Summary: your dad bought you a snow leopard demihuman he mistook for a house cat to keep you company in your new apartment. You’re against owning any demihumans, but it would be cruler to send him back to the cruel shelter.
Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, grumpy toru, demihuman, power imbalance that in the end balances itself out, owner and pet dynamic
wc: 1.8k (this was supposed to be like 500 max lol. i got carried away in flow state)
a/n: mixed in my idea with this request! i wrote this when half dying with not enough energy to write for the geto series, idk why it got longer than i anticipated. enjoy! ( ˶>ᴗ<˶)
Demihumans were often mistreated and abused, deemed ‘lesser’ beings than humans. Their shelters were mostly visited by families looking for something to keep their kids happy and busy, seen as ‘pets’.
The smaller ones like weasels and kittens are the popular choices, tiny enough to not take up much space. The ones who buy them for their entertainment are people with no knowledge on their actual needs.
They hold no care in the world for knowledge about how weasels require long, excessive periods of play, movements being their nature; or how not all cats are huge on cuddling either.
You were strongly against such barbaric action. You refuse to enslave some innocent soul, whether it be for human entertainment or under the guise of ‘saving them’. A gilded cage is still just a cage, after all.
So, when your dad came home with a burly snow leopard demihuman tailing behind him, you didn’t really know what to say or feel.
He had mistaken the snow leopard for a big white cat, saying ‘you need something to keep you company now that you moved out'.
Your dad steps inside, tossing the leash he was clutching in his hand on the floor towards you before heading inside. “That one was a tough case. You’ll need to break him down well, and keep him disciplined” he huffs out, breathless as he heads back out to his car, too tired after dragging the mistaken ‘big cat’ home.
You’re left alone with the wild looking ‘cat’, blinking up at him quite lost, unsure what to do now. You don’t want the responsibility of a demihuman, but you don’t want him to attack you either.
If you were in his place, you too would be eager at hurting those who hurt you back and escaping them. You don’t blame him for wanting freedom. You’re not exactly ecstatic to the idea of being torn to shreds either, however.
That man is big. Big, burly and tall. Theres no way people actually thought him to be a house cat. He’s larger than a maine coon!
You step closer despite the glares and hissing he’s letting out, your body moving on its own as you seek him out.
“What do you think you’re doing, human?” He snarls, baring his teeth. Despite his big, threatening words, the shelter life seems to have broken down his confidence and resolves, pushing him to step away from you like a cornered animal.
Or perhaps it’s his previous owners’ doing.
“Hey i-“ You blink, shocked at the sight of a big guy like him seeing you as a possible threat. You halt, taking a step backwards. Maybe you’re moving too fast for him. “I don’t mean you any harm”
Your clarification falls onto him like mockery instead of reassurance. His leash is still thrown limp on the floor between you two. Technically, he could make a bolt to it and bolt out of the frontdoor, his legs impressivly strong and quick.
What renders him immobile is the promise of punishment were he to be caught again. Or God forbid: found by someone with less morality and mercy.
He stays there, his tall body standing by the door, not moving. The only exception being his tail frantically flicking against the wall and door where he stands in the corner.
“What’s your name? What should I call you?” You try softly, seeing the way he’s retreating away from you, reading his body language.
He hesitates to answer, hissing at you once again. The action rattles the metal heart-shaped nametag hanging from his collar with a name engraved in it. Satoru.
“That’s a pretty name” you didn’t think much before uttering out those words, them blending in with the air in the room – too light. “Satoru” you add, clearer this time.
One of his white, fluffy ears twitches at the name, tail stiffening in place. You catch the way it twitches once from the corner of your eyes. It pains you to see someone behave in this way, like there’s an invisible knife to his throat.
“Is it.. bad if I call you by that?” You start to question, confused on how to read the why behind his reaction.
No one has called him by his name before. All his previous owners used derogatory names to call him, referring to him with insults and mockery only.
He shakes himself out of his small trace, tail still frantically flicking the air around it, ears pulling back as he decides to step closer.
“Do whatever you please, master” he rasps out, eyes casted down on you, raking over you slowly, sizing you up before his bright blues settle on yours, sharp and studying. “I’m your pet by now anyway, you can call me by whatever”
He pushes past you, figuring if he’ll stay with you here from now on, then he better try and get comfortable. As much as there’s room for, which isn’t much from his previous experiences.
Flopping down onto your couch, he summons all the rage at humans in him into some sort of confidence; a protectant armour coating in the air around him, making him untouchable.
“Just so you know, I’m not an indoor cat. Not a cat to begin with” he practically growls out, disgusted at being mistaken for one. Stupid humans can’t even differentiate between two completely different species. Tsk.
You follow after him, slow and cautious, studying his change in behaviour.
His tail flicks against the couch, two sets of electric blue shooting lasers at you. “You’re a snow leopard, aren’t you?” That prompts a small scoff from him.
“Oh, so you do have some working braincells after all. I was starting to believe otherwise since you foolishly let mg leash stay untouched and stepped closer to me” his slow blinks don’t fool you – he’s clearly not in control over this situation, no matter how hard he tries to feign composure.
You can count all the individual moments his ears flickered and moved since the moment he got dragged in by your father; how his tail won’t stay still of even sway in s normal way.
He can fool himself as much as he pleases, but he can’t fool you when his ears and tail are screaming ‘IM SCARED BUT REFUSE TO OPENLY SHOW IT. PLEASE DON’T HURT ME’.
It tugs at your heart, aching knowing you’re the reason he feels this way. He regards you with suspicion, eyes dimming to slits at the way you’re looking at him all soft and sad.
“I’m not a pet either. Nor something for you to ‘save’ or ‘fix’” he spits out, eyes flickering over your face in frusturation. Lounging on your couch would’ve been a smart idea to look assertive and calm, if only not for the audible thumping of his tail repeatedly hitting the couch.
That doesn’t scream calm nor assertive.
He wishes he was standing right now. What if you were to make a sudden move?
It seems like you read his mind, slowing your steps as you approach him, letting him anticipate your every movement.
“No, you’re not” you breath out, watching the way his fluffy ears perk up in surprise. His tail stills in the aur for a moment.
You continue your advancing, stepping closer, till you stand in front of him. His ears look so soft it’s driving you mad with the stupid craving to touch them, to at least pet his white hair.
“What are you doing exactly?” He questions, nearly whispering as you stand there in front of him. He may be big and tall, stronger than you, physically capable of overpowering you – but right in this moment, he feels stuck with you standing over his burly figure.
You immediately catch on that, retreating back as fast as possible, forgetting all about how cautious and slow you planned to be with your footing.
Satoru’s ears straighten up, pin straight as his tail stands up in return. One thing snow leopards are known for is their inhuman speed and reaction time.
Less than a second goes by before Satoru is pouncing on you, pushing you to the carpet and pinning you under him, his nametag tinkling at the motion. A small gasp escapes you, eyes wide as his meet yours under him, his larger hands pressed on each side of your head.
He’s panting. His chest heaving and falling as rapidly as yours, his shoulders shaking lightly. That can’t be good.
“W-why did you have to move so fast…” Satoru tried to sound angry, assertive maybe. His words come out breathless, choked up at the end, nevertheless.
Your eyes flicker between his, back and forth – from one electric blue to the other, as if searching for an easy way out of this.
You lift a hand painfully slow, slowly reaching behind him. He stiffens at that, yet doesn’t do anything against it yet. Perhaps his adrenaline is pumping too much in his bloodstream it’s locking him in place, transforming him into a trembling mess.
You run your fingers gently down his spine, touch featherlight and calculated. It’s what you’ve seen your friend do to calm her cat once. You thought you better give it a try, despite what Satoru actually is.
The action sends ripples of sensation into his skin on his back, a delighted trill heard from him to your surprise. You both freeze, your hand stopping at his midback, blinking up at him.
He lets out low purr against his own wishes, a soft hue of pink dusting his face at the realisation of what you’re doing to him. “G-god…”
Satoru has never felt a touch that wasn’t meant for ‘disciplinary reasons’. Your touch is foreign, new and scary in its gentleness. It’s even scarier how it’s chipping at that untouchable air around him. you’re one scary girl.
You take it as a sign to continue what you’re doing, your fingers grazing over his back as you suddenly feel a fluffy softness snaking its way up your thigh.
It prompts a small nervous chuckle from you, eyes flickering down to where his tail seems to have wrapped around your leg, hugging your thigh snugly.
You look up to see the blush in his cheeks intensifying, his purring ongoing.
“Please… don’t stop” Satoru pleads, eyes fluttering shut, his ears resting on his head in a more relaxed state by now.
That big, intimidating, burly snow leopard can be more of a house cat than he thinks himself.
Inspired by @hunnybun82 ‘s reblog on my Rafayel fic here! Heheh, hope you like it-
Xavier doesn’t remember to blink, sometimes.
He tends to stare at you, no matter what you do. Whether you’re fixing yourself a snack in the kitchen, draped across the couch and working on your reports, or even just leaning against him and talking about your day, Xavier’s gaze is locked onto you.
It darts around, from the ways your eyes crease, to the way your lip moves when you try to pronounce something rather tricky, or the way your chest dips and rises whenever you take a breath. If you permitted him to, he would spend an eternity memorising every inch of you, from your very tip of your head, to those soft lips of yours, to the curve of your legs-
But usually, you meet his eyes uneasily, breaking the eye contact. You’ve called his staring intimidating before, laughing it off as a joke, but he noticed that you tend to freeze up if you feel his eyes on you. Tensed shoulders, forced smile, followed up a rather pathetic attempt to divert his attention to other matters-
So Xavier forces himself to blink, sometimes. Slow, careful movements. He smiles at you gently, gaze broken occasionally by these gruelling, slow blinks.
He likes to think it makes him look harmless.
But somehow, all you could think off your head were huge felines, attempting to lull their prey into a state of false calmness, before they attacked.
Summary In the lonely hours of the night, is duty truly all that matters to you?
Content/Tags: Angst, KOD au, mutual pining, Xavier’s pov, slow burn, Xavier x reader.
★a/n : Alrighhhhtttttttt!! I really like this one 😁 I’m a lover of angst after all, anyway this is a oneshot and kind of on the shorter side with kind of an open ending? If it does do well i might consider a pt 2 or a continuation of the story, I love crown prince Xavier he just hits so good TT
Xavier, ever so brave and chivalrous, always stoic and level headed, feared and respected by his subordinates and subjects. If only they knew that their fearsome and composed King burned for his general.
Would anyone come to believe? That the king of dark-night, The accursed one, lived and died for the one woman who everyone equally feared, the one woman who no one ever dared to think of as that, a woman. An object of desire.
Her, the one woman who was skilled enough to command armies, the one person skilled enough to gain that late King’s respect and approval, the one who grew up alongside Xavier as his childhood friend and playmate, the one who would blush at the young prince when he wore his ceremonial garments, the one who would hide her blushing face behind her hands, making the 12 year old boy wonder, just why his heart skipped a beat and why did he want to make his friend turn even more red.
The one person who saw every side of Xavier, from a young innocent boy, to a respected leader. The one person who made the man yearn for more, the man who was always bored and apathetic, the man who never showed much emotion, yearn and die for simply a smile of his beloved.
If only she were that. His beloved.
Only she wasn’t, long gone were the days where the woman smiled at him. Long gone, were the evenings where both played with their toys and read to each other bedtime stories.
Long gone, were the nights where both teenagers snuck out, barely escaping the eyes of the vigilant butler and the strict governess, nights where both their chuckles and laughter were muffled, fearing they would get caught. Where their breath mingled as they hid in a tight spot, shushing each other as a maid called for their titles searching for them.
Where their heartbeats synchronized from how close they were. Where Xavier finally understood that this girl was precisely that, a girl. Not the same as him, way prettier, way smaller than him, her head just under his chin, way softer than him, they both trained, both going through the same lessons of swordsmanship both their bodies showed it, yet Xavier was sturdier, stronger, bigger.
Prettier, smarter, kinder, nicer. She was everything.
The days where she would look up at him through her lashes, her beautiful eyes peering at him were naught but a cherished memory. Where she would call for his name in her soft voice before quickly correcting herself adding his title when the governess would send her a look.
“My apologies, Would your Royal highness prince Xavier, do me the honor of joining me for a stroll in the garden?”
She would bow in accordance to etiquette, everything befitting of a lady, her smile however conveyed to him that she rather meant a sparring match than a stroll.
Xavier would take her outstretched hand and place a soft kiss to the back of it, earning a content sigh from the older woman watching them.
“If that is what her ladyship wishes, then it would be my
Honor to fulfill her request.” His words were everything regal, the look he would give her was anything but. Haughty and confident.
The days where he could tease her were now nothing but a memory.
“Duchess.”
His voice rang in the empty training hall. There she stood, the woman of his dreams, the one woman he would forfeit everything simply to have her look his way.
The night was dark, only the moonlight illuminating both their silhouettes. Only it was enough for him to be able to catch sight of the scars on her arms.
She slowly turns to face him and Xavier holds his breath. It's been months since they’ve last spoken, their last meeting ending in an argument before she left for an expedition.
It’s been a week of celebration for her and her army’s success in the subjugation of monsters, a week of celebration Xavier orchestrated simply to honor her, so that everyone may understand that his heart already belongs to someone, so that the annoying nobles will finally understand that no amount of pushing will make him take their daughters as queen, because to him that spot has been occupied since he was twelve.
A week of joy and festivities, where the common folk and nobles alike sang her praise and name in songs, a week of watching her from afar as she mingled with everyone but him, a torturing week of waiting for her to finally look his way, but she never did.
Now he holds his breath as he watches her slowly turn to face him, and Xavier is transported back to the days where they were young and free, because despite her cold attitude towards him, her eyes could never hide her feelings, that was the only flaw she had as a general.
“I Greet the Holy Sun of Philos, his Majesty The king Xavier-“
Xavier can no longer watch her pretend, he stops her as she goes to kneel down in respect.
“No.” His voice is soft, so is his touch as he gently holds her smaller frame and makes her stand tall, she should never kneel down.
“No?” She echoes, her puzzled look equally adorable and infuriating.
She knows what he wants, and yet because of this stupid etiquette because of these damned rules she pretends not to know.
“Xavier.” He says, not letting go of his hold on her. “Just Xavier.”
He watches, as emotions flash through her face. She has grown thinner in the months where she has been away from him. Her cheeks that used to be full, that likened the moon in fullness when she smiled now gone, she looked tired, gaunt, he is sure that she had been skipping meals.
Her voice snaps him out of his trance.
A sigh. “Your majesty, we’ve discussed this before.” She looks tired, she tries to move away, but Xavier cannot yield, will not yield anymore.
“No.” He cuts her off. “You discussed, I only ever complied with your demands and I no longer feel like doing so. Xavier. That is what you shall call me, that is your birth given right.”
Her lips wobble and the man feels himself shatter.
“Xavier.” Her voice is but a whisper, coarse, afraid, uneasy. How long has it been since she last called him by his name alone? Without any title attached to it.
The man looks at her before smiling, a small disbelieving chuckle escaping him. “Yes my love.”
No one would ever believe that the king who is known to be unfeeling, and the Duchess of Sindersfell, were in love.
She tries to move away but Xavier simply pulls her against his chest, and he watches as she melts against him. A woman, so different from him, his woman.
“Xavier, you know we can’t, what if someone sees us.” Her voice sounds reprimanding but her hands are holding him close and her face is buried in the crook of his neck.
“Then let them. I have not changed my mind once since that night. Let’s elope. Me and you. Let’s go far away and enjoy the rest of our days.” His hand gently holds her face, he watches as she leans into it, her eyes closing in bliss at his touch.
How much has she missed him, her Xavier.
“Let’s leave everything behind my love, please.” His voice cracks at the end, his forehead gently leaning against hers.
It’s now her turn to cradle his face. “You know we can’t.”
The pained look on Xavier’s face tells everything that needs to be said, he knows they can't. To whom will they leave the kingdom’s affairs? Every single noble is corrupted to the core and would lead the country astray.
That was the sole reason she had refused his proposal all those years ago.
wanting to flirt with nonchalant!xavier at the function so you get Tara to throw something in his direction so you can catch it before it hits him and you turn to look at him with a smile on your face, “you ladies alright?” xavier looks around confused as hell because it’s just him there
“who are you talking to? are you alright?” he thinks you might be concussed from a mission you went on earlier.
you feel SO embarrassed and just laugh it off, opting to not explain the joke and embarrass yourself further and walking away with slumped shoulders. you don’t see xavier biting back a giggle and taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart
tara wants to strangle xavier, it’s so obvious the two of you like each other to everyone but both of you. (he only ever pays attention to you talking, shows up to work when you’re there, makes sure to have you as his partner, he has made a joke once (1) and it was when you were sitting next to him)
Gojo fucks his crush (who has a crush on his best friend)
warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut with no plot, fem!reader, p in v, coming on face, reader has/had a crush on Geto, Geto is kind of a jerk, fourth year setting (all characters are aged up to +18), pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart)
a/n: first time writing smut, so please bear with me!
art by @/thatsallchief (i love their art so much)
Gojo Satoru knew that his crush liked his best friend.
The way your eyes wandered around the room, and instead of landing on him, it always settled on the black-haired boy that was sitting next to him.
And he always watched your heart get broken when your ears perked up at the sound of Suguru’s voice, low, leisure, and level as though it was a daily occurrence to be talking in the classroom about how he booked a hotel with a university girl, studying nursing or some other shit, to spend the night with.
Shoko would stick her tongue out, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she stared at her phone, while Gojo would laugh for a moment, making fun of Suguru playfully as always before turning to look at you, eyes concerned.
And his darling crush, gentle and kind even when your heart is shattered into pieces, would always smile awkwardly, uncomfortable as your murmured a faint complaint about appropriate behaviour at school grounds, or sometimes nothing at all when Suguru’s description became too detailed, too promiscuous.
The worst part was… Suguru knew.
Suguru knew that your rosy cheeks were meant for him, that her gentle voice was only directed at him.
He even casually complained how to indirectly let your down, not wanting to confront the awkwardness since he still thought of you as a precious, fellow classmate—the one that would always give him a piece of candy to get rid of the horrid taste of the curses he swallow.
Suguru was appreciative of your kindness, but not enough to reject you directly with kind words.
That was why it always made Satoru grit his teeth in fury at his best friend, whom he still deeply cared for, but also from annoyance at the way you always let him run over you, still naively trying to cling to the hope that somehow Suguru would like you back.
Satoru knew that you weren’t just a crush—he adored you, loved you, that it sometimes hurt to look at you from the way you made his heart race.
For the way you would hide your eyes away when they welled with tears whenever Suguru breaks your heart, not wanting to disturb the moment with your friends. The way you would smile gently at Satoru when your eyes meet. The way you would giggle slightly when Gojo pokes your cheek teasingly. The way you would prettily part your lips for a bite for a piece of strawberry Pocky that would make him swallow as something else flash behind his eyes, imagining how they would feel wrapped around his tip—
“Sa…toru,” you slurred, eyes hazy and sparkling with tears—not from your heart getting broken, but rather from how fucking deep his cock was inside you, kissing your cervix affectionately with every thrust. It brought an undeniably deep satisfaction at the sight. “I-It’s too much…”
Satoru instantly moaned at your whine, ducking in to let you burrow your face into the crook of his neck, as he pressed his nose against your head, smelling your shampoo and the faint smell of sweat that formed on your skin from how long he's been fucking you. His large hand wrapped around your head tightly, the other on your hip, keeping you there as he kept snapping his hips to search for your hot, sopping, messy cunt.
This was real.
This was fucking real. Shit, shit, shit—
“Fuck, princess… stop clenching so tight. Feels too”—he gasped, eyes turning wide as you tightened around him impossibly more that made him roll his eyes back—“good…”
This was the third—no, maybe fourth—time he brought you to his dorm room to fuck you mindlessly to drive Suguru out of your pretty mind. This was the third time inviting you to his bed, next to Suguru’s dorm, to comfort you as he went off to another hotel with no doubt another slightly older woman in his arms.
The other one time was when you invited him over to your dorm, and the memory of your bashfully lowered eyes and soft voice as you tenderly led him to your room was enough to prompt him another pathetic whine as he thrusted so roughly into you that made you see stars.
So yes, this was the fourth time that you were in his arms to have his cock deeply nestled inside, wrapped by your heavenly walls, and the third time he was able to make his girl come tonight. He silently thinks in his pussy-drunk mind, that no matter how many times the two of you fuck—make love—he would forever be questioning whether this was real, if you were real because no way does he have his dream girl in his arms right now, letting him fuck you to an oblivion.
And some sick part of him liked to imagine that you were still in love with Suguru. The thrill of knowing that he was fucking you, making you feel so good that you couldn’t help but think of him as you stared at his blue eyes instead of a pair of purple ones. But by the looks of the way your brain was fucked dumb, your lips only dribbling his name repeatedly, was an enough of an indicator that you weren’t thinking of Suguru anymore.
“Satoruuuu!!!” you screamed as you came undone, muffled against his neck. That effectively brought him back from his pussy-drunk reverie as he grinned down at you.
“Sorry, baby…”
He pulled out with a gasp, pulling off the condom with a snap as he stroked around his cock. You were about to whine when another moan slipped out of you when his thick, long fingers curled inside of you, his thumb rubbing quick, tight circles around your clit to prolong your pleasure.
“I’m going to c-come.” He swallowed. “Can I come on your face? Please, baby? You’ll look so fucking pretty with my cum.”
You nodded eagerly, managing a faint reassuring smile that twisted at his heart painfully with affection as he cupped your face and kissed you senseless, thumb caressing your cheek as the other hand continued to stroke his cock to prompt his impending release. His lips gently suckled on your tongue while giggling deliriously with pathetic whines, prompting you to clench tightly around his fingers.
“Satoru!”
And that was it—thick, white spurts of cum splattered across your face, making you gasp at the sticky sensation on your skin. Satoru grinned at the sight, cooing softly yet his fingers harshly fucked you dumb, the quelching sounds incredibly filthy that almost made his cock hard instantly.
As you came your nth time of the night and breathed heavily from your climax, your eyes widened at the sight of him ripping another condom, and rolled it on his pretty cock.
Satoru chuckled at your surprised face, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips before pulling back, grinning at you fervently.
“Don’t think we’re over just yet, sweetheart.”
The next morning, when you came out wearing Satoru’s overly large t-shirt with heated cheeks and a horrifying amount of hickies across your neck and collarbone, and a Satoru that had his lips curled into a dopey grin at your side, with a nervous Suguru that was rubbing his neck awkwardly by his door… you only could hide behind Satoru, hands gripping the back of his shirt, and a cheek pressed against his broad back, as the white-haired boy laughed full of satisfaction and fucked up elation.
“Um… fun night?” Suguru asked, his smile uncharacteristically awkward as he looked at Satoru and glanced at you curiously.
“Yeah, too much fun,” Satoru said with a grin, laughing when you scrunched his shirt up more, nails digging into his back like last night to shut him up—fuck, he was going to get hard from just that. “How was your night, Suguru?”
Maybe it was cruel to ask that when he didn’t really know if you still liked Suguru or not, but his cocky ass just couldn’t help but ask, knowing that he fucked your mind out last night, and he that he can and would continue to do it for the rest of his life, because that means that you would only think about him at that precious moment.
“Uh… yeah… I guess,” Suguru murmured as an answer, his eyes still glued to you. Since when did you look so cute? Suguru could acknowledge that he was acting like an asshole right now, knowing that he was starting to have interest in you after Satoru has swept you off of your feet and dicked you down a little too good.
Satoru’s eyes narrowed as he stepped a little to the side to hide you completely, holding the door. “Anyways, we’re going to have amazing morning sex from now, so go fuck yourself.”
Satoru grinned when he heard you let out a loud gasp at his words as he slammed the door right in front of Suguru’s face, before spinning around to face you.
Cradling your face in his large hands, he kissed you senseless as he pushed you towards the bed, tongue lolling out with yours as he lapped at yours like a pathetic mutt. His cock twitched at the sound of your surprised giggles, and he couldn't help but let out an unabashed moan.
xavier who answers a call on your behalf when he's balls deep in you, maintaining a level of composure that you'd be envious of if he currently wasn't rendering you cockdrunk.
his tone's curt and brash, ushering the person on the other end of the line to get to the point. but he doesn't slow down his thrusts—in fact, he fucks you faster and harder until the slapping of skin against skin is so loud, it's impossible to miss.
you try to keep quiet, muffling your whimpers behind trembling hands. but xavier's quick to yank those hands above your head, giving you no way to stifle your noises. you go to bite your bottom lip but xavier doesn't allow it, using his free hand to tug your jaw down so your sweet voice rings free.
he's hitting that spot with such precision, your cunt gushing wet and squelching with every slam of his hips against the plush of your ass. it's getting too much, your eyes closing tightly as pleading sobs spill from your open mouth, your back starting to arch as xavier still talks with whoever called you.
"just a second," xavier grunts before he's got you folded in half and making you scream. you claw at his shoulders, drool slicking your chin and stars dotting your blurry vision. "almost...there—"
a sudden firm rub to your clit and you're gone, utterly and completely shattered as you wail xavier's name.
the next morning, coming out of your apartment, you bump into charlie and wave in greeting. charlie instantly grows flustered and can't look you in the eye as he quickly waves and scurries past.
you wonder what you've done wrong and express this to xavier on the way to work who looks a little too smug.
turns out it was charlie who had called you last night, intending to invite you to a cafe that had opened a week ago. and xavier, in his possessiveness, decided to stake his claim right there and then.
xavier pouts when you proceed to not talk to him for the whole workday.
Summary : Xavier has a crush on you, surely you are over your childhood friend?
Content/Tags : fluff, slight angst, Mention of Zayne as a past ‘love interest’, mention of Caleb and mc, reader isn’t mc but is still a hunter and part of the childhood trio (ig quad then??), allusion to Zayne’s low tolerance of alcohol.
a/n : Hiiiiiii, okay another fic! Second one im posting alright!! Please bear with me as these are mostly things i wrote for my pure enjoyment and my friend in my dms or docs so i never really intended to post them, english also isn’t my first language so apologies for any mistake! I also never used tumblr much other than for reading so I’m still learning how to use it, anyway! I hope you guys enjoy this 💕
wc : ~ 3k
Xavier knows that getting over an ex isn’t always the easiest thing to do. He is well aware that some people have a hard time getting rid of the lingering feelings they have towards who once used to be their lover, however that didn’t mean that said person wanted to be with their ex or who once used to be the ‘love of their life’.
It didn’t necessarily mean that one wanted to keep thinking about said person or that it meant that one didn’t want to start a new relationship and hopefully actually find the love of their life, their true soulmate if you will.
That is exactly why when Xavier heard that you had officially declared that you were over and done with your one sided feelings for the infamous doctor Li Zayne, he decided that this was not an opportunity to be missed, and so he all but jumped into courting you and trying to woo you.
One could argue that you never actually dated the doctor and so he could barely be considered an ex and therefor surely your feelings for him weren’t as strong as if you were to have dated him and basked in his love like how you dreamt of for so long, but to Xavier it was all the same.
To Xavier the doctor was nothing short of your ex, he had seen how you’d gaze at him when the hunter’s association would send you both to do your routinely check ups, he would notice how your gaze was full of adoration and love, how in spite of being so loud and confident; traits that Xavier absolutely adored on you; you’d turn shy and quiet when the green eyed doctor would come to do a check up on you.
How your ears would turn red and how your eyes would look up at him with such adoration.
Xavier was a jealous person, he had no shame in admitting that. Each and every time he saw how you’d turn meek around the older man he’d secretly seethe, but back then he felt he had no right to voice his feelings, after all he was nothing but your colleague and friend and that was all.
This was back then, however. Not anymore, and Xavier couldn’t have been happier when during one of your hangouts at your local park you had admitted to him that you would put an end to the feelings you harbored for your physician.
Was Xavier selfish for wanting to beam right there and then?
Instead of doing that he had asked you why, and when you told him it was because you had come to understand that the doctor harbored feelings for your childhood friend, Xavier simply nodded and pulled you into a hug.
Something way more intimate than what your friendship had ever seen, maybe he had felt emboldened but you didn’t push him away or turn rigid instead you melted into his embrace and let him comfort you, Xavier couldn’t help but marvel at how soft and right it felt to hold you in his arms he wonders if you felt the same at that moment.
You surely did, his embrace felt so safe and comforting you wound up dreaming and thinking of it way more than what could’ve been considered friendly.
Making you fall for him was something Xavier had hoped for for quite some time now, he had imagined multiple times how he would take you out on dates and be able to spoil you rotten, he had long fantasized about holding your hand and maybe even interlock his fingers with yours, how he would finally be able to hold your waist in his hand and just feel the curve of your spine.
He had long dreamt about calling your name without withholding the care and love in his voice, he had thought of the times where he would be able to hug you and feel your heart beat against his, he had thought of it all. Yet nothing came close to the reality of it, nothing came close to the slow shift in your face after that night where you confessed to letting go of Zayne, the friendly look you’d always give him slowly morphing to something else.
Xavier had been careful with pursuing you after you had let go of your unrequited love, he had known that if you jumped directly in a relationship after years of yearning for one man and never getting him would hurt you more than anything else, so he waited.
Xavier was good at waiting.
And as it turns out his patience was indeed rewarded, because the slow shift in your demeanor around him was everything. The butterflies he felt each time your eyes would meet across the room intensified ten times more now, because now, instead of just giving him a nod or a friendly smile, now your cheeks flushed slightly, now your smile was nervous.
Gosh he sounds like such a douche but having you finally be aware of his existence as something more than simply a colleague of friend made Xavier so thrilled, try as he may he could not bring his heart to calm down around you.
Whatever he had imagined it’d be like to finally reciprocate his feelings, nothing came close to the reality of it.
The late night playing games with you after a particularly hard mission, the going out to help you shop for new furniture and ending up buying plants calling it your child, late afternoon walks around the neighborhood on particularly nice days, feeding cats together and laughing as they curl around your laps, holding you close to comfort you after a particularly hard day, helping you solve your problems.
The agonizing over what book to recommend for you after a long talk, and gosh, the talking, the long prolonged conversations. The everything and nothing, the debates, the debriefs of books and movies. Xavier was never much of a talker, but he found that he loved the melody that your voice and his created.
Xavier loved you, and every little mundane thing that made up life.
Through it all, he knew that you slowly but surely started to develop feelings for him as well, and nothing could’ve made Xavier happier. However, getting over one’s ex is not an easy thing, even more so if said ex never did anything to wrong you, and even more so if said ex was never, well, an ex.
You had always been the kindest person with the most loving heart, and Xavier knew that within your heart Dr. Li had made himself a comfortable seat.
Yet, in spite of everything, he had wished to believe that maybe, surely, your feelings for him were stronger. Granted, you were still not officially together, neither did you do anything more than hug and occasionally hold hands, but Xavier believes that the love he holds for you is surely reciprocated, he believes that in the face of a decision, you will choose him.
Now facing him was a drunk Zayne, face flushed and eyes droopy, words slurred and voice mellow as he whispers and calls your name incessantly, his taller build engulfing yours nearly completely, and Xavier hates how deep within his heart he can understand why Tara had encouraged you repeatedly to confess to the doctor, going on about how the both of you would make a cute couple.
Xavier feels his stomach churn.
His thoughts are cut off by your bewildered expression and your voice. “Xavier!! What are you doing here?” you say, he watches as one your hands snakes around Zayne’s waist while the other holds his arm around your shoulder to steady him, he feels his stomach turn again.
He holds up his phone showing you the call log. “You called me.” His voice is hoarse, he had run all the way here. You give him an apologetic look, your face turning for a second trying to shush the grown man by your side who kept whining for your attention. Your voice cuts the silence again.
“I’m sorry, I must’ve butt dialed you as I was trying to help this one out of the venue.” he watches; jealousy rendering him near voiceless; as you squirm when Zayne’s voice tickles your ear.
Ah, were you sensitive there? he swallows dryly and keeps standing there, fists balled, he hates this. Even more so when he sees the telltale of your lingering feelings, the red of your ears peeking from under your hair.
“Anyway, sorry Xavier, I gotta get this one home.” You give Zayne a slight nudge with your hips which makes him turn around and drape both arms around your neck, effectively hugging you. This makes you let out a small gasp and Xavier watches as your eyes widen for a second before you let out a small smile grace your lips. “As you can see he is very drunk.”
Xavier knew that you were one of his childhood friends alongside two other individuals, a colonel and another hunter who was your colleague. So in theory he knew that you were close to the doctor, it had even come up during one of your late night talks, you had confessed how you had always felt closer to Zayne than the pair of siblings that constituted your childhood friend group and that it most likely ended up being the reason as to why you had developed feelings for the older man.
He knew of all this, yet seeing you so close and friendly made him feel so envious.
Would you have ended up falling for him instead if you both had grown up together?
With a sigh he shakes the thoughts away and approaches you, taking the man off your arms, and rolling his eyes when he hears him whine for you. “I will help you, should we take him to his house?” he watches as your shocked expression turns into one of gratitude.
With a nod, you start walking and he follows suit dragging the other man with him. “Yes, please. He got drunk at an event and ended up calling me, it is very reckless of him seeing as he came here driving.” you explain, stopping in front of a black Audi and opening it.
Silently Xavier places the man in the backseat and marches towards you. “I will drive, you can give me the directions.” you nod with a smile and go to sit in the passenger seat. “Thanks for the help Xavier, I don’t know how I'd have hauled his huge frame by myself.” he nods with a small hum, starting the engine and driving.
“Do you like it?” he asks and you turn to him with a small smile, humming in interrogation. He clarifies. “Do you like men who have bigger frames?” He doesn't know what is taking over him, just that having what could be considered your ex calling your name incessantly pisses him off.
Xavier watches as you sputter for a second but luckily for you Zayne seems to come to your rescue as he reaches forward as if to hold you, making you turn your attention completely to the dark haired man. turning to face him and hear what he is saying better. He calls your name again and again.
“I miss you…” he slurs, eyes bleary and unfocused. The absence of music in the car makes his confession even more intimate and Xavier watches in his periphery how your cheeks seem to redden as you let out a small ‘oh’.
Great. You seem to completely forget about the man driving beside you as you angle your body even more towards your childhood friend. It had been true that you hung out with him less and less, all of your free time now occupied with Xavier, but the light haired man felt no remorse whatsoever, that is what happens when one does not value what they have.
With a lithe voice you speak up. “I miss you too, Zaynie..” You give the drunkard a small smile and Xavier, try as he may, could not stop himself from scoffing loudly at the nickname. This makes you turn towards him with flushed cheeks. “What?” You frown and he just scoffs again, an annoyed smirk taking over his features. “Nothing.” he answers.
You had never used any nicknames when addressing him before. Another scoff that earns him a petulant ‘what’ from you.
The rest of the ride is silent, and once you arrive, he helps you guide the doctor inside his home and place him on the bed. He tries not to let the jealousy get the best of him as he watches you tuck your childhood friend in and take care of him, out of love and care for you he does help and fetch whatever you tell him to, but not without feeling like hot molten silver has been poured inside his chest.
“Sleep tight Zayne, I will call you tomorrow, yeah?” Xavier watches, short of going mad, were you going to give him a goodnight kiss now? Luckily for his heart you do not, instead you just pat the doctor’s head and turn to him, giving the light haired man a small smile. And just like that you both find yourself outside the door.
Xavier watches you as you stretch and groan, turning slightly to him, giving him a smile. “Thank you so much, I don't know how I'd have managed without you Xavier.” When he hums in response you continue. “No seriously, I got his call suddenly and I was in such a pinch, Zayne rarely gets drunk so it was a first for me.” he nods along, walking two steps behind you.
“By the way, how did you manage to know where I was?” at that he finally speaks up. “You still had your location shared from last time, I got worried when you didn’t speak coherently on the call so i just checked it and rushed there.”
You chuckle and hum.
Xavier had firmly believed that if a choice had to be made, then surely you would choose him over your childhood friend, but right now, as jealousy and envy cloud his heart and judgement he is not so sure anymore. He knows it’s childish, he knows he has no right, he knows that nothing even happened to warrant such a reaction, but Xavier just could not help himself.
Xavier was a jealous person, and right now he was ashamed of admitting it.
He stops in his tracks, now standing in the middle of the park that leads you to the train station. Xavier was jealous, he hated this, he hated it all. The nicknames, the care you held, the blush, the small gasps you let out. All of it, he hated it so immensely it was just not fair that it was that doctor that got to receive it.
With his hand reaching towards you, he holds the hem of your shirt and tugs, stopping you right in your track and making you turn to look at him. Maybe this was the first time that night that you finally got a good look at him, and what was he showing you? The face of a petulant child no doubt, with his head down and an obvious pout on his lips, his large hand tugging at your shirt not letting go.
What did you think of when he showed you this side, were you regretful that it was him and not Zayne? Did you wish it was the older man walking home with you now? Perhaps you wished he was the one you could spend time with instead of Xavier. The doctor had expressed his longing for your company so does this mean that you will no longer give Xavier a chance? no longer hang out with him? Gone were the leisurely walks and long discussions?
Just what did you think of him? Did he appear pathetic right now to you?
If only he knew, that right now as he holds your shirt and pouts, very obviously jealous, all you could think about is how a man could act so cute.
“I..” he cuts himself off, he doesn’t know what to say. Don’t leave me? Choose me? Forget him? Why have you never given me a nickname before? Just what could he even say, his own feelings don’t make sense to him.
Finally looking up he is met with your gentle smile as if coaxing him. His hands move from your shirt to your hand and swiftly he closes the distance between you two. “Tell me, Xavier?” You smile at him, your hand interlocking with his, and Xavier feels emboldened.
“I like you.” He had never said it outright before, but you knew it , he had made it obvious enough and he knew that you knew. Now with the confession out there was no way of avoiding his feelings. He watches as your eyes widen at the sudden words. Were you truly not expecting it?
“I like you a lot, I like you more than you give me credit for.” He leans closer and closer, until his face is mere inches away from yours and until your breaths mingle, his eyes that were fixed on yours now drop to yours lips and from here he can see the shimmer in your lip gloss, was it the one he brought for you a few week ago?
Without a second thought he engulfs you in a hug, guiding your hands to hug his waist tightly before wrapping his arms around your neck, nuzzling his face there. He could not get the image of Zayne hugging you out of his mind.
He hugs you for a while longer, basking in your warmth before nuzzling his face even closer to your neck, his lips brushing against your ear. “I like you so much, and I miss you. Terribly so.”
He takes notice of the way you shiver against him but do not move. His voice drops to that sultry note he knows you like and continues talking. “You like it here right?” Blows slightly and dares to chuckle when you yelp and call his name. Turning his face to look at you with a pout. “I like you;” He repeats this time softer, feeling a soft blush coat his face as he notices the one adorning yours.
Ah, he likes you so much.
With a small nod you pat his back, keeping eye contact as he leans even closer to you, completely lost in your warmth. But just as you are about to answer him, he stops you.
“No, I don’t want the first time I hear it from you to be after I got jealous of your past love.” Your eyes widen and Xavier simply pats your head. “I will make you say it to me, with utter love and devotion.” At that you chuckle before pinching his cheek, “Alright, Romeo. Let's go home now I'm exhausted.”
This Was pretty rushed but i hope you liked it all the same!
You had made a mistake. The mistake being having ordered more Lumiere merchandise and forgetting to schedule it on a day where your boyfriend wouldn’t be home.
So here you were now, sitting beside a very sulky Xavier as you tried to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work.
“Oh c’mon Xavier, its just merch, Lumiere is just, he is just so adorable.”
Wrong move, all that earned you was a deeper frown and an even more prominent pout from your boyfriend who just crossed his arms and looked away.
What a baby.
Fuck, he was so cute.
You try your very best not to show him how excited this adorable behavior of his got you as you come closer, and obviously he doesn't move away.
Xavier loved you. He loved everything about you. If anyone asked him what his favorite thing in the world was his answer would be immediate.
You.
You on the other hand didn’t seem to share the same feelings as him, because clearly you loved someone much more than him, that thought only makes the silver haired man frown even more.
“Xavier please. Stop sulking.” You truly wanted your boyfriend to stop being sad, but if anyone peeled the truth out of you, they would know that deep down you wanted him to continue on and act even more spoiled.
And that’s exactly what he does. Gosh he was truly so lovely.
With a side glance at you he speaks up. “If it were Lumiere who was sulking you probably would be kissing him and telling him how he is the best.” He juts out his lip and you stop yourself from biting it.
You smile, a mischievous idea coming to you.
With a nod you lean your body closer at first, your voice dropping to a sultry tone. “Yes, Lumiere is the best.” You watch as he looks at you with faux anger as you slowly straddle his hips.
Even with his sulking he doesn’t shy away from putting his hands firmly on the sides of your waist, squeezing as you settle yourself on his lap. His blue eyes grow dark as you smile down at him. Even in his frustration he cannot hide his utter devotion to you.
“Lumiere is the best.” You repeat, now leaning closer. Your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper your next sentence. “But Shen Xinghui is my favorite.”
Oh.
Oh.
You cannot even let out the giggle that was bubbling out of you that you are cut off by a rough kiss. Xavier’s hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your hard against him, not letting you escape. Not like you wanted to. You just melt against the large man and let him take what he wants.
He only breaks the kiss when you tap him for air.
Fuck he was so pretty, cheeks flushed, lips pink and swollen from kissing you, and light silver hair mussed from where you had pulled during your makeout.
However the cutest part were the little light particles that were floating around him, betraying his true feelings even if he was still frowning at you.
So he was no longer mad huh.
“Say it again.” He demands, and you giggle.
“You can’t fool me, I know my pretty boy is no longer mad, he is glowing like the brightest of stars right now.” You giggle and he pouts, burying his face in your neck.
“Shen Xinghui will always be my favorite. No one could ever replace him.” You say, kissing the top of his head.
When he looks up you think you fall in love with him all over again, the most happy hopeful look has taken over the features of your lover and you wonder. Would a spring wedding be better or an autumn one?
Aight folks, first time posting on tumblr, kinda need more xavier fics
You had made a mistake. The mistake being having ordered more Lumiere merchandise and forgetting to schedule it on a day where your boyfriend wouldn’t be home.
So here you were now, sitting beside a very sulky Xavier as you tried to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work.
“Oh c’mon Xavier, its just merch, Lumiere is just, he is just so adorable.”
Wrong move, all that earned you was a deeper frown and an even more prominent pout from your boyfriend who just crossed his arms and looked away.
What a baby.
Fuck, he was so cute.
You try your very best not to show him how excited this adorable behavior of his got you as you come closer, and obviously he doesn't move away.
Xavier loved you. He loved everything about you. If anyone asked him what his favorite thing in the world was his answer would be immediate.
You.
You on the other hand didn’t seem to share the same feelings as him, because clearly you loved someone much more than him, that thought only makes the silver haired man frown even more.
“Xavier please. Stop sulking.” You truly wanted your boyfriend to stop being sad, but if anyone peeled the truth out of you, they would know that deep down you wanted him to continue on and act even more spoiled.
And that’s exactly what he does. Gosh he was truly so lovely.
With a side glance at you he speaks up. “If it were Lumiere who was sulking you probably would be kissing him and telling him how he is the best.” He juts out his lip and you stop yourself from biting it.
You smile, a mischievous idea coming to you.
With a nod you lean your body closer at first, your voice dropping to a sultry tone. “Yes, Lumiere is the best.” You watch as he looks at you with faux anger as you slowly straddle his hips.
Even with his sulking he doesn’t shy away from putting his hands firmly on the sides of your waist, squeezing as you settle yourself on his lap. His blue eyes grow dark as you smile down at him. Even in his frustration he cannot hide his utter devotion to you.
“Lumiere is the best.” You repeat, now leaning closer. Your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper your next sentence. “But Shen Xinghui is my favorite.”
Oh.
Oh.
You cannot even let out the giggle that was bubbling out of you that you are cut off by a rough kiss. Xavier’s hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your hard against him, not letting you escape. Not like you wanted to. You just melt against the large man and let him take what he wants.
He only breaks the kiss when you tap him for air.
Fuck he was so pretty, cheeks flushed, lips pink and swollen from kissing you, and light silver hair mussed from where you had pulled during your makeout.
However the cutest part were the little light particles that were floating around him, betraying his true feelings even if he was still frowning at you.
So he was no longer mad huh.
“Say it again.” He demands, and you giggle.
“You can’t fool me, I know my pretty boy is no longer mad, he is glowing like the brightest of stars right now.” You giggle and he pouts, burying his face in your neck.
“Shen Xinghui will always be my favorite. No one could ever replace him.” You say, kissing the top of his head.
When he looks up you think you fall in love with him all over again, the most happy hopeful look has taken over the features of your lover and you wonder. Would a spring wedding be better or an autumn one?
Aight folks, first time posting on tumblr, kinda need more xavier fics
bestfriend!nerdjo … a physics grad student that you met while you were getting your bachelors.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who you constantly have to remind to actually sleep.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who constantly tells you physics jokes you don’t get, offers to explain them, and then ends up making you more confused than before
bestfriend!nerdjo … who basically lives in your apartment with how much he sleeps over. he has 5 changes of clothes, a toothbrush, skincare and a stash of candy (that he knows you won’t take because they’re disgustingly sweet) readily available at your place.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who ‘accidentally’ cockblocks by studying at your apartment constantly. unfortunately it is a turn off for guys you bring home to have a 6’3, beauty and brains encompassed man lying on your couch shirtless when they get to your place.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who claims you were ‘too good for them anyway’ when you complain about his record breaking amount of cockblocks.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who has obscenely sensitive eyes and wakes up like dracula when you forget to close the blinds the night before when he slept over.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who uses your apartments broken heating system to his advantage and cuddles in bed with you.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who your mom is still convinced you’re going to marry. every single thanksgiving—that satoru is now eagerly invited to every year— she still claims that satoru is ‘such a kind, smart and handsome boy’ that she would ‘love if you married’.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who can’t help but be a little offended when you go “yuck—never.” every time she does. okay, sure, you’re just best friends but you seriously don’t wanna marry him? he thinks he’d be a good husband.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who sometimes answers the door when guys come over to see you and shoos them away like an overprotective dad or brother.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who made you watch all of the big bang theory and couldn’t help but be happy your favorite character by the end was sheldon… a tall, egotistical, blue eyed physics nerd.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who only asks you when he needs advice for fashion. frankly, he thinks shoko will sabotage him, suguru doesn’t understand how to dress formally, and utahime would never bother responding. but he thinks you always look nice. so help him pick out and tie his tie, will you?
bestfriend!nerdjo … who really does not understand your affinity for that sukuna guy. his stupid tattooed face really isn’t all that in his opinion, yet it has you salivating and practically floating like garfield when he smells pie.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who has definitely commented “we look so much like a couple here” under one of your posts—quick, guess what your reply was [reference here].
bestfriend!nerdjo … who loves to do your makeup for you, getting oddly close to your face and looking down at your lips even when he’s doing your eyeliner.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who pouts when he sees you text sukuna again.
bestfriend!nerdjo … who wants you to stop being so stupid and realize he just wants you.
college!caleb x upperclassman!nonmc!reader where he has the fattest crush on her, while she's blissfully unaware
Caleb has never been one for romance.
Or rather--he just finds it hard to develop a close attachment for other people, much less a romantic one. He doesn't see the appeal of a relationship, really, especially when he's perfectly fine on his own. And if his friend's behaviors have taught him anything about the all-consuming effects of being in love, why would he risk such a predicament? Especially when he has so many other things to do?
He remains faithful to this ideology until he enters college, where he meets you. An upperclassman who's assigned with him for a group project.
At first, he tries to convince himself that he just thinks you're pretty. That maybe, he's just found his type, and it's nothing more than that---nothing emotional, surely. It's not like he peeks from the corner of his eyes when you're focused on your work, or notices the slight changes to your appearance that you make once in a while. And it's not like he could ever spend an extra hour in the morning when getting ready if he knows he'll see you. Definitely not.
But when you're pointing at something on his laptop, discussing details about the project that go in one ear and right out the other because he's too busy staring at how your hair falls a certain way, he knows he's doomed.
"Are you listening, Caleb?"
Hell no. Not when he can practically smell which perfume you picked today---is that vanilla?
"This must be a lot," you laugh, leaning back in your chair and the whiff of your scent vanishes. He fights to prevent his face from falling too much. "This is your first group project in college, right? Maybe we can take things slower."
He doesn't like when you say things like that. Actually, some strange part of him does, but it also hurts his pride to think that you see him as some sort of blubbering baby chick who's just learning to flap his wings for the first time. Admittedly, he does feel like a fish out of water in college (who doesn't?), but he doesn't like you knowing that.
What he does like though, is that you seem more comfortable around him. Though he's not sure if it's his age or simply because of his personality. He really hopes it's the latter.
He quickly finds out that his predictions were right---having a crush is bothersome. All he can think about is you. Your cheeky grin when he needs your help, the way his hands dwarf yours when they're beside one another, the way your lips purse when you're focused...he almost feels a bit creepy with the things that he notices. What's worse is that he looks forward to class, which means he's truly too far gone.
But Caleb adapts quickly. He decides that in the first year, he will ask you out. He must. He's never had trouble with this sort of thing in the past (girls usually tended to flock to him for some odd reason), so this shouldn't be so hard, should it? Surely.
This convinces nobody--not even himself.
The first time he tries to confess to you fails because he chickens. He suggests getting ice cream to celebrate submitting your project, insisting that it's his treat. It kinda feels like a date. He hopes it's a date. But when you're standing to leave after a while, he doesn't stop you, just staring at you wave cheerfully goodbye. He's frozen, fully aware that this might be a perfect time, but his thoughts simply won't run. He waves back blankly, wondering if it might be better to just die right there.
The second time is when he shows you his room for the first time to study together after finding no seats were available at the library. A blessing this exam season turned out to be. The comfortable silence as your pencil scratches against your notebook is more distracting than it ought to be, because it's so quiet that he can hear your breath. He slowly reaches out to tap your shoulder, insisting to himself that now is the time like a prayer meant for nobody but himself. Of course, your phone rings, and he jumps back like a kicked puppy, humiliated while you remain blissfully unaware.
The third time, you get interrupted by your friends.
The fourth time, he falls deathly ill and can't make it to hang out (though he only cancels after you threaten to block him if he doesn't stay home).
The fifth time, you mishear him and completely misinterpret what he said.
By the sixth time, he's starting to wonder if the universe hates him. The year is about to end now, and you're spending your last day on campus beside him, reminiscing about the year. He tries to focus on what you're saying while also engraving the image of you into his mind, though an ugly, festering thought begins to flicker in the back of his mind. He could tell you now. He could, and maybe you'd be surprised.
But would you like him back? I mean, considering you've known him for nearly a year now, if you found him attractive, wouldn't you have shown signs of liking him too? He tries to think hard about whether he's ever made you nervous or flustered, but all he can see is that painfully adorable grin that's getting ready to make fun of him somehow. Never shy. Never taken aback by him.
He moves his head to the side, nails digging indents into the meat of his palms. Of course you don't see him that way. To you, he's just some floundering freshman who you happened to take in because of a group project assignment out of sheer luck. To you, he's just a friend you managed to squeeze in because he's been so persistent. He hopes you see him as less as a burden and more of as a friend, at least, and that thought in itself makes him want to curl up in a hole and die. Have you ever seen him that way? Can you every see him that way?
The answer lingering on his tongue makes his nails dig deeper.
His eyes flicker to your hands perched aside one another, your pinkies just centimeters away from touching, and his chest clenches. What a joke. He's been right all along. He curses these damn feelings, and this damn school, and this damn predicament that has him wanting to get on his knees while also smashing his lips against yours.
"Caleb?"
He stops, turning to look at you. His eyes widen just the slightest when he sees your bashful expression, like you've just broken something and don't want to tell him. You scratch anxiously at the back of your neck, and it makes his throat bob.
He thinks it's so damn cute.
"Wanna go out with me some time?"
And just like that, Caleb's heart jumps straight back into your loving palms, right where it wants to be.
Imagine the first thing that caleb ever said to you was, "Duck!" Followed by a gunshot seconds later, loud and violent and too close. You barely managed to throw yourself down before something behind you collapsed with wet, rotten sound against the pavement. And for one horrible second, all you could hear was ringing. Then came your breathing. Sharp, panicked and painfully human.
Imagine you stayed crouched on instinct, fingers gripping the rusted pipe you had been using as a weapon, heart beating so violently on your chest that might as well burst through your ribs. Then a pair of boots stopped in front of you. "You good?"
Imagine the way you looked up slowly. The stranger standing there held a pistol loosely in one hand like it weighed nothing at all. The sunlight caught briefly on the barrel before he lowered it. There he was, tall, broad shoulder. Dark jacket streaked with dirt and old blood. A rifle strapped across his back. Alive. Which honestly felt stranger than the gun. because by then, months into the apocalypse, you had gotten used to seeing more corpse than people. The dead were predictable, people weren't.
so Imagine, you stared at him silently. The walker behind you twitched once on the ground, half its skull missing. "If you said yes too fast," The stranger continued casually. "I'm gonna assume you hit your head." That made you blink. Then looked at the dead walker, then back at him. "...I had it handled." He snorted immediately which made you feel somehow offended. "No you didn't." "I did." "It was literally reaching for your neck." "It was under control." "Sure."
Imagine the way you narrow your eyes as he grinned. And somehow, soomehow that irritated warmth in his expression felt more dangerous than the walker ever did. Because people who still smiled like that in the apocalypse? Were either crazy, or the kind of people that made you forget that the world ended. Both were dangerous. So as the stranger crouched beside the corpse and started checking its pockets, you stared at him.
"...What are you doing?" "Looking for cigarettes." You looked at him like he was joking. Then he actually pulled out a crushed pack from the walker's jacket. "No fucking way." "See?" He said proudly. "Today's a lucky day." "You're digging through a corpse." "Adaptability is important." "That thing literally tried to eat me." "And now it's donating supplies. Circle of life." You barked out a laugh before you could stop yourself. And the sound startled you more than him.
because Imagine, you genuinely couldn't remember the last time you laughed. So as the stranger looked up immediately his pruple iris met yours as his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise before his mouth curled into a softer grin. "There." He pointed at you. "That." "What?" "That face, keep that around." He stood up again, slipping the cigarette into his pocket. "Means you're still human." Human, huh. You almost forgot what that felt like.
Imagine you should have left after that. Really. Because that was the rule now. Don't trust stranger, don't stay in groups too long, don't tell people where you sleep, don't get attached. Attachment got people killed. You learn that early. The world ended, and suddenly everyone became capable of terrible things. You had seen people abandon family members to save themselves. Seen strangers kill each other over canned food. Seen a man beat another man for a half-empty water bottle.
Imagine the dead were monsters because they had no humanity left. The living were monsters because they still did. So yes, you absolutely shouldn've left. Instead, you found yourself sharing canned goods with a stranger inside an abandoned laundromat while rain hammered the roof overhead. "So," He said through a mouthful of food. "You got a name?" You hesitated and he noticed. "Fair." He admitted with a small nod. "I could be a serial killer." "In the apocalypse?"
"Timing's rough, I know." "...You could rob me." His eyes flicked towards your backpack. "You own exactly one pipe wrench and three crackers." You narrowed your eyes at him. "You checked my bag?" "It was open." "You're an asshole." "And yet," He pointed at himself dramatically. "The asshole saved your life." You rolled your eyes and he laughed again. God, he laughed so easily. Like the world wasn't rotting around him. Like death wasn't waiting outside every door. It made no sense. "What's your name then?" You asked eventually. "Caleb." He said, offering a hand. You stare at it suspiciously for a full three seconds before finally shaking it. And his grim was warm, stead, and real. "Nice to meet you." He said. And weirdly, it sounded genuine.
Imagine traveling with Caleb happened gradually. Not because either of you asked. It just... Happened. The first few days were temporary. Then temporary became a routine. You scavenged together, ate together, slept in shifts together. And somewhere along the line, surviving stopped feeling like a lonely thing which honestly scared you more than the walkers did. Because dependence was dangerous and Caleb was dangerously easy to depend on.
Imagine he knew things, too many things. How to siphon gas without swallowing fumes, how to identify infected water, how to reinforce doors properly, how to ration food, how to move quietly through buildings. And most of all, guns. And god, he sure knows how to handle guns like they were extensions of his body.
"You're holding it wrong." You glare at him for where you stood, in the middle of an empty parking lot. "I'm holding it." "Barely." "I hate guns." "You'll hate getting eaten more." You groaned framatically while he stepped behind you. "Relax your shoulders." He instructed. His hands adjusted your stance carefully with warm palms and gentle pressure. Suddenly, you become aware of how close he was. "Don't lock your elbows." "You sound like an old man." "You shoot like one." You scoffed. Then immediately nearly lost control of the recoil after firing.
Imagine the way Caleb burst out laughing. "Oh my god- your face-" "Shut up!" "You looked personally betrayed by physics." "I hate you." "No you don't." And the terrifying thing was, he said so confidently like he already knew. And maybe he did.
Imagine that night, Caleb talked. Not constantly, but enough. Enough to fill the silence that used to suffocate you when you were alone. He told stories while cleaning weapons, while checking maps, while sitting beside weak campfires. Sometimes it was stupid stories, sometimes it was the embarrasing ones, sometimes it was stories about her. Pips. You never learned her real name at first. Just that nickname.
"She used to steal my hoodies constantly." Caleb muttered once while staring into the fire. "Then deny it while literally wearing them." You smiled faintly. "She sounds awful." "She is." But his expression softened immediately after saying it. And god, that look. You noticed it every time he talked about her. Like his entire face changed without him realizing. "She hates vegestables." "She talks in her sleep." "She gets lost in grocery stores somehow." "She cries during movies but acts like she doesn't." "She's tougher than people think."
Imagine every single story sounded precious coming from him. Not because of words but because of the way he said them. Like he carried her carefully even in conversation. And you, you listened quietly while something ugly and aching slowly grew inside your chest. Not anger, not jealousy exactly. Just... Awareness. Awareness that you were temporary. That Caleb has somewhere to go, someone to find. And you? You were just the person walking beside him until he got there.
Imagine in one particularly cold night, the two of you sat on top of an abandoned convenience store roof. The city stretched dark around you. No lights anymore, no traffic, no life. Just empty buildings and the distant groan of walkers wandering through the streets below. And Caleb sat beside the fire cleaning his knife carefully. The orange light flickered across his face. And you tried not to stare but failed iserably.
"This someone you keep talking about," You said eventually. "What would you do if you find her?" Caleb looked up immediately and the expression on his face, it genuinely startled you. Not angry, worse, he was certain. "Nah," He said quietly. "Don't joke like that." His tone remained light. But something underneath it wasn't. "She knows how to survive." He continue after a moment. "Pips is smart. Stubborn too." A small smile tugged at his mouth. "Probably yelling at people somewhere right now."
"I see." You nodded slowly and silence setteled again. The cold wind drifted across the rooftop. Then, "What would you do if you find her?" That made him smile properly. Soft, unthinking, in love. And it hurt embarrasingly bad. "Find somewhere safe." He said. "Heard rumors about a secured place. N109 zone. Well protected, functional power, and farms too." "Sounds fake." "Probably is." You huffed quietly. "But if it's real," Caleb continued, eyes flickering toward the dark skyline. "I'd take her there." Her. Not us.
and Imagine, really, why would it be us? You weren't anything. Not officially. Not emotionally. Not in the way that mattered. The two of you were just survivors sharing road because surviving alone was harder. So why did you chest ache every time he smiled like that over someone else?
"Wait-" You stared at him increduloudly one afternoon while scavenging an airport hangar. "You were an actual pilot?" "Yep." "You're lying." "I'm offended." "You said aviation school." "I graduated." "No way." Caleb looked unbearably smug. "You wanna see my license?" "You carried your pilot license through the apocalypse?" "Well now you're making it sound stupid." "Because it is stupid." He laughed so loudly it echoed through the hangar in which you did ended up laughing too.
Imagine there was never a single quiet day with Caleb around. He filled spaces effortlessly. Sometimes with jokes, sometimes with stories, sometimes with sheer existence alone. And slowly, dangerously, you started building routines around him. Waiting for his voice in the mornings, listening for his footsteps, sleeping easier during his watch shifts. Like your body itself had started believing Caleb meant safety. Which was the dumbest possible thing you could do during apocalypse. Because safety wasn't real anymore. And neither was forever.
Imagine then you found her. No, she found him. It happened near an abandoned medical checkpoint outside the city. You remembered hearing running footsteps first. Then a weak voice. "Caleb..." The reaction was immediate. You watched as Caleb froze so suddenly beside you that you nearly walked into him. And then he was moving. Fast, faster than you had ever seen him move before. And the girl stumbling towards the checkpoint looked half-dead already, sweating, shaking, varely conscious. But the second Caleb caught her. You understood something. Oh- that's her. Because you had never seen him look at anything the way he looked at her.
Imagine it wasn't relief, not happiness either. It was something deeper. Like finding oxygen after drowning. "Pips." He breathed. The sound of it almost made you look away. She collapsed against him almost immediately. And Caleb held her so carefully it made your throat tighten. You stood there awkwardly holding your rifle while realizing something horribly pathetic. You never stood a chance.
Imagine, MC was sick, not bitten, at least you didn't think so. But she burned with fever badly enough that even touching her forehead for a second make your palm feel hot afterward. Her breathing came unevenly, weak and shallow, and every now and then, her body trembled hard enough that Caleb had to tighten his hold around her to keep her steady. And you... You did not ask questions. In apocalypse, poeple stopped asking questions a long time ago.
so Imagine you kept moving. "Left." Caleb muttered while checking the bloodstained map in his hand. "There should be a maintenance corridor." You glance down the dark hallway. "Should' is doing a lot of heavy lifting there." "Have faith." "I had faith once, then society collapsed." That actually made MC laugh weakly against his chest. A tiny sound, something so fragile. Caleb immediately looked down at her like she has hung the moon. "You still with us, Pips?" "Mhm.." God, that look again. You turned away first.
Imagine the facility was massive. Some kind of old evacuation site connected to an abandoned research building near the edge of the city. Suspicious as it way sound with the amount of military trucks still littered the parking lot outside, rusting quietly beneath overgrown weeds and dried blood stains. And inside, it smelled worse. Rot, mold, old death. The deeper you went, the quieter it became and somehow, that was worse than noise.
Imagine your flashlight swept across overturned hospital beds and scattered papers on the floor. And every now and then, you caught movements behind reinforced glass doors. Walkers, trapped inside rooms. Their dead fingers dragged slowly against the window as you passed. Stratch, stratch, stratch. MC flinch weakly at the sound making Caleb adjust her closer instinctively.
"You okay?" "Cold..." Your eyes flicked towards her. She was shivering now despite the fever. Not good, not good at all. "We need to stop soon." You said quietly. Caleb nodded grimly. "There should be a rooftop access point somewhere above us." "Please tell me this place has the aircraft." "If the rumors are right." You sigh. "Again with the rumors." "Hey, rumors are all we got left nowadays."
Imagine the first sign something was wrong came from the silence. No walkers, none. Not in the hallway, not behind doors, not banging against walls. Nothing. You slowed slightly. "Sooo.." You murmured. "EIther we got lucky-" "Or it's worse." Caleb finished immediately. "See? That. That's exactly the kind of optimism I hate." A faint grin tugged at his mouth. Then- click. You froze.
"What was that?" MC whispered weakly. Your flashlight lowered slowly towards the floor. A wire. Thin, nearly invisible, connected to a rusted can near the wall. Your stomach dropped. "...Fuck." caleb's expression hardened instantly. "Don't move." Too late. Because somewhere deeper in the building, there was a clang. Then another, then another. Metal crashing violently against metal. Your eyes widened. "No, no no no-" A siren suddenly screamed alive overhead. Red emergency lights flooded the hallway instantly.
and Imagine then came the sound. Groaning, hundreds of them. From below, from above, from inside the walls themselves. "Oh you have GOT to be kidding me." You hissed and the building erupted. Banging, screaming, bodies slamming against the doors. Walkers flooded into the hallways from every direction. "What the fuck did that trigger?!" You shouted. "Probably an emergency lockdown system!" Caleb barked back. "WHO THE FUCK BUILDS THAT?!" "THE GOVERNMENT?!"Fair enough. "Move!" You snappened immediately.
Imagine the three of you started running, your boots slammed againstthe floor whie red lights flashed overhead violently. Walkers poured from stairwells and broken doors, drawn by the siren echoing throughout the facility. One lunged from the side and you buried your knife in its skull without slowing down. "Straight ahead!" Caleb yelled, MC coughed hard against his shoulder, trembling badly now. "Caleb-" "I got you." God, even now, exhusted and terrified, his voice soften for her automatically. And you hated how much hearing that hurt.
Imagine the stairwell was chaoes, bodies crowded below, rotting hands clawed upward through gaps in the railing. You nearly slipped on blood while forcing your way higher. "Door!" You shouted and Caleb kicked it open, hard. The three of you stumbled into another corridor breathing heavily. Then stopped, your stomach dropped instantly. "...No." The hallway was packed with walker. At least fiftly, or maybe more. The emergency lights painted them in horrible flashing red as they turned slowly towards the sound of you. Dead faces, open mouths, clouded eyes. Then they started coming towards your way.
"Run!" You slammed the door shut immediately while Caleb shoved a cabinet against it. Bodies crashed into the other side violently, the metal groaned. "Window!" You shouted. "No jump." Caleb snapped after one glance, "Too high." The room itself looked like some kinf of old administrative office. No exits, no escape. Only another hallway leading deeper inside the facility. And somewhere above, a helicopter waited. So close. You could practically taste freedom. Then MC made a small broken sound. You turned immediately. Her condition was getting worse, sweat drenched her skin completely now. Her breathing came shallow and uneven and she looked barely consious against Caleb's chest.
"We don't have time." You muttered. "I know." The door behind the cabinet shook violently. BANG, BANG, BANG. Wood splintered as more frowls filled the hallway outside. You started pacing automatically, brain working too fast. Think. Think. THINK. "There." MC whispered suddenly. You followed her shaking hand towards a map hanging crookedly on the wall. Your eyes narrowed. "...Maintenance bridge." Caleb looked too. "It connects to the west wing." "Which connects to the rooftop acccess." You finished.
Imagine the way relief flickered briefly across his face, then disappeared. Because noth of you saw the problem immediately. The bridge crossed directly over the main atrium, where the horde was gathering and thousands of footsteps ehoed below already. Draw by the sirens, by you. "...Shit." You whispered. The door cracked loudly behind you. One dead arm shoved partially through the splintering wood. MC looked close to passing out completely now. And Caleb, Caleb looked terrified for the first time since you meet him. Not for himself but for her. You saw it clearly. The desperation, the fear, the helplessness. And somehow, that hurt more than anything. Because even at the end of the world... Even now, he loved her so much.
Imagine the west wing was falling apart. You could feel it in the walls. Every few seconds, the building groaned somewhere deep beneath your feet like something enormous was twisting inside its bones. Dust drifted constantly from the ceiling. Pipes screamed while metal shrieked in the distance loud enough to make your teeth ache. The whole place sounds echausted. Like it had been dying for a long time and only now decided to collapse properly. And honestly? You understand that feeling.
Imagine the way you shoved another cabinet against the stairwell door while Caleb checked the corridor ahead. "Clear." He whispered. The hallway beyond flcikered under failing emergency lights, everything painted in unstable red. Old blood stained the walls in long brown smears. Abandoned luggage littered the floor alongside military bags and overturned stretchers. People ran here once, you could tell. The evidence of panic still remained everywhere.
Imagine MC coughed weakly behind you and Caleb immediately turned around. "You okay?" She only hum in return, but you could easily tell that she wasn't. And Caleb, the panic in his eyes everytime he looked at her. You noticed it more now. The way he adjust his grip instictively whenever she trembled, the way his voice siften automatically around her, the way exhustion disappeared from him whenever she needed something. And you looked away first, because there were some things you could survive easier by pretending not to see.
Imagine the rooftop access was close, that was the cruel part. So close. Only one more connecting hallway between you and the emergency ladder leading towards the helipad. Only one hallway. But unfortunately, it was also the exact direction the walkers were coming from. You heard them before you saw them. That horrible collective sound. Dragging feet, wet groaning, bodies colliding endlessly into each other. Too many, far too many. The emergencu siren overhead still blared intermittently through the building, distorted and dying. Every scream of the alam pulled more dead things inward ike a beacon.
Imagine the hallway ahead opened into a wider terminal junction, and beyond it, the maintenance access leading toward the rooftop. And you almost laughed when you saw it, because of course, of course the only escape route sat directly behind a moving wall of corpses. "Fuck." You breathed quietly as Caleb followed your gaze before immediately saying, "No." You looked at him. "You don't even know what I'm gonna say." "I know exactly what you're gonna say." The walkers shuffled closer in the distance. You counted automatically. Thirty, maybe forty or more.
Imagine, the corridor itself was too nattow to fight through. Too loud, too cramped. One gunshot would bring the entire damn building down on top of you. You look to your side and see MC swayed weakly against Caleb's chest. "We can still go around." He muttered quickly. "There is no around." "We find another route." "And waste how much time?" Your voice came out sharper than intended. "Look at her Caleb." His jaw tightened immediately because he knew. MC's condition was getting worse by timme. Even standing looked difficult for her now. She needed medical attention immediately. Not later, not tomorrow. Now.
Imagine another distant crash echoed through the building as you could tell the walkers stirred louder, closer. Your brain started calculating instinctively. The distance, noise and movement patterns. If something loud pulled the horde sideways, even briefly, there would be enough time. Not too much, but enough. And just then, your stomach dropped before you can even fully formed the thought. Because you already knew, there really wasn't another option. Not dramatic sacrifice, not heroism. Just math. A simple, horrible math.
Imagine, if nobody distracted them, all three of you died here. That made you swallowed hard before quietly saying. "I can pull them away." "No." Immediate and sharp. You almost smiled despite yourself. Still stubborn. "Caleb-" "No." "We don't have enough ammo." "We fight through." "We won't make it halfway." "We try anyway." "Then what?" Your voice cracked sharser this time. "She collapses? One of us gets grabbed? You know how this ends." "We don't know that." "Yes we do!" Your voice echoed harder tha intended through the hallway and the walkers immediately stirred louder, closer. Shit.
"Caleb." You whispered roughly. "This isn't a movie." "I know that!" "Then stop acting like there's a magically another way out of this!" His breathing turned uneven. Angry. Panicked. "No." He said again, quieter this time. "I'm not letting you do that." And something painful twisted in your chest hearing that. Not because it fixed anything, but because it didn't. Reality stayed cruel no matter how badly he wanted otherwise. "You're not letting me?" You repeated softly. "You know what I mean." "Do I?" "Don't do that right now." "Do what?" "That thing where you act okay with this!"
Imagine you stared at him and there it was. Fear. Raw, ugly and despirate. Not anger. Fear. Because Caleb already understood what this could mean. Your throat tightened painfully. The walkers slowly crowded deeper into the junction ahead now, bodies pressing together beneath the red emergency lights. The deads were moving patiently towards you. MC whimpered weakly against Caleb's chest. That sound alone nearly shattered the entire argument apart. You close your eyes briefly then you looked back at him. "She needs you alive."
Imagine the words tasted bitter. Not because they weren't true but because they were. Caleb looked away sharply for the first time. Like hearing it out loud physically hurt him. "We can all make it." He muttered and you almost laughed. Not cruelly, just tired. "You don't even believe in that." Then there was silence. A heavy one, because he didn't. So as the building groaned violently again around you. Like somewhere below, another barricade finally gave out and that sound alone made your stomach drop. No more time. That was it, this was the movement.
Imagine the way you stepped closer before your courage disappeared completly. "Hey." You muttered softly. Caleb looked at you immediately and God, that expression. Exhausted, terrified, desperate. Human. And suddenly you wanted something horribly impossible. One more night around a campfire. One more stupid argument. One more morning hearing him complain dramatically about canned food. You wanted more time. But the apocalypse didn't care what people wanted. It never did.
"I promise I'll make it to N109 zone." You said quietly. Something in Caleb's face cracked instantly. "Don't say it like that." "Like what?" "Like you're saying goodbye." Your chest ached so badly it almost made you angry. Because none of this would've been easier if he treated you carelessly. Instead, Caleb made surviving beside him feel dangerously close to living. And maybe that was crueler. "I'm not." You lied softly. "You better not be." The words came out rough. Almost shaking. And your eyes burned suddenly. God. Why now? Why did everything have to hurt now?
Imagine the walker were close enough now that you could hear their teeth snapping. You checked your gun quickly, not enough bullets. Not enough time. "Listen to me carefully." You said. "Once I move away from the hallway, you run straight for the ladder access." "No." "Caleb-" "No." "You hate to." "I said no!" His voice cracked violently this time. Then MC stirred weakly again between you both. "Caleb.." She whispered painfully and that broke something in him immediately.
Imagine you saw it happened. Her. You. Reality. All colliding together at once. His grip tightened around her while he looked at you helplessly. And somehow, that hurt more than if he chose easily. "You need to come back." He said suddenly. The words hit so hard you forgot hwo to breathe for a second. "What?" "You hear me?" His voice shook now. "You need to come back." The horde surged louder down the corridor. Closer. Then even closer. You forced yourself to breathe again. "That's not really something I can guarantee." "Yes it is." "Caleb-" "I'll wait for you."
Imagine the way your throat burned instantly. Why would he say things like that? Why now? You looked away first. Because if you kept staring at him like this, then you might stay. And then all three of you would die here. "Ten minutes," You whispered roughly. "If I don't make it to the hellpad yen minutes after you get there. Leave." "No." "Yes." "I'm not leaving you behind." "You have to." "No!" "CALEB!" That shout cracked violently between you. Even the walker react to it immediately. Your breathing turned ragged.
"So what?" You hissed. "You stay? Die with me? Is that your plan." His silence answered enough. Your chest physically hurt, because some selfish, ugly part of you almost wanted him to say yes. Wanted proof that losing you would matter. But then MC coughed painfully against him again. Then there was reality. Always reality. You soften immediately. "Please." You whispered this time. "Please don't make this harder."
Imagine the way Caleb stared at you like he was trying to memorize your face. Then slowly, painfully slowly. He reached for the chain around his neck. The one with dog tags, and that stupid little apple charm. The one you had seen him touch absentmindedly during quiet nights. Seen him hold it while talking about home. About flying. About survival. His fingers shook slightly as he prssed it into your palm. "Return it when we meet again." Your throat tightened instantly. You curled your fingers around it carefully. "...Fine." "You promise?" You swallowed hard. "...I promise."
Imagine, the deads were close now. Close enough that you could smell it. The blood, rot and wet decay. You stepped backward slowly. Raised your gun. Then looked at Caleb one last time. "Come to think of it, I never actually told you my name, didn't I?" That made him pause. "It's (Your name)." You smile at him. "And just you know. You're cool as fuck, Caleb." And for a stunned second, he laughed. Small, broken, disbelieving. Then you watched his face crumpled immediately afterwards. "Please." You heard him whispered again.
and Imagine, you almost stayed. Like, really almost stayed. But then the horde turned the corner and your body betrayed you. You stepped into the open hallway and screamed. "HEY FUCKERS!" Every dead head snapped towards you instantly. The entire horde shifted. Towards you and away from the ladder. Exactly as planned. So as your heart hammered violently and as adrenaline flooded your veins so hard your hands shook.
"That's right." You breathed shakily while backing away slowly. "Come get me." Behind the walkers, you saw Caleb hesitate. Of course he did. He was still looking at you instead of running. "NOW!" You shouted. He still didn't move. "CALEB!" That finally broke him. And you watched him grip MC tighter before sprinting towards the ladder access while the horde chased after your voice. And that was the moment when relief hit so hard it nearly made your knees buckle. It worked. Holy shit, it actually worked. But then the dead started moving faster, so you turned and ran.
Imagine the way the corridor slammed against bloodstained floors while walkers poured after you endlessly through the site. You shoved over stuffs, kicked open doors and made as much noise as possible. And while every instinct screamed at you to hide, you just kept drawing attention. Because if even a few broke away and notice Caleb and MC. It would be over. So you ran louder, harder, faster. When a walker lounged from the side corridor. You shot it instantly and the gunfire exploded through the building. More groans answered immediately.
"Oh you've gotto be kidding me..." You almost laughed at yourself as the now were coming from ahead too. Great, fantastic. You swerved sharply into another hallway while your lungs burned violently. Your legs already ached from exhaustion. Too many days running, too little food, too little sleep. The apocalypse slowly ate people before the walkers ever touched them. Still, you kept moving. Because somwhere above you, Caleb was escaping. Caleb was surviving. And stupidly, that mattered enough.
Imagine far above the building after God knows how much time have passed by. The helicopter blades thundered alive. You almost stumbled hearing it as relief had once again crashed into you so suddenly it hurt. They made it. And a laugh escaped you breathlessly. "Thank God..." And for one tiny moment, everything felt lighter. Worth it. Then pain esploded across your shoulder. A walker slammed into you from a side doorway hard enough to send you crashing into the wall, your gun flew across the floor in the process as the walker snapped its teeth inches from your face. So you shoved your knife upward desperately into its skull.
Imagine the way your breathing turned ragged instantly. Everything hurt. Your shoulder, your ribs, your legs. And somewhere nearby, more groans echoed. Closer, too close. So you forced yourself upright shakily as blood dripped slowly down your sleeve, one you couldn't tell if it was yours or not. Then you felt it, heard it, above you, the helicopter sound grew louder. Then slowly, it started dafing away into the distance. Your chest tightened painfully. Ten minutes. Maybe he waited longer. Maybe he fought them. Maybe he searched for you until very last second. Or maybe, maybe he just understood what this really is. Not bravery, not heroism. Just survival choosing who got to continue.
Imagine as you leaned briefly against the wall, exhausted beyond words. Caleb's dog tags rested tightly in your hand. Cold, heavy and real. Just then you heard more footsteps, not human, never human anymore. You laughed quietly to yourself. Tired, hollow and half-breathless. "Goddammit." Because maybe love really could kill a person. Not quickly, not romantically. But in choices, in sacrifices, in wanting someone else to live more than you wanted yourself to. And that somewhere deep down. You already knew, you were probably not making it to N109 zone.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026° ko-fi?
:I'm thinking if I should make it a whole series of something because this has sooo much potential as one. PS. Told ya'll Caleb is yet to come home I'm this banner. And I basically lost him to Zayne, like wtfffg
Imagine the first thing that caleb ever said to you was, "Duck!" Followed by a gunshot seconds later, loud and violent and too close. You barely managed to throw yourself down before something behind you collapsed with wet, rotten sound against the pavement. And for one horrible second, all you could hear was ringing. Then came your breathing. Sharp, panicked and painfully human.
Imagine you stayed crouched on instinct, fingers gripping the rusted pipe you had been using as a weapon, heart beating so violently on your chest that might as well burst through your ribs. Then a pair of boots stopped in front of you. "You good?"
Imagine the way you looked up slowly. The stranger standing there held a pistol loosely in one hand like it weighed nothing at all. The sunlight caught briefly on the barrel before he lowered it. There he was, tall, broad shoulder. Dark jacket streaked with dirt and old blood. A rifle strapped across his back. Alive. Which honestly felt stranger than the gun. because by then, months into the apocalypse, you had gotten used to seeing more corpse than people. The dead were predictable, people weren't.
so Imagine, you stared at him silently. The walker behind you twitched once on the ground, half its skull missing. "If you said yes too fast," The stranger continued casually. "I'm gonna assume you hit your head." That made you blink. Then looked at the dead walker, then back at him. "...I had it handled." He snorted immediately which made you feel somehow offended. "No you didn't." "I did." "It was literally reaching for your neck." "It was under control." "Sure."
Imagine the way you narrow your eyes as he grinned. And somehow, soomehow that irritated warmth in his expression felt more dangerous than the walker ever did. Because people who still smiled like that in the apocalypse? Were either crazy, or the kind of people that made you forget that the world ended. Both were dangerous. So as the stranger crouched beside the corpse and started checking its pockets, you stared at him.
"...What are you doing?" "Looking for cigarettes." You looked at him like he was joking. Then he actually pulled out a crushed pack from the walker's jacket. "No fucking way." "See?" He said proudly. "Today's a lucky day." "You're digging through a corpse." "Adaptability is important." "That thing literally tried to eat me." "And now it's donating supplies. Circle of life." You barked out a laugh before you could stop yourself. And the sound startled you more than him.
because Imagine, you genuinely couldn't remember the last time you laughed. So as the stranger looked up immediately his pruple iris met yours as his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise before his mouth curled into a softer grin. "There." He pointed at you. "That." "What?" "That face, keep that around." He stood up again, slipping the cigarette into his pocket. "Means you're still human." Human, huh. You almost forgot what that felt like.
Imagine you should have left after that. Really. Because that was the rule now. Don't trust stranger, don't stay in groups too long, don't tell people where you sleep, don't get attached. Attachment got people killed. You learn that early. The world ended, and suddenly everyone became capable of terrible things. You had seen people abandon family members to save themselves. Seen strangers kill each other over canned food. Seen a man beat another man for a half-empty water bottle.
Imagine the dead were monsters because they had no humanity left. The living were monsters because they still did. So yes, you absolutely shouldn've left. Instead, you found yourself sharing canned goods with a stranger inside an abandoned laundromat while rain hammered the roof overhead. "So," He said through a mouthful of food. "You got a name?" You hesitated and he noticed. "Fair." He admitted with a small nod. "I could be a serial killer." "In the apocalypse?"
"Timing's rough, I know." "...You could rob me." His eyes flicked towards your backpack. "You own exactly one pipe wrench and three crackers." You narrowed your eyes at him. "You checked my bag?" "It was open." "You're an asshole." "And yet," He pointed at himself dramatically. "The asshole saved your life." You rolled your eyes and he laughed again. God, he laughed so easily. Like the world wasn't rotting around him. Like death wasn't waiting outside every door. It made no sense. "What's your name then?" You asked eventually. "Caleb." He said, offering a hand. You stare at it suspiciously for a full three seconds before finally shaking it. And his grim was warm, stead, and real. "Nice to meet you." He said. And weirdly, it sounded genuine.
Imagine traveling with Caleb happened gradually. Not because either of you asked. It just... Happened. The first few days were temporary. Then temporary became a routine. You scavenged together, ate together, slept in shifts together. And somewhere along the line, surviving stopped feeling like a lonely thing which honestly scared you more than the walkers did. Because dependence was dangerous and Caleb was dangerously easy to depend on.
Imagine he knew things, too many things. How to siphon gas without swallowing fumes, how to identify infected water, how to reinforce doors properly, how to ration food, how to move quietly through buildings. And most of all, guns. And god, he sure knows how to handle guns like they were extensions of his body.
"You're holding it wrong." You glare at him for where you stood, in the middle of an empty parking lot. "I'm holding it." "Barely." "I hate guns." "You'll hate getting eaten more." You groaned framatically while he stepped behind you. "Relax your shoulders." He instructed. His hands adjusted your stance carefully with warm palms and gentle pressure. Suddenly, you become aware of how close he was. "Don't lock your elbows." "You sound like an old man." "You shoot like one." You scoffed. Then immediately nearly lost control of the recoil after firing.
Imagine the way Caleb burst out laughing. "Oh my god- your face-" "Shut up!" "You looked personally betrayed by physics." "I hate you." "No you don't." And the terrifying thing was, he said so confidently like he already knew. And maybe he did.
Imagine that night, Caleb talked. Not constantly, but enough. Enough to fill the silence that used to suffocate you when you were alone. He told stories while cleaning weapons, while checking maps, while sitting beside weak campfires. Sometimes it was stupid stories, sometimes it was the embarrasing ones, sometimes it was stories about her. Pips. You never learned her real name at first. Just that nickname.
"She used to steal my hoodies constantly." Caleb muttered once while staring into the fire. "Then deny it while literally wearing them." You smiled faintly. "She sounds awful." "She is." But his expression softened immediately after saying it. And god, that look. You noticed it every time he talked about her. Like his entire face changed without him realizing. "She hates vegestables." "She talks in her sleep." "She gets lost in grocery stores somehow." "She cries during movies but acts like she doesn't." "She's tougher than people think."
Imagine every single story sounded precious coming from him. Not because of words but because of the way he said them. Like he carried her carefully even in conversation. And you, you listened quietly while something ugly and aching slowly grew inside your chest. Not anger, not jealousy exactly. Just... Awareness. Awareness that you were temporary. That Caleb has somewhere to go, someone to find. And you? You were just the person walking beside him until he got there.
Imagine in one particularly cold night, the two of you sat on top of an abandoned convenience store roof. The city stretched dark around you. No lights anymore, no traffic, no life. Just empty buildings and the distant groan of walkers wandering through the streets below. And Caleb sat beside the fire cleaning his knife carefully. The orange light flickered across his face. And you tried not to stare but failed iserably.
"This someone you keep talking about," You said eventually. "What would you do if you find her?" Caleb looked up immediately and the expression on his face, it genuinely startled you. Not angry, worse, he was certain. "Nah," He said quietly. "Don't joke like that." His tone remained light. But something underneath it wasn't. "She knows how to survive." He continue after a moment. "Pips is smart. Stubborn too." A small smile tugged at his mouth. "Probably yelling at people somewhere right now."
"I see." You nodded slowly and silence setteled again. The cold wind drifted across the rooftop. Then, "What would you do if you find her?" That made him smile properly. Soft, unthinking, in love. And it hurt embarrasingly bad. "Find somewhere safe." He said. "Heard rumors about a secured place. N109 zone. Well protected, functional power, and farms too." "Sounds fake." "Probably is." You huffed quietly. "But if it's real," Caleb continued, eyes flickering toward the dark skyline. "I'd take her there." Her. Not us.
and Imagine, really, why would it be us? You weren't anything. Not officially. Not emotionally. Not in the way that mattered. The two of you were just survivors sharing road because surviving alone was harder. So why did you chest ache every time he smiled like that over someone else?
"Wait-" You stared at him increduloudly one afternoon while scavenging an airport hangar. "You were an actual pilot?" "Yep." "You're lying." "I'm offended." "You said aviation school." "I graduated." "No way." Caleb looked unbearably smug. "You wanna see my license?" "You carried your pilot license through the apocalypse?" "Well now you're making it sound stupid." "Because it is stupid." He laughed so loudly it echoed through the hangar in which you did ended up laughing too.
Imagine there was never a single quiet day with Caleb around. He filled spaces effortlessly. Sometimes with jokes, sometimes with stories, sometimes with sheer existence alone. And slowly, dangerously, you started building routines around him. Waiting for his voice in the mornings, listening for his footsteps, sleeping easier during his watch shifts. Like your body itself had started believing Caleb meant safety. Which was the dumbest possible thing you could do during apocalypse. Because safety wasn't real anymore. And neither was forever.
Imagine then you found her. No, she found him. It happened near an abandoned medical checkpoint outside the city. You remembered hearing running footsteps first. Then a weak voice. "Caleb..." The reaction was immediate. You watched as Caleb froze so suddenly beside you that you nearly walked into him. And then he was moving. Fast, faster than you had ever seen him move before. And the girl stumbling towards the checkpoint looked half-dead already, sweating, shaking, varely conscious. But the second Caleb caught her. You understood something. Oh- that's her. Because you had never seen him look at anything the way he looked at her.
Imagine it wasn't relief, not happiness either. It was something deeper. Like finding oxygen after drowning. "Pips." He breathed. The sound of it almost made you look away. She collapsed against him almost immediately. And Caleb held her so carefully it made your throat tighten. You stood there awkwardly holding your rifle while realizing something horribly pathetic. You never stood a chance.
Imagine, MC was sick, not bitten, at least you didn't think so. But she burned with fever badly enough that even touching her forehead for a second make your palm feel hot afterward. Her breathing came unevenly, weak and shallow, and every now and then, her body trembled hard enough that Caleb had to tighten his hold around her to keep her steady. And you... You did not ask questions. In apocalypse, poeple stopped asking questions a long time ago.
so Imagine you kept moving. "Left." Caleb muttered while checking the bloodstained map in his hand. "There should be a maintenance corridor." You glance down the dark hallway. "Should' is doing a lot of heavy lifting there." "Have faith." "I had faith once, then society collapsed." That actually made MC laugh weakly against his chest. A tiny sound, something so fragile. Caleb immediately looked down at her like she has hung the moon. "You still with us, Pips?" "Mhm.." God, that look again. You turned away first.
Imagine the facility was massive. Some kind of old evacuation site connected to an abandoned research building near the edge of the city. Suspicious as it way sound with the amount of military trucks still littered the parking lot outside, rusting quietly beneath overgrown weeds and dried blood stains. And inside, it smelled worse. Rot, mold, old death. The deeper you went, the quieter it became and somehow, that was worse than noise.
Imagine your flashlight swept across overturned hospital beds and scattered papers on the floor. And every now and then, you caught movements behind reinforced glass doors. Walkers, trapped inside rooms. Their dead fingers dragged slowly against the window as you passed. Stratch, stratch, stratch. MC flinch weakly at the sound making Caleb adjust her closer instinctively.
"You okay?" "Cold..." Your eyes flicked towards her. She was shivering now despite the fever. Not good, not good at all. "We need to stop soon." You said quietly. Caleb nodded grimly. "There should be a rooftop access point somewhere above us." "Please tell me this place has the aircraft." "If the rumors are right." You sigh. "Again with the rumors." "Hey, rumors are all we got left nowadays."
Imagine the first sign something was wrong came from the silence. No walkers, none. Not in the hallway, not behind doors, not banging against walls. Nothing. You slowed slightly. "Sooo.." You murmured. "EIther we got lucky-" "Or it's worse." Caleb finished immediately. "See? That. That's exactly the kind of optimism I hate." A faint grin tugged at his mouth. Then- click. You froze.
"What was that?" MC whispered weakly. Your flashlight lowered slowly towards the floor. A wire. Thin, nearly invisible, connected to a rusted can near the wall. Your stomach dropped. "...Fuck." caleb's expression hardened instantly. "Don't move." Too late. Because somewhere deeper in the building, there was a clang. Then another, then another. Metal crashing violently against metal. Your eyes widened. "No, no no no-" A siren suddenly screamed alive overhead. Red emergency lights flooded the hallway instantly.
and Imagine then came the sound. Groaning, hundreds of them. From below, from above, from inside the walls themselves. "Oh you have GOT to be kidding me." You hissed and the building erupted. Banging, screaming, bodies slamming against the doors. Walkers flooded into the hallways from every direction. "What the fuck did that trigger?!" You shouted. "Probably an emergency lockdown system!" Caleb barked back. "WHO THE FUCK BUILDS THAT?!" "THE GOVERNMENT?!"Fair enough. "Move!" You snappened immediately.
Imagine the three of you started running, your boots slammed againstthe floor whie red lights flashed overhead violently. Walkers poured from stairwells and broken doors, drawn by the siren echoing throughout the facility. One lunged from the side and you buried your knife in its skull without slowing down. "Straight ahead!" Caleb yelled, MC coughed hard against his shoulder, trembling badly now. "Caleb-" "I got you." God, even now, exhusted and terrified, his voice soften for her automatically. And you hated how much hearing that hurt.
Imagine the stairwell was chaoes, bodies crowded below, rotting hands clawed upward through gaps in the railing. You nearly slipped on blood while forcing your way higher. "Door!" You shouted and Caleb kicked it open, hard. The three of you stumbled into another corridor breathing heavily. Then stopped, your stomach dropped instantly. "...No." The hallway was packed with walker. At least fiftly, or maybe more. The emergency lights painted them in horrible flashing red as they turned slowly towards the sound of you. Dead faces, open mouths, clouded eyes. Then they started coming towards your way.
"Run!" You slammed the door shut immediately while Caleb shoved a cabinet against it. Bodies crashed into the other side violently, the metal groaned. "Window!" You shouted. "No jump." Caleb snapped after one glance, "Too high." The room itself looked like some kinf of old administrative office. No exits, no escape. Only another hallway leading deeper inside the facility. And somewhere above, a helicopter waited. So close. You could practically taste freedom. Then MC made a small broken sound. You turned immediately. Her condition was getting worse, sweat drenched her skin completely now. Her breathing came shallow and uneven and she looked barely consious against Caleb's chest.
"We don't have time." You muttered. "I know." The door behind the cabinet shook violently. BANG, BANG, BANG. Wood splintered as more frowls filled the hallway outside. You started pacing automatically, brain working too fast. Think. Think. THINK. "There." MC whispered suddenly. You followed her shaking hand towards a map hanging crookedly on the wall. Your eyes narrowed. "...Maintenance bridge." Caleb looked too. "It connects to the west wing." "Which connects to the rooftop acccess." You finished.
Imagine the way relief flickered briefly across his face, then disappeared. Because noth of you saw the problem immediately. The bridge crossed directly over the main atrium, where the horde was gathering and thousands of footsteps ehoed below already. Draw by the sirens, by you. "...Shit." You whispered. The door cracked loudly behind you. One dead arm shoved partially through the splintering wood. MC looked close to passing out completely now. And Caleb, Caleb looked terrified for the first time since you meet him. Not for himself but for her. You saw it clearly. The desperation, the fear, the helplessness. And somehow, that hurt more than anything. Because even at the end of the world... Even now, he loved her so much.
Imagine the west wing was falling apart. You could feel it in the walls. Every few seconds, the building groaned somewhere deep beneath your feet like something enormous was twisting inside its bones. Dust drifted constantly from the ceiling. Pipes screamed while metal shrieked in the distance loud enough to make your teeth ache. The whole place sounds echausted. Like it had been dying for a long time and only now decided to collapse properly. And honestly? You understand that feeling.
Imagine the way you shoved another cabinet against the stairwell door while Caleb checked the corridor ahead. "Clear." He whispered. The hallway beyond flcikered under failing emergency lights, everything painted in unstable red. Old blood stained the walls in long brown smears. Abandoned luggage littered the floor alongside military bags and overturned stretchers. People ran here once, you could tell. The evidence of panic still remained everywhere.
Imagine MC coughed weakly behind you and Caleb immediately turned around. "You okay?" She only hum in return, but you could easily tell that she wasn't. And Caleb, the panic in his eyes everytime he looked at her. You noticed it more now. The way he adjust his grip instictively whenever she trembled, the way his voice siften automatically around her, the way exhustion disappeared from him whenever she needed something. And you looked away first, because there were some things you could survive easier by pretending not to see.
Imagine the rooftop access was close, that was the cruel part. So close. Only one more connecting hallway between you and the emergency ladder leading towards the helipad. Only one hallway. But unfortunately, it was also the exact direction the walkers were coming from. You heard them before you saw them. That horrible collective sound. Dragging feet, wet groaning, bodies colliding endlessly into each other. Too many, far too many. The emergencu siren overhead still blared intermittently through the building, distorted and dying. Every scream of the alam pulled more dead things inward ike a beacon.
Imagine the hallway ahead opened into a wider terminal junction, and beyond it, the maintenance access leading toward the rooftop. And you almost laughed when you saw it, because of course, of course the only escape route sat directly behind a moving wall of corpses. "Fuck." You breathed quietly as Caleb followed your gaze before immediately saying, "No." You looked at him. "You don't even know what I'm gonna say." "I know exactly what you're gonna say." The walkers shuffled closer in the distance. You counted automatically. Thirty, maybe forty or more.
Imagine, the corridor itself was too nattow to fight through. Too loud, too cramped. One gunshot would bring the entire damn building down on top of you. You look to your side and see MC swayed weakly against Caleb's chest. "We can still go around." He muttered quickly. "There is no around." "We find another route." "And waste how much time?" Your voice came out sharper than intended. "Look at her Caleb." His jaw tightened immediately because he knew. MC's condition was getting worse by timme. Even standing looked difficult for her now. She needed medical attention immediately. Not later, not tomorrow. Now.
Imagine another distant crash echoed through the building as you could tell the walkers stirred louder, closer. Your brain started calculating instinctively. The distance, noise and movement patterns. If something loud pulled the horde sideways, even briefly, there would be enough time. Not too much, but enough. And just then, your stomach dropped before you can even fully formed the thought. Because you already knew, there really wasn't another option. Not dramatic sacrifice, not heroism. Just math. A simple, horrible math.
Imagine, if nobody distracted them, all three of you died here. That made you swallowed hard before quietly saying. "I can pull them away." "No." Immediate and sharp. You almost smiled despite yourself. Still stubborn. "Caleb-" "No." "We don't have enough ammo." "We fight through." "We won't make it halfway." "We try anyway." "Then what?" Your voice cracked sharser this time. "She collapses? One of us gets grabbed? You know how this ends." "We don't know that." "Yes we do!" Your voice echoed harder tha intended through the hallway and the walkers immediately stirred louder, closer. Shit.
"Caleb." You whispered roughly. "This isn't a movie." "I know that!" "Then stop acting like there's a magically another way out of this!" His breathing turned uneven. Angry. Panicked. "No." He said again, quieter this time. "I'm not letting you do that." And something painful twisted in your chest hearing that. Not because it fixed anything, but because it didn't. Reality stayed cruel no matter how badly he wanted otherwise. "You're not letting me?" You repeated softly. "You know what I mean." "Do I?" "Don't do that right now." "Do what?" "That thing where you act okay with this!"
Imagine you stared at him and there it was. Fear. Raw, ugly and despirate. Not anger. Fear. Because Caleb already understood what this could mean. Your throat tightened painfully. The walkers slowly crowded deeper into the junction ahead now, bodies pressing together beneath the red emergency lights. The deads were moving patiently towards you. MC whimpered weakly against Caleb's chest. That sound alone nearly shattered the entire argument apart. You close your eyes briefly then you looked back at him. "She needs you alive."
Imagine the words tasted bitter. Not because they weren't true but because they were. Caleb looked away sharply for the first time. Like hearing it out loud physically hurt him. "We can all make it." He muttered and you almost laughed. Not cruelly, just tired. "You don't even believe in that." Then there was silence. A heavy one, because he didn't. So as the building groaned violently again around you. Like somewhere below, another barricade finally gave out and that sound alone made your stomach drop. No more time. That was it, this was the movement.
Imagine the way you stepped closer before your courage disappeared completly. "Hey." You muttered softly. Caleb looked at you immediately and God, that expression. Exhausted, terrified, desperate. Human. And suddenly you wanted something horribly impossible. One more night around a campfire. One more stupid argument. One more morning hearing him complain dramatically about canned food. You wanted more time. But the apocalypse didn't care what people wanted. It never did.
"I promise I'll make it to N109 zone." You said quietly. Something in Caleb's face cracked instantly. "Don't say it like that." "Like what?" "Like you're saying goodbye." Your chest ached so badly it almost made you angry. Because none of this would've been easier if he treated you carelessly. Instead, Caleb made surviving beside him feel dangerously close to living. And maybe that was crueler. "I'm not." You lied softly. "You better not be." The words came out rough. Almost shaking. And your eyes burned suddenly. God. Why now? Why did everything have to hurt now?
Imagine the walker were close enough now that you could hear their teeth snapping. You checked your gun quickly, not enough bullets. Not enough time. "Listen to me carefully." You said. "Once I move away from the hallway, you run straight for the ladder access." "No." "Caleb-" "No." "You hate to." "I said no!" His voice cracked violently this time. Then MC stirred weakly again between you both. "Caleb.." She whispered painfully and that broke something in him immediately.
Imagine you saw it happened. Her. You. Reality. All colliding together at once. His grip tightened around her while he looked at you helplessly. And somehow, that hurt more than if he chose easily. "You need to come back." He said suddenly. The words hit so hard you forgot hwo to breathe for a second. "What?" "You hear me?" His voice shook now. "You need to come back." The horde surged louder down the corridor. Closer. Then even closer. You forced yourself to breathe again. "That's not really something I can guarantee." "Yes it is." "Caleb-" "I'll wait for you."
Imagine the way your throat burned instantly. Why would he say things like that? Why now? You looked away first. Because if you kept staring at him like this, then you might stay. And then all three of you would die here. "Ten minutes," You whispered roughly. "If I don't make it to the hellpad yen minutes after you get there. Leave." "No." "Yes." "I'm not leaving you behind." "You have to." "No!" "CALEB!" That shout cracked violently between you. Even the walker react to it immediately. Your breathing turned ragged.
"So what?" You hissed. "You stay? Die with me? Is that your plan." His silence answered enough. Your chest physically hurt, because some selfish, ugly part of you almost wanted him to say yes. Wanted proof that losing you would matter. But then MC coughed painfully against him again. Then there was reality. Always reality. You soften immediately. "Please." You whispered this time. "Please don't make this harder."
Imagine the way Caleb stared at you like he was trying to memorize your face. Then slowly, painfully slowly. He reached for the chain around his neck. The one with dog tags, and that stupid little apple charm. The one you had seen him touch absentmindedly during quiet nights. Seen him hold it while talking about home. About flying. About survival. His fingers shook slightly as he prssed it into your palm. "Return it when we meet again." Your throat tightened instantly. You curled your fingers around it carefully. "...Fine." "You promise?" You swallowed hard. "...I promise."
Imagine, the deads were close now. Close enough that you could smell it. The blood, rot and wet decay. You stepped backward slowly. Raised your gun. Then looked at Caleb one last time. "Come to think of it, I never actually told you my name, didn't I?" That made him pause. "It's (Your name)." You smile at him. "And just you know. You're cool as fuck, Caleb." And for a stunned second, he laughed. Small, broken, disbelieving. Then you watched his face crumpled immediately afterwards. "Please." You heard him whispered again.
and Imagine, you almost stayed. Like, really almost stayed. But then the horde turned the corner and your body betrayed you. You stepped into the open hallway and screamed. "HEY FUCKERS!" Every dead head snapped towards you instantly. The entire horde shifted. Towards you and away from the ladder. Exactly as planned. So as your heart hammered violently and as adrenaline flooded your veins so hard your hands shook.
"That's right." You breathed shakily while backing away slowly. "Come get me." Behind the walkers, you saw Caleb hesitate. Of course he did. He was still looking at you instead of running. "NOW!" You shouted. He still didn't move. "CALEB!" That finally broke him. And you watched him grip MC tighter before sprinting towards the ladder access while the horde chased after your voice. And that was the moment when relief hit so hard it nearly made your knees buckle. It worked. Holy shit, it actually worked. But then the dead started moving faster, so you turned and ran.
Imagine the way the corridor slammed against bloodstained floors while walkers poured after you endlessly through the site. You shoved over stuffs, kicked open doors and made as much noise as possible. And while every instinct screamed at you to hide, you just kept drawing attention. Because if even a few broke away and notice Caleb and MC. It would be over. So you ran louder, harder, faster. When a walker lounged from the side corridor. You shot it instantly and the gunfire exploded through the building. More groans answered immediately.
"Oh you've gotto be kidding me..." You almost laughed at yourself as the now were coming from ahead too. Great, fantastic. You swerved sharply into another hallway while your lungs burned violently. Your legs already ached from exhaustion. Too many days running, too little food, too little sleep. The apocalypse slowly ate people before the walkers ever touched them. Still, you kept moving. Because somwhere above you, Caleb was escaping. Caleb was surviving. And stupidly, that mattered enough.
Imagine far above the building after God knows how much time have passed by. The helicopter blades thundered alive. You almost stumbled hearing it as relief had once again crashed into you so suddenly it hurt. They made it. And a laugh escaped you breathlessly. "Thank God..." And for one tiny moment, everything felt lighter. Worth it. Then pain esploded across your shoulder. A walker slammed into you from a side doorway hard enough to send you crashing into the wall, your gun flew across the floor in the process as the walker snapped its teeth inches from your face. So you shoved your knife upward desperately into its skull.
Imagine the way your breathing turned ragged instantly. Everything hurt. Your shoulder, your ribs, your legs. And somewhere nearby, more groans echoed. Closer, too close. So you forced yourself upright shakily as blood dripped slowly down your sleeve, one you couldn't tell if it was yours or not. Then you felt it, heard it, above you, the helicopter sound grew louder. Then slowly, it started dafing away into the distance. Your chest tightened painfully. Ten minutes. Maybe he waited longer. Maybe he fought them. Maybe he searched for you until very last second. Or maybe, maybe he just understood what this really is. Not bravery, not heroism. Just survival choosing who got to continue.
Imagine as you leaned briefly against the wall, exhausted beyond words. Caleb's dog tags rested tightly in your hand. Cold, heavy and real. Just then you heard more footsteps, not human, never human anymore. You laughed quietly to yourself. Tired, hollow and half-breathless. "Goddammit." Because maybe love really could kill a person. Not quickly, not romantically. But in choices, in sacrifices, in wanting someone else to live more than you wanted yourself to. And that somewhere deep down. You already knew, you were probably not making it to N109 zone.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026° ko-fi?
:I'm thinking if I should make it a whole series of something because this has sooo much potential as one. PS. Told ya'll Caleb is yet to come home I'm this banner. And I basically lost him to Zayne, like wtfffg
Imagine the first thing that caleb ever said to you was, "Duck!" Followed by a gunshot seconds later, loud and violent and too close. You barely managed to throw yourself down before something behind you collapsed with wet, rotten sound against the pavement. And for one horrible second, all you could hear was ringing. Then came your breathing. Sharp, panicked and painfully human.
Imagine you stayed crouched on instinct, fingers gripping the rusted pipe you had been using as a weapon, heart beating so violently on your chest that might as well burst through your ribs. Then a pair of boots stopped in front of you. "You good?"
Imagine the way you looked up slowly. The stranger standing there held a pistol loosely in one hand like it weighed nothing at all. The sunlight caught briefly on the barrel before he lowered it. There he was, tall, broad shoulder. Dark jacket streaked with dirt and old blood. A rifle strapped across his back. Alive. Which honestly felt stranger than the gun. because by then, months into the apocalypse, you had gotten used to seeing more corpse than people. The dead were predictable, people weren't.
so Imagine, you stared at him silently. The walker behind you twitched once on the ground, half its skull missing. "If you said yes too fast," The stranger continued casually. "I'm gonna assume you hit your head." That made you blink. Then looked at the dead walker, then back at him. "...I had it handled." He snorted immediately which made you feel somehow offended. "No you didn't." "I did." "It was literally reaching for your neck." "It was under control." "Sure."
Imagine the way you narrow your eyes as he grinned. And somehow, soomehow that irritated warmth in his expression felt more dangerous than the walker ever did. Because people who still smiled like that in the apocalypse? Were either crazy, or the kind of people that made you forget that the world ended. Both were dangerous. So as the stranger crouched beside the corpse and started checking its pockets, you stared at him.
"...What are you doing?" "Looking for cigarettes." You looked at him like he was joking. Then he actually pulled out a crushed pack from the walker's jacket. "No fucking way." "See?" He said proudly. "Today's a lucky day." "You're digging through a corpse." "Adaptability is important." "That thing literally tried to eat me." "And now it's donating supplies. Circle of life." You barked out a laugh before you could stop yourself. And the sound startled you more than him.
because Imagine, you genuinely couldn't remember the last time you laughed. So as the stranger looked up immediately his pruple iris met yours as his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise before his mouth curled into a softer grin. "There." He pointed at you. "That." "What?" "That face, keep that around." He stood up again, slipping the cigarette into his pocket. "Means you're still human." Human, huh. You almost forgot what that felt like.
Imagine you should have left after that. Really. Because that was the rule now. Don't trust stranger, don't stay in groups too long, don't tell people where you sleep, don't get attached. Attachment got people killed. You learn that early. The world ended, and suddenly everyone became capable of terrible things. You had seen people abandon family members to save themselves. Seen strangers kill each other over canned food. Seen a man beat another man for a half-empty water bottle.
Imagine the dead were monsters because they had no humanity left. The living were monsters because they still did. So yes, you absolutely shouldn've left. Instead, you found yourself sharing canned goods with a stranger inside an abandoned laundromat while rain hammered the roof overhead. "So," He said through a mouthful of food. "You got a name?" You hesitated and he noticed. "Fair." He admitted with a small nod. "I could be a serial killer." "In the apocalypse?"
"Timing's rough, I know." "...You could rob me." His eyes flicked towards your backpack. "You own exactly one pipe wrench and three crackers." You narrowed your eyes at him. "You checked my bag?" "It was open." "You're an asshole." "And yet," He pointed at himself dramatically. "The asshole saved your life." You rolled your eyes and he laughed again. God, he laughed so easily. Like the world wasn't rotting around him. Like death wasn't waiting outside every door. It made no sense. "What's your name then?" You asked eventually. "Caleb." He said, offering a hand. You stare at it suspiciously for a full three seconds before finally shaking it. And his grim was warm, stead, and real. "Nice to meet you." He said. And weirdly, it sounded genuine.
Imagine traveling with Caleb happened gradually. Not because either of you asked. It just... Happened. The first few days were temporary. Then temporary became a routine. You scavenged together, ate together, slept in shifts together. And somewhere along the line, surviving stopped feeling like a lonely thing which honestly scared you more than the walkers did. Because dependence was dangerous and Caleb was dangerously easy to depend on.
Imagine he knew things, too many things. How to siphon gas without swallowing fumes, how to identify infected water, how to reinforce doors properly, how to ration food, how to move quietly through buildings. And most of all, guns. And god, he sure knows how to handle guns like they were extensions of his body.
"You're holding it wrong." You glare at him for where you stood, in the middle of an empty parking lot. "I'm holding it." "Barely." "I hate guns." "You'll hate getting eaten more." You groaned framatically while he stepped behind you. "Relax your shoulders." He instructed. His hands adjusted your stance carefully with warm palms and gentle pressure. Suddenly, you become aware of how close he was. "Don't lock your elbows." "You sound like an old man." "You shoot like one." You scoffed. Then immediately nearly lost control of the recoil after firing.
Imagine the way Caleb burst out laughing. "Oh my god- your face-" "Shut up!" "You looked personally betrayed by physics." "I hate you." "No you don't." And the terrifying thing was, he said so confidently like he already knew. And maybe he did.
Imagine that night, Caleb talked. Not constantly, but enough. Enough to fill the silence that used to suffocate you when you were alone. He told stories while cleaning weapons, while checking maps, while sitting beside weak campfires. Sometimes it was stupid stories, sometimes it was the embarrasing ones, sometimes it was stories about her. Pips. You never learned her real name at first. Just that nickname.
"She used to steal my hoodies constantly." Caleb muttered once while staring into the fire. "Then deny it while literally wearing them." You smiled faintly. "She sounds awful." "She is." But his expression softened immediately after saying it. And god, that look. You noticed it every time he talked about her. Like his entire face changed without him realizing. "She hates vegestables." "She talks in her sleep." "She gets lost in grocery stores somehow." "She cries during movies but acts like she doesn't." "She's tougher than people think."
Imagine every single story sounded precious coming from him. Not because of words but because of the way he said them. Like he carried her carefully even in conversation. And you, you listened quietly while something ugly and aching slowly grew inside your chest. Not anger, not jealousy exactly. Just... Awareness. Awareness that you were temporary. That Caleb has somewhere to go, someone to find. And you? You were just the person walking beside him until he got there.
Imagine in one particularly cold night, the two of you sat on top of an abandoned convenience store roof. The city stretched dark around you. No lights anymore, no traffic, no life. Just empty buildings and the distant groan of walkers wandering through the streets below. And Caleb sat beside the fire cleaning his knife carefully. The orange light flickered across his face. And you tried not to stare but failed iserably.
"This someone you keep talking about," You said eventually. "What would you do if you find her?" Caleb looked up immediately and the expression on his face, it genuinely startled you. Not angry, worse, he was certain. "Nah," He said quietly. "Don't joke like that." His tone remained light. But something underneath it wasn't. "She knows how to survive." He continue after a moment. "Pips is smart. Stubborn too." A small smile tugged at his mouth. "Probably yelling at people somewhere right now."
"I see." You nodded slowly and silence setteled again. The cold wind drifted across the rooftop. Then, "What would you do if you find her?" That made him smile properly. Soft, unthinking, in love. And it hurt embarrasingly bad. "Find somewhere safe." He said. "Heard rumors about a secured place. N109 zone. Well protected, functional power, and farms too." "Sounds fake." "Probably is." You huffed quietly. "But if it's real," Caleb continued, eyes flickering toward the dark skyline. "I'd take her there." Her. Not us.
and Imagine, really, why would it be us? You weren't anything. Not officially. Not emotionally. Not in the way that mattered. The two of you were just survivors sharing road because surviving alone was harder. So why did you chest ache every time he smiled like that over someone else?
"Wait-" You stared at him increduloudly one afternoon while scavenging an airport hangar. "You were an actual pilot?" "Yep." "You're lying." "I'm offended." "You said aviation school." "I graduated." "No way." Caleb looked unbearably smug. "You wanna see my license?" "You carried your pilot license through the apocalypse?" "Well now you're making it sound stupid." "Because it is stupid." He laughed so loudly it echoed through the hangar in which you did ended up laughing too.
Imagine there was never a single quiet day with Caleb around. He filled spaces effortlessly. Sometimes with jokes, sometimes with stories, sometimes with sheer existence alone. And slowly, dangerously, you started building routines around him. Waiting for his voice in the mornings, listening for his footsteps, sleeping easier during his watch shifts. Like your body itself had started believing Caleb meant safety. Which was the dumbest possible thing you could do during apocalypse. Because safety wasn't real anymore. And neither was forever.
Imagine then you found her. No, she found him. It happened near an abandoned medical checkpoint outside the city. You remembered hearing running footsteps first. Then a weak voice. "Caleb..." The reaction was immediate. You watched as Caleb froze so suddenly beside you that you nearly walked into him. And then he was moving. Fast, faster than you had ever seen him move before. And the girl stumbling towards the checkpoint looked half-dead already, sweating, shaking, varely conscious. But the second Caleb caught her. You understood something. Oh- that's her. Because you had never seen him look at anything the way he looked at her.
Imagine it wasn't relief, not happiness either. It was something deeper. Like finding oxygen after drowning. "Pips." He breathed. The sound of it almost made you look away. She collapsed against him almost immediately. And Caleb held her so carefully it made your throat tighten. You stood there awkwardly holding your rifle while realizing something horribly pathetic. You never stood a chance.
Imagine, MC was sick, not bitten, at least you didn't think so. But she burned with fever badly enough that even touching her forehead for a second make your palm feel hot afterward. Her breathing came unevenly, weak and shallow, and every now and then, her body trembled hard enough that Caleb had to tighten his hold around her to keep her steady. And you... You did not ask questions. In apocalypse, poeple stopped asking questions a long time ago.
so Imagine you kept moving. "Left." Caleb muttered while checking the bloodstained map in his hand. "There should be a maintenance corridor." You glance down the dark hallway. "Should' is doing a lot of heavy lifting there." "Have faith." "I had faith once, then society collapsed." That actually made MC laugh weakly against his chest. A tiny sound, something so fragile. Caleb immediately looked down at her like she has hung the moon. "You still with us, Pips?" "Mhm.." God, that look again. You turned away first.
Imagine the facility was massive. Some kind of old evacuation site connected to an abandoned research building near the edge of the city. Suspicious as it way sound with the amount of military trucks still littered the parking lot outside, rusting quietly beneath overgrown weeds and dried blood stains. And inside, it smelled worse. Rot, mold, old death. The deeper you went, the quieter it became and somehow, that was worse than noise.
Imagine your flashlight swept across overturned hospital beds and scattered papers on the floor. And every now and then, you caught movements behind reinforced glass doors. Walkers, trapped inside rooms. Their dead fingers dragged slowly against the window as you passed. Stratch, stratch, stratch. MC flinch weakly at the sound making Caleb adjust her closer instinctively.
"You okay?" "Cold..." Your eyes flicked towards her. She was shivering now despite the fever. Not good, not good at all. "We need to stop soon." You said quietly. Caleb nodded grimly. "There should be a rooftop access point somewhere above us." "Please tell me this place has the aircraft." "If the rumors are right." You sigh. "Again with the rumors." "Hey, rumors are all we got left nowadays."
Imagine the first sign something was wrong came from the silence. No walkers, none. Not in the hallway, not behind doors, not banging against walls. Nothing. You slowed slightly. "Sooo.." You murmured. "EIther we got lucky-" "Or it's worse." Caleb finished immediately. "See? That. That's exactly the kind of optimism I hate." A faint grin tugged at his mouth. Then- click. You froze.
"What was that?" MC whispered weakly. Your flashlight lowered slowly towards the floor. A wire. Thin, nearly invisible, connected to a rusted can near the wall. Your stomach dropped. "...Fuck." caleb's expression hardened instantly. "Don't move." Too late. Because somewhere deeper in the building, there was a clang. Then another, then another. Metal crashing violently against metal. Your eyes widened. "No, no no no-" A siren suddenly screamed alive overhead. Red emergency lights flooded the hallway instantly.
and Imagine then came the sound. Groaning, hundreds of them. From below, from above, from inside the walls themselves. "Oh you have GOT to be kidding me." You hissed and the building erupted. Banging, screaming, bodies slamming against the doors. Walkers flooded into the hallways from every direction. "What the fuck did that trigger?!" You shouted. "Probably an emergency lockdown system!" Caleb barked back. "WHO THE FUCK BUILDS THAT?!" "THE GOVERNMENT?!"Fair enough. "Move!" You snappened immediately.
Imagine the three of you started running, your boots slammed againstthe floor whie red lights flashed overhead violently. Walkers poured from stairwells and broken doors, drawn by the siren echoing throughout the facility. One lunged from the side and you buried your knife in its skull without slowing down. "Straight ahead!" Caleb yelled, MC coughed hard against his shoulder, trembling badly now. "Caleb-" "I got you." God, even now, exhusted and terrified, his voice soften for her automatically. And you hated how much hearing that hurt.
Imagine the stairwell was chaoes, bodies crowded below, rotting hands clawed upward through gaps in the railing. You nearly slipped on blood while forcing your way higher. "Door!" You shouted and Caleb kicked it open, hard. The three of you stumbled into another corridor breathing heavily. Then stopped, your stomach dropped instantly. "...No." The hallway was packed with walker. At least fiftly, or maybe more. The emergency lights painted them in horrible flashing red as they turned slowly towards the sound of you. Dead faces, open mouths, clouded eyes. Then they started coming towards your way.
"Run!" You slammed the door shut immediately while Caleb shoved a cabinet against it. Bodies crashed into the other side violently, the metal groaned. "Window!" You shouted. "No jump." Caleb snapped after one glance, "Too high." The room itself looked like some kinf of old administrative office. No exits, no escape. Only another hallway leading deeper inside the facility. And somewhere above, a helicopter waited. So close. You could practically taste freedom. Then MC made a small broken sound. You turned immediately. Her condition was getting worse, sweat drenched her skin completely now. Her breathing came shallow and uneven and she looked barely consious against Caleb's chest.
"We don't have time." You muttered. "I know." The door behind the cabinet shook violently. BANG, BANG, BANG. Wood splintered as more frowls filled the hallway outside. You started pacing automatically, brain working too fast. Think. Think. THINK. "There." MC whispered suddenly. You followed her shaking hand towards a map hanging crookedly on the wall. Your eyes narrowed. "...Maintenance bridge." Caleb looked too. "It connects to the west wing." "Which connects to the rooftop acccess." You finished.
Imagine the way relief flickered briefly across his face, then disappeared. Because noth of you saw the problem immediately. The bridge crossed directly over the main atrium, where the horde was gathering and thousands of footsteps ehoed below already. Draw by the sirens, by you. "...Shit." You whispered. The door cracked loudly behind you. One dead arm shoved partially through the splintering wood. MC looked close to passing out completely now. And Caleb, Caleb looked terrified for the first time since you meet him. Not for himself but for her. You saw it clearly. The desperation, the fear, the helplessness. And somehow, that hurt more than anything. Because even at the end of the world... Even now, he loved her so much.
Imagine the west wing was falling apart. You could feel it in the walls. Every few seconds, the building groaned somewhere deep beneath your feet like something enormous was twisting inside its bones. Dust drifted constantly from the ceiling. Pipes screamed while metal shrieked in the distance loud enough to make your teeth ache. The whole place sounds echausted. Like it had been dying for a long time and only now decided to collapse properly. And honestly? You understand that feeling.
Imagine the way you shoved another cabinet against the stairwell door while Caleb checked the corridor ahead. "Clear." He whispered. The hallway beyond flcikered under failing emergency lights, everything painted in unstable red. Old blood stained the walls in long brown smears. Abandoned luggage littered the floor alongside military bags and overturned stretchers. People ran here once, you could tell. The evidence of panic still remained everywhere.
Imagine MC coughed weakly behind you and Caleb immediately turned around. "You okay?" She only hum in return, but you could easily tell that she wasn't. And Caleb, the panic in his eyes everytime he looked at her. You noticed it more now. The way he adjust his grip instictively whenever she trembled, the way his voice siften automatically around her, the way exhustion disappeared from him whenever she needed something. And you looked away first, because there were some things you could survive easier by pretending not to see.
Imagine the rooftop access was close, that was the cruel part. So close. Only one more connecting hallway between you and the emergency ladder leading towards the helipad. Only one hallway. But unfortunately, it was also the exact direction the walkers were coming from. You heard them before you saw them. That horrible collective sound. Dragging feet, wet groaning, bodies colliding endlessly into each other. Too many, far too many. The emergencu siren overhead still blared intermittently through the building, distorted and dying. Every scream of the alam pulled more dead things inward ike a beacon.
Imagine the hallway ahead opened into a wider terminal junction, and beyond it, the maintenance access leading toward the rooftop. And you almost laughed when you saw it, because of course, of course the only escape route sat directly behind a moving wall of corpses. "Fuck." You breathed quietly as Caleb followed your gaze before immediately saying, "No." You looked at him. "You don't even know what I'm gonna say." "I know exactly what you're gonna say." The walkers shuffled closer in the distance. You counted automatically. Thirty, maybe forty or more.
Imagine, the corridor itself was too nattow to fight through. Too loud, too cramped. One gunshot would bring the entire damn building down on top of you. You look to your side and see MC swayed weakly against Caleb's chest. "We can still go around." He muttered quickly. "There is no around." "We find another route." "And waste how much time?" Your voice came out sharper than intended. "Look at her Caleb." His jaw tightened immediately because he knew. MC's condition was getting worse by timme. Even standing looked difficult for her now. She needed medical attention immediately. Not later, not tomorrow. Now.
Imagine another distant crash echoed through the building as you could tell the walkers stirred louder, closer. Your brain started calculating instinctively. The distance, noise and movement patterns. If something loud pulled the horde sideways, even briefly, there would be enough time. Not too much, but enough. And just then, your stomach dropped before you can even fully formed the thought. Because you already knew, there really wasn't another option. Not dramatic sacrifice, not heroism. Just math. A simple, horrible math.
Imagine, if nobody distracted them, all three of you died here. That made you swallowed hard before quietly saying. "I can pull them away." "No." Immediate and sharp. You almost smiled despite yourself. Still stubborn. "Caleb-" "No." "We don't have enough ammo." "We fight through." "We won't make it halfway." "We try anyway." "Then what?" Your voice cracked sharser this time. "She collapses? One of us gets grabbed? You know how this ends." "We don't know that." "Yes we do!" Your voice echoed harder tha intended through the hallway and the walkers immediately stirred louder, closer. Shit.
"Caleb." You whispered roughly. "This isn't a movie." "I know that!" "Then stop acting like there's a magically another way out of this!" His breathing turned uneven. Angry. Panicked. "No." He said again, quieter this time. "I'm not letting you do that." And something painful twisted in your chest hearing that. Not because it fixed anything, but because it didn't. Reality stayed cruel no matter how badly he wanted otherwise. "You're not letting me?" You repeated softly. "You know what I mean." "Do I?" "Don't do that right now." "Do what?" "That thing where you act okay with this!"
Imagine you stared at him and there it was. Fear. Raw, ugly and despirate. Not anger. Fear. Because Caleb already understood what this could mean. Your throat tightened painfully. The walkers slowly crowded deeper into the junction ahead now, bodies pressing together beneath the red emergency lights. The deads were moving patiently towards you. MC whimpered weakly against Caleb's chest. That sound alone nearly shattered the entire argument apart. You close your eyes briefly then you looked back at him. "She needs you alive."
Imagine the words tasted bitter. Not because they weren't true but because they were. Caleb looked away sharply for the first time. Like hearing it out loud physically hurt him. "We can all make it." He muttered and you almost laughed. Not cruelly, just tired. "You don't even believe in that." Then there was silence. A heavy one, because he didn't. So as the building groaned violently again around you. Like somewhere below, another barricade finally gave out and that sound alone made your stomach drop. No more time. That was it, this was the movement.
Imagine the way you stepped closer before your courage disappeared completly. "Hey." You muttered softly. Caleb looked at you immediately and God, that expression. Exhausted, terrified, desperate. Human. And suddenly you wanted something horribly impossible. One more night around a campfire. One more stupid argument. One more morning hearing him complain dramatically about canned food. You wanted more time. But the apocalypse didn't care what people wanted. It never did.
"I promise I'll make it to N109 zone." You said quietly. Something in Caleb's face cracked instantly. "Don't say it like that." "Like what?" "Like you're saying goodbye." Your chest ached so badly it almost made you angry. Because none of this would've been easier if he treated you carelessly. Instead, Caleb made surviving beside him feel dangerously close to living. And maybe that was crueler. "I'm not." You lied softly. "You better not be." The words came out rough. Almost shaking. And your eyes burned suddenly. God. Why now? Why did everything have to hurt now?
Imagine the walker were close enough now that you could hear their teeth snapping. You checked your gun quickly, not enough bullets. Not enough time. "Listen to me carefully." You said. "Once I move away from the hallway, you run straight for the ladder access." "No." "Caleb-" "No." "You hate to." "I said no!" His voice cracked violently this time. Then MC stirred weakly again between you both. "Caleb.." She whispered painfully and that broke something in him immediately.
Imagine you saw it happened. Her. You. Reality. All colliding together at once. His grip tightened around her while he looked at you helplessly. And somehow, that hurt more than if he chose easily. "You need to come back." He said suddenly. The words hit so hard you forgot hwo to breathe for a second. "What?" "You hear me?" His voice shook now. "You need to come back." The horde surged louder down the corridor. Closer. Then even closer. You forced yourself to breathe again. "That's not really something I can guarantee." "Yes it is." "Caleb-" "I'll wait for you."
Imagine the way your throat burned instantly. Why would he say things like that? Why now? You looked away first. Because if you kept staring at him like this, then you might stay. And then all three of you would die here. "Ten minutes," You whispered roughly. "If I don't make it to the hellpad yen minutes after you get there. Leave." "No." "Yes." "I'm not leaving you behind." "You have to." "No!" "CALEB!" That shout cracked violently between you. Even the walker react to it immediately. Your breathing turned ragged.
"So what?" You hissed. "You stay? Die with me? Is that your plan." His silence answered enough. Your chest physically hurt, because some selfish, ugly part of you almost wanted him to say yes. Wanted proof that losing you would matter. But then MC coughed painfully against him again. Then there was reality. Always reality. You soften immediately. "Please." You whispered this time. "Please don't make this harder."
Imagine the way Caleb stared at you like he was trying to memorize your face. Then slowly, painfully slowly. He reached for the chain around his neck. The one with dog tags, and that stupid little apple charm. The one you had seen him touch absentmindedly during quiet nights. Seen him hold it while talking about home. About flying. About survival. His fingers shook slightly as he prssed it into your palm. "Return it when we meet again." Your throat tightened instantly. You curled your fingers around it carefully. "...Fine." "You promise?" You swallowed hard. "...I promise."
Imagine, the deads were close now. Close enough that you could smell it. The blood, rot and wet decay. You stepped backward slowly. Raised your gun. Then looked at Caleb one last time. "Come to think of it, I never actually told you my name, didn't I?" That made him pause. "It's (Your name)." You smile at him. "And just you know. You're cool as fuck, Caleb." And for a stunned second, he laughed. Small, broken, disbelieving. Then you watched his face crumpled immediately afterwards. "Please." You heard him whispered again.
and Imagine, you almost stayed. Like, really almost stayed. But then the horde turned the corner and your body betrayed you. You stepped into the open hallway and screamed. "HEY FUCKERS!" Every dead head snapped towards you instantly. The entire horde shifted. Towards you and away from the ladder. Exactly as planned. So as your heart hammered violently and as adrenaline flooded your veins so hard your hands shook.
"That's right." You breathed shakily while backing away slowly. "Come get me." Behind the walkers, you saw Caleb hesitate. Of course he did. He was still looking at you instead of running. "NOW!" You shouted. He still didn't move. "CALEB!" That finally broke him. And you watched him grip MC tighter before sprinting towards the ladder access while the horde chased after your voice. And that was the moment when relief hit so hard it nearly made your knees buckle. It worked. Holy shit, it actually worked. But then the dead started moving faster, so you turned and ran.
Imagine the way the corridor slammed against bloodstained floors while walkers poured after you endlessly through the site. You shoved over stuffs, kicked open doors and made as much noise as possible. And while every instinct screamed at you to hide, you just kept drawing attention. Because if even a few broke away and notice Caleb and MC. It would be over. So you ran louder, harder, faster. When a walker lounged from the side corridor. You shot it instantly and the gunfire exploded through the building. More groans answered immediately.
"Oh you've gotto be kidding me..." You almost laughed at yourself as the now were coming from ahead too. Great, fantastic. You swerved sharply into another hallway while your lungs burned violently. Your legs already ached from exhaustion. Too many days running, too little food, too little sleep. The apocalypse slowly ate people before the walkers ever touched them. Still, you kept moving. Because somwhere above you, Caleb was escaping. Caleb was surviving. And stupidly, that mattered enough.
Imagine far above the building after God knows how much time have passed by. The helicopter blades thundered alive. You almost stumbled hearing it as relief had once again crashed into you so suddenly it hurt. They made it. And a laugh escaped you breathlessly. "Thank God..." And for one tiny moment, everything felt lighter. Worth it. Then pain esploded across your shoulder. A walker slammed into you from a side doorway hard enough to send you crashing into the wall, your gun flew across the floor in the process as the walker snapped its teeth inches from your face. So you shoved your knife upward desperately into its skull.
Imagine the way your breathing turned ragged instantly. Everything hurt. Your shoulder, your ribs, your legs. And somewhere nearby, more groans echoed. Closer, too close. So you forced yourself upright shakily as blood dripped slowly down your sleeve, one you couldn't tell if it was yours or not. Then you felt it, heard it, above you, the helicopter sound grew louder. Then slowly, it started dafing away into the distance. Your chest tightened painfully. Ten minutes. Maybe he waited longer. Maybe he fought them. Maybe he searched for you until very last second. Or maybe, maybe he just understood what this really is. Not bravery, not heroism. Just survival choosing who got to continue.
Imagine as you leaned briefly against the wall, exhausted beyond words. Caleb's dog tags rested tightly in your hand. Cold, heavy and real. Just then you heard more footsteps, not human, never human anymore. You laughed quietly to yourself. Tired, hollow and half-breathless. "Goddammit." Because maybe love really could kill a person. Not quickly, not romantically. But in choices, in sacrifices, in wanting someone else to live more than you wanted yourself to. And that somewhere deep down. You already knew, you were probably not making it to N109 zone.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026° ko-fi?
:I'm thinking if I should make it a whole series of something because this has sooo much potential as one. PS. Told ya'll Caleb is yet to come home I'm this banner. And I basically lost him to Zayne, like wtfffg
childhood bestfriends caleb and nonMC!reader, who he's secretly in love with while she thinks he likes someone else
warnings. angst, fluff, rejection, she fell first he fell harder, caleb is down bad, groveling, miscommunication, caleb sucks at feelings, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, he gives her a nickname adjacent to pipsqueak
preview. "I love you," he says, pressing his forehead against yours. You want to tell him that it's not fair to treat you the way he does and expect you not to fall for him. That holding your hair when you vomit, falling asleep at your bedside when you're sick, and his eyes closing in on you in any room is not fair. "Then prove it to me."
wc. 8.4k (she's hefty...)
You proposed to Caleb for the first time when you were nine years old, with a flower ring.
The winter air had nipped at your flushed cheeks as you stepped into ice, holding it out to him. Your breath had puffed into the air like a dragon, and you nuzzled your chin further into the wool of your scarf to keep warm. It had been the only flower left after fall had faded away, yet its white petals stood brilliantly in between your fingertips, weathering against the cold.
The child in front of you was closed off. Eyes narrowed, fists balled inside his pockets, and usually adorning a solemn look on his face. Though, it had certainly gotten better since you first met him as one of Grandma Josephine’s adoptive children. Back then, he hadn’t even spoken much—only keeping MC tight at his side, as if she might disappear if he didn’t. He wasn’t rude by any means…just, cautious. Too aware for a child of his age.
But without a doubt in your mind, he was the most handsome boy you’d ever seen.
He’d raised his brows. “You just met me last week.”
“It’s love at first sight.”
He rejected you, naturally, but it did little to make a dent in your childish heart. Not when his purple hues gazed into your own, with a softness that didn’t seem intent on hurting you.
The next two decades becomes a perpetual cycle of this encounter—in which you learn that Caleb is a very caring person.
In that time, you learn a lot about him, aside from his gorgeous face. You find that he’s fond of nicknames. Pipsqueak for MC. Splints for you, when you launched yourself off a swing and broke your wrist trying to impress him. Safe to say, it didn’t impress anyone but your doctor, who was baffled you managed to fly so high into the air with your 11-year-old legs. Caleb held your other hand tight in the emergency room as you wailed helplessly, waiting for the doctor to ease the pain. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cry just a tad longer to keep your hand in his.
“This thing is so ugly,” you whine, picking at your cast as he walks you back home. “Do you think I’m gross now, Caleb?”
“It’s not ugly. You need it to get better.”
“I thought you’d fall in love with me if I went high enough,” you sniffle fake tears, which he reads in an instant. “I did go pretty high up, though. So maybe you like me at least.”
He laughs, and you scowl, insisting that you aren’t joking. So instead, he smiles and holds your free hand in his again. Your heart skips a beat. A childish, but innocent love fluttering in your chest. “Come on, splints. Let’s go watch TV, and I can sign your cast.”
The broken wrist is so worth it.
With MC being two grades lower than the two of you and thus having a different schedule, it doesn’t take long before you’re doing practically everything with Caleb. He’s your seatmate in class, the two of you walk to and from school, and there doesn’t seem to be a moment where you aren’t glued at the hip. Throughout all of this, you make sure you shoot your shot whenever the chance arises—even when it doesn’t arise at all.
“You get any chocolates for Valentine’s?” you ask as you plop down in your seat with your lunch, not-so-conspicuously eyeing his desk as his friends begin to crowd around the two of you. It didn’t take long for Caleb to adjust to ordinary school life. After his initial bumpy introduction where he seemed hesitant to get close to anyone his grandma would introduce him to, he was quick to adjust to a level of charisma even you haven’t gotten to.
By now, he’s charisma personified. You, yourself, have no idea how quickly he adapts to things. Though, you do recall that after an exam measuring his intelligence, he was told he couldn’t lower his grade by two years to be with MC. So you suppose he’s rather bright—almost as much as his face.
“Too many,” one of his friends groan, dragging his hand down the side of his face. “Life’s so not fair, dude.”
“Just a few,” Caleb laughs, turning to feel me stare at him expectantly. “Most of them are obligatory. I just helped a couple people out during gym.”
You glance at his friends. “How many is a few?”
“At least five,” another one grins. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and his friend snickers at his shoulder. “You jealous?”
It’s not like your crush on Caleb is new news. In fact, it’s practically common knowledge at your school, given how open you are with your affection with him. Asking him out with a giant poster on orientation day, sending him notes with hearts littered everywhere during class, and refusing to be subtle when you’re discussing it with your friends…it tends to add up. Most people believe your relationship to be strange, but those who matter thought of it as the norm, so it doesn’t really matter.
“Jealous? I don’t think so, why?”
“Most girls would be if their boyfriend got a bunch of chocolates,” he responds, to which Caleb immediately reminds him that you’re not dating. Then his friend sighs. “It’s cute when girls get jealous, isn’t it?”
At this, your ears perk.
“Should I be jealous?” you ask Caleb, making his friends erupt into snickers. “Do you think it’s cute too?”
He rolls his eyes and flicks your forehead softly. “Do you ever ask normal questions, splints?”
Throughout your childhood together, everything involves him. Family dinners, graduation, holidays, all of it. Of course, this means that MC is there for all of it too. You’re helplessly in love, but you’re not stupid. You know what love looks like from the movies their grandma would play on their TV. He cares for her with a different look in his eyes. He protects her with a lovingness in his voice that he doesn’t spare for you.
The same fingers that flick your forehead touch her arm gingerly, like she could crack in half if he holds too hard. He doesn’t touch her very easily either, whereas he often falls asleep with his head fully leaning against your shoulder on the bus ride home. He wakes up at the crack of dawn to make her lunch, while the two of you munch on sandwiches from the school cafeteria during lunch breaks. He scolds you when your clothes are tossed on the ground while he folds hers without her having to ask. He never enters her room to protect her privacy while he lounges in yours like he owns the place.
Your Caleb, you have found, is different from MC’s Caleb.
MC’s Caleb is easy to depend on. Trustworthy, perfect, and never makes a mistake for the life of him. He never loses his cool in front of her, never has a hair out of place, lets her win at all the board games, and always has this clear but dazed look in his pretty purple eyes. Your Caleb has none of that. Your Caleb teases you mercilessly when you lose the card game for the fifth time in a row. Your Caleb passes out on his desk while studying for an exam, essentially drooling on his notebook to lie to MC that he’s naturally talented at math. Your Caleb sends you stupid videos about plane models and forces you to sit through a thirty-minute explanation about it.
You know he likes her. He knows you know he likes her. She doesn’t know anything at all. All jumbled up, like a wordless pact ready to crumble at any moment.
Of course, this means that he prioritizes her over you at times. All the time. It’s to be expected. She’s family, you’re not. You’ve grown used to it, and so has he.
MC doesn’t notice though, because she doesn’t have to. Because to her, Caleb is just a slightly nagging but cool adoptive brother. Nothing more, nothing less. And you’re one of her childhood friends, and Caleb’s best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.
The first year after you graduate high school is a dramatic shift from your cozy hometown. You somehow manage to get into the same college as Caleb–and you attribute his tutoring to be the main culprit—though in different majors. It’s a lot to convince him to go so far from home given that MC is still at home, but after a lot of reluctant discussion, he agrees.
“Take off your shoes at the door,” he reminds you as you barge into his dorm room after a particularly difficult exam for one of your classes. You do as he asks, grumbling about how he has no mercy for the fallen, tossing them haphazardly beside the door and prancing past him. He takes the time to tidy them up, as if he’s expecting it. “How was your exam?”
“Awful. I went through war.”
Caleb grins as he sits down at the coffee table beside you, watching as you bury your face into your arms. “And whose fault is it that they didn’t want to study?”
“Yours.”
“Funny,” he snorts, and you feel his large hand ruffling the top of your head. “It’s alright, splints. I can tutor you a bit earlier on the next one.”
“Even you can’t save me for this class.”
“Is that a challenge?”
He ends up cooking up something quick in his makeshift kitchen (essentially just a rice cooker), while you laze around on his bed, scrolling aimlessly on your phone. Once he’s finished, you scarf down his food like a man starved, lips stretching widely. At times like these, you’re oddly grateful for his hopeless love toward MC. How else would he have learned to cook such good food? “You should honestly be a chef, Caleb. Actually, no, that would mean other people would eat your food. I guess you can just be my personal chef when we’re married.”
Caleb remains completely unaffected, wordlessly cleaning the plate in front of you. “I didn’t realize I was engaged.”
“Well, now you know. Not sure if you remember, but I had fireworks for you and everything when I proposed. Plus an orchestra.”
He hums, looking up as if he’s in thought, and then nods. “Now that you mention it, that does sound familiar, splints. How could I forget?”
You shrug. “You tell me.”
His face falls as you pace to the door and begin to put your shoes back on. “Where are you going? Aren’t you done with class?”
“Going out. I deserve it after that exam.”
“With your friends?”
“No, with four guys,” you joke, but he doesn’t seem to find it very funny. “I’m just going to a club. I won’t be back too late.”
He’s already grabbing his jacket. “I can come.”
You push him back with your finger by the nose, and he blinks in surprise, making you laugh. “No need. You have exams too, y’know.”
“I’m done studying.”
“Liar.”
Though it takes some convincing, you eventually have him sit at his desk once more. He manages to nag a whole lot as you leave, reminding you to call him once you’re done so he can pick you up, but you just wave him off as you leave out the door. You take your time getting ready–dolling yourself up to hide the dark circles beneath your eyes. As you get ready, you video call MC, where she asks how you and Caleb have been doing in her absence. She rants about her days with her grandma, complaining about how quiet the house is when Caleb isn’t home, though she indulged in the beginning. She asks you to show her your outfit once you’re done, and she beams brightly in your screen, squealing about how you’d likely get a boyfriend soon that you can tell her all about.
You just smile, because you don’t know how to tell her that the only boy you want is wrapped around her unknowing hand.
The club is loud. Where the music rumbles through your feet to the tips of your fingertips, and the lights are flashing in a dimly lit room. Your friends flock to a table and order drinks while you let yourself feel the music and crack a joke or two once in a while.
A group of guys approaches you with easy smiles and louder voices than necessary—confidence sharpened by cheap cologne. One of them leans against your table like he’s done it a hundred times before, asking your name, where you’re from, if you come here often. The usual.
You answer, choking out a laugh to humor his unfunny jokes alongside your friends, while the swigs you take from your drink become deeper and deeper.
He’s not bad at flirting, you think. Subtle, and not too glaring about it. But you don’t particularly enjoy humoring it, and it becomes gradually more apparent as your eyes keep drifting elsewhere and you keep having to ask him to repeat himself. You’re growing bored. Irritated.
Because he’s not Caleb.
It hits you in strange, inconvenient flashes. The way this guy stands just a little too far away. The way his voice doesn’t quite reach you over the music, even when he’s close. The way you don’t feel that familiar, grounding presence like an anchor holding you to the ground.
You find yourself glancing past his shoulder. Half-wishing to see Caleb there. Watching. Hovering.
But there’s only strangers. Blurred faces and flashing lights.
“You okay?” the guy asks, tilting his head.
“Yeah,” you say too quickly. “Long week.”
He grins, like that’s an invitation. Says something else—something about getting you another drink, maybe dancing, maybe getting out of here.
You nod again. Smile again.
Across the room, your friends are already disappearing into the crowd, dragged toward the dance floor by laughter and hands you don’t recognize. One of them glances back at you, gives you a look that asks ‘you’re good, right?’ before she’s gone.
You sit back down at the table when the guy steps away. Maybe to grab drinks, maybe because he senses your attention drifting. You don’t really care which.
The music swells in your chest. The lights flicker. You wish you could enjoy yourself, but it’s particularly hard today.
You take another sip. Then another. Your phone rests face-down on the table, but you flip it over anyway.
No messages.
Of course not. He cares, but not like that. Not in the way that he would spam MC’s phone whenever he didn’t know where she was or how she was doing. No, not like that at all.
Another sip. The glass is nearly empty now.
And suddenly, you’re pressing send before you can even register what’s happening.
[you]: hi
The answer comes immediately, the grey bubbles popping up on his end of the screen.
[futre hubs <333]: do you need me to come pick you up?
[futre hubs <333]: i can
You’re not sure why you feel like shit, but you hate it. In moments like these—moments where the alcohol lets you lower your walls and truly think—it hits you like a truck, like a deeply sinking feeling in your chest. The years of rejection after rejection that the two of you frame like a bit—as if your feelings have become so miniscule that it no longer even phases him.
It hurts, a bit. More than you let yourself feel.
You’re not sure how much time passes. Maybe minutes or maybe an hour. There’s buzzing throughout your body. The grip on your waist belonging to the man you’ve been half-heartedly entertaining suddenly becomes harsher, snapping you out of your trance. It feels unlike Caleb, but you let it sit anyway. However, the hand moves to your wrist, and you’re being pulled out of the crowd towards the wall.
Too touchy. He’s saying something into your ear, and you feel his breath against your skin. You don’t like it. Too close. The buzzing feeling feels more like an alarm now.
The words either go unheard due to the music or don’t deter him. You want to go back. Back to Caleb. In the moment, you begin to think—almost as if the world is in slow motion. Perhaps the drinks, you think. You wonder if Caleb will leave you. You wonder if he’ll leave to go be with MC. You wonder if the years you’ve spent expressing your love to him meant as much to him as it did to you, or if he just found it plain annoying. You wonder if now that you’re in college, he’d want to explore other people, and he’ll finally find an outlet to get rid of you for good.
But you know he wouldn’t. Because he cares for you. Just not as much as he cares for her.
You wonder if he’s ever looked at you with the same softness he does with MC.
Someone pulls you away from the man and into their chest, and the worries dissipate in an instant. His scent. His warmth. You knew he’d come. He always does. It only takes a warning glare from Caleb before the man disappears into the crowd again, and you feel the grip on your wrist loosen. Caleb stares down at you, your back still to his chest as you blink wearily, almost in slow motion, and he sighs. He doesn’t give you the same smile he gives to MC when she’s in trouble.
A part of you wishes he wasn’t always there for you—not when it’s so different from how he’s there for her.
You sit idly in front of a convenience store parking lot while Caleb fetches you some water and ice cream. You have your knees to your chest, arms pulling them close as you shiver against the cold autumn breeze. You should’ve brought a jacket. The buzzing, hot feeling of the alcohol is subsiding too quickly.
“Drink.” You feel a water bottle press against your cheek from behind, and Caleb plops down beside you with a plastic bag. He notices how you’re holding yourself together and frowns. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
“I told you to grab a jacket.”
“You nag too much.”
He snickers and twists open the cap of the water bottle for you to drink, which you sip carefully. He strips his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders, and you immediately bury yourself in it. It smells like him.
“What kind of woman do you like, Caleb?”
“You and your questions.”
“I want to know.”
He shifts to face you, motioning for you to lift your arms. He grabs either side of his jacket and pulls it shut, fumbling with the zipper until he manages to zip it to your chin. You can barely claw your hands out of his sleeves—the fabric almost engulfs you—but he just laughs. “My type? A woman who brings jackets when it’s cold.”
You scowl, making his laugh echo louder. “Other than that.”
“A woman who goes to class in the morning.”
“...Other than that.”
“A woman who doesn’t leave her clothes all over my floor when she feels like sleeping over.”
“Something else.”
“A woman who eats healthy, balanced meals. A woman who doesn’t steal all my pens and then still ends up asking me for more. Maybe someone who doesn’t pass out drooling on my pillow. Or someone who doesn’t let half the world know that they like someone—hell, maybe even the entire world.”
Caleb glances at you, chuckling to himself, but stops the moment he sees that you’re not laughing with him. Your head hangs low, your feet shuffling anxiously. His face twists, and suddenly the air thickens. “Splints?”
You pick at your sleeves. “So just not me?”
“I was just kidding around.”
“Jokes have some truth to them.”
“Not all of them. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay, Caleb,” you finally meet his eyes again, and shrug. “I know you like someone else. I’m not an idiot.”
Silence commences, like a bell dropping on your head.
Caleb shifts his weight, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. It’s a nervous habit you’ve seen a hundred times—usually followed by some half-joke, something to smooth things over.
But nothing comes.
The space between you suddenly feels too small and too big all at once. You try to act normal. You really do.
You fiddle with your sleeve again, smoothing it down, then pulling at it, then smoothing it again. Anything to give your hands something to do, so they don’t reach for him out of instinct.
Caleb glances at you. Then away.
Then back again, like he’s trying to solve something written across your face but can’t quite make out the words.
“Hey,” he starts, softer this time.
You hum in response, not trusting your voice yet.
Another pause. God, it’s awkward.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters again, quieter now. Not defensive. Unsure. “You know I think you’re amazing.”
Just not enough.
“I am pretty great,” but it comes out too soft.
Neither of you knows what to do with another stretch of silence. So you opt to drink some more water instead.
“Why do you like me so much?” He eventually mutters out as he bites his bottom lip, eyes falling to the ground like he can’t bear to watch your expression. “You could do a lot better.”
You smile, but it’s half-hearted. “How could I not?”
He pauses, as if choosing his words carefully before his voice comes out in a soft whisper. “You mean so much to me. You’re smart, beautiful, and everything good in between—whoever gets to call you theirs is the luckiest person I know. And you know I’d do anything for you.”
Despite their sweetness, his words feel like judgement wrapping around your heart in vines, squeezing just before it’s about to pop. You wish you could block your ears out for what comes next.
“But it can’t be me.” Caleb’s lips purse, brows furrowing as he looks away. “I can’t give you what you want.”
The rejection hurts more than you realized it would. You want to tell him that it’s not fair to treat you the way he does and expect you not to fall for him. That holding your hair when you vomit, falling asleep at your bedside when you’re sick, and his eyes closing in on you in any room that you’re in is not fair.
Instead, you nod. And you swear to yourself that you’ll swallow this sickening lump in your throat that makes you want to hurl and sob at the same time. That you’ll bury it deep in a graveyard within you that even the closest person to you would never know of. Especially him.
“I don’t want it, either,” you snort back, immediately perking up to slap his back in what results in a jolt. His shoulders tense as he blinks wide at you, unsure of the sudden shift in atmosphere. “I don’t want feelings that belong to someone else, dumbass.”
Once it sinks in that you mean it, a smile finds its way onto his face, though something flickers beneath it, like a flash of something you don’t want to look too far into.
Not because you still had hope, but because whatever existed between you had never been something as simple as a crush. It had roots—tangled deep into your souls and impossible to pull free without tearing something open. You wanted to keep what was left. Even if it lingered just a little longer, and even if you pretended not to see the splintering strands in the string tying you together.
So you let it settle. Let it rot somewhere you couldn’t feel it.
The two of you fall into the kind of closeness that you’ve always had, and time passes as if it was always meant to be this way. It’s easier this way. For a while, it does work, but nothing ever really stays under wraps. Despite your incessant protests in telling yourself it’s fading, the scars he’s inflicted on you are just that. Scars. Unmoving yet subtle.
The thinning thread finally snaps a few years later, when MC develops feelings for a coworker in the Hunter’s Association. The day the cracks in the glass bridge holding you together shatter beneath your feet into a million different pieces.
“When’s the last time you’ve slept?”
He’s sprawled shirtless on the couch of his apartment in Skyhaven, freshly out of the shower after you arrived to visit him for the first time in months—only to see that he’s nearly overworking himself to death. Despite him going off to the DAA after college, you’d kept close contact, the connection between the two of you never wavering regardless of your restricted time. It only changed after news of MC broke out. Worried, you’d rushed to Skyhaven to make sure he was doing okay, which you’re clearly glad you did now. You’d practically had to drag him to the shower to keep him from passing out next to the front door in his gear.
Caleb, clearly, is off. You suppose you don’t blame him. The woman he loves is yearning for another. Almost poetic, really, but you don’t like seeing him this way. Especially when you know what it feels like yourself, even if you’ve gotten used to it. Gotten over it. He looks like a kicked puppy. Hurt, like a dog who’s just been scratched by its owner.
“I dunno.”
You peer into the empty abyss that is his fridge and frown. There’s a few measly apples sitting inside, and a half-eaten protein bar that’s been there for god knows how long. “What the hell have you been eating?”
He responds with a grunt, letting his head fall back against the sofa. You decide to make do with the instant noodles he has stashed in one of the cupboards and bring it over to him once it seems mostly done. With a fork, you stick out a few noodles to his face, urging him. “Eat.”
“Not hungry,” he mutters.
“Don’t care. Sit up.”
He opens one of his eyes to peek at you, which somehow urges him forward. There’s darkness beneath his eyes—even stubble littering his chin from a few days worth of not shaving. You want to reach out and poke fun at him, but the state he’s in deters you. Instead, you silently feed him, watching him chew his food while staring at your hands. It makes you wish you put on a fresh set of polish before you came.
You twirl another small forkful and hold it out. He leans forward this time without being told, taking it quietly. His shoulder brushes yours as he settles back against the couch, and you can feel his skin through your shirt.
“Thanks,” he mutters, voice rough from disuse more than anything. “For coming.”
“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “Someone had to make sure you didn’t rot in here.”
He huffs a faint laugh, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Probably would’ve. Dramatic way to go out, huh?”
You nudge his knee with yours. “Starving to death in your own apartment? Real heroic.”
A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. It makes your heart flutter. Stupid feelings.
“…thanks for coming, splints,” he says.
Your chest tightens—sharp and sudden. It feels like it’s threatening to feel something that’s not yours to feel. So instead, you look down at the bowl, pretending to focus on separating another bite. You twirl your fork, more carefully this time. “I had to. You weren’t responding, so I thought you died, or something. Open.”
He rolls his eyes, but obeys anyway. “Bossy.”
“Learned from the best.”
His lids flutter shut, voice dropping to a lower hum. “I missed this.”
Your hand stills. “What?”
He shrugs, eyes still closed. “You being here.”
His hair is sticking to his forehead, still damp from the shower. Before you realize what you’re doing, you brush a stray strand of hair off his forehead. You speak quietly. “You look like shit.”
“Wow,” he mutters. “You have a way with words.”
You frown, and without thinking, your hand lingers at his temple for just a second longer than it should. His skin is warm, still hot from the shower.
“Idiot,” you whisper.
He catches your wrist. Not tight, not stopping you. Simply holding it there for a moment that feels too long and not long enough at once. Your eyes meet for a fleeting moment, and then you’re looking away, setting the mostly finished bowl of noodles onto the coffee table to pull away.
“Don’t make this a habit. I’m not flying out here every time you forget to eat.”
“Could,” he murmurs. “You would.”
You don’t respond to that, because he’s not wrong.
“…Is she okay?”
It slips out of him like instinct. Like breathing. And just like that, everything shifts. You don’t answer right away—instead, your fingers tighten slightly around the fork.
“She’s fine,” you say eventually. Leave it, you plead in your head.
“Did she say anything?” he asks, sitting up a little more now. There’s something in his eyes, like he’s searching. “When you talked to her.”
You shrug, trying to keep your tone even. “Just normal stuff.” Stop, you think. Please stop talking.
“Like what?”
“Like her job. Her grandma. Nothing serious.” Shit.
He frowns slightly. “She didn’t mention him?”
There it is. It’s always about her.
You know he’s in a vulnerable spot right now, but it does nothing to ease the sudden flame roaring in your chest. Whether it’s from years of repressed hurt or shame, all it amounts to is a relentless ball of rage inside of you that leaves your nails digging crescents into the palms of your hands. You stare at him, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you inch away from him.
“Does it matter?”
Caleb’s face relaxes. “What?”
“Why does it matter what she thinks about him? She likes him, end of story, no?”
“I just want to know if he’s a decent guy.”
Your ass. “That’s not really your business, Caleb, but sure. He’s a great guy. Amazing, honestly. He’s really gentlemanly and checks every single box. He lives above her apartment, so they’re right next to each other. He treats her gently, too. I’d bet every girl would jump at a chance to date a guy like that.”
You’re not sure where the words are tumbling out of, but it’s too late to go back. Neither do you want to.
“I wonder if he has a brother. Maybe MC could set me up or something.”
“Oh. Is he…” Caleb’s back straightens, and you notice his fingers digging into his thighs. “...handsome?”
“Didn’t you hear me? I’m telling you, he’s perfect. His face could pay for the Linkon rent by itself.”
He suddenly stands, and you glare up at him through your eyebrows. “Why are you talking like that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scoff.
He narrows his eyes. It’s something you haven’t seen in a while, since Caleb rarely gets upset at you. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, splints.”
“Can you just spit it out? What am I saying differently?”
“You’re angry.”
You stand, following suit. He looms over you to have his shadow essentially engulf you, and you wish you could kick his ankle so he falls to the ground. “Maybe if you weren’t so irritating, I wouldn’t feel so annoyed right now.”
“What?”
“It’s hard to watch, Caleb,” you hiss out in exasperation, throwing your hands into the air. “It’s always pipsqueak this, pipsqueak that, pipsqueak what. Seriously, we’re not kids anymore, you need to get over it!”
You’re not sure if you’re talking to him or yourself anymore.
“Can we calm down and talk? If I’ve been talking too much about it, I can stop, so—”
“We haven’t seen each other in months, Caleb! And all you want to ask me about is how she’s been? Why don’t you ask her yourself, if you’re so curious? Oh, but you can’t, because you always have to be perfect in front of her. So instead, you dump all of this on me. Your goods and bads, all of it, just for me to get kicked to the curb like I’m some dispensable object.”
“What?” his balks. “Dispensible? Are you serious? As if I haven’t gotten you out of every little thing you’ve gotten yourself into the past decade of our lives? As if I haven’t picked you up every weekend from your friends’ places at three in the morning? Like I haven’t called you every single week—”
“Well, I want you to stop that!” your words spit at him like weak knives, growing louder by the second.
“You didn’t seem very against it the last forty times.”
“I am now.”
“What has gotten into you, splints?”
“Don’t call me that right now,” you glower, and you try to ignore the hurt flashing across his expression. “I’m just sick of seeing you follow her around like some wet dog. She doesn’t see you like that, can’t you see that?”
Your breathing begins to stutter, and you suck in a deep breath through your nose. Your chest stings, and you pray that you don’t lose composure so the tears threatening to bubble at the corners of your eyes remain hidden.
“You told me that you couldn’t give me what I wanted. Well, she can’t either,” you bore holes into his chest, too afraid of what you might see if you look up. “If I can get over my stupid feelings, so can you.”
But you’re not over it. Not at all.
He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. For the first time in a while, you’ve rendered him speechless, and it feels even worse than what it felt to be rejected years ago. You’re not sure how your nails haven’t drawn blood at this point. You’d rather that they do, so you have some excuse to use the restroom.
“It’s not fair what you do, Caleb,” you try to will your tears to stay at bay, but you can’t help them. They sting, blurring your vision as you drop your head in some pathetic hope that he won’t face them head on. “How you treat me when you don’t like me like that is not fair. At least MC doesn’t know, but you—you know, and yet you—”
The rational part of you says that it’s not entirely his fault. Sure, you insisted on staying by his side. Sure, you insisted that you could push down your feelings. Sure, you’ve promised a lot of things, but it’s his fault too, for being the way he is—so kind, so thoughtful, just so him.
You wipe desperately at your tears. It was a lost cause from the start.
“Please don’t cry.” His face drains of color, apparent even against the dim lighting in his apartment. He steps towards you, and you take a step back. “Please don’t cry, splints, just not that.”
But when your tears refuse to cease dripping down your cheeks, your face flushing in humiliation, you feel both his hands cupping either side of it. He tilts your gaze up, and you realize that he’s only inches away from you, so much so that you can feel his breath against your skin. It’s moments like these that you lose yourself in his beauty. The deepness of his eyes that seem to peer into your very soul is one of the first features that you fell in love with as a child, and it hasn’t changed since. Damn him. You blink, eyes wide while his own flicker to your lips.
“Be as mad as you want. Hit me, hate me even,” he whispers, his nose almost touching yours now. His thumb pad smooths your tears away. “But don’t waste your tears on someone like me.”
You think you might be imagining things. Because with the tension that nearly suffocates you and his lashes almost fluttering against your skin, you think he might be about to kiss you.
A sharp pain jabs you in the chest. Is it pity? A consolation prize dressed up as something softer? Is it to smooth things over, to make this moment easier for him to leave behind? Or is it rebellion? Something reckless from the fact that he can’t have her? Your tears have dried up, but the rest of your body seems to weep, as no excitement, no butterflies course through your veins.
Why is it always something else? Why is it never you? It only hurts—because even now, you’re just the place he empties everything he feels for her.
Instinctively, you press your palm into his lips to push him away, and it feels like the air itself has stilled.
His breath lingers against your skin. Yours stutters like it’s forgotten how to exist in the same space as him. The air is so thick you could slice it with a knife.
Eventually, he pulls away. Caleb stares at you with an expression you haven’t seen before, though you don’t look long enough to analyze it. Wordlessly, you gather your things, stuffing your jacket into your bag and stumble over to the door—all while he stays locked in a petrified state, like he’s processing what he just did. Your gaze remains fixated on the wooden panels of the floor while you pack, refusing to look any higher in case you might see anything other than his feet.
“Don’t follow me,” you tell him as you leave.
You don’t wait to see if he hears you.
The journey home feels like there’s a gaping hole in your chest, and all you can do is stare out the window as you feel the vibrations of the train through your fingertips. Outside, the world blurs past in streaks of dim lights and shadowed shapes, and you wish that your feelings were as fleeting as the buildings blurring by.
You try to count the number of trees you see. Not on the warmth of his breath against your palm. Not on how close he’d been. Not on the fact that, for a second, you almost let him.
If you hadn’t pushed him away, would it have meant anything? Or would you have just been a mistake he’d regret in the morning?
Your phone buzzes frantically in your pocket, and you pull it out to see his name in big bold letters. He’s texting you simultaneously, apologizing in so many different ways that they all start to blend into one message you don’t plan on reading. You refuse to give into what your heart wants. It’s hurt you too much in the past. So instead, your thumb hovers above the ‘mute’ button.
You press it and shut your eyes.
Even if it’s difficult to adjust the first few weeks without him, you can’t bear to face him either. He shows up at your door. Nearly every day for some time, knocking softly and asking if you’d be willing to talk. When you simply plug in your earbuds and bury yourself into your bed, he apologizes through the door and leaves you something to eat. You tend to throw it out at first, but after a while, you figure it’s just a waste. Just like that, a month goes by. And then another. Then another. Until you can’t count them on one hand anymore. He comes by once every two weeks or so now, likely busy with his work.
Despite how much your body seems to miss his presence, you wonder if you should distance Caleb permanently. It’s a daunting idea. One that you never would’ve thought just a few years ago, but the embarrassment runs deeper than you want to admit. The feelings you’ve tried so hard to hide clearly aren’t hidden. Is this sustainable?
Regardless of what you think, he comes around like clockwork.
“Are you in there?” He knocks gently on your door, voice soft. He probably knows you are.
“No.”
He chuckles from the other end. “Right. Happy birthday, splints.”
You glance at your phone calendar. He’s right.
As usual, he begins to talk about random events in his life that he hasn’t had the opportunity to tell you, and while you usually muffle it out, you decide to quietly shuffle over to the door today. To tell him, maybe, that you don’t want to keep doing this. Or maybe just to hear his voice, you don’t know. Either way, you slide your back down the door where he’s on the other side, pulling your knees into your chest.
“I don’t know if you’ve read my text, but–”
“I don’t read them.”
Caleb stops, and you can almost hear his breath hitch. You usually don’t give him more than a few words, much less a full sentence, so it seems to have taken him aback. After the brief remission, you hear him clear your throat. “Splints, can you open the door? I want to talk—apologize to you.”
Silence.
“Or I can do it out here. That’s fine,” he sighs. “I want you to know that it’s okay if you want to hate me forever after this. I won’t keep clinging to you if you at listen to what I have to say, but I really just—I need to say that this is my fault.”
You half-heartedly hear his words drone on, his confidence wavering every so often while you pull up his chats on your phone. You have no idea how you hadn’t folded and read his chats until now, though it might’ve been more so for your own peace than anything. There’s too many to scroll up to, so you read the most recent messages, squinting in the dark against the light of your phone.
[1:41PM]
[caleb]: are you eating well?
[caleb]: i made this today
[caleb]: [image attached]
[caleb]: your favorite dishes :) i’ll drop them off at your place later
[caleb]: i hope you’re not just throwing them out…wouldn’t blame you tho
[caleb]: at least take care of yourself :)
[8:13AM]
[caleb]: hi splints :)
[caleb]: you probably watched it already but that movie you wanted to see came out a week ago. I went to go see it
[caleb]: i still think it’s kind of bad…but it was entertaining
[caleb]: unless you wanna argue about it ?? :3
[5:32PM]
[caleb]: ranked first today
[caleb]: i was excited to celebrate it with you and then remembered :/
[caleb]: it doesn’t feel as good when i can’t tell you lol
[caleb]: hope you’re okay
[11:23PM]
[caleb]: i wish i hadn’t been so stupid
[caleb]: i didn’t deserve you back then
[caleb]: i still don’t
[caleb]: i shouldn’t have lost my cool when you were over here. didn’t like hearing you talk about that guy like that
[caleb]: im sure he’s a good looking guy, and i know you’re particularly weak to good looking guys…
[caleb]: i was being childish and i wish i could’ve explained it to you then
[caleb]: i know you don’t owe me anything and you don’t have to listen to what i have to say
[caleb]: but i never wanted to make you feel used, and i never did. if that even sounds believable lol
[caleb]: it was never about her
[caleb]: there’s so much more i want to say but i’ll say it in person
[caleb]: miss you a lot
[caleb]: sleep tight
You wish the tightness in your chest would go away. You wish you didn’t feel his sorrow through him. And you wish you didn’t care about your own feelings for him.
“I love you, splints,” he murmurs, and your attention tears away from the chats, your phone nearly clattering onto the floor. Your eyes widen, suddenly regretting that you missed the first half of his speech.
“Not in the way you say it to your friends, or the way you say it to family. You’re my life, and you’ve been my life since the day you gave me that ring. I care for MC, but what I feel for you is different. It’s always been different. I realized that years ago, but I was afraid that it wouldn’t be fair for you. I thought you deserved someone better than someone who doesn’t know how to understand their own feelings.” Your throat dries. “I thought it wasn’t fair because I’d already put you through so much.”
“At the same time, I’m a selfish guy, you know? I couldn’t let you go either, because I couldn’t bear to see you with someone else. I wanted it to be us, and the only way I could think of existing without feeling like I was ruining you was to stay how we were. Stagnant, I guess,” he chuckles, but it feels sad. Weak. “I’m an idiot when it comes to you, you know.”
You don’t respond.
Not because you don’t have anything to say—if anything, there’s too much. It crowds your throat, every word scraping against the next until none of them can make it out. Your fingers hover uselessly over your phone, screen still lit with a conversation you can’t even remember reading.
‘I love you.’
The words echo, but they don’t land the way you once dreamed they would. They don’t bloom or soften or fix anything. They just sit. Too heavy. Too late.
Your chest tightens, aching outward like it’s trying to break free. Because you’ve wanted this—God, you’ve wanted this—for so long that you stopped letting yourself imagine it could ever actually happen. It should feel like relief. Instead, it feels real, but fragile.
Because you remember too much. The almosts. The waiting. The way you learned how to swallow your emotions when he built a wall between the two of you—and that doesn’t disappear just because he finally found the words.
Your hand curls slightly against the door, fingers brushing the cool surface.
Even with all that, you still miss the warmth of his skin. How his hair felt through a towel as you dried it. How he’d flick your forehead when you’d get a question wrong during one of his tutoring sessions. How he’d tease you about your grades or interests, and learn more about them anyway. How he’d message you throughout the day about random endeavors. How he’d always be there. How with just a call of his name, he would’ve crossed the continents for you. His eyes. His lips. His face. His painfully handsome face.
You remember him in all parts of your life—and not a single moment you’ve spared has gone without him. You remember how he held your hand when you’d broken your arm, and the way he’d lifted you into the air and embraced you when you were accepted into the same college as him. You remember how he’d pet your hair as you complained about him going too far for the DAA, promising he’d visit often. And he did. He always kept his promises.
Your body moves on its own, as if this was how it was always meant to be. The door slowly creaks open.
“…We’re a mess.”
A faint, tired smile is all you can give him. Still, when he sees you, the world seems to stop for just the two of you, and it takes him a moment to fully register that you’re really there. That you’re not just a figment of his imagination, and he hasn’t truly lost you forever as he’d feared. “This doesn’t mean you’re completely out of the woods. I’m still mad.”
“You should be,” he whispers out, nearly breathless.
Hesitantly, you step towards him. He reaches his arm out, brows furrowed cautiously like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to even blink right now. The tips of his fingers twitch towards you. You raise a brow, and he swallows the lump in his throat, retracting back until you nod.
Realizing you don’t have shoes, you step onto the fronts of his shoes one foot at a time, taking his hand until you’re flush against him and he’s already engulfing you into a crushing embrace. His arms wrap around you, strong and warm. He smells good. Though you can’t confidently say the same for yourself given the state you’re in, he drops his chin into the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, like a man starved.
“Note to self,” you mumble. “Don’t propose to any handsome guy you see.”
Caleb laughs, airy this time, and you feel it against your collarbone. “I thought you were going to leave your husband out here to die in the cold.”
“I should divorce you. We’re not even married yet.”
He grins, lopsided. “You should.”
“I won’t.”
“I know.
You bury your face into his chest, fingers digging into the fabric on his back. “I don’t want a version of my life without you, Caleb. As annoying as you are.”
He pulls away for a brief moment and places a kiss on your cheek, his own dusting red. Flowers feel like they’re blooming on the spot he pecked, but somehow, it feels natural. You’ve always been close to him physically throughout your upbringing, even if it never involved lips–that was new territory. You cross your arms, relying on his hands around your waist to keep you upright. “Tell me more.”
“You nag too much.”
He kisses your nose. “Hm?”
“You’re emotionally repressed.”
“Ouch.” He kisses your temple.
“You’re too good at things you don’t try at.”
Your jawline.
“You’re unstable. You’re too protective. You’re stupid.”
“I love you,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours. His lips hover above your own, just centimeters away.
Your lashes flutter against his. “Then prove it to me.”
“I will,” he whispers, just as his mouth slots against yours, and a warmth blooms throughout your chest. You melt into him, like you always have and you always will. “I’ll prove it to you for the rest of my life.”
the comment just slips out of nobara’s mouth like it’s nothing. “honestly, he’s like a dog.”
you blink. “who?”
she levels you with a bland look. “who do you think?”
she nods her head to yuji, who’s walking past with megumi. he’s all smiles and as if summoned by the universe itself, he looks up, eyes landing on you. his smile softens, he waves.
your heart does an embarrassing little somersault.
nobara leans in. “exhibit a.”
“i don’t see it,” you say weakly.
“if he had a tail, it’d be wagging right now. he likes you.”
“…no, he doesn’t,” you mumble unconvincingly.
“please. he’ll start bringing you sticks if you asked.”
you feel heat creep up your neck. “you’re exaggerating.”
nobara snorts. “am i? call him a good boy, see what happens.”
“i am not doing that,” you choke.
she just hums, already bored with your resistance. “suit yourself. you’re missing out on prime entertainment.”
so, naturally, later, when you and yuji are asked to pick up supplies from storage (extra training mats? you weren’t quite sure), nobara’s words linger in the back of your mind.
he grabs the boxes without complaint, and reaches over to add the ones you had in your arms to his pile.
“i got those,” he says, easy and bright.
“yuji, you’re already carrying like—five.”
he grins. “six isn’t that different.”
your chest does that stupid flip again, and: “thanks,” you say softly. “you’re such a good boy.”
silence.
yuji freezes mid-step, and you immediately regret everything.
“i didn’t mean—i mean, i did mean it, but not like—i just—” you start rambling, heat flooding your face.
he turns to look at you, and oh.
if nobara had been exaggerating before, she isn’t now.
his ears are bright red, eyes wide, and his smile, that usual easy grin of his, has gone all shy around the edges.
“i—what—” he stammers, voice cracking. “wha—did you just….”
you briefly consider faking your own death. “i just meant—”
his expression softens, deepens, turns warm and a little dazed. “say it again,” he blurts.
you blink. “what?”
“th-that,” he says, flustered. “what you just said.”
your pulse is loud in your ears. “…good boy?”
if possible, he gets even redder.
“man,” he laughs nervously, ducking his head. “that—uh—felt really nice.”
your heart melts, reduced to a puddle on the floor.
“it wasn’t, like…weird?”
“no!” he blurts immediately. “i, uh—you can say it again. only if you want to! just—yeah.”
he looks at you with those soft brown eyes, that gentle smile.
nobara was right.
you smile despite it. “c’mon, good boy. let’s drop these off.”
you don’t miss the way his entire face lights up this time “right!” he says, grinning. “i got it!”
yeah. if he had a tail, it’d be knocking things over.
the comment just slips out of nobara’s mouth like it’s nothing. “honestly, he’s like a dog.”
you blink. “who?”
she levels you with a bland look. “who do you think?”
she nods her head to yuji, who’s walking past with megumi. he’s all smiles and as if summoned by the universe itself, he looks up, eyes landing on you. his smile softens, he waves.
your heart does an embarrassing little somersault.
nobara leans in. “exhibit a.”
“i don’t see it,” you say weakly.
“if he had a tail, it’d be wagging right now. he likes you.”
“…no, he doesn’t,” you mumble unconvincingly.
“please. he’ll start bringing you sticks if you asked.”
you feel heat creep up your neck. “you’re exaggerating.”
nobara snorts. “am i? call him a good boy, see what happens.”
“i am not doing that,” you choke.
she just hums, already bored with your resistance. “suit yourself. you’re missing out on prime entertainment.”
so, naturally, later, when you and yuji are asked to pick up supplies from storage (extra training mats? you weren’t quite sure), nobara’s words linger in the back of your mind.
he grabs the boxes without complaint, and reaches over to add the ones you had in your arms to his pile.
“i got those,” he says, easy and bright.
“yuji, you’re already carrying like—five.”
he grins. “six isn’t that different.”
your chest does that stupid flip again, and: “thanks,” you say softly. “you’re such a good boy.”
silence.
yuji freezes mid-step, and you immediately regret everything.
“i didn’t mean—i mean, i did mean it, but not like—i just—” you start rambling, heat flooding your face.
he turns to look at you, and oh.
if nobara had been exaggerating before, she isn’t now.
his ears are bright red, eyes wide, and his smile, that usual easy grin of his, has gone all shy around the edges.
“i—what—” he stammers, voice cracking. “wha—did you just….”
you briefly consider faking your own death. “i just meant—”
his expression softens, deepens, turns warm and a little dazed. “say it again,” he blurts.
you blink. “what?”
“th-that,” he says, flustered. “what you just said.”
your pulse is loud in your ears. “…good boy?”
if possible, he gets even redder.
“man,” he laughs nervously, ducking his head. “that—uh—felt really nice.”
your heart melts, reduced to a puddle on the floor.
“it wasn’t, like…weird?”
“no!” he blurts immediately. “i, uh—you can say it again. only if you want to! just—yeah.”
he looks at you with those soft brown eyes, that gentle smile.
nobara was right.
you smile despite it. “c’mon, good boy. let’s drop these off.”
you don’t miss the way his entire face lights up this time “right!” he says, grinning. “i got it!”
yeah. if he had a tail, it’d be knocking things over.
