,” you gently coax in a soft voice so as not to startle him.

“I’m not asleep,” he answers almost instantly but his eyes spring open and his tired voice betrays him.

“I’ll take her,” you offer and reach your arms out for Mila. “I’ll put her in our room. I don’t want her to fall,” you say though you’re sure she wouldn’t. She’s in between the couch and Calum, nestled against him with her head resting on his chest. Heart beats and a rhythmic sway are one of two ways to get her to sleep.

“I’ve got her. And we’ve got something for you,” Calum announces as he carefully sits up with a sleeping Mila still content and safe in his arms.

“Something for me?” you ponder and bite your lip, wondering if it’s a special occasion. “I don’t need anything but you two,” you say and when Duke pops his head up from beneath blankets you laugh and correct yourself. “You three.”

“Indulge me,” Calum says and stands, goes to you and gives you a kiss and a moment to greet Mila before stalking off to the bedroom. He leaves you baffled but comes back before you can call after him or follow them down the hallway. Mila is in one arm, waking with heavy eyes, and his other hides behind his back. You raise an eyebrow in question and slowly approach him when he beckons you with a look.

“I hope it’s nothing expensive,” you comment and when Calum shakes his head you feel a bit better. You’d much rather be giving Mila gifts than receiving any.

“Open it,” he says and finally brings his arm from behind his back to reveal a rolled up parchment.

You give him a small look before unwinding a red ribbon from the center of the paper and rolling it open. In your hands are the hands of those you love the most. Three little sets of prints lay on the page in different colored paint. Four hands in blue and pink right in the center and scattered paws in black dots along the page. Your lip quivers and your eyes blink back tears as a shaky breath escapes you at the sentiment of the present.

“We left a spot for you,” Calum informs and gestures to the space just big enough for your hands between his hands and Mila’s. Your fingers clutch the page with heartfelt emotions coursing through you.

You don’t have the words to express your thanks but a kiss for each helps to get the message across. “I don’t understand. Why? What prompted this?” you ask, baffled but appreciative of the gift. “It’s not Mother’s Day… is it?”

Calum laughs and shakes his head but pulls you into his free side. You find your way into his hold and revel in the comfort as you find yourself gazing at your daughter. “Mila’s three months now. I wanted you to have something special.”

“Thank you,” you say and lift yourself on the top of your toes to give him a kiss. “I love it. And all of you,” you add on and smile as you realize that though the last three months have been filled with trials and tribulations it’s also been the happiest time of your life.

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Tagged: @rosecolouredash​ @irwinkitten​ @golden-hood @caswinchester2000​ @wildflowergrae​ @cuddlemecalx @malumsmermaid​ @babylon-corgis​ @outerspaceisbetterthannothing​ @mariellelovescupcakes​ @xhaileyreneex​ @gosh-im-short​ @feliznavidaddycal​ @loveroflrh​ @findingliam-o​ @flowerthug​ @g-l-pierce​ @talkfastromance4​ @cashtonasfuck​ @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​ @wastedheartcth​ @calumscalm​ @notinthesameguey​ @lukesfuckingbeard​ @myloverboyash​ @treatallwithkindness​ @haikucal​ @wiildflower-xxx​ @calum-uncrowned @egyptiangoldhood​ @drarryetcetera​ @another-lonely-heart @megz1985​ @idk-harry​ @dinosaursandsocks​ @wildflower-cth​ @idontneedanyone​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @myfavfanficsever​ @stormrider505​ @karajaynetoday​ @333-xx​ @calumshpod​ @calumsphile​ @calumrose​ @justhereforcalum​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @calumance​ @mentlereid @hemmingslftv​ @homeofpoetry @shamelessfangirl-3​ 

[calpops]

restless | c.h.

During restless nights an old book and your soothing voice are the only things that can get Calum to sleep.

dates with cal masterlist

1k words

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

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The bed shifts and you hear Calum sigh beside you. He’s been restless for nights on end. You don’t know what’s going through his mind—if it’s good or bad—and can’t bring yourself to ask. He’s always opened up of his own volition, you know when he’s ready you’ll be the first to know. You turn and face him, it coming as no surprise that his eyes are open and his hand is curled into the sheet; his frustration at lack of sleep showing in the harsh grip he keeps and the uneven breaths lifting his chest.

“Can’t sleep again?” It’s less a question and more a statement. You don’t expect him to tell you why and are settled with just the nod of his head.

“Don’t know what to do to fix it,” he admits and you hear the defeat in his tone as he lets out another sigh. “I’ve never struggled like this before.”

His struggles strike an ache through you that sits in the silence and the dark. You bite your lip in contemplation and think about all the nights Calum has helped you when sleep was evasive and thoughts were too loud. An idea slowly forms in your mind as you turn back around, reach a hand out to switch your bedside lamp on and start to rise.

“Where are you going?” Calum asks, his hand gently trailing your arm. “If I’m keeping you up I can go to the spare room.”

“No,” you quickly deny and feel your feet hit the cool wooden floor, eyes darting to the other side of the room where your bag lays on the floor. “I have an idea. It might help.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as you stride for your bag and pull out your favorite book. You’ve been bringing it with you everywhere lately as you reread it. Calum’s taken a vague interest in it at times; it’s the backup he gave you on a night that rain decorated the pages. You climb back into bed and settle into a sitting position with your back against the headboard, opening to the first page.

“Sweetheart,” Calum says and you hear the confusion in his voice.

“I can’t sing or hum you to sleep like you do for me”—you begin and give him a sincere look—“but I can read to you. Just close your eyes.”

“I don’t know,” Calum says and you know the uncertainty stems from too many nights without a cure; how is he to believe something—anything—will work at this point.

“Just try, for me?”

Calum nods but doesn’t close his eyes, keeps his gaze level on you and readjusts his position, arms now open and waiting. “Will you at least come here? I definitely won’t sleep if you’re not where you’re supposed to be.”

You blush at the sentiment, knowing his arms are where you belong, especially in the night. Especially after weeks without his hold. You move down and let his arms wrap around you. You readjust the book and peer at the first sentence.

“Are your eyes closed?” You question and feel him nod against you and you believe it.

Quietly you begin reading, voice as soothing and soft as can be. He makes a few noises as the first chapter comes and goes; showing his interest and that he’s still awake. But as the second chapter begins he goes quiet. By the end he’s been silent and all you can hear is his steady breaths and two heartbeats nearly in sync.

“Cal?” You whisper, just to be sure.

You’re met with no reply and smile just a little as your plan finds success. You close the book and set it on the nightstand as you flick off the lamp. You leave the book there the next morning, wondering if chapter three would be read that night.

When it is and chapter four and five and six also come and go and the end of the book nears Calum finally confides in you about his restless habits.

“I think I’ve just been missing you,” he admits. “Our break was a lot and now I’m back at rehearsals and tour prep and I feel like we never get to spend time together anymore.”

“I’m right by your side all night,” you promise though you know it’s not the same, it’s not what he’s craving and you sympathize with the feeling.

“I know,” he rationalizes. “But it’s nice to hear your voice as I drift off. It’s a good reminder.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise and know the words sound light but the impact is much stronger. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You resolve to make the most of mornings, to wake up a bit earlier to spend more moments together. Have breakfast with one another. Find a rhythm of being back together. To make healing the hairline fractures distance caused a priority.

The next night you finish the book. The night after when uncertainty lingers you reach to the nightstand.

“I got a new book today,” you say. “I think you’ll like it.”

Calum grins and reaches for it. “I think it’s my turn to read to you.”

You settle into his hold and revel in the softness of his voice. You both fall asleep with the book laying open on the mattress beside you. And once that book is finished another takes its place and shifts back into your hands and voice. Reading becomes a routine. Nights together are a solace. Restlessness is a thing of the past. You are each other’s way of finding peace.

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[calpops]

wake up | c.h.

Ever since this picture came out I’ve had this thought in my head that I needed to write in the dates with cal universe. Hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 1k

***

Calum has been at tour rehearsal all day, and all the night previous you two had been working on the new house. Unpacking odds and ends, deciding which curtains looked best in which window, lining shelves with trinkets and mementoes of your relationship. A book that wore watered down pages with pride, given on a night an apology shattered silence but was as delicate as a single raindrop hitting the earth. A flower to replicate the botanical garden your first date had taken place in. Art in the park tickets framed to commemorate the day of your first kiss. They’d all been Calum’s doing; he unpacked the book from the depths of the boxes, had framed the tickets and purchased vase and flower. It made your heart swell to realize he had already begun keeping his promise. He’d started to accumulate things he loved in the new home.

You walk quickly into the building the rehearsal is taking place, having agreed to meet Calum after for a dinner date. It’s quieter than you would have expected, used to the drone of guitars and drums or yelling accompanied by laughter. The lights in the hallway are dimmed and your steps echo around white walls and tiled floors. You push past the heavy door to the rehearsal room to be met with a surprise. Ashton lingers still, back pressed to a corner wall and phone in hand. He looks up to greet you and his eyes skirt over to the other side of the room. You follow his path and try to suppress a laugh but can’t bite back the grin that forms on your face. Ashton lets a small chuckle slip and you look back at him.

“Didn’t wanna leave him here alone,” Ashton explains and then shrugs. “Didn’t wanna be the one to wake him up either.”

That tugs a small laugh out of you as you gaze back at Calum sprawled out on the floor, somehow sleeping with his back to hardwood and legs straight as a pin. It’s mildly confusing, his usual sleeping position curled up on his side—no bed seemingly soft enough. But it makes sense in a way. So many late nights organizing the house, or staying late in the studio for last minute changes and early mornings rehearsing or walking with Duke. Calum had been running on empty for days. You were surprised it hadn’t hit him sooner. You bit your lip as your eyes stayed on him.

“I can handle it,” you offer and hear Ashton’s breath of relief.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he replies and you hear his footsteps clashing with yours as you head towards Calum and he heads for the door.

Once reaching Calum you slowly drop to your knees, one hand on the floor as you lean down and the other gently placed on his stomach. You can feel his even breathing. The soft rise and fall. You contemplate how best to wake him, wanting it to be an easy affair; knowing the grumpiness that would follow from an intrusive waking. The only idea you can fathom is the way you wake him at home. For a moment it seems foolish but the peaceful look on his face sways you into the most gentle of measures. You settle down at his side, tucking yourself against him with your head on his chest. You can feel your cheeks heating at the situation but you bypass the embarrassment and tell yourself no one is around; it’s just the two of you, just like usual.

You give him a slight squeeze with the arm sling over him and nuzzle into him; mimicking mornings you woke earlier than him. You feel his response almost immediately, a slight shift underneath you. You can tell he’s starting the cycle of waking peacefully. You give him another squeeze and trail your fingers along his arm.

“Cal, you gotta wake up,” you whisper in an attempt at your usual morning voice.

Only a second passes before a tired moan slips out of him and a plea for five more minutes follows. You laugh and shift, now knowing he’s at least partially awake. You push slightly up and hover above him, fingers finding way to his jawline and ghosting over it as he smiles with his eyes still closed.

“No more minutes, gotta wake up so we can go home and sleep in our bed.”

Calum’s eyes open at that and he finds you hovering over him; his back pressed to the floor and a rehearsal room in the background. You greet him with a soft smile and when he pouts his lip a quick kiss follows. You both move to sit up and you can see the tiredness in Calum’s eyes. His movement is languid and drawn out as he lifts himself up and pulls you back to him.

“We were supposed to go to dinner, weren’t we?” He asks, voice gravelly as he presses his face against the crook of your shoulder.

“Why don’t we just order take out and eat in bed?” You offer while running soothing fingers through his hair.

You can feel his smile pressed against your skin as he gives your shoulder a small kiss as a sign of appreciation and agreement.

A throat clears and has you both turning towards the doors; Ashton stood with his arms crossed and a smirk painted on his face. “If I knew all it took to wake him without a fight was a little snuggle I would’ve been doing that years ago.”

You blush profusely and turn back to bury your face against Calum. “I thought he left,” you mumble.

“I came back to see if you needed help,” Ashton laughs as he heard your quiet words—because of course he did. “But I think you’ve got it handled.”

Ashton leaves after that, embarrassment still heating you from the inside out and Calum slightly chuckling.

“It’s not funny,” you grumble as you both stand. “You’re impossible to wake up any other way.”

Calum offers you his hand and his understanding. “I know I am. Now let’s get home and to bed so I can wake up like that tomorrow.”

He grins and you roll your eyes.

“It’s one of my favorite parts of the day,” he defends. And you know he means it. Always chasing extra time in bed with you, sometimes pretending to stay asleep to get another squeeze from you. 

You’re the only one he wants to wake up to.

***

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Tagged: @rosecolouredash​ @irwinkitten​ @golden-hood @who-do-you-love-5sos​ @caswinchester2000​ @wildflowergrae​ @empathycth​ @cuddlemecalx @calumsmermaid​ @babylon-corgis​ @outerspaceisbetterthannothing​ @mariellelovescupcakes​ @xhaileyreneex​ @goth5sos​ @gosh-im-short​ @feliznavidaddycal​ @loveroflrh​ @findingliam-o​ @flowerthug​ @g-l-pierce​ @talkfastromance4​ @cashtonasfuck​ @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​ @wastedheartcth​ @calumscalm​ @thesubtweeter​ @akafeliznavidaddy​ @myloverboyash​ @treatallwithkindness​ @cals-wildflower​

[calpops]

the decorations | c.h.

Welcome to the first installment of 12 dates with calmas! There will be one blurb every day through Christmas! Happy holidays if you celebrate and good times to you all! ♥️

You and Calum go decoration shopping in an attempt to make your daughter’s first Christmas perfect. Shoutout to @notinthesameguey for such a fun idea, everyone go give Blanca some much deserved love!

1.3k words

dates with cal masterlist

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

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“Cal, look,” you say and grab your husband’s attention as you pull an ornament from its hook in the aisle. Calum turns to gaze at you, your five month old daughter snuggled into his arms. Mila is half awake, her eyes barely open as her head rests against Calum’s chest. Her baby carrier is in the cart but neither of you are prone to using it, always opting to have her in your arms where it feels she’s the safest. Calum raises his eyebrows in question at the ornament in your hand and strides across the aisle as Mila yawns.

“What is it?” Calum asks as he scans the item in question with a sweeping gaze. Gold and glitter adorn the ornament and a space in the middle leaves him confused.

“It’s for a family photo,” you inform and toss it into the cart without any further question or information. Calum grins at your antics and takes a peek into the cart you’ve both been mindlessly filling all morning. Everything from garland to window clings of snowflakes to ornaments to endless strings of lights to wall hangings and wreaths are buried amongst each other in the cart. “Are we missing anything?”

“I’m pretty sure we have half the store in our cart,” Calum says around a laugh and takes a small step closer to you as he watches your nose crinkle and eyebrows furrow in thought. You bite your lip for a moment and Calum knows how far gone your thoughts are taking you—to the other half of the store yet to be bought.

“It’s our baby’s first Christmas. I want it to be perfect,” you finally say and close the slight distance between you, Calum and Mila. Your hand reaches up to stroke Mila’s cheek and your eyes soften as she gazes at you with a little smile. “Besides, we’ve never decorated the house before. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Calum simply nods, knowing how important Mila’s first Christmas is to you, also feeling the same amount of importance in his own heart. You and your daughter are everything to him. Your first Christmas as a family shines in the distance with string lights and glitter filled ornaments. Calum knows all that is in the cart are just accessories to the day, that the most important thing is being together. But the shine of happiness and awe in your eyes at Christmas decor convinces him the rest is worthwhile, even down to the napkin holders and Christmas collar for Duke.

“Should we get anything for the yard?” you ask next as you wander down another aisle with Calum and Mila following. “We could get the inflatable Santa… or is that too tacky?”

Calum huffs out a laugh at the serious contemplation on your face as your eyes scan yard ornaments and lights. “Sweetheart, we’re buying matching pajamas for you, me, Mila and Duke; I think we’re well past tacky.”

“Yeah?” you ask with a light smile and slowly reach for the jolly looking Santa to not so inconspicuously put it among all of the other decorations much to Calum’s amusement. “Stockings!” You blurt out as the looked past but very much needed staple of Christmas enters your thoughts. “We don’t have stockings yet.”

“We can fix that,” Calum promises and bounces Mila slightly as she starts to stir in his arms. “I think there’s one empty spot in there for them.”

You smirk around a giggle at Calum’s slight teasing and lead your family down a few more aisles to find a wall of stockings to choose from. Mila calms as Calum continues to soothe her and sway where you both stand in inspection of the different designs. Your hand holds one of Mila’s, your voice coos to her as she settles and you ask her opinion on any stocking that catches your eye.

“Do you like this one, lovebug?” you ask with a white knit one in hand. When Mila doesn’t respond you shake your head. “Me either.” You place it back with the others and keep searching.

“Up there,” Calum says and gestures with a nod of his head. The ones he points out are too high up for you to grab. You give him a pointed look and reach out for Mila instead of stockings. He laughs and reluctantly hands her to you; the only disagreements you get in lately over who gets to hold her. For being five months she’s still small and having her in your arms reminds you of that fact. She fits so perfectly into your hold that anytime she’s in your arms it takes your breath away for just a moment. She’s been growing, the difference between her days in the incubator to being three months and now five still strike you. But she remains tiny and precious in your hold. A rush of people pass you, your back turning to them to keep Mila from being in the fray as Calum reaches up to grab the stockings he pointed out. He brings them down to your eye level with a proud smirk and tilts his head as he awaits your approval.

You immediately smile at the stockings in his hand and bounce with Mila in your arms to make her adjustment to your hold to her liking. She lets out a small little noise as she settles and the people pass by without incident. You give the stockings another once over and watch as Calum shuffles his feet and his cheeks grow pink.

“Little bears?” you ask with fondness in your tone, the stockings fuzzy with little ears on the top and cute little faces on the upper third.

“For momma bear, papa bear and baby bear,” he explains with a little giggle that makes your chest grow with warmth. His bashful explanation makes your heart flutter and heat creep through you; the world of parenting still relatively new, the small quirks and new titles not losing their allure. Calum’s eyes grow wide for a second and he quickly turns to grab another off the wall. “And dog bear,” he quickly adds on so as to make sure the entire family is included.

“They’re perfect,” you praise and give Calum a chaste kiss on the cheek as Mila makes a small noise that you both take as approval and a plea to go home.

Once you do get home, Mila is put in her bassinet for a nap and you’re both faced with endless bags of decorations you turn to Calum.

“Are sure it’s enough?”

Calum laughs. “I think we’ll make do.”

“You think her first Christmas will be perfect?”

“Of course,” he says and pulls you to him, hands running up and down your arms to soothe you. “She’s got you. Can’t get any better than that.”

You giggle at Calum’s cheesy but heartfelt statement and settle into his arms, laying your head against his chest just like Mila does. “Now all we have to do is decorate, get presents, wrap the presents, make sure she watches all the classic Christmas movies”—Calum cuts off your rambling list by running his fingers through your hair and easing the perfectionism in you.

“What’s this really about?” Calum asks, knowing that there’s an underlying reason for seeking perfection.

You feel caught, your husband’s innate ability to see through you like stained glass never failing to catch up. You sigh and pull back so you can look him in the eyes.

“My parents never cared enough to have a good Christmas. I just want Mila to have better.”

Calum nods his understanding, eyes gone glossy and soft as he gazes at you. “I promise she will. And I promise that you will have the best Christmas too.”

With Calum’s promise and the rationale that just being with your family will make the day perfect you settle back into his arms and hold onto his words and love.

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[calpops]

shatter | c.h.

Distance brings problems to the surface of your relationship with Calum. A break feels like the only option. You hold onto hope that it will bring you back together and that if it’s meant to be it will be.

1.5k words

dates with cal masterlist

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Your heart sinks as Calum sighs and sets himself on the edge of the couch cushion; three places away from you. Usually he’d settle completely at your side, pull you into him and let your head rest against his chest, grin as your fingers tapped the rhythm of his heart against his ribs and know you were both finally home for the night. The moon would have usually guided you both to bed but tonight it casts haunting shadows that cut across Calum’s somber face. You swallow down a lump in your throat and play with your hands set in your lap.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asks, voice tight and trying not to break.

“I think it’s what we need,” you explain and try to convince him and yourself.

Things had gotten rocky between you as band responsibilites took off and distance made everything hazy. He was gone and busy, you were home and alone. You convinced yourself that when things calmed down and he was home more it would be different. Things would go back to the way they were before he left. It would go back to feeling like home. But they stayed distant. He was still gone; celebrating the success, riding out the highs of all the successes his hard work brought. You were happy for him. But, you were still alone, not one for parties or late nights. You were shaken by the disturbance that entered your lives and lent you realizations. You felt like three different people all in the same breath. There was you when you were with him, you when he was away, and you somewhere in between those times. You weren’t sure who that was anymore.

“A break,” he said around a sigh. “You really think we need a break?”

“It already feels like we’re in the middle of one,” you admit and feel your heart crash. You hate to admit it but the truth has never been easy to admit. “You’ve been gone for so long.”

“I’m home now,” he insists and doesn’t understand—you can’t fault him for that, you haven’t explained yourself all that well.

“Not really. You’re still gone almost every night. When you are here it’s different. There’s a disconnect. It’s not like it used to be. I don’t know if I can handle how it is right now. I don’t know—it’s me, it’s me, it has to be me. I’m just”—Calum moves to you and cuts off the bubble of hysteria you can actively feel rising in your chest. He grabs your hands and soothes you.

“If you need a break I can stay with Ashton for a while,” he says and you can see the heartbreak and crash of emotions that sweep through his eyes. He frowns, you hear his breath catch in his throat and you turn away from him; unable to witness how much this is hurting him. “You’re right. I haven’t been around. It’s been different.”

“I want to get back to normal, but I don’t know how.”

“Time. Communicating. This… this is the first step,” Calum said and though the realization was painful for both of you it was necessary and held a splinter of hope for the future. “Thank you for telling me. I want to get back to what we had too. If this is how you think we should do it then I’ll do it. I’m sure Ashton won’t mind if I crash with him, for a while.”

A while held a certain promise that things would recover. It held heart and hope and a certainty that sounded unbreakable. You don’t know how long a while might last, what challenges might crop up in the face of a break or how feelings might change. Something sits heavy on your chest. You are asking for a break and now you feel you need to afford Calum his freedom in the meantime.

“You can see other people, if you want,” you say though it burns from the tip of your tongue to the bottom of your heart.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone but you.”

“I just need time to find me again,” you say but the sentence breaks in the middle and though it feels the break has begun Calum pulls you to him and offers you comfort.

“When you find yourself, I’ll be waiting.”

***

Days without Calum bleed on in a heartbreaking haze. He wasn’t around much before the break became official but now there’s no waiting around for the possibility of a late night call or an early morning surprise of him walking through the door. He took a few suitcases of things with him—clothes, his bass, journals and when you come upon the empty nightstand on his side of the bed you realize he took a photo of you two he snapped on your first anniversary. Duke went with him to Ashton’s and without the click of his claws on hardwood or the low hum of Calum’s bass the house is much too silent for your liking.

There’s no more waiting around for him or the crushing disappointment of missed calls. There’s no more aching over his absence and wondering if he preferred being out than being with you. It was your choice and now you can only hope he isn’t hurting the way you were. All of the absences also mean there is no more play fighting for the remote or making jokes while making breakfast. There’s no more erratic heart beats and smiles that leave you with wildfires of warmth blazing through your blood. There’s no more Calum.

He surprises you one day, shows up on the doorstep with a timid knock and bashful eyes.

“I need to get some things,” he admits and you realize more time has slipped past than you thought if he’s in need of extra things from the house.

You can sense his anxiety as he collects what he needs; note the hesitation as he reaches for shared things. Your worlds have become so intertwined it’s hard to tell what’s yours and what’s his. Separation becomes a fine line; a hairline fracture in the glass house you’ve built around each other. You hope you both don’t shatter as a consequence.

He leaves you all too soon—not before reminding you he loves you and breaking your heart in the same breath—it enforces a hollow hole that drives it’s way further through your heart. His reappearance shifts your perspective and keeps you up for nights on end. You feel the cool side of the bed is much colder now, you notice the fridge and cupboards are way too stocked with food and the coffee table is lonely without music magazines and picks discarded all over it.

It’s during a late night when you can’t sleep that you find yourself wandering the house. Pacing up and down the halls and feeling nervous energy bite through you. Your pacing isn’t enough. You leave the house with no real destination in mind but are not surprised when you pull up to a familiar abode. The lights are out but you wind up on the doorstep without hesitation, ring the doorbell and hear a bark that sets your already flickering nerves ablaze. The door opens to Ashton who rubs at his tired eyes but takes you in and gives you a sympathetic smile. He doesn’t complain about the late hour. Only invites you in and stalks off so that Calum might take his place.

You come face to face with him; curls mussed from sleep and eyes red rimmed. Your heart lurches at the sight and the distance he doesn’t seem to want to close.

“I think I’ve realized something,” you begin with around a forlorn sigh filled with regret.

“What’s that?” He asks barely above a whisper and you hear the hope that beats through each syllable.

“I’m my best me when I’m with you,” you admit and clap your hands together to get them to stop shaking.

He stays still; stoic and calm and it shoots uncertainty through you.

“I shouldn’t have come—I’m sorry,” you say in a sudden realization. It’s not fair of you to show up in the middle of the night with all of your regrets clouded around you. You start to turn around and rush out the door but his voice stops you.

“Sweetheart don’t leave.”

His term of endearment reserved solely for you beats your heart a little faster, fills it with hope and makes your eyes burn. You look down, willing yourself not to cry, not to shatter when you’re so close to bringing you both back together.

“Not without me,” Calum adds on and pieces together cracking shards of your relationship.

“You’ll come home?” You ask.

He nods.

“You’ll stay?” You ask again and hold your breath.

“I left once already. I’m not doing that again.”

You let out your breath and let go of all your hesitations and close the distance between you. He welcomes you with everything he has. You feel at home in his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumble against his chest and finally slow tears to fall; tears of relief and love.

“I’ll get my stuff tomorrow. Let’s just grab Duke and go home.”

You nod, though you’re pretty sure just being in his embrace again feels more like home than your house ever could.

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[calpops]

reassurance | c.h.

Your relationship with Calum is accidentally exposed to the public and you both have to deal with the hardships it entails. Based on the prompts “nothing is wrong with you”, “I’m not going anywhere”, “you’re the only one I wanna wake up next to” and “you make me feel safe".

1.7k words

dates with cal masterlist

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted by anyone else on any platform in any format (translations included).

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Your eyes are glued to your phone screen, the light burning in the otherwise dark room. You sit alone on the edge of the bed. Calum is still at the studio, another late night of finalizing keeping the comfort of him from you. Photos are surfacing online and it’s the first time you’ve been publicly spotted with Calum. How you’ve managed to keep your relationship to yourselves for so long is baffling but something you both cherished. Now that’s broken; the intimacy taken from you and splashed across headlines and social media. Your hands shake and your phone screen comes in and out of view with the motion and burning eyes. You take in a shallow breath and swipe out of social media that makes your mind spin and heart ache. You fumble to dial Calum’s number and wait with bated breath as the phone rings and rings and rings. You didn’t expect him to answer; completely used to his voicemail greeting on nights when the band takes precedence.

He doesn’t answer and familiar words flood you but you can’t fathom getting your own words out, instead you hang up and toss the phone on the bed. Willing the entire situation away from you with the action. The photos and words attached to them are clear in your mind as you crawl into bed with your clothes still on; too tired and uncaring to change into pajamas. You can picture the snapshots vividly, they were taken at a distance but capture you both in a moment you thought was private. Intimate. His hands cupping your smiling face and his lips pressed to your forehead. The words of fans and media outlets burn in dark red behind closed eyelids. They’re fleeting but come back in haunting whispers as you wait. Wait for them to go away, wait for Calum to come home, wait for assurance that everything is okay and those words aren’t true. They’re lies and rumors and misconceptions based on wild theories. You try to remember that as time ticks on and Calum still hasn’t come home. It’s later than his usual late and doubts begin to plague you, to settle in your brain with twisted words and venomous vengeance.

It’s compulsory when you reach for your phone again; you try to convince yourself it’s just to see if he’s texted yet but no notifications from him light up the screen and yet you unlock the phone anyway. You don’t know why. You know how heavy the words were the first time you were presented with them. With only minutes between you dive back into the words from faceless people that shouldn’t hurt but make your chest tight and eyes well up with tears anyway.

You’re curled into your side with a quivering lip and tear stained cheeks when Calum finally gets home with phone in hand and worries hitting him hard and fast. He saw your missed call as soon as they wrapped up the session; the lack of voicemail to accompany it was unusual and spiked anxiety and questions through him. He raced home with only thoughts of you as the rest of the world became faded. He could’ve called but the drive was short and seeing you was his first priority—the lack of your voice on his messages instilling that need tenfold. He finds you in bed, day clothes still on, phone in hand and silent sobs escaping you. He doesn’t know what’s wrong but he’s moving to your side on instinct, replacing the phone with his hand as he pulls you up and to him. You’re shaking in his hold and he does his best to calm you and stop the tears. A million scenarios race through his mind and none of them are pleasant, most of them begin with loss and heartache and leave him breathless.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” He asks as gently as he can manage.

Calum’s in a half crouched position at the side of the bed, his arms wrapped around you as best as they can be. You sink into his embrace and take comfort in the familiarity of his hold; revel in his concern and use it to instill faith in the things you should already know and never forget. You don’t know if you can manage to say much, throat tight and burning and chest weighed down by revelations of the night. For a selfish moment you stay silent and press closer into him, holding onto the fragmented pieces of hope that everything is still okay. Calum didn’t want to go public with your relationship and you’d never batted an eye at that—also content to keep whats yours between the two of you with only friends and family knowing. Now that’s shattered. You never wanted to live under the scrutiny of media and fans and eyes always on you, seeing you, judging you. Now you’re shattering.

“There’s pictures,” you manage to choke out and pull away from him but guide him up to properly sit on the bed though his arms don’t want to leave you. He settles on the edge and pulls you back before you can even catch your breath. “Everyone knows. Everyone hates me.”

Calum goes still; you can’t even feel the rise and fall of his chest beating out breaths. He’s stoic and contemplative as he figures out your words and rejects their meaning. You peer up at him through hazy tears and find a frown creasing his features. Guilt eats at you—tries to tell you it’s your fault and he’s upset with you for the broken bit of privacy his life once had. You suck in a shaking breath and wipe at your face, determined to move away and find refuge and safety from the moment under the covers. But Calum shakes himself and doesn’t let you go, he’s soft and warm as he invites you back into his side and does his best to rid your face of the rest of the tears.

“Can I see the pictures?” He finally asks and you can hear the hitch in his breath as reality crashes through.

You slowly nod; the articles and tweets still litter your phone, all you have to do is unlock it and hand it over. Calum doesn’t let go of you as he accepts the device, his eyebrows furrow and brown eyes glint with recognition and then glimmer back to concern. He swipes through, rolling text passes in a blur and a sigh escapes him. You’re two seconds away from another sob but bite your lip and try to keep it in. He tosses the phone away and looks down at you, hands gentle as they come up to cup your face and lips warm and familiar as they place a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s about time the world gets to know how much I love you,” he says and leaves you shocked with disbelief.

You had no way to gauge what his response might be other than late night conversations detailing how much he values your shared privacy. That he appreciates you being okay with staying under the radar. One simple sentence blows all of that away, a kiss and a sigh accompanying it in a delicate form of reassurance. But hostile words from unknown people still settle in your heart and haunt your thoughts. Knowing Calum is okay with your relationship being public is only a slim margin of the battle. The rest comes in droves of hateful words and bold headlines.

“You don’t believe any of it, do you?” He asks abruptly, tone tight and clipped. You know he means the hate, the disparaging words that dance through social media so mindlessly, so heartlessly.

You force a shrug and wipe the rest of your tears away, eyes downcast at the notches in the wooden floor. You can hear his heartbeat, the steady rhythm grounding you and forcing you away from the spiraling whirlwind of negativity and doubt.

“Maybe some of it's true,” you whisper and feel the pull of Calum pulling you closer, holding you tighter, repositioning you to settle into his lap completely and find comfort in his actions.

“It’s not,” he says firmly and keeps his gaze steady on you. “No one else’s opinion matters. There’s nothing they can say to make me think there’s something wrong with us or you.”

He’s saying exactly what you need to hear, things you already know but need to be reminded. Taking your fears and doubts from other people’s words and pushing them away so effortlessly. Comments that pick you and your relationship apart don’t feel as heavy and honest when Calum’s there to lift them away and cast light on your truth. Calum’s always considered himself a man of few words but he always has the right ones in the right moments.

“They don’t know you like I do. They don’t get a say in our relationship. I’m not going anywhere; not without you. No one else’s opinions matter,” he repeats and kisses you again. “I hope you know that.”

You did and now you do again. You nod against his chest and decompress, body easing after hours of tension and uncertainty. You move with him as he leans you back against the pillows and toward the sliver of moonlight that peeks through slotted open curtains. It’s silent for a few minutes and in that time Calum sends out a tweet of confirmation and defense. You don’t know what it says and don’t care to look or ask; you trust him and his words. Know how safe and protected he makes you feel.

“Feel any better?” He asks as he turns his phone off and tosses it away too.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly and gnaw on your lip for just a second before asking, “you’ll be here in the morning?”

You have to ask, wanting to know if the band will take precedence again, if his side of the bed will be cold by the time you wake up because of an early morning session. But there’s another meaning that sinks into the question. Reassurance being sought out.

“Of course,” he answers just as softly, with two meanings capturing his voice. “Always wanna wake up with you, sweetheart.”

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[calpops]

searching souls | c.h.

Calum despised the crown that sat atop his head, he never wanted to inherit a throne and a kingdom if it meant bowing to the pressures of a court and a union that wasn’t with his soulmate. He was left with reminders of who he was supposed to be with; fleeting marks gracing his skin. They served as reasons, they told him in fine silver lines and blooming purple what was worth fighting for. A ballerina with an injured arm and distaste for all that royalty brought showed Calum what his soul truly yearned for. Who he truly was and who he was supposed to be with. He could only hope her soul was set out in search of the same.

18k words

This fic has been in the making since April of 2019 and I am so incredibly happy I have finally brought it to life and can now share it with you all. I hope you enjoy. <3

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

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Calum became one with the shadows, the night disguising him with tendrils of darkness that were a little too easy to sink into. His back pressed to a stone wall and a cry of relief and for privacy fell from his lips. He was always aching for a moment alone, to be away from the endless amount of people that endlessly crowded him. Moments before his dash down a flight of stairs he was sat among such a crowd and added tenfold; he had stared at a stage with dancers telling a story he didn’t quite understand, with people crowding him he didn’t really know. His presence was obligatory according to the court—an invitation one he was not allowed to refuse. He was a visitor in this domain, one where the tilt of his crown was less commanding and more endearing. He wasn’t quite considered and treated as a future leader here; he was viewed as a rare commodity, a celebrity and something to be passed along and propped up in advantageous places.

His royal guard, Ashton, stood just behind the exit, the door stayed propped open so he might spring into action on a moment’s notice. Even when Calum was alone someone always lingered. He wasn’t sure when his last true moment of peace and solace was. He’d bargain it may have never happened, that he might be chasing that feeling for the entirety of his life. Going round and round against the court and commoners, tailspinning through a whirlwind he never chose to be in. For the moment he found a semblance of peace; of all the people to be alone with Ashton was the easiest. He was a lively guard but a quiet presence when needed.

Calum could still hear the music that played floors above him. The ballet was only about half through, possibly nearing the intermission, more hours to sit through facing Calum in a taunting way. He had never been one for the ballet or operas or plays; he found them to be disarming, unamusing and hours of his life he would never get back. With agile fingers he pulled a lone cigarette from the inner pocket of his suit, a light to follow and took a drag—smoke pluming into the night air in a thick reminder of reliance. He was trying to quit, he knew the habit was nasty and left reminders on his skin, a tendency to forget leaving mild burns in their wake. Reminders that would fleetingly grace the fingers of his soulmate.

Footsteps echoed down wooden stairs, they were light and rhythmic; landing each step in a delicate and decisive way. Calum turned, shoulder pressing into the stone as his eyes shifted to the door, caught a shadow towering on the back wall as the person descended. He heard Ashton clear his throat and the squeak of a floorboard as he too shifted to accommodate and size up the new presence. Calum turned back, took another drag and let out his breath as the steps neared and dropped down to the level he stood his ground on. Saccharine invaded his senses, nearly covered the smoke and drowned out the breeze of city air.

“You know this is a performer’s exit only,” the voice that said it was soft but commanding, a warning laced with subtlety that spoke volumes more than a boom.

Calum rolled his shoulders back, dropped his hand with the cigarette to his side and spun to face the voice of reason. She stood tall, leotard clinging to every curve, large coat trying and failing to conceal her arm that rested in a sling. Calum shrugged, gave a half attempt at expressing an apology.

“I’d be careful. Intermission is coming. Some people like to sneak down for a smoke. Guess you couldn’t wait,” she continued around a pointed look and sigh, pushed falling honey hair that Calum surmised was once neatly tucked into uniform back behind her ear with her free hand.

“I could wait. I chose not to,” Calum mumbled as he lifted the cigarette up for one last drag before letting it fall to the cobblestones below and using his shoe to snuff it out.

He wasn’t used to being called out as clear as day. He wasn’t used to just anyone speaking so freely but it sparked something deep rooted and missing from his life. He enjoyed petaled pink lips giving him a reality check without inhibitions or fearing his crown. It suddenly hit him she might not know. That his identity could still be under wraps and as much a mystery to her as she was to him. He smirked, adjusted his jacket and crossed one leg over the other for a more casual stance.

“Very well, then,” she said and made as if to leave but Calum stopped her short with an explanation she hadn’t asked for.

“It was just a bit too crowded, I needed a breather,” he said and realized the tobacco infused irony of his admission.

She laughed, the irony not lost on her but his identity seemingly so. Her head tilted back ever so slightly with the giggle and her free hand found hold on the strap of the sling. He wondered about that; clearly something had gone awry in the time he left and she appeared. He couldn’t place her on the stage but knew her to be among the ballerinas, if not for the proper use of a designated exit or the leotard then for the graceful poise and posture that carried her every movement.

“I heard we sold out tonight. Quite the full house in there,” she began with understanding flooding her eyes. “Some royal was invited. Guess it drew quite the crowd.”

For the first time Calum noticed her eyes, his gaze finally drawn away from delicate pink to clashing colors. Her right eye was deep and dark, brown to the point it was almost black. The left was nearly hazel, green with tints of gold that glittered against the contrast of the right. Stars above them lit the way for Calum’s gaze to wander and linger, take in fine details he wouldn’t have if he spotted her on stage. A small silver scar hid at the edge of hazel, a story that tried to disguise itself with make up but shone through like the moon behind the clouds. Her coat was tweed and worn out, scuffed shoes took the place of ballet slippers and tights ran up and down her long legs with ease. She was put together but built with rough edges that would never see the light of a stage. Of all the ballets Calum had been forced to attend he couldn’t picture a ballerina out of the light; with hair falling down and clothes that hid immaculate costumes. He liked seeing her on the other side.

“A little packed for my taste,” Calum commented and inwardly shook his head, hoping the comment didn’t come off as condescending or belittling. Her eyes narrowed but a small tilt of her head spoke it more as curiosity and less as offense. “A little too long too. I’ve never been able to sit through an entire ballet.”

Once more Calum scolded himself for his choice of words. If not for the near insult then for the opening of questioning on her behalf. She jumped at the opportunity and Calum admired her quick observations and wit.

“Frequent ballets though you hate them?” She inquired and took a tiny step forward, sticky sweetness coming closer, another tendril of hair falling loose and covering her dark brown eye.

“It’s never really been a choice,” Calum reluctantly admitted.

She nodded as if she understood but Calum knew she didn’t, she couldn’t.

“It was never really my choice to be in the ballet,” She quipped with a shrug and a slight grimace at the motion; arm injured obviously hurting with the thoughtless act. Her fingers curled into her palm and Calum made note of the white knuckles and tightening grip that surely left crescent prints into soft skin. “Parents.”

She said her explanation just as Calum thought the word for his own explanation. Parents. The court. His crown. They all begged his duties and required his attendance to places he wouldn’t usually care for. He arched an eyebrow at her explanation though; suddenly captivated by how she might understand and what similarities they truly shared.

“At least you’ll get a break?” He offered in question as he peered at her injured arm, still curious what happened in his absence. “How did it happen?”

She laughed but the sound wasn’t as humorous as her first laugh at burning irony. This time it was dryer and expelled in a force that lingered between them. “Don’t tell me you left within the first five minutes?”

Calum shook his head and wracked his brain for any incidents but admittedly paid very little attention to his surroundings other than the creeping claustrophobia and desire to be anywhere else. He bit his lip, wished he hadn’t snuffed out his last cigarette so soon and felt his fingers close around empty air. He felt Ashton’s gaze and to his guard’s credit he did try to be discreet though his lingering presence must have aroused questions and suspicions to the ballerina rolling different colored eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t pay attention,” she uttered and once more made to pass Calum but he was quick to pull her attention back to him, cleared his throat and mustered out an apology—albeit a bit of a sarcastic one—that made her sigh and pause in the night. “I was dropped and replaceable. I best be going. You might want to as well; if you don’t like crowds.”

The promise of people sneaking down during intermission reminded Calum that he had his own people waiting within the balcony seats. In a brash and unexpected even to him move his hand searched the depths of his jacket pocket for a crinkled scroll he had tucked away—after sparing half a glance at it when his advisor handed it over and droned on about the ‘gathering’. He felt the folds and pulled it out, smoothed it a bit so she might have a chance at reading it and offered it to her much more timidly than his confidence usually allowed.

Her curiosity was admirable as she willingly took it without a word and read under starlight.

“A royal gathering?”

Calum shrugged, hoping to keep up the facade he was one with the usuals. “A ball of sorts. I  have some connections to the kingdom. Drop by, tell them Thomas invited you.”

Her eyes roamed from the scroll and back to him, trying to figure out the sudden invitation and the reasoning for it. Trying to figure out who he was and what his intentions were. His middle name may have thrown her off, if she had any suspicions his method of secrecy was practiced; known to his kingdom but lacking common knowledge outside palace walls. His people would understand.

She folded the scroll back up with her free hand and didn’t say a word as she moved along, stepping around him and glancing back. Calum forced an uncertain smile as she blew out a breath of disbelief and fully turned back to him, hand raising with the scroll in her clutches. Calum felt winded as she pressed the scroll to his chest with a decisive shake of her head.

“I could go, I choose not to.”

Her words were a near replica to his explanation of sneaking away before the intermission. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a fleeting second of eye contact; his heartbeat was erratic under her palm. He wondered if she could feel it, if she could hear it past the music that still accompanied dancers he had paid so little mind. Her hand stayed in place, scroll pinned to him; his hand came up to ghost over hers, waiting for a reaction, waiting for her hand and the scroll to fall. Neither happened.

“I’ve never been able to endure an entire royal gathering,” she added on with a glint of humor and mischief sparkling clashing eyes.

“Or let go of me,” he remarked around a smirk. Calum heard Ashton shifting, held his breath and grimaced as he came into sight with protective senses in overdrive. The ballerina casted a quick and flickering gaze to the not so inconspicuous guard just doing his job.

She backed off in a split second, the loss of contact burning through Calum as she cocked her head to the side and pouted petaled pink lips. She gave a shrug as the scroll drifted down to the cobblestones below, settled neatly at the toe of Calum’s shoe. Part of him wanted to move to pick it up but he stayed stoic and merely dipped his hands into his jacket pockets and toed at the edge of the invitation. It was stagnant in the still night air.

“I don’t think your friend over there really wants me around,” she commented. Calum shook his head and gave a warning glance to Ashton to back off; all was fine and his presence wasn’t needed. But Ashton lingered with a serious gaze and set jaw, eyes flickering back up the stairs as if to communicate what Calum already knew. He should be getting back. Ashton cleared his throat to emphasize his point. “Oh don’t get all worked up. I’m leaving now.”

Calum watched as she began to stalk away again, her coat trailing down to her knees and sashaying with the swing of her hips as she glided under moonlight. Calum sighed as he watched her but one last question sprang to his lips, one last desire to see brown and hazel and a silver scar that held them together.

“I didn’t get your name?” He said it as a question and waited as she paused. He didn’t know if she would answer or if she would tell him the truth. He hadn’t. His offering of his middle name less than honest.

“Alena,” she said without turning back to him and granting him his last ditch desire. “Maybe some day you’ll tell me your real name, your highness.”

She rounded the corner of the alley and dissapeared around the edges. Calum stood in shock at her knowledge, the brash way she dangled his lies behind her back and in front of his face leaving him a bit breathless and uneasy. She knew and she still treated him as any other. She was aware of crowns that sat atop his head and thrones that placed him higher than others, of castle walls that shrouded him in a life he didn’t desire. He turned back to Ashton who wore his practiced patience in his subtle expression. Calum shook his head again; still befuddled by the exchange. He rolled his sleeves up and moved to enter the stone building and go back to boredom built around crowds. Ashton stopped him short.

“Your arm,” he said and made Calum peer down.

A fine line of bruising ran up his forearm. It was blooming purple and light blue, completely unfazed by the touch of his fingertips grazing along it. His soulmate’s aches appeared on his skin and tampered with his thoughts. He froze as Ashton was trying to carral him back into the building, the distant sound of footsteps above them delivering a promise from petaled lips and an injured shrug. Calum sucked in a breath that got caught in the back of his throat as Ashton placed a hand on his upper back and broke the motionless state he was once captured by.

“She was wearing a sling,” Calum managed to get out, craning his neck back towards the corner she rounded and dissapeared to. “She had a scar by her eye.”

Ashton was seemingly confused for a moment as Calum was slow to move up the stairs with him. But the statements quickly caught up to him and began bursting into a world where your other half bore your scars and wore your bruises for just a moment in time; just long enough to know their pain and identify matching intricacies.

“You don’t think?” Ashton asked, suddenly more deadpan than Calum had ever witnessed his guard. “She’s not…”

Calum forced nonchalance. Tucked his own wants and hearts content to the back of castle walls. “It doesn’t matter.”

The court would never allow for Calum to pursue anyone without a royal bloodline. It was all a game of opportunity. A contract in the making to unite kingdoms and gain more power than they already had. Power that Calum didn’t want and couldn’t actually control. Power he would gladly give away in exchange for being with the person he was made for. For years he was convinced there was no one out there; that he wasn’t deserving and if he was they weren’t deserving of the complications that would follow. Now, coming eye to eye with someone who finally didn’t care about his title, didn’t bow at his presence or fear his authority, to see hazel and deep brown marked by a silver scar, it was a fear he needed to confront.

Calum made his way back up the steps as ballerinas passed by, Alena’s promise becoming fulfilled as the music had died off and people made a getaway for a short break. He knew the scroll he had given Alena had fallen and was probably long gone, lost to the wind and roaming cobblestone streets in a nighttime haze. It was the only reason he would have to see her again. The purpled bruise that stained his arm would fade by morning and he would no longer have any trace of her except the drone of music that rang through his ears. If in fact an identical bruise laid within the sling that hid her arm from his view. If, a matching scar ever graced his eye. If, forgotten cigarettes left marks on her fingers or an accident with a sword ever graced her with a line from ankle to knee or the press of a blade marred above her heart too; accidents in training that sidelined him from any type of further combat work.

Questions would stay unanswered during the rest of the ballet. People would drift in and out of Calum’s focus and a new attention would be paid to the art form taking life on stage. He would go back to his quarters that night, fingertips grazing along the reminder of her—the wonder if it was truly her—as he lost himself in the echoes of the night and souls set out in search of each other.

***

Morning came in golden glows and faded colors already leaving his skin. The first half of the morning was spent in a haze, bypassing those who whispered words in his ears and controlled the strings that were always attached and following him in secret shadows that no one else could see but he felt with every step and pull. His accommodations were regal but they were so much like home he had a desire to leave and wander; to break away from the usual mold of frivolous expenses. With Ashton by his side he roamed halls made of marble and gold, with chandeliers that hung as high as the heavens on vaulted ceilings with intricate carvings. He wandered past the fleeting rush of advisors and the courts, of people who were likely to stop him in his tracks and push him this way or that; if only Calum hadn’t had a lifetime of slipping through the cracks and ghosting along hallways until an escape was found.

Only Ashton was a shadow behind him that could keep up as he made a getaway into the city. People passed by in rushes and Calum blended into the crowd with ease. He was practiced in the art of escape and when given the chance he could be one with a crowd—Ashton always following; evidentially two with the crowd. Only when his people lingered around him and royal clothes clung to his body did anyone make a fuss; except Alena. She was still on his mind as he wandered cobblestone streets in pursuit of something out of the ordinary. Street vendors hollered out their merchandise and prices in competition with each other’s voices. The sun beat down but a small breeze helped liven the day and make the heat bearable. Calum was accustomed to the warmth, his own kingdom was not far away and not much different in temperature though the winds carried salt from the sea up to his quarter windows and waves could be heard crashing around his land. This city held only the ricocheting of footsteps and busy voices.

Up ahead a flower cart stood elegant with orange petals spilling over notched woodwork. In a moment of intrigue and finding something out of his own ordinary Calum ventured over. White petals usually graced the palace halls. Orange was a far cry and more lively touch. Floral perfume greeted him with grace as his fingertips touched satin petals, eyes fixed upon the warmth of the flowers and the heat that touched his cheeks.

“Thomas?” A familiar voice said around a question and disbelief. Calum looked up, found clashing eyes fillled with questions and a silver scar shining under the sunlight and lack of makeup. Alena smirked on the other side of the flower cart.

“Calum, actually,” he corrected around a faint blush that danced from his cheeks and down his neck; painting a path of embarrassment at his half truth. His voice was low, hopefully only loud enough for Alena to hear. Possibly Ashton who lingered at a diagonal with shifting eyes and open ears.

She tilted her head to the side and let her smirk deepen as the truth floated between them. She nodded as Calum casted a gaze up and down, noted the sling still supporting her arm, the loose dress that hung off her frame and the honey hair that framed her face in soft tendrils. She was a different person from the previous night. Calum wished the bruises on his arm hadn’t faded so soon, that she might be able to peer at them and recognize them as her own. Affirm his suspicions or deny his foolish thoughts. But they were barely a whisper on his skin now, much too faded to catch the eye.

“Hate ballet but love flowers?” She asked around her tilted smirk and eyes that gleamed and tried to figure him out.

He gave a shrug and eyed a bunch of flowers at her side, she followed his gaze and used her free hand to scoop them up and offer them over the other side of the cart.

“A ballerina and a florist?” Calum then asked, just then realizing she was the merchant; the one in control.

“And a hard bargainer; just for the morning until my father takes over,” she said wryly with a raised eyebrow and a lingering touch as she made the exchange of flowers from her hand to his.

Calum took just a moment to inspect her hand, no identifiable marks except a freckle on the back of it laid on her skin. None to Calum’s knowledge other than of his own doing had ever graced his hand. Only small burns from forgotten cigarettes and blisters from weapons and instruments. Alena told him the price for the flowers and Calum saw it as an opportunity to strike a deal.

“How about all of that and a day with me?”

She contemplated his offer much more genuinely than she had his invitiation to the ball under the guise of his middle name and ‘connections to the palace’. His honesty must have been refreshing, his true self accepted. He didn’t need pretenses or walls up, he didn’t even feel the need to worry about being used for his title. It was abundantly clear it didn’t impress her and wasn’t the way to win her over. But a genuine offer and smile, a brush of fingers and hope strung up in his heart seemed to do the trick,

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said, free hand going to fidget with her sling and insightful eyes finding Ashton still lingering and watching. “But he can’t come.”

Calum heard Ashton scoff—his duty to protect and promise to stay inconspicuous being overridden by an ego that sometimes had a hard time fitting through drawbridge doors. Alena swept her gaze from Ashton to Calum, waiting for a confirmation and time spent together. Calum mused through the outcomes of his decision. He gave Ashton a glance that asked him to stay where he was as he pulled Alena slightly to the side and hopefully out of Ashton’s ear shot.

“Losing him will be difficult,” Calum warned with orange flowers tucked neatly into his grasp.

Alena smiled and Calum watched as her eye line got lost up the way of the street of vendors. “My father is just up there. We could make a run for it,” she whispered, gone on the tops of her toes to ensure Calum was the only one to hear. Saccharine came back to him, warmth collided with soft skin and fingertips tingled at the contact.

Calum followed her gaze and saw an older gentleman; flowers pinned to his coat and a cane in his hand. He grinned and waved at Alena who responded in kind. He then took a peek at Ashton who lingered around the flower cart; appearing as a curious customer inspecting petals; attention rapt on the display of colors and stems.

“Now?” Calum asked and instructed with a low voice and hand that reached out to capture hers not contained by the sling.

She accepted the offering and they started to edge away in a slow movement at first and then broke into a run that rounded corners and lost a guard who didn’t know his way around the city the way a poised ballerina did. It wasn’t the first time Calum had dared to run away from a guard but it was the most successful plight he had attempted. Ashton was lost around bends and breaths were caught as they came to a stop with backs pressed to a stone wall. Calum recognized the building; only because he lived a moment outside of his own mind. She brought them back to last night, the alley between buildings and an exit meant only for performers.

As Calum and Alena let their breathing level out Calum noticed the flowers in his grasp had lost petals along the way. A scattered and hazy orange path must have laid in their wake as they made their getaway. He pulled them up and presented them to Alena who giggled at the sight of mostly stems. Calum smirked as he handed them back to her.

“For you.”

She cocked her head to the side and clashing eyes scanned the once bouquet. Delicate fingers plucked a lone survivor from the pack, spun the stem and created a glow of orange dancing in the morning sun. Calum dropped the rest, carefully took hold of the one in Alena’s grasp and moved it to tuck it behind her ear.

It fell lopsided, cut shadows against a scar and added to the line of color that happened across her face. Dark brown glittering under the sun, warm pink tinging tan cheeks, hazel accentuating a crescent of silver, and orange petals blending with honey hair that fell free. In the night and morning he had known and interacted with her; her confidence had yet to be shaken but a sweep of modesty that had her playing with her skirt and turning her feet inward had Calum chasing that reaction. He rolled his sleeves up, still disappointed her gaze wouldn’t land upon a sign that perhaps they were something more than strangers on the run together. He could ask her but questions and words with implications only meant so much. Proof was much more becoming and believable.

“Let me show you beyond the city,” she offered. Her hand came up so her fingers brushed against his that lingered after placing the flower in her hair. They both dropped but he timidly intertwined their fingers and motioned for her to lead the way.

They were stopped before they could get in motion and for a heart pounding moment Calum was worried it was Ashton and their deal would be negated or another getaway would have to ensue. Though the voice was masculine it was different and called out her name instead of his.

“Alena.”

She turned and Calum moved with her, held his breath and kept his head low, hoping that whoever it was would pay as little mind to his identity as she had the previous night. The man didn’t bat a blue eye at Calum, only kept an apologetic gaze on Alena and shook his head somberly as he took her in. Calum was confused and waiting for more of their interaction to transpire.

“Luke,” she said with a courteous head nod and much to Calum’s surprise she didn’t untangle their fingers.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he offered and Calum stayed silent, simply watching the way Luke’s eyes fluttered to her sling and recalled words of being dropped and replaceable. “How long will you be out?”

“A few weeks”—she began and shot Calum a look that playfully turned to a smirk—“guess it will give me a break. Don’t worry about it.”

Luke nodded, left well enough alone, and headed for the performer’s door. “I’ll see you in a few weeks then.”

The door shut and Alena turned them back to the venture they were setting out on before being interrupted. Before Calum could question her about the exchange and affirm his suspicions she launched into an explanation laced with nonchalance. “He missed his cue last night. Timing was off. It was just an accident.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention,” Calum muttered, remembering the way she called him out for not noticing something that happened within the first five minutes of the performance.

“Wish you’d seen me fall?” She asked with a narrowed gaze that set nerves alive in Calum’s bloodstream until it was all followed by a giggle that fell unabashedly from petaled lips.

Calum blew out a breath of relief that relaxed his accidentally tensed shoulders, her banter was unwieldy and took him off guard. He’d never had such open conversation with someone so unafraid to speak their mind and make jokes. Calum let their journey pass by his peripheral vision as he kept his gaze trained on her, head slightly shifted to his left, corners of his lips begging to turn up but he kept his cool as she led him along. As promised their journey led them away from the city and the crowds of people that pooled into the streets. Calum appreciated the quiet as they left buildings and gatherings behind in favor of towering trees and grass up to their knees with paths inlaid by steps walked before them. Flowers bloomed along the trails and Calum wondered if this had any connection to the cart overflowing with petals.

“Where are we?” Calum asked though there was a feeling inside of him that told him he didn’t really mind wandering into the unknown with her.

Alena stopped and so Calum did too; the hold their hands held finally broke as she spun and her back was to walls of flowers. The sun casted golden shadows and glows that highlighted her in all of her glory. Silver scar faced the world and Calum, put questions in his head—ones he was determined to ask before their day together was up.

“I used to come here all the time,” she explained with a shy smile and cheeks that held a faint blush of rosy color. “My brothers and I used to run through the field. It was the only place to escape the city. That or running into another one. I thought you might like it here; no crowds, no boring ballets or royal guards.”

“I do,” he admitted around a smile. Her assumption was spot on.

Calum wished he had a place like this back in his kingdom but all of his hiding spots were known to Ashton, all of his escapes were mapped out. Usually he didn’t mind Ashton following, he knew it was his job and if push came to shove his protection might be necessary. But there were days and nights—like this one and last—where Calum craved alone time, wanted a solace to himself to sink into the shadows or the sun on his own. Being alone with Alena felt better than being alone by himself; or at least he was guessing.

“What’s your kingdom like?” Alena asked out of the blue, head tilting with her curiosity as she looked him up and down and awaited his answer.

Calum paused for a moment; just a slice of trepidation cutting through him at her newfound curiosity about his kingdom. She hadn’t so much as uttered a word about him being a prince since dangling his lies in front of his face with a sarcastic ‘your highness’. He searched her face, noted the dimple that deepened on her cheek as she pursed her lips and the slight arch of her right eyebrow as she waited.

“A lot like this one, I suppose,” Calum answered with apprehension. “Except we have the sea.”

A look of wonder and delight captured her, shone in her eyes as she approached him with slight and slow steps. “I’ve never seen the sea.”

“There’s a view from my quarter’s windows,” Calum explained and felt himself loosen up; her curiosity was pure, voice soothing as his anxieties filtered away as she broke into a grin.

“I assume that’s lovely,” she commented with a dreamy gaze at the feild expanded out all around them. Calum assumed she was picturing waves within the grass, ripples of water instead of petals and glistening highlights of the sun. “Have you ever sailed before?”

“A few times,” Calum answered and let out a small chuckle. “Why so many questions?”

“It’s called conversation.”

Calum continued laughing at her witty and fast remark. Her grin broadened at his response yet a bite of sass crossed her face and danced within her eyes.

“Then I deserve to ask you some questions too,” Calum quipped and moved around her, circled past her and came to a stop where she once had her back to the flowers.

“Ask away, I have nothing to hide.”

They were stood close, a summer breeze of distance between them. The fingers that fell from the sling curled in and her free hand settled on the fabric of her skirt. Calum hesitated, collected his words to ask as gently as possible, raised his hand slowly to keep his touch as soft as possible. His index finger grazed silver.

“How did this happen?” He asked in a whisper.

Alena sighed and slightly pulled away from him. “Except that.”

A beat of pause ensued between them and Calum felt his heart drop to his stomach as his throat tightened. He hadn’t meant to overstep. He went to apologize, words tight but she came back to him and the shake of her head jolted him.

“I’m only joking. I don’t have an answer. I don’t remember; I was too young, I can’t recall a time it wasn’t there.”

“You’ve never asked anyone about it?”

“What good would knowing do?”

“You could explain it to your soulmate,” Calum offered around a nervous shake of his head and fingers curling into his palms.

“Aren’t soulmates a little far fetched?” She asked without hesitation or flinching. “Even if there is someone out there perfectly matched with all the same scars, who’s to say you’ll ever meet them? The world is much bigger than that.”

Calum swallowed down a lump in his throat and nodded though he didn’t agree. At one point in time he held those thoughts, just last night he was stuck in a world where soulmates were outranked by royal bloodlines. But morning gave him new perspective and a need to know; to try and chase that person, to see if Alena was that person. Everything inside of Calum wanted to scream that she was, but maybe that was foolish and derived from finally being treated as a person and not feared or catered to as a royal.

Alena gave him a soft and inviting look as she settled into the grass, dress splaying out around her lap as she crossed her legs and used her free hand to pat the grass beside her. Her words on soulmates were conversation and she seemingly welcomed Calum’s response—whether or not she agreed with it. Calum knelt down, settled at her side and felt the earth beneath him, the dampness of dirt and the dew collected on blades, he didn’t mind, not when Alena shifted to face him full on and tilted her head to the side; golden glows finding her silver scar.

“What if you did meet them?” Calum inquired with a raised eyebrow and pure intrigue carrying his words. “Would you deny them?”

She pondered that for a moment and Calum was glad to see she was receptive to his criticism of her thoughts. She blew out a breath. “No, I suppose not. But coincidence is quite convincing.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“What if you truly believed you found the one but it was all coincidence in timing and placement? Are we truly that quick to be persuaded? Are we that desperate for a validated love that all it takes is marks in the same places? What if the one you found was coincidence and the one for you was still out there?”

Calum had never considered her elaboration but her words cut deep and left swirling uncertainties ghosting through his thoughts; he was sure they would haunt him for nights to come. The line on his leg tingled and his chest warmed to that of a small inferno; something inside of him told him that she was wrong.

“Wouldn’t you just know? Don’t you think you’d be able to feel something and know it’s true?”

Calum was asking her on account of wondering for himself. He didn’t quite understand the mysterious workings of the universe or the powers that may be. Alena paused and Calum could see the way she collected her thoughts and wished he could understand the way her mind worked. He caught the flicker of brown and hazel eyes, the way they darted from him to the flowers and back again, the slight narrowing as she contemplated.

“Perhaps that feeling is drowned out by the power of persuasion and thinking you know. Maybe I’m an idealist and want to believe I fell in love because I fell in love; not because some unknown power told me that I should.”

Calum was finally understanding and thought that he maybe even agreed, but there was still something inside of him that lingered with deflating hope and broken and splintered shards of optimism.

“What if you could have both?” He asked and inched just a touch closer. She responded in kind and the distance between them became so minimal Calum could feel the warmth of her collide with him. “What if you could fall in love first and then be reassured by that unknown power?”

“That sounds”—she turned away from him and lost herself in the field of flowers—“unrealistic. Too good to be true.”

Calum let the conversation go in that moment. Let the breeze drifting past take it away from them and instead focused on the tendrils of hair that became one with the wind and the way the scent of her carried through the air. The flower tucked behind her ear held on, folded with the breeze but stayed in place and only lost a petal. Calum nearly reached out to save it between delicate fingertips but kept his hands down. Their walk out to the field and questions turned to conversation hadn’t taken up much of the day—Calum was grateful for that and for their deal—though time felt endless and too fast all in the same breath.

“Any other plans for the day?” Calum asked, voice suddenly soft and implying it was okay for her to believe the way she did. “Anywhere else you’d like to show me?”

“Actually, yes,” she responded and Calum swore she lifted herself to the tops of her toes as she got up and spun around and away from him. She didn’t explain, didn’t wait or look back for him as she began to take off; merely trusted that he was following and so he did.

The field broke away into a tree line, mossy grounds took place of dew filled grass and sunlight filtered in through branches that dominated the sky. Foliage fell from branches and littered the grounds in muted greens that blended in with the path they walked. Wind carried through the trees and saccharine and petals followed after them. The walk was shorter than their first and soon enough Calum heard running water, Alena stopped and kneeled down, beckoned him over with a sideways glance and small motion of her hand.

The stream was small and wildflowers that thrived with water littered the edges. Alena looked peaceful as her fingertips grazed over the cool water, Calum settled beside her and followed suit; felt the coolness on his skin and reveled in the simplicity of the act. Never had he a moment alone when by the water. It was either crowded ships or lines of guards that ran up and down the shoreline. Being alone with her and the small stream was born of dreams and fantasies Calum never usually allowed himself to linger on for too long. He got a bit lost in the notion as he built worlds around such a simple desire. It was a flick of water that splashed across his cheek that brought him back to reality.

“Gotcha,” Alena laughed and sent another small splash of water towards him.

Her daring moves and unabashed nature around him was welcomed; but her warfare of water could not go without a fight. Calum splashed some her way, enjoyed the small gasp that left her followed by another laugh and flick of water. They became fixed on splashing each other and with only one arm available for the fight Alena quickly surrendered, lone hand raised to the sky—a metaphorical white flag waving in the wind. Calum took mercy and dropped himself away from the stream where a line of sunlight filtered in through a break in the branches. His skin was cool from the water but he was warming quickly. She joined him silently and wiped water from her eyes and inspected her now soaking wet sling.

“I didn’t think about that,” Calum mumbled as he moved closer to try and be of some assistance to the issue. She waved him off.

“I started it. It’s alright if I don’t move it. I can let it dry in the sun.” She was gentle and careful in removing her sling, practiced movements guiding the way, let the soaked cloth drop from it’s support as her arm very slowly eased back down to her side. She laid it beside her in the face of the light.

An identical line of bruising ran up her forearm and Calum was winded for a moment. But doubts began to plague him in the form of coincidence. With her words on soulmates he wasn’t sure what to believe, he wasn’t sure she’d want to know—she wanted to fall in love for love not for the notion that something told her she should. Calum stayed quiet as they laid back in the grass, enjoyed the lack of noise—the contrast to his usual daily life was striking and inviting.

The day bled on in swirls of clouds as their refuge away from the city went undisturbed. Calum knew Ashton would be looking for him but also covering for him with the court and whatever duties he was supposed to be filling for the day. There was another invitation to somewhere he didn’t want to go that laid ahead for the night. As much as he always wished to skip out on such occasions a sense of duty always brought him around. Evening was approaching and though Calum knew he should make another appearance before the moon was out and highlighted his absence that much more he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to Alena.

“You’ve shown me your world, how about I get to show you mine now?” He asked, head turning, grass rustling with the motion.

They were still laid out in the grass, reveling in the quiet and making idle conversation. It was much less than that of the possibilities of soulmates but stories from childhood filled the air and time between them. Calum laughed at the tales she told, yearned for a life like it, and wished hollowed and echoing palace walls might someday be replaced with those of a home. That a marriage wouldn’t just be a union for power but a commitment with a soulmate.

“You want me to see your world?” She asked with an arched eyebrow and crooked smile. She sat up slowly, reached for her sling and stopped short. “Only if you help me first.”

“Anything for you,” he quipped and moved to take the now dried and warm cloth in his hands.

She shifted, slowly brought her arm back into place and let him wrap it into position and tie it in place. His eyes may have taken in the bruise that once stained his skin and committed it to memory. His touch may have lingered for a just a moment longer than necessary and she may have pressed closer into the smooth feeling of his fingertips on her exposed skin, he may have felt the gentle beat of her heart as he pulled away. But it didn’t matter. Her views on soulmates and his duties to his kingdom negated any possibilities that might have played through his mind.

He brought her back to the lavish accommodations her city provided. Watched the wonder in her eyes and realized she’d never been through the doors or seen the marble intricacies. One of his hands found the small of her back and the other pointed up at the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. She peered up and shook her head in disbelief.

“Your world costs a lot more than mine,” Alena muttered.

“My world made ours collide,” he offered and when she looked at him in confusion he went on, “if it weren’t for an invitation I couldn’t refuse I never would have been at the ballet. You never would have found me loitering at your exit.”

“Then thank the crown for that,” she responded in awe as she took in surroundings she had never seen before. For a moment Calum envisioned what wonder and awe might capture her at the view of the ocean from his lands. Wondered if she might try to drown him in splashes playfully and completely forget and disregard his title.

“Calum,” his advisor's voice rang through the space, it was high pitched and grating—his name always followed by an order or as his advisor put it; a suggestion. At times he felt less an advisor and more a keeper. “You have a dinner to attend.”

“Yes, Charles. I know, Charles,” Calum responded as he always did.

“I best be going,” Alena said in a breathy whisper. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Calum asked before she could so much as turn to leave.

“Perhaps you’ll catch me at the flower cart,” she said nonchalantly and spun on her heel; the grace of a ballerina carrying her movement. “Sometime in the morning.”

Calum grinned as he watched her walk away, waited for the doors to close behind her and wished he had the power to invite her to the dinner. But it wasn’t his. He was a visitor and even in his own kingdom he often felt he had no say, no rule, no true authority until a prince’s crown was replaced by that of a king’s. Ashton took up a silent presence beside Calum; stealth and the art of surprise bringing about his return.

“You enjoy her company,” Ashton stated. “I’ve never seen you so smitten.”

“I do. It’s too bad nothing will ever come of it. My parents and the court would never allow it.”

“Perhaps they would if you tell them she’s your soulmate,” Charles’ nasally voice was finally a welcome sound that punctuated a sentence that made Calum crane his neck and shoot a look of confusion his way. Charles hadn’t seen the bruise. Charles pointed to the corner of his eye; right where a silver crescent accented hazel on Alena. “You had the same when you were just three years old. Scared the living daylights out of your mother. She thought something happened and it was yours; but it faded by morning and all signs pointed towards your soulmate.”

“I don’t think that it’s enough,” Calum said around a sigh and waved off their curiosity; an explanation of coincidence and finding love by falling didn’t seem so easy to explain or understand within regal halls and limited time.

He left for for the dinner, found himself surrounded by the royals that ruled Alena’s kingdom and felt a sinking and sneaking suspicion start to shroud him. This was no usual diplomatic gathering. The presence of a princess and sneaking glances built assumptions in Calum’s mind that he would place his crown on being true. A royal set up.

***

Dreams of moonlit scars and fading bruises graced Calum all through the night. When he woke a lingering ache burned through his chest and before he even realized what he was doing or where he was going he found sunlight on cobblestone streets and an abandoned flower cart. Alena was nowhere to be seen and the ache that built from a lonely night and morning only intensified. Ashton had followed but kept a more respectable distance this time. He now knew that Calum was chasing a question born of tales as old as the earth itself. Was she truly his soulmate? Was it coincidence? Could falling be achieved nonetheless?

“Good morning.” Her voice was soft but strong as it sprung up behind him and had him turning quickly to face her.

A new bundle of flowers laid within a woven basket she carried with her free hand. Yellow and blue were the colors that graced the morning and cart, petals overflowing and spilling everywhere. They reminded Calum of sunrise over the ocean on mornings when nothing particular called him away from himself. He greeted her with a smile and offered a hand in helping with the basket and placing new flora around the cart. She was gracious and grateful as she accepted the help. Her dress that morning was white; a soft cotton that clung to her and fell below her knee, showed scuffed shoes and had small stitch work of petals at the hem, cuffed sleeves and a draped bow neckline before buttons finished down the dress. Calum grinned as he took in the sight and decided everything about it screamed Alena.

“Up for another adventure today?” He asked and watched as her concentration of arranging flowers broke, hazel and brown eyes finding his with a playful narrowing. “You didn’t get to see much of my world yesterday.”

“Are you trying to impress me with fancy places and expensive pleasures only a prince can afford?” She quipped with a sarcastic smile and went on, “I can’t be bought you know.”

“I’m always trying to impress you. Never because of my title,” he replied in a murmur and let his eyes dart around the growing crowd.

It was earlier than the previous morning. Less people lingered and filled the city but there was still a bite of anxiety about his world being spoken so candidly and so freely. He still wanted to blend into the crowd. Alena picked up on his shifting gaze and awkward plea to keep his secret.

“I understand,” she said and leaned over the cart to whisper words only he could hear. “But if you’re looking to keep your status a secret your clothes are an easy tell.”

Calum looked down at his outfit curiously. It was as simple as his admittedly extravagant wardrobe allowed. A lace up shirt and slacks, dark shoes and a leather cap to keep the sun from him. He cocked his head to the side and waited for further elaboration but Alena pulled back and got lost in the job in front of her.

“We can leave in a moment,” she said and just like the day before Calum spotted her father just up the way.

He wondered about him, about her comment from the first night and how her parents were the reason she was in the ballet. The man looked kind but any chance to further investigate the situation was cut short when Alena rounded the cart and on instinct Calum offered her arm to walk along. Calum thought about what her father might think; if he cared his daughter was walking off with a near stranger or if Alena had an explanation that quelled any uncertainties that may have aroused from their situation.

It’d only been two days but Calum felt she wasn’t a stranger. Matching scars and coincidence set aside there was something inside Calum that told him all he needed to know. A lingering ache in his chest when he was away from her, a warmth that danced across his skin at contact with her, an easy feeling of the world coming together with clashing colors.

They began walking and Calum realized his world was much closer to hers than he first thought. At least in the sense of where his world allowed him to stay within the confines of her city. He couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled within him ever since the dinner last night. The prospect of it made his skin crawl though he had anticipated a marriage set up for most of his life. He had seen his older sister already face the consequences of what royal bloodlines entailed. She had run away from it; found her soulmate within their kingdom and fled the night before her wedding to a prince she didn’t know, didn’t love, didn’t have a soul purpose of finding and being with.

Alena was a calming presence by his side, her soft hold on his offered arm shot warmth and ease through Calum’s bones. Just enough so to drown out the impending doom of diplomacy that lingered and swayed with the weight of worlds and power above his head. He brought her back to his accommodations, slowed down within the halls to watch her wonder and disbelief gather on her face; to see the light from chandeliers sparkle within deep brown and hazel.

They snuck through the halls with Ashton trailing them at a respectable distance; once within his own private quarters they were afforded another piece of time that was completely alone.

“My place of holding for the time being,” Calum said as an introduction to the space.

Alena walked the perimeter of the room in silence; stopped to cast a gaze out the window that overlooked the entire city line. A gentle and poised hand lightly touched the grand drapes that shrouded the window. Alena was backlit by the glow of the morning; a perfect silhouette in the new light. As she paused to take in the view Calum paused to take her in, search for more identifiable marks that might grace her skin. A silver scar and line of bruising feeling like it wasn’t convincing enough to bypass coincidence, to prove to her or the court; though they were enough to convince Calum.

“This is more than I could ever show you,” she said in a low voice that edged on the verge of resignation.

Calum wandered to her, stopped short just behind her and for the first time truly looked out to the city below. It was vast and made him feel smaller. All of the power he supposedly held felt insignicant. If a royal set up was truly in the works then more power would be gained and the smaller Calum would feel. He looked back at Alena, all of those insecurities and doubts washing away into multicolored ease. She was soft and subtle as she peered at him in curiosity. It was easy to find silence and solace with her. Just a gaze was enough to settle him but Calum saw her own anxieties in a bitten lip as she gazed across the room once more.

“All of the glitz and glamor wears off,” Calum explained and tried to bite back a forlorn sigh but it escaped him in a small and quiet huff. “You could show me much more than this.”

Calum pointed down a line in the city, was thankful that her eyes followed and settled on a path that led away from it all. A small grin lifted the corners of her mouth and a shine in her eyes told Calum his explanation was well received. Their day in the field and under the cover of leaves and branches meant much more than a lavish and luxe lifestyle Calum didn’t sign up for—one that he resented at times.

“And I’m sure you could show me much more beyond that,” he concluded and felt her behind him, the sway of her hip bringing her to brush against him. “Now tell me, what’s wrong with my clothes?”

“It’s very fine fabric, it’s not what we wear in the city but what we make for people above us. It’s easy to see”—she explained and didn’t hesitate to turn and grip the shoulder material of his shirt—“even easier to feel.”

Her hold didn’t drop and Calum was reminded of their first night together. A lost scroll pinned to his chest and her hand keeping it there. He arched an eyebrow and blew out a small laugh.

“I see you still have a habit of not letting me go,” he quipped in a whisper and reveled in the way she didn’t pull back, only smirked and stood on the tops of her toes to bring them to a more even eye level. “Might you reconsider attending that royal gathering?”

The words left Calum before he could stop them. The invitation was clear and hung in the minimal space between them. The knowledge of a scar gracing his eye pushed him to do it, his parents arrival into her city for the ball harbored questions and possible solutions, the prospect of marrying someone who didn’t light fires inside him or bare the same scars fueled his desire to fight back.

“I’m not sure,” she said in an airy and playful tone. “Is Thomas inviting me or is it Calum this time? Should I drop by or am I properly invited?”

“I’d like you to go with me, Calum, properly.”

“Then I suppose I can reconsider. For Calum.”

“It’s the night after next,” Calum reminded, knowing she merely glanced at the scroll when he offered it to her the first time.

Alena didn’t say anything, didn’t move or break eye contact that held so easily it felt like breathing. Calum was caught up in the moment and the thought of seeing Alena nearly drowned out all the troubles that might arise from his brash invitation. With new knowledge of a possible arragngment with this kingdom, a princess who eyed him and his crown, and two courts that would make decisions in tandem with each other Calum felt the need to shrink back and flee from her touch. But her eyes brought him in, pulled him under and kept him breathing underwater.

A subtle smile shone through the silence and slow movements filled every minuscule edge and gap between them. The world spun in slow motion, Calum’s arm and corner of his eye tingled with remembrance he couldn’t actually recall but he reveled in the feel of her lips against his. It lit him up form the inside out, a small inferno turning into a wildfire that spread heat and certainty through his body, to his heart and rippling through his soul.

The city out the window became a blur when eyes fluttered back open and modesty tinged cheeks pink. Her hand had not fallen from the shoulder of his shirt but her fingers loosened and splayed out, edged the fabric away from his skin on accident and eyes fluttered to Calum’s own silver scar. It was much less noticeable than the one that settled on Alena’s skin. Forgettable to even Calum, but her eyes took it in for all the jagged line was worth. Calum held his breath as a whirlwind of thoughts plagued him. It was the first of his own marks she had ever witnessed.

“What is this?” She asked, a tone of allure and disbelief swept into the whirlwind surrounding Calum. “How’d you get it?”

Her questioning was nearly identical to Calum’s in the field. Her curiosity screamed and simmered between them. Calum bit his lip as she left a gentle trail of fingertips under his collarbone. He didn’t flinch, kept his breath held as she wandered his skin and waited for his answer.

“It used to be much worse,” Calum started, thankful the wound had healed and the placement was not any lower, not life threatening the way his parents and the entire kingdom surrounding him made it out to be. “It was just an accident. A few years ago. Tip of a blade pressed a little too hard.”

Alena’s eyes were insightful and her touch fell away from him; his breath coming back in a rush. He watched her step away, felt the distance that she enforced and heard the sounds of the city like static filling the air between them.

“I had the same, for a day,” she admitted and her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed and a small shake of her head told Calum she was trying to reason with her stance on soulmates.

“Coincidence,” Calum said though he didn’t believe it for a moment. “It’s pretty powerful you know.”

The shake of her head turned to a nod and her hand found the strap of her sling. She gripped it with white knuckle force as her beliefs began collapsing around her. Watching new belief be born was slow and painful and beautiful and every contradiction under the sun and moon. Calum cleared his throat and pulled the fine fabric of his slacks near his knee, bending just slightly to roll his pant leg up.

“What about this one?” He inquired and watched as her eyes swept from ankle to knee.

She sucked in a breath and Calum heard the way it caught in her throat. Belief came hard and fast in that moment, crumbling walls that sheltered her from knowing a world with love finally fell.

“I should go,” she announced out of nowhere; the spell she was under breaking just like her old beliefs, the twirl of her dress guided her away from Calum who was quick to right himself and chase after her. “I need to think.”

“Alena,” Calum tried and felt the fire inside him start to snuff out as she pushed open the wooden door and made her way into the hall.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and lit just one flicker of hope in Calum’s heart. “I’m sorry.”

Those two words bid Calum a sorrowful goodbye.

***

Alena left and Calum was thrust back into the role of a prince. Thrown back into the face of a princess who wore pink that was too bright, a smile that was too fake and selfish intentions on extravagant sleeves. Calum couldn’t help but compare her to Alena. Her eyes were dull in comparison to hazel and brown. Her hair was done up to perfection but left nothing to be desired if the breeze ever touched her. Soft skin cornering his eye ran fiery yet cold and held a dull ache in Alena’s absence and the princess’ presence. Just above his heart tingled and the line down his leg ached with pain he hadn’t felt in ages.

Ashton stood diagonal to Calum at another invitation to a dinner he couldn’t refuse. He saw the very subtle humor that crossed his guard’s face at the boisterous princess who didn’t quite have a grasp on personal space or polite conversation. The dinner droned on but an escape eventually found Calum when the meal finally disappeared and an excuse of it being late fell from his lips. He excused himself as cordially as he could and dodged forms of affection from the princess he didn’t want from anyone but Alena. Ashton walked with Calum back to his quarters.

“She’ll make a lovely bride,” Ashton commented—his observational and reasoning skills unparalleled. He must have rationalized the reason for the trip as well. Calum whipped around toward him, his disdain cutting across his face without censorship. “Though Alena would be better suited.”

Calum’s eyes shot wide at Ashton’s words and his heart thudded painfully against his rib cage. Pulse points came alive at the picture of Alena as a bride. Heat coursed through him and simmered with desires.

“Try convincing my parents and the court of that.”

Ashton cleared his throat and gave Calum an inquisitive look.

“Why don’t you?”

“They’d never agree,” Calum mused with regret and a harbored anger that finally came out. “A princess outweighs a soulmate. Just as a prince outranked a soulmate.”

Ashton understood Calum’s words; had been there the night his sister made her escape to live on her own terms.

“They could have stopped her,” Ashton said with a shrug. “They let her go. Maybe they’ll do the same for you.”

“They let her go?”

Ashton smirked. “An entire royal guard against two desperately feeling people? Do you really think they made it out on their own? We were told to stand down, let them pass peacefully. They could have made her stay.”

Calum had never considered that; didn’t know how she made her escape or where she went. It startled him to realize she made it out not of her own volition but because they let her go. But there were differences in the problems they faced. His sister was to marry and inherit a different kingdom. He was to rule his birth land, to take the crown from his father and create heirs to keep the line of succession strong. To keep their blood in power.

“It’s different.”

“Possibly. But you’ll never know unless you try.”

***

Calum worried that he wouldn’t see Alena again. That his revealed truths had scared her away and her time to think was just an excuse to get away. She was not at the flower cart when the sun rose into the sky; a flicker of flame lighting up the city in an orange haze. Disappointment lingered within Calum, made stone walls around his heart as he stood across the street with a watchful eye scanning pink petals. Her father manned the cart, brought new life to the woodwork and took her place entirely.

Calum sighed and shook his head at Ashton. He rolled up his sleeves and wished a fine line of purple still graced his skin, wished he could remember a silver scar that accentuated his eye, wished he had a memory of her forever with him; not just for a fleeting moment. He turned on his heel, took a few small steps, heard Ashton following but stopped short. Honey hair and clashing eyes came in a whirlwind up the street. Alena ran to him, out of breath and hair in disarray; perfectly unkept, dress wrinkled and eyes painted with  a sleepless night. Her sling hung a bit more slack than the previous days.

“Leaving so soon?” She asked around an attempt to catch her breath. “Before I could see you again?”

“Never,” Calum responded automatically and felt the aches that had harbored within him during her absence start to ease.

“Can we go somewhere… private?” She asked and let her eyes flicker over to Ashton and then around the bustling city. “I think we need to talk.”

Calum nodded and gestured for her to lead the way; wanted her to make the decision and find somewhere she was comfortable talking with him. He hoped all her thoughts that seemingly kept her up at night would match with his own thoughts the way bruises and scars mirrored the other’s. A sliver of hope made a home with him as he recalled the way she responded to the lines that plagued Calum and the crumbling disbelief that captured her eyes. While Ashton usually would have followed he stayed back; knowing his absence for this moment was more appreciated than fulfilling his royal guard duties. Calum was safe with Alena; the only danger he faced was the pain of a broken heart and scattered pieces of a soul left to search and wander.

Alena led him away from the city again, back towards the meadow that was overrun with flowers that Calum could never forget. She was subtle and demure under the sun, hazel blended in with stems and grass that stood lively with the petals. Alena reached for his hand with her free one, traced lifelines on his palms and stared at his fingers quizzically.

“You burn your fingers,” she inquired and though it may have been a question it was more of a statement.

“Cigarettes,” Calum murmured and watched as her eyes flickered from the pads of his fingertips to his eyes.

“You should quit.”

“I know.”

“You get blisters on your palms,” she said once more and tapped the middle of his palm. Her finger was light and tickled his skin, made his hand react and wish to capture hers and keep it there.

“Swords,” Calum offered the one word as a simple explanation that she nodded to.

Alena blew out a breath and Calum watched as her shoulders dropped and a grimace of pain cut through her eyes. She went silent and introspective at the new knowledge of what scarred her soulmate and appeared on her own skin for a moment in time. She never felt his pain, perhaps a tingle when the worst of them appeared, but never a burn or biting pang. Calum hadn't either. Not until after she graced his world with poise and tip toes, not until after she left and static filled the distance between them with uncertainty and longing aches. He wondered if she felt them too.

“I suppose ballet explains the bruises you get on your legs,” he stated with confidence and took in her nod and subtle bite of her lip for all they were worth.

Coincidence was drowned out by confirmation. By the timing and the feeling of matching incidents. Coincidence was powerless to the running tingles and heat that flooded all the spots they came to know as each other. They knew each other and the moments that graced their bodies, could remember the smallest of marks and moments and now they knew what they meant and what they were from. But questions still built walls around them in a meadow of silence save for the occasional chirp of a bird overhead or rustle of leaves from the wind. They both stood still, her fingertips still settled on his palm and seemingly not going anywhere.

“What does this mean for us?” She wondered aloud and lit Calum’s nerves back to life. Fire coursed through his veins and warmed him with a blush of possible scenarios. “You’re a prince. I’m no princess.”

Calum swallowed down a harsh lump in his throat, tried to ignore the tightness in his chest and the wind that was very fleeting in his lungs. He was breathless when he responded.

“You’re more than that”—he said as he brought their hands into a hold reminiscent of running away from a guard and to this very spot. Brought life back into shallow breaths and restored some peace that had been torn to shreds by a sleepless night of wonder. It was hard to believe that was only days ago. “You’re my soulmate.”

Alena paused again; seemingly collecting her thoughts as problems and complications faced them within a soothing summer breeze. The calm was eerie.

“Is that enough for you? For a kingdom?” She asked and furrowed her eyebrows.

“You are everything and more.”

Alena took his words and nodded. He hoped that there was enough room for belief in her heart that she truly understood and accepted the meaning of his words. Down to every last syllable.

“What do we do?” She asked and for the first time Calum saw that her confidence was well and truly shaken.

She didn’t have answers or ideas for the questions and problems that laid ahead. She had no quick quips or sharp tongue to guide them out of the storm that was brewing on their horizons. Calum shook his head, just as perplexed as she was. He had vague ideas built on idealistic expectations that had no concrete backing to them. He had snippets of knowledge of his sister’s escape and the circumstances that allowed it. His thoughts spiraled mercilessly around his mind. The root of the problems laid within royal halls and crowns that tilted on his head and shifted the path of his life. He decided that’s where they should start to mend the breaks and cracks in the interwoven life they wanted to share.

Calum brought Alena back to his world, determined to ensure they could properly collide and become one. Michael—a man of Calum’s court—was at the doors and Ashton was coming out of the shadows of a corridor when they entered. Michael held an air of control, he was always chivalrous yet not bowing in Calum’s presence. He held his own, gave and got respect for the attitude that followed him. Calum nodded at him, his arm around Alena in a light hold so as not to disturb the injury still resting in a sling.

“I’m supposed to give you this,” Michael said after clearing his throat and fishing into his pocket. “I would have done it earlier today but you’ve been quite evasive.”

Calum’s eyes wandered to the small box in Michael’s palm—his fingers were still partially closed around it but velvet peeked through and set Calum’s predictions of what it was on edge. Calum stiffened at Alena’s side, his arm fell from around her and slowly reached out to take the offering a man in his court was entrusted to keep, carry and deliver during the trip. Calum’s worst fears were confirmed when the small box laid within his grasp and his thumb flipped the lid open. A diamond ring laid within the cushioning and a princess in pink infiltrated his thoughts—made his heart plummet to the depths of his stomach and freeze in its once rhythmic beating.

“Why?” He asked though he already knew the answer and didn’t realize how much he didn’t want Alena to hear it. “Why now?”

“For the princess,” Michael said but his words held no volition or authority; Calum wondered if he even wanted to say them. “The courts expect a proposal and a union. Tomorrow. At the gathering; a rather public and royal affair. It will look good.”

Calum felt the shift of Alena under his hold and hoped with every part of his soul that she wouldn’t flee and give him a proper chance to explain. She stayed silent and Calum couldn’t tell if that was a sign made of good or bad or the worst. Ashton stayed as poised as he could but Calum noted the subtleties only years of being shadows together could have given him; his left eyebrow raised just slightly at the edge, his mouth twitched minutely and he shot Calum a look that only the prince could read. He was worried for Calum, rarely showing emotion other than determination and caution.

“I’ll speak with them in the morning,” Calum said decisively, shut the box and handed it back to a surprised Michael who barely caught the velvet as Calum walked away with Alena thankfully still at his side.

He brought them back to his quarters and held his breath the entire way. He had no clue if anyone of importance lingered in the halls or had heard what transpired in the grand entrance. There was a part of him that hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone and that no one other than the four of them had heard, but, there was another part that wished for confrontation then and there. To clear the air and speak his piece. But no one showed face and the only to follow their footsteps and conversation was Ashton. Alena wasn’t warming to his hovering presence but she accepted him as they made way down the halls and made sure the door was shut behind them to afford them a semblance of privacy.

“So this is goodbye,” she whispered as she turned to face Calum from the door. Her eyes were downcast, brown and hazel shining with unshed tears in which she held in only from a practiced lifetime of composure and poise.

Calum frantically shook his head, breath leaving him in scattered falls. Alena was still, back to the door and body language closed off behind the sling with a hand gripping the strap with white knuckle force. Calum moved to her, chased the taste he knew he couldn’t last a lifetime without and broke his vows of silence for his complete disdain for the crown.

“No,” he said and felt the fight inside of him swell with heat that flickered and coursed through his veins like the rising sun. “This isn’t goodbye. It doesn’t have to be. We can find a way to be together.”

Alena looked past Calum, out into the extravagant room with a view of a city he may be forced to marry into spilling light through open drapes. To the place that mirrored Calum’s quarters back in his own palace so well it sent shivers up his spine at the intrusive thought of an obnoxiously pink princess standing within instead of Alena.

“We hardly even know each other,” she said in an unconvincing whisper.

Calum stiffened; her words enough to cause a reaction that ran bone deep, coursed flickering fires through his resolves and livened them tenfold. He knew her. He knew the intricacies of her life without explanation—the bumps and bruises, the scars and silences that ran maps over her body and connected her soul to his. The only thing that separated them was time. Time they spent in different worlds. Time that forced them to make rash decisions. Time that might be stolen away from them.

“I know what I want. I know who I want to chase after it with,” Calum said and kept his eyes pinned on her, the concept of freedom making a home in his heart right beside clashing eyes and a scar that was crescent and silver just like the moon. “We know each other. Deep down. And if given the chance we can keep getting to know each other.”

Alena pursed her lips and Calum watched the crash of emotions that riddled her. A small breath left her lips. Her hand fell from her sling and invited him closer to her. Settled at the press of a blade that travelled the universe to find her. Her fingertips were light against the material of his shirt but he felt heat build under his skin. Fires came to life at the contact. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment and Calum welcomed her as she stepped into his embrace, cheek resting against a scar they shared and her injured arm awkwardly shifted into the fray. Calum yearned to be able to hold her properly one day, feared that one day might never come, that a pink princess would be given her place in his arms—but never his heart.

“It’s only been a few days. You’ll go tomorrow. You’ll find your princess, you’ll bring her home and make her a wife and a queen. I’ll stay here. And maybe someday you’ll come back to the ballet and we’ll find each other again, if only for a passing moment,” Alena said in a soft whisper that landed chills up Calum’s spine. Her breath was warm against his skin but the prospect of her words left him chilled. The thought of distance already made all of the places she touched with soul connections ache.

“I don’t want to be with a princess. You would just give up on us? Sacrifice all that our souls are meant to have? Each other?” Calum questioned with fire behind his words but he stayed calm in her embrace, enjoyed the feeling of her pressed against him; a taunting feeling that it would be short lived driving him to soak up every moment of it.

“That’s what soulmates do. They love you enough to make sacrifices. You were born to be a king,” she explained and Calum caught the note of sadness that captured her voice and shook her sentences apart.

He believed she would make that sacrifice. But it wasn’t one he was willing to watch or have her bare the pain of. He wondered if she felt the burning cool on scars and the reborn ache of pain lived long ago when they were apart. He couldn’t imagine being the cause to the pain or the distance that would enforce it.

“I was born to be with you,” he refused, the title of king much less meaningful than finding the one and fulfilling a lifetime with them.

They were lucky. As Alena had pointed out there was no certainty to finding each other; no promise scars didn’t come as coincidence and a lifetime could be spent with the wrong person. Calum was sure of who they were to each other and what he wanted. He couldn’t let that slip between his fingers or fade away into a royal city’s night sky.

“You can’t have both.”

“I don’t want both. I’ve never wanted to be king. I don’t want to rule anything but my own life. With a crown I never will; I’ll still be a puppet. There’s a line of succession. They don’t need me, they just need a body to sit on the throne and fill the gaps,” he explained in a rush and felt the wind get taken from his lungs. He was running on low to try and convince her. She pursed her lips in contemplation at his long held admission. He’d never truly voiced his disdain for the crown before. Not out loud. “Run away with me.”

“Where would we go?” She wondered aloud with just a a touch of wanderlust and curiosity biting through her words.

“Anywhere. We can find the world together.”

They’d already showed each other pieces of their respective worlds. An exit meant only for a performer and a force that made her a ballerina. A meadow with flowers and a stream that helped laughter and childhood stories echo around a forest. Marble hallways and golden chandeliers strung up so high only angels could touch them; disdain for a world that neither one chose.

“It’s not that simple. We can’t just up and leave our lives without regard. What of our families, the ballet, everything surrounding us? Do you really think they would just let you leave?”

Alena hadn’t said no, just given reasons to slow down and think. But Calum felt time to ponder was frivolous and slipping away from them. The ball was tomorrow night and his parents arrival in the morning would mark time that need not be wasted. If they were to escape, if they were to prove soulmates and find a way to stay, they needed to act fast. No matter what they did, time was not on their side.

“My sister did it. She fled. We could too,” Calum admitted and smiled at his sister’s bravery and determination to live a life she chose. He often wondered where she ended up but knew that it being anywhere other than a castle and a prop to a court would ensure her happiness. “Or we could try convincing them. You could be my queen.”

Alena lapsed into silence, hazel and brown filled with contemplation. Her cheeks warmed to a rosy pink and her breath staggered once before evening out in her consideration. The corners of her lips turned down and Calum could sense she was seeing a life she didn’t want pass by her eyes. He didn’t understand how they could be so connected; want the same things and yet be world’s apart in attaining them. She blinked slowly, hooded lids fluttering with eyelashes that casted shadows along her cheekbones. She let out a sigh and buried herself against him.

“Think on it for the night. No matter what we decide, we’re not ready yet.”

“Will you stay?” Calum asked and felt the painful pause of his heartbeat against the moment it took for her to decide.

“Yes. We should make the most of tonight. In case it’s our last.”

***

Morning came much too soon for Calum’s liking. He had barricaded himself and Alena in his quarters. Kept her hidden in the shadows when advisors and his people made appearances at his door. He wanted to keep knowledge of their world to a minimum; to those who already knew—Ashton, Charles and a sneaking suspicion within Michael. They spent one night together. Days earlier it would have been more than Calum could have ever hoped for. Now there was a resolve that was ready to fight for all the nights and bliss filled mornings that mirrored each other’s desires. Alena was still asleep when Calum rose. Her hair spilled across the pillow in a honey halo, marks that bit into her skin thumped wildly with tension on Calum’s as well. If it weren’t for fingertips grazing and feeling tingles on purple Calum wouldn’t know which truly belonged to him, which were created by his lips and which were kissed by her.

Calum strode to the window and looked out to the city, the usual bustle he became one with felt far away from his high perch. The vendors were out and he knew flowers would be gracing a cart; Alena’s father tending the petals with a kind hand. When lust had been satiated and breaths began to even out; Alena tucked into Calum’s hold in the most comfortable position her injury allowed, they began talking. Calum thought back to the night they first met and the explanation of parents being her reason for joining the ballet.

He had asked her about it under the protection and serenity of moonlight with bliss still on their lips. She told him it was for them, to keep the memory of her mother alive in every step she took across the stage her mother once claimed. It was never her dream but one she was happy to afford her aging father. He had told her he’d love to see her perform again—and when she let out a dry laugh he corrected himself and promised to pay attention this time; knowing there was no way he’d ever take his eyes off of her. Calum had never heard an explanation so selfless, usually surrounded by those who did only for themselves. He turned to look back at her still warm under the covers, silent and still and a picture of perfection Calum wanted to memorize. He could have stayed right there for days but a soft knock on the other side of the door broke him of his reverie.

He made his way over to the door quickly, hoping it wouldn’t jar Alena from her sleep. He opened it carefully, slowly, made sure no creaks sounded through the morning. Ashton stood on the other side. Calum raised an eyebrow as a silent question.

“The king and queen have arrived,” he explained and shot a look down the hall that made Calum react and flinch on instinct.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” Calum said and shut the door; found clothes to put on and left Alena with one last look. When he was back in the hall he met Ashton’s eye and held his gaze to show the importance of his request. “Watch the door. Make sure no one goes in.”

Ashton nodded his understanding and Calum traipsed off down the hall in the direction Ashton’s eyes shot towards. He ran into Charles who directed him to the chambers the kingdom had graced his parents with. They weren’t expecting his hasty visit, were a bit shell shocked at their son’s promptness of their arrival. He was never one for punctuality unless it was led by the court and forced on his hands. Calum wasted no time with formalities—held onto hope that his parents would lend him their familial hearts and understand this was a matter of life and happiness. His sister’s escape instilled faith in him.

“I’ve met someone,” he stated and took in the slackened jaws and wide eyes at the bold claim.

“The princess?” His mother asked and bristled when Calum shook his head.

“My soulmate.”

Silence befell the chamber and somehow echoed around the high ceilings; played tricks within the shadows and settled heavily between the three. His father stood stoic and Calum could picture the crown that would be, could be, should be passed down sitting astray in a line of succession.

“We’ll talk to the court,” his father offered and it made Calum realize even as a king power would come with restriction and strings still attached to his every decision and movement. “Perhaps a different union can be arranged.”

Calum went breathless at the prospect. Recalled the flash of despair that captured Alena when she pictured a life on a throne by his side. Calum felt the same in regards to living a life under everyone else’s thumb. He had already endured it for years. Meeting Alena, running away into meadows and being afforded a fleeting taste of freedom told him what his heart truly desired.

“What if we don’t want the throne?” Calum asked in a rush and felt heat blaze through him, felt a pounding and throbbing that spanned from his ears to his temples. There was no time for his parents to answer as their advisor entered the room and a new discussion was born.

Calum phased in and out of the conversation that was about him and Alena. It was hard to pay attention even though the entirety of his future surrounded him in hushed whispers. He caught enough to know he didn’t like what he heard. The importance of uniting kingdoms, how the princess would be a lovely wife—that he scoffed at—and a learned queen to sit at his side. He left the room after refusing their words, making it apparent what he wanted and how willing he was to make it happen. His mother stopped him in the hall.

“Come to the ball tonight. We will figure something out, together,” she promised and while Calum was apt to believe her there was still doubt that made a home in his heart.

He offered a noncommittal shrug and made his way back to his quarters and Alena. Ashton stood with watchful eyes, back to the door and a professional stance of hands folded capturing him.

“Has anyone come around?” Calum asked.

“Michael passed by, he was looking for you; I told him you were with the king and queen. He still holds the ring.”

“He can keep it,” Calum mumbled and moved past Ashton as soon as he cleared the door and made room for him to slip through.

Calum stayed quiet though Alena was awake. She hadn’t moved from her comfortable embrace on the bed except to sit up and slip her dress back on. She was bleary eyed with tiredness born of a long and exhilarating night. Her hair fell in disarray that had Calum aching to run his fingers through. He approached the bed slowly, smiled on instinct when she smiled at him first. He kept words of the court inside, not wanting to worry her when his mind was already made up. Their chance to be together came before anything else, before minimal power afforded to him from crowns and thrones he had no interest in.

“You’re still going to the ball tonight, right?” Calum asked as he recalled his mother’s soothing words and promise. If all was going to be figured out then Alena needed to be there. She was everything in the grand scheme of things.

“Is that a good idea?” She wondered, the words stung Calum but her tone held no bite. She was downcast as the previous day and the ring Calum had refused came back to her. “I don’t think my invitation and presence will be well received.”

“It will be,” Calum promised and knew that even if it was just from him she would always be welcome in his world—no matter where that world may end up being. “Please come, for me.”

Alena slid across the bed and came closer to Calum as she let out an anxious breath but nodded her intention anyway. Calum bit back words from the advisor and suggestion to keep the unity between kingdoms with a marriage. It wasn’t for Alena to worry about. After the ball it wouldn’t be for Calum either. Either his mother’s words would come to fruition or a daring plan in the back of his mind would lead them to where they wanted to be. Together.

***

Alena’s kingdom spared no cost in the royal gathering. What was supposed to be a smaller occasion became grand and overcrowded with mingling people who were all too stuffy and boring for Calum’s liking. Ashton lingered in the crowd and Calum waited on his heels for the arrival of Alena. He picked a spot with a good vantage point of the front doors and an easy exit out the back. Music filled the overly decorated glitz and glamor of the ballroom. The princess offered eyes that spoke her knowledge of what the courts wanted at Calum. She fluttered her eyelashes and danced around him in an attempt to be inconspicuous and yet eye catching all the same. Calum all but brushed her presence off and completely abandoned her when familiar eyes found his.

Alena was stunning in a simple dress—soft orange clinging to her skin like a subtle sunrise—hair falling loose around her shoulders and a nervous smile all greeted Calum. Her sling still supported her injured arm. Calum knew eyes had flocked to her upon her arrival but many men and women of all status flooded the ballroom and it wasn’t her lack of royal blood that drew eyes. It was the grace and beauty that was so intricately her that made heads turn. She was hesitant to accept his embrace but ended up in his arms, spinning to the music that droned on behind them. Calum felt her poise, the easiness that carried her steps around the dance floor and the natural ability to be one with the music even with an injury holding her back. Calum’s hold was gentle and her gaze was soft as she peered up at him from under her lashes.

“I’m glad you came,” he admitted in a breathless whisper. He didn’t care who heard but her presence made his words and tone much softer than usual.

He knew what challenges laid ahead, what obstacles danced beside them with narrowed eyes and pursed overly pink lips. Calum didn’t want to waste any time in fighting for their futures but the moment was too good to let go of; she was too close to be anywhere else but in his arms. He savored it a moment longer. The rest of the people blended into the crowd and became a murmur in the background. Eventually he found the will to lead her away from the crowd, up towards the resting place for a king and queen of another land that were too weary to mingle among people that were not yet united to them. His parents sat above the crowd with regal posture and eyes that watched everything, broke away from it all to take in the sight of their son with his soulmate on his arm.

“This is Alena,” he introduced timidly; tip toeing on the splintered hope of a promise his mother made in the morning. “My soulmate.”

“We gathered that,” his mother said softly and Calum saw the way she took in Alena. She tried not to stare at the scar that once graced her son’s skin but it was a shock of evidence that commanded her attention. “She’s lovely.”

The compliment felt sincere but flat and missing a roundabout excuse and reason that it didn’t matter who she was so long as it wasn’t a princess. His father eyed Alena less carefully, his broad shoulders straightened as he shook his head minutely.

“The courts still find it in the best interest of all if a proposal is given tonight,” his father’s words came crashing down—that reason falling hard and fast; it was one his mother had much too soft a heart to break the news of.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Alena said quietly but Calum heard the break of her words as she broke the hold he had on her and slipped away with quick steps back into the crowd.

“I’m going after her,” Calum proclaimed, eyes skirting the crowd to keep her in his sights as he stood his ground.

“The courts find a union with the princess important, perhaps your cousin might be a more suitable match. We cannot stop you should you go,” his father finished and restored that broken shard of a promise they had lent him.

“We only have enough men to guard us tonight,” his mother explained with a wry smile and a tilt of her head out to the crowd—permission to go after what he truly wanted laying within the subtle motion.

Calum expressed his gratitude with one last hug and took off, searched through the crowd and bypassed a princess who was prone to invading his personal space. She was crestfallen at his rejection but her facade of affection would be easily replaced for the next man that wore a crown she wanted to sit by. Calum made a beeline for a side exit; a beautiful arching and round door leading him outside stone walls. Alena lingered quietly—oblivious to Calum’s presence—back pressed to the stone and fingers lightly stroking just above her heart.

“You know, this is a prince’s exit only,” Calum declared in much the same tone Alena had taken the first night they met.

She twirled around, eyes blown wide and gleaming with moonlight and tears that Calum wouldn’t allow to fall. He moved to her, felt every essence of her that ever graced his skin start to warm and tingle beneath the surface. She was more than skin deep to him; she was innate and ran through his bloodstream, pumped his heart with purpose and prospects of a life he wanted to chase after.

“What’s wrong?” He asked though he knew exactly what she would say, he could feel it within his soul and all that he knew about her.

“You changed my perspective about soulmates. You made me start falling before I knew and then gave me hope with matching scars and took it all away because of a crown. It was all for naught.”

Calum let Alena speak her piece while he brushed her tears away before they could stain her cheeks. He shook his head at her words that held no bite, no fight, no determination as she felt all was lost within merging kingdoms. He let out a small breath and she turned away from his hold, let dark brown and hazel find the cracked cobblestones beneath them and stay haunted with remorse for the way that she fell—unguarded and with the belief that he might be there to catch her. He wanted to prove that he would be.

“Alena,” Calum began and tried to grab her attention from the ground up. She was still stoic in his hold, eyes downcast but flitting up to him for just a moment, just long enough to show him that she was listening and wanted his side of the story and all the answers and rebuttals he could provide. “I don’t want the crown. I don’t want a princess unless she’s a ballerina and florist and hard bargainer as well. I’m not staying, I’m not going back to my kingdom. The princess will find another heir and sit another throne. Without me. I want to be with you.”

“How?” She asked and the question was needing an answer to instill faith of falling back into her heart and soul.

He explained his parents' words as his slightly disbelieving gaze swept the night for guards of his own and of the princess’ court. He found no one but Alena and that was just the way the world wanted it. “We can leave, if you want to go. They won’t stop us.”

“I think I’ve realized I’d go just about anywhere with you,” she admitted around a blush and fumbling words. “I don’t think I can take the pain of being without you now that I’ve found you.”

Her words confirmed what Calum had been wondering, he surmised she must have felt the aches and tingles in all the places he felt them too. That distance was an injury they might live with forever. Her free hand finally reached up to grip at Calum’s shirt, just under his scar and at his heart. It was so much like the first night they met, but this time Calum was sure that she could feel his heartbeat—that it possibly matched hers—that she really was the one he was meant for.

“Please don’t let go of me,” Calum whispered as a request much more meaningful than fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“Never,” Alena replied with implications that would last a lifetime.

***

Calum sat among a crowd a world away from where he was born and raised. A world away from a crown and a marriage that wasn’t to who his heart and soul desired. Alena was radiant on stage. Calum found a new appreciation for the ballet when it was Alena his eyes couldn’t peel away from. When he truly could be one with the crowd and no one of importance other than a merchant that sold flowers and trinkets on cobblestone streets.

Using fine fabric and gems from Calum’s wardrobe had bought them passage across the open ocean, his parents' promise ensured they could flee without trouble. Goodbye’s were somber but filled with hope for the future. The king and queen understood. Alena’s father was kind and wished them well and asked them to write from wherever they ended up. They made that promise and kept it; found adventure in exploring the rest of the world and each other. They ended up finding a home in a country across the waters where princes were obsolete and royalty was hardly a murmur in the background of another world.

The ballet consumed Calum, all of the hard work Alena put into her art came alive on stage and Calum was grateful he was able to life a life that let him witness it every night. For once, the end came all too soon, though Calum was thankful that it meant Alena could be in his arms and not just in his sights. They met outside a performer’s door, orange flowers tucked into Calum’s hold and a plan in his mind.

“For you,” Calum greeted and passed the flowers to Alena like it was the first time—though it had become a well worn tradition through the time they had spent together.

Alena accepted them gracefully, didn’t hesitate to fall into Calum’s embrace of an arm thrown around her shoulders, and let him lead her on. He brought her to the ocean and lit up at eyes that were still mesmerized by waves they had sailed during their escape.

“I’m glad I found you,” Calum murmured into the night and watched as the moonlight rippled off the darkened sea.

“I’m glad I took a chance and let myself fall,” Alena admitted and Calum felt her words deep within him.

They fell back into the sand with flowers and hope in hand. Calum didn’t let his gaze wander to anywhere but brown and hazel and silver. Alena was demure under the moonlight and soft with grains of sand in honey hair. Calum grinned—wrapped up in the finality of searching souls finding each other, fighting for each other and making a home with one another. No matter where else they ended up, they would be at home so long as they other was by their side.

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[calpops]

halloween | c.h.

Your first Halloween with Calum as a married couple. 

1k words

dates with cal masterlist 

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reuploaded to any platform in any format (translations included). 

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You spot Calum across the party, the intricate golden mask adorning his face doing little to make him unrecognizable to you. He wears a formal red jacket that matches the color of the dress sweeping the floor around you. Your own mask sits a bit crooked on your face but it aligns with the smile you shoot him when he finds your gaze and smirks. Music plays all around you, guests in their best halloween get ups surround you and make a barricade between you and Calum but you’re sure you’ll find your way to him. You laugh at a joke Luke makes and find a reason to excuse yourself to meet Calum in the middle. Lights dance through Ashton’s house but it’s streamlines of moonlight that cut across Calum’s jaw as your fingers glide up and settle on his skin. He greets you with a gentle hand on your back and a slow motion of his arm to lift the mask from your face.

“Happy halloween,” he says, voice breathy and alluring, but the ring on his hand is even moreso. It’s your first halloween as a married couple and the night is spent with friends though you’re certain you’d both rather be at home. “Are you ready to leave, princess?” Calum asks and gives a sweeping look at the costume clinging to your body.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you reply in a whisper and let your eyes dart for the door. Calum cracks a grin and takes your hand after letting your mask settle back into place on your face.

You make a quick escape, stopping only to tell Ashton the party was fun but you have things to do at home and pay little mind to the knowing smirk and quip he gives as you head out the door. You keep your hands held on the quick drive home, watch as the headlights of the car light up carved pumpkins on the porch and smile as you remember that while carving them Calum couldn’t stop talking about how someday you’d be carving pumpkins with your kids. He leads you inside and toward the bedroom where Duke lays snuggled into the pillows at the head of the bed. His dragon costume from earlier when pictures were taken still lays on the floor where he shook it off and abandoned it with a scowl and disapproving bark.

“You make the best prince charming,” you tell Calum as he shrugs off the jacket.

“I wasn’t prince charming,” he laughs and holds his head high. “Just a prince.”

“Who is also charming,” you quip and stride for him, end up in his arms and feel his hands glide around your back to where the straps of your dress lay against your skin.

Just like what Calum did to you at the party you reach up and find purchase on his mask and gently lift it up and off. You discard it on the dresser nearby and work at the buttons on his shirt, an unspoken and gentle communication to help each other undress ensuing. Your costumes wind up in a pile on the floor, clothes intermingled and forgotten. There’s a softness to the night, the moon is full and pours in through the windows where the blinds are open. It’s quiet and easy to end up in bed together coming down from the highs of being together but building them back up with soft whispers about the future.

“Next time we’ll have costumes for at least three,” Calum says and his tone is so filled with hope it makes your body warm.

“Yeah? Any thoughts about what we’ll be?” You ask around a sigh that’s filled with dreams and wonder.

“Anything you want,” he responds.

“You’re giving me free reign?” you ask and raise your eyebrows to tease him and get him curious about what could possibly be cooking up in your mind.

He nods and then shakes his head when your smile turns devious. He kisses it away and you both settle back into silence. His fingers trail up and down your arm and you hear his heart beating as you lay your head against his chest. This halloween has been perfect. Between going to get pumpkins and carving them, from having the self thought best costumes at Ashton’s party, to dreaming up what next year might entail.  

“We never got around to watching those scary movies,” you realize and break the quiet.

Calum shrugs. “Doesn’t matter,” he says and makes a quip about how you’d already been screaming, the offhand comment making you blush and bite your lip.

“You know,” you say and shift to sit up just a bit so you can meet his eyes. “We won’t get to watch them next year. It’ll be cartoons like Charlie Brown and Scooby Doo.”

Calum laughs and smiles and pulls you back into him. “Even better.”

“If you shave your head again you’re gonna be Charlie Brown next year,” you warn through a giggle and it intensifies when his fingers tickle up your spine.

“And Duke can be Snoopy,” Calum adds with a laugh.

You can’t help but smile as you realize it doesn’t matter what you’ll be, just who you’ll be it with; your husband, your dog and hopefully an extension to your family.

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