— synopsis: it's too hot, but you want to keep hugging caleb. luckily, you know the most optimal way to hug.
— note/s: literal na lutong-luto na ako. para akong nilagay sa kalan tapos tinakpan ng takip. di na nga air fryer to bro sunog-levels na. i JUST stepped outside for five minutes and i swear i felt my soul leaving my body. yung electric fan? useless. parang lang siyang sinampal ako ng mainit na hangin. "oh gusto mo ba ng hangin? o eto, lasang impyerno!!" braah ang init talaga gr LIKE BRO. I STEPPED on this innocent-looking banig sa sementeryo as in, "oh wow, ganda ng view, tahimik dito, imissyoulolo" TAPOS BIGLANG BLAZING CIRCLE OF PAIN. BAKIT PARANG I NAPAKO SA KRUS NG KALDERETA??? barefoot ako syempre respectfullll. tapos BOOM. pag-apak ko, kinuyog ako ng init. hindi ako nakiramay AKO 'yung nilibing. pinadala ako ni banig sa kabilang buhay. BRO I LOOKED AT THE SKY LIKE "lord, si lolo po yung dinalaw ko, bakit ako yung sinusundo?" and syempre, pinilit kong hindi mag-react in front of my fam like, "hmm yes, solemn moment, deep thoughts" rest in peace sa talampakan ko. kasama ka na kay lolo.
the room is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels deep and comfortable, like everything is perfectly in place. the air conditioning hums softly in the corner, providing a steady coolness that contrasts with the warmth of the blankets. you roll onto your side, eyes squinting at the ceiling as you try to get comfortable. the heat from the covers is way too much. you can feel your body starting to overheat, but you’re not quite ready to let go of the cocoon of warmth either.
caleb's already in his own little world next to you. his back is to you, his chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic breaths. the dim glow from the nightlight illuminates his silhouette. his arm is thrown across his face, shielding his eyes from the soft light.
you lie there, thinking about it for a moment. you really do want to cuddle—just not the typical way. you need to be close, but you can’t handle the heat of your arms all tangled up with his. it’s like having a personal heater shoved right into your side.
so, without much thought, you turn to face him, adjusting the blanket and maneuvering to settle your legs around his body, one leg draping over his waist, the other over his thigh. it's a bit of a sideways hug, your legs winding around him like a gentle vine. you nestle your head into the pillow, satisfied with your makeshift solution.
you can’t help but feel a little pleased with yourself. this is perfect. cold, but still hugging.
you hear caleb shift, and you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes, watching as he slowly pulls his arm from his face, blinking sleepily at your creative, chilly embrace.
“...are you wrestling me in your sleep?” his voice is rough with sleep, a little groggy but still playful.
you don’t answer at first, instead squirming closer, adjusting your legs to get even more comfortable. “nope. not wrestling. hugging. with my legs.”
caleb stares at you for a moment, the corner of his lips twitching. “that’s… not how hugging works.”
you giggle sleepily, the sound almost drowning in the softness of the room. “it does now. arms are too hot. legs are more efficient.”
he lifts his head a little more, watching you with amusement as he takes in your ridiculous but endearing position. “you’re strange, you know that?” he mutters, still with a smile in his voice.
“i’m cool.” you roll your eyes dramatically. “i’m hugging you with my legs because i’m too hot for a regular hug.”
he snorts, trying to hold back a laugh, but he can’t stop it. the warmth in his chest builds, but it’s the good kind. the kind that makes him reach out, fingers grazing over your leg where it’s draped across his body, a touch that’s casual but tender all the same.
“you’re cold enough that i might need a blanket for both of us,” he says, his voice low and teasing. his fingers slowly trace the outline of your leg, making small circles against your skin. it’s a simple gesture, but the affection behind it makes you feel like you’re floating.
you stretch your legs a little further, the coolness of your toes brushing against his side, and he shudders lightly. “see? optimal cold hug,” you say, snuggling in deeper, your head resting against his shoulder now. you don’t care about the position anymore; it’s the closeness that matters. “arms are overrated anyway. legs are the future.”
caleb can’t help but chuckle softly, the sound warm and lazy. “future of hugging, huh?” his voice carries that playful edge you’ve grown used to, but there’s an undertone to it—a softness, a quiet affection that he doesn't bother hiding. he pulls you closer with a slight tug of your leg, his chest now pressed to your back, and his arm wrapping around your waist as if it’s second nature.
you let out a contented sigh, your body relaxing under the weight of his arm and the warmth of his presence. there’s a certain magic in the way he always knows just how to make you feel safe—whether it’s through small gestures like this or the way he always seems to understand you without words.
for a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the soft rustle of the sheets, and the faint hum of the air conditioning. you can feel the heat of his body mingling with the coolness of yours, and despite the small, almost ridiculous hug you’ve devised, it feels perfect.
“you’re so weird,” caleb murmurs into the silence, but there’s no bite to it. it’s not a complaint; it’s more of a resigned observation, like he’s just come to accept it. “but you’re also the best, you know that?”
you smile, the kind of lazy smile that only comes after a long day of being with someone you care about. “yeah, i know. i’m awesome. you should be grateful you get to hug me with my superior leg-hugging technology.”
he laughs softly at that, the sound vibrating against your back. “i am. believe me, i am.”
there’s a comfortable silence again, the kind you only find when everything feels right. the kind where, even though you’re half-arguing over leg-hugging efficiency, there’s nothing you’d rather be doing than lying next to him.
caleb’s hand moves, absentmindedly rubbing up and down your leg, and you feel the warmth of his fingers sink into your skin, the slight pressure a reminder of how close you are. how much you mean to him.
eventually, his hand stills, and his breath evens out. you’re not sure if he’s asleep yet, but you can feel the rhythm of his heart slow, his body relaxing into the mattress beneath you.
“hey, caleb?” you murmur, your voice soft, barely above a whisper.
“mhm?” he doesn’t open his eyes, but you can tell he’s listening.
“just so you know, i’m never letting you go.”
his lips brush your forehead, soft and brief, before he answers in that low, almost-dreamy tone of his. “good. i wouldn’t want you to.”
and with that, you both drift off, a tangled mess of limbs, warmth, and coldness, two halves of a whole.
They have eachother's 1x1 ID photos in their IDs mhm mhm. People on twt and tiktok have pointed out that the school uniforms match actual science highschools ??? that wasnt intentional HUAHSUHDF I just used orange bc its caleb's color T_T
people who write their fics directly onto archive of our own site do not fear death by the way
in all seriousness, please always keep backups of your works, write them somewhere else (google doc is a good choice) then copy and paste onto ao3 when you're done, because ao3 itself does not automatically save your works for you, meaning you can lose all of your progress
Thinking about Caleb x non-mc!Reader but is inspired by those common filipino AU's
Where Caleb is just using non-mc!Reader as a rebound and backburner he’s trapping them in a cruel, quiet kind of love, one where they almost have him, but never fully. They get his time, his touch, his words but never his heart.
What's the difference of a backburner and rebound when it's both Non-mc!Reader?
Because no matter what, Caleb is still shackled to the ghost of his first love — MC And is she dead? No. But God, he grieves her like she is.
The worst part? Non-MC!Reader doesn’t even know.
She thinks Caleb is the sweetest man in the world. non-mc!Reader loves talking about him, loves telling her friends and family how he treats her exactly the way she’s always wanted gentle, thoughtful, perfect. They’re happy for her, relieved that she’s finally found something good after everything she’s been through. They tell her she deserves this. That she’s finally free from her past toxic relationships.
Oh, if only they knew that she had only walked into another storm one far worse than before.
Caleb gives her his time never rushing, never making her feel unwanted. He pulls her into the kind of embraces that melt the weight of the world off her shoulders. He spoils her with gifts, ones so perfectly chosen that she swears he must know her better than anyone ever has. But it’s all a lie. A lie wrapped in warmth, dressed in devotion, whispered in the softest I love yous that taste like poison if you know where to look.
Because Caleb only touches her when his chest feels too hollow, when the emptiness is suffocating, and he needs something — Anything to fill it. She is not a person to him, not really. She is a remedy. A crutch. A proxy for the love that still lingers like an open wound in his ribs. She is a bandage that will eventually be discarded.
She doesn’t know that the nights he spends with her are the ones where the yearning for MC is unbearable, when he can’t stand the silence, when the weight of her absence crushes him so violently that he has to reach for someone—anyone.
And that someone happened to be poor non-mc!Reader
So Caleb holds Non-mc!Reader close. He kisses her softly. And then he closes his eyes because if he closes them tight enough, if he lets the world blur and fade, he can pretend.
Pretend it’s her. Pretend he’s been given a second chance. Pretend that for just one moment, he didn’t lose the only thing he’s ever truly wanted.
And the gifts.. God, the gifts. Thoughtful, expensive, beautiful. But never ones that truly belong to non-mc!Reader. No. They are always just a little off. The right brand, the right color, the right design just not for her. Does she ever wonder why Caleb never asks what she wants? Why he never surprises her with something that only she would love? Because those gifts, weren't supposed to be hers.
How strange… Didn’t she tell him what her favorite flowers were? She remembers the conversation vividly how she described them with so much excitement, how he nodded along, smiling as if he was committing every word to memory. And yet, time and time again, he gives her the same flowers. The ones she never would have chosen for herself. The ones that don’t quite fit her but it's okay, it's the thought that counts yeah?
Or maybe just maybe she wonders why Caleb never looks her in the eyes when he says I love you. Why, whenever he holds her, he lets his lashes flutter shut, breath hitching like he’s chasing the ghost of a memory.
Because when his eyes are closed, she doesn’t exist.
When his eyes are closed, he gets to have her again.
And when he opens them when reality sets in, cruel and unrelenting he still stays.
Because to Caleb something is better than nothing Even if that something is a lie.
Bye crying should I write something like this? The pinoy side in me is raging
Caleb X AFAB! Reader in which he's a senior in your school, campus crush kuno 😚
"Hey (Y/N)! Caleb's here again" A classmate spoke, spurring murmurs once again as others checked the front door, finding the ravenette leaning against it with a small amused grin. Purple eyes staring at his longtime childhood friend.
"your hair's a mess, did you fall asleep during class again?" He couldn't help but tease, gently flicking the strand of hair that stood atop her head, then dodging her hands that tried to swat him away.
"What? You don't like me visiting you during your free period?" He puffed a bit, watching her eyes roll when she mentioned how he was being a nuisance. "Your classmates don't seem to think the same~" he cooed, glancing at the girls who happily waved at him, even playfully waving back which annoyed her.
He could tell too. He knew how to press her buttons, how small interactions with others somehow pressed her.
he liked these small moments, how he knew her schedule, always taking time to visit during their vacant hours.
Hell, he even takes the long route from the bathroom just to get a glimpse of her in class.
After all, she was his crush.
His first love.
The girl he was courting.
And everyone practically knew of this.
With his popularity, he made sure everyone knew this.
Whether it was walking her to the classroom, or accompanying her to the cafeteria.
"why are you even here?" She yawned, wiping her eyes before flinching as a cold can pressed against her forehead. "You were up studying again, weren't you?" He smiled. "I made sure to get you some coffee and snacks while I was at the canteen" he added, gaining some coos from the class that were obviously evesdropping.
"seriously??? I could have gotten these myself!" She whined, glaring at her friends that were teasing in the background. "Why would I let such a pipsqueak walk aaaalll the way to the cafeteria? With your short legs it'll take hours before you get there~" he teased, laughing when she tried to kick his leg. "See? Can't even reach me~" he joked
"alright alright! Thank you for the snacks.." she sighed. "It's not for free pipsqueak" he chucked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Always ever so casual, so carefree.
He was quick to pull her to his side. "You guys don't have class for an hour yeah? Let me borrow her for now~" he told her friends, dragging her away from everybody despite her small complaints before they both walked to their usual hangout spot.
A bench by the campus' biggest tree. Caleb was quick to take his jacket off, folding it into a square before placing it on his lap, looking back at her and patting the spot he just made. "Come on, the breeze is nice and the sun isn't too up our face today, good nap spot don't you think?" He grinned
"you came all the way to kidnap me just to get me to nap??" She asked before she was pulled to lay on the bench, her head on that jacket turned pillow as his hand playfully pressed against her eyes. "Shhhh, I was actually just going to check on you but seeing how rowdy your classroom was, I knew you wouldn't be able to nap there" he chuckled.
"don't worry, we're pretty hidden here, the teachers won't spot us" he added. "I'll wake you up after an hour, deal?" He said while she sighed, unable to say no.
Not when it was so... Peaceful.
So comfortable.
"you're dead if you wake me up late" She warned before hearing his soft chuckle. "I wouldn't want to die by your small hands" he hummed. "Go on, I'll be here when you wake up"
Friends of his sometimes walked past the two, looking for the ravenette who ditched his class, but Caleb paid them no mind, even urging them to keep quiet and go away.
Not that they can ever do anything about it, after all
Caleb's first priority will always be her. Academics comes next.
This is going to get weirdly personal, but I think the reason I love Caleb so much is because I just sincerely cannot remember majority of my past. The things I do remember feel like I'm watching someone else's life.
It was like one day, I suddenly gained consciousness and I became deeply afraid of everything. I walked by my old school and I felt genuinely nauseous. Like I carried the weight of someone else's nostalgia. It was a horrifying feeling. Usually, when I think of my past I treat it like it never happened, at least, not to me. When I met that familiar place it was like I had to come to terms that it really did happen. I was born and I had friends.
I have become so disconnected from my past. I talk to no one I knew, I don't speak to my extended family, I just am who I am now. I lack any hardened roots. It was like I just appeared. Caleb is someone who solidifies mc's existence. She remembers none of her abuse, all she knows is the warmth of her makeshift family that Caleb desperately kept together for her sake.
Her identity and past is all inside of him, and he loves her. He knows who she was, and watched as she became the person she is now. Currently, he is dealing with the anxiety of her possibly growing out of needing him. That's why he continues referring to their past together, he reminds her that he is simply an extension of her that she needs to complete this empty half of herself that she can't recall. And he recalls all of it in such a comfortable warmth. Every second with her was beautiful to him, it still is.
That type of love just really draws me to him. All the LIs in their respective ways bring agency to mc and allow her to become her own, but for me Caleb does it in a very unique way. He reminds mc she is a person. That her memories are her own, that she didn't imagine them. He is her witness. She feels tangible with him, that her past is not a ghost, but something real and felt by other people. That she was not just passing through life and through others. With Caleb, her past is not a burden given to her through disconnected visions, but filtered through his love for her.
SYNOPSIS. you are twenty-two when a twenty-four year old caleb dies in a burst of flames, leaving you to navigate life without the gravity that had once kept you grounded.
TAGS. set before long-awaited revelry and homecoming wings. angst. hurt no comfort (slight comfort from zayne actually). discussions of death and grieving the dead. codependency, heavy on codependency. suicidal ideation. survivor's guilt. self-hatred. mentions of vomiting. use of gege (literally once).
EXPLOSION AT 502 SUNSET STREET, BLOOMSHORE DISTRICT
2 deaths. No evidence of human-triggered detonation detected. No remains of any detonation device found. The deceased were not known to have had disputes or financial conflicts of interest with any others. According to the evidence gathered, this was an accident caused by Metaflux fluctuation.
You are twenty-two, fresh out of the Hunter Academy, and days into your job as a Deepspace hunter when you bury a twenty-four year old Caleb.
Caleb is twenty-four and dead. He will forever be twenty-four now, memorialized as a young man robbed of his bright future due to a freak accident—as a hero gone too soon. His funeral is certainly that of one, only the best for the top fighter pilot of the Deepspace Aviation Administration.
Rain pours midway through the ceremony. It is only fitting, you think, for the heavens to cry for the boy who had once loved to fly in its skies. Perhaps they were angry that he hadn't died in their embrace—that he died in a burst of flames on the ground instead of in the clouds.
“He was the best us,” Gideon says once the ceremony came to a close. He stands a step behind you as you remain still in front of Caleb's grave.
For a moment, only the pouring rain can be heard. “He was the best of me.” You reply, voice shaking, finally betraying the stoicness you had shown throughout the ceremony. “And I killed him.”
It should have been you. The words ring continuously in your head, drowning out whatever placations Gideon had to offer. Caleb—bright, funny, and charismatic—is dead and it is your fault. It shouldn't be like this. Caleb should be flying in the skies, kissing the clouds. He should be doing those godforsaken power loops with his fighter jet. He should be performing the tricks that never fail to make your heart falter in your chest from pure worry for his well-being—the tricks that he performs every time you visit just to catch your attention and earn your praise.
He shouldn't be dead and buried six feet under, far away from the skies he loved enough to leave you behind for. You never quite forgave him for leaving you all those years ago. It feels petty now, foolish even. You will never get those purposefully missed calls back. You will never get back the summers you spent not going home. The missed opportunities, the wasted time—all of it has been reduced to ash. You will never be able to go home to him again. And for what? Because you were petty? Because you wanted to give him a taste of what it was like to be left behind?
You have always been prideful. Caleb never failed to tease you about it, but he also never failed to indulge you. Now look at where that pride has gotten you. Caleb is buried six feet under where you now stand. Your pride has killed him. He has truly left you now. He is dead and took your heart with him. In the end, the one who was truly left behind was you, not him.
Where Caleb Xia goes, you are quick to follow. It is a simple and known truth. One Zayne Li knows all too well. It is a truth that has him driving frantically in the pouring rain after a long day full of surgeries and consultations.
Where Caleb goes, you follow. Zayne has known this since the beginning, so can you really fault him for fearing that you'd follow him into his grave?
It is still raining by the time Zayne finds you on your knees at the foot of Caleb's grave. Whether it was due to sheer exhaustion or the desire to bury yourself with him, he didn't know. All he knew was that it was his first time seeing your eyes that empty—soulless even. In all his childhood memories, your eyes had always been bright, so full of life that he was convinced that the sun itself shone in your eyes. Now though, they were dead. As if all the life in them had been snuffed out.
Death is no stranger to Zayne. It was something he dealt with daily, being a doctor and all. And yet, despite all his familiarity with death, Zayne didn't quite know what to say to you, and so he doesn't. Instead, he tips his umbrella slightly forward, shielding you from the pouring rain.
You say nothing. Still, it is far from silent between the two of you. Besides the downpour of rain, the sound of your chattering teeth rings loudly in his ears. Zayne frowns, removing his coat to drape it over your shoulders. “I didn't discharge you just so you could give yourself hypothermia.”
“Maybe hypothermia will do what the explosion couldn't.”
Zayne's frown deepens, but you continue speaking before he could retort. “It just— it doesn't make sense. The explosion… even if it was a freak accident. I shouldn't have been this unscathed.” You stare down at the now soaked bandages covering the palms of your hands. Zayne follows your gaze, making a mental note to redress your wounds. “I was only a few steps behind him, you know?” Your tear-filled eyes meet Zayne's hazel ones. “He controlled the blast, didn't he? Contained it and bore the brunt of it like an utter fool?”
Your words echo Zayne's own suspicions. In fact, they are true enough. Given your proximity to the explosion, a few scrapes and a concussion simply don’t make sense. No matter your training as a Deepspace hunter, you are still human, and your life was as fickle as anyone else’s.
You scoff when Zayne confirms your suspicions. “Of course, he did. That self-sacrificing idiot. I was right behind him. It… it doesn't make sense that I didn't die alongside him.”
“Caleb would’ve wanted you to live,” he says, voice hard while placing a firm hand on your shoulder as if his grip would stop you from following Caleb down under.
Where Caleb goes, you follow. It is a simple and haunting truth. One that Zayne wishes to prevent, most of all.
The fire is raging. It is all-consuming, leaving your childhood home in ruins. Smoke, black as coal, rises from its ashes. It is thick and heavy, assaulting your lungs and obscuring your vision as you desperately try to catch a glimpse of him.
Deep down, you know you won't. You’ve been here before. Nothing changes. In all iterations, his frowning face is always the last you see of him. Caleb always dies in a burst of flames, reduced to ash alongside Gran and the house you had once called home.
Except this time… he doesn't.
This time his body is tossed outward, landing a few meters away from your own. Like always, you crawl, but this time with more vigor. This time hope outweighs desperation. Maybe if you reach him in time, Caleb will live. Or maybe you'll die with him.
Everything hurts. Still, you crawl. Despite the heat from the raging flames. Despite the burning friction of the pavement. You crawl to him.
Oddly enough, Caleb seems as unscathed as you are. He is beautiful, but he is too still. Panic floods your veins. No, no, no… don't take him away from me. Please.
Whatever gods you were praying to don’t listen. Caleb remains still. His eyes remain shut. Maybe you should plead with him instead. Perhaps he was still mad and playing a cruel prank on you. Maybe if you beg, he'll open his eyes.
“Caleb.” You caress his cheek, but instead of leaning into your touch as he always does, he remains eerily still. “Open your eyes.”
Nothing.
“Caleb, please.”
You’re desperate now. Mad even. “Caleb, this isn't fucking funny. Open your eyes.” You're shaking him now, going against all the first aid protocol that was drilled into you at the academy.
You plead with him to wake up, patting his face with increasing force. Banging your firsts against his chest when he doesn't even stir.
Finally, his chest moves. You frantically try to meet his eyes, but they are squeezed shut in pain. His brows are furrowed as he wheezes, coughing up blood that stains your face red.
Horror floods your system. You scream, begging for forgiveness as blood continues to pool out of him, not just from his mouth but all over. His head, his eyes, his chest. Soon enough, all movement stops except for the flames that continue to rage on behind the two of you.
Caleb's eyes had long fluttered shut. The rise and fall of his chest had long ceased. The only movement from him was that of his own blood pouring out of him.
You killed him. In all iterations, you always end up killing him. Whether it be through pride, stubbornness, or dismissal. This, however, is the first time you killed him with your own hands.
You killed him. Youkilledhimyoukilledhimyoukilledhim—
Soaked in sweat and your heart thoroughly broken, you wake up screaming. In the end, nothing changes. Your dreams always end the same way. Caleb always dies at your hands.
It is a ping from your phone that stops you from spiralling any further than you already have.
Message from: Xavier
Are U okay?
Your hands shake as you type out a reply, so much so that you end up misclicking and opening your chat log with Caleb.
Message from: dummy caleb :P
I promise you'll see me every day when you wake up. ;)
The message taunts you. It mocks you because you don't—you never see him when you're awake. In your waking moments, all you see is the loss of him. It is only in dreams, in nightmares that he ever appears before your eyes. And even then, he only ever appears dead. Burned and broken. Missing an arm. Reduced to ash. Body broken in a pool of blood.
You hate sleeping. But you hate being awake even more.
Perhaps your dreams are punishment. Repentance bestowed upon you by the gods that dwell in the sky for driving their golden boy to death.
But if nightly torment is the only way you can see him, then so be it.
Message to: dummy caleb :P
You liar.
For someone who always seemed larger than life, it is laughable that all his personal belongings fit into a single box.
DAA jackets. The trinkets you'd mailed him as good luck charms whenever he had exams coming up. Lego models of the fighter jets he once flew. Pictures upon pictures of the two of you as children, then teenagers and eventually young adults. The way you'll never have pictures in old age doesn't escape your notice. It haunts you instead.
Was this really all his twenty-four years of life had amounted to? You frown, then berate yourself for your own stupidity. Of course not. Everything Caleb once had has been reduced to ash, lost in the explosion that took his life.
His jackets still smell like him. A mix of the laundry detergent he preferred, sweat, and the scent that was so uniquely him. It was the scent you always sought out whenever you hugged him, burying your nose into the crook of his neck. A scent that never failed you make you feel safe.
You wear one of his jackets to sleep that night. And for the first time since the explosion, you dream of happier times—of the childhood you will never get back.
The first time you have braised chicken wings after Caleb's death, you vomit.
Zayne rushes after you, holding your hair up as you vomit into the sink.
The memory of that disastrous dinner is more vivid than ever. Caleb had prepared braised chicken wings just for you that night, only for you to throw his efforts into his face and run off to play capable hunter.
Zayne hands you a glass of water, which you then use to rinse your mouth clean of any remaining bile. He lingers behind you, anxious and unsure of how to proceed. It is unlike the Zayne you know—self-assured with a quiet yet steady confidence.
“I'm sorry. I… I thought it would make you happy. Not upset you like this,” is what he settles on saying. His sincerity is so clear, so genuine that you can't help but hug him.
For a moment, he is frozen like the ice he commands. But then, slowly, he wraps his arms around you, enclosing you in a long overdue hug. And while it isn't as warm, as all-consuming as Caleb's once were, it is enough to make you cry in his arms.
Everything comes spilling out. Your regrets, your self-hatred, your loneliness.
And Zayne? He simply hugs you tighter, uncaring of the tears and snot that stain his cashmere sweater.
For those who are left behind, life goes on. You meet new people and create new memories. You move on, or so you like to tell yourself.
The memory of Caleb lingers. His absence colors every aspect of your life—every relationship you have.
The men who have recently entered (or re-entered in Zayne's case) mean well. They do; they truly do. But it isn't the same.
For all that Caleb liked to claim you ruined him, you know the truth of the matter: he ruined you first. He carved himself so deep into you that every person who came after him was unfairly subject to him and his care of you.
Try as they might, they weren’t Caleb. It's evident in the way Xavier cuts fruits a tad too thick and wonky. In the way you have to fight Rafayel tooth and nail for a turn at the claw machine. In the way Zayne offers you lukewarm water instead of ice cold whenever you find yourself at his apartment.
Would it be mean of you to say that you'd trade all of them just for another minute with Caleb?
Perhaps it is. And yet, it is still the truth.
You'd give up everything just to see Caleb alive and well again.
You are not a good person. A good person would have buried Caleb with the necklace he had once cherished. A good person would not have held onto the necklace as if it were a leash, as if it would anchor his ghost to you.
You are selfish, spoiled—the definition of a brat. You are were Caleb's brat though. His to discipline; his to cherish.
You are not a good person. A good person would pray that the departed have gone to a better place. A good person would not have cursed them to stay.
“You say I killed you—haunt me, then,” you say to the Caleb that appears in your dreams—the one who's bloodied and bruised, burns all over and missing an arm. The one who's six feet under instead of skies.
“Haunt me. Drive me mad.” You beg; you plead. “Just stay. In whatever form you can, stay. Don't leave me alone. Please.”
If he cannot love you enough to stay, then may he hate you instead. May he hate you enough to haunt you.
Caleb's grave is nestled under the protection of an Asiatic apple tree.
When you buried Caleb (and your heart alongside him), its flowers had yet to blossom. Now though, they are in full bloom. Its petals fall to the drift of the wind, cascading down and coloring Caleb's grave a soft pink.
You hate Asiatic apples. They have always taken Caleb away from you, blooming whenever he left for Skyhaven. So perhaps it's only fitting that his final resting place is under an Asiatic apple tree.
Some days you feel like you hate him. Other days, you recognize that the hatred you feel is just intense longing. Today, the former outweighs the latter. Of all promises to break, it had to be the first he ever made.
“I'm Caleb. I'll always be by your side.”
Except, he isn't. Not when he's dead while you're still breathing. Not when his jackets are slowly losing his scent. And certainly not when Asiatic apple flowers are blooming.
Grief comes in waves.
When it ebbs, you are able to walk with Zayne in the hospital gardens, throwing your head back as you laugh at his attempt at humor. But then… you catch a glimpse of the sky as a plane zooms by—Caleb. Grief crashes into you. Its chains cling to your feet, dragging you down to where he is—six feet under.
Your Caleb is no longer in the sky. The gravity he had once commanded dragged him back down to Earth. It dragged him down and down and down until his lifeless eyes could longer see the skies he had once been king of. Your Caleb is now with the worms and bugs he'd once collected for you as a child. He is dead.
Dear Caleb,
You know, sometimes, I want to hate you. Regretfully, sometimes I truly do. Of all the promises you could have broken, you really had to choose the one that mattered the most, didn't you? You said you'd always stay by my side, so why is it that I'm still breathing when you've long ceased to?
I shouldn't blame you. I know I shouldn't. I don't blame you. I just... I'm adrift without you. Whatever gravity anchored me died with you.
You know, I always used to say that I didn't need you anymore. That I was a big girl who didn't need your protection anymore. You always hated it whenever I'd say it. And no, don't lie. I know you. I know you hated it. And yet... you were still first to leave. You were first to deprive me of your presence.
Okay, maybe that was too much. Cruel even. I'm sorry. I know you had your reasons. Still, it doesn't change the hurt I felt whenever you'd leave for Skyhaven.
The truth of the matter is that I'll always need you. At heart, I still need my gege. But you made it so, didn't you? After all, I was spoiled rotten by your hands. Can't you take responsibility for me, ge? Can't you tell me where to put all this grief? Where am I supposed to put all my love for you now that you've left me?
— MC in an unsent letter to Caleb Xia, carefully tucked in between a scrapbook full of their childhood photos.
CHERRY'S NOTES. oh wow... this... this took forever because i kept crying while writing it 🥹 now you get to cry with me! 😋
jokes aside, i honestly feel like mc's grief hasn't fully been explored in canon yet, so i took it upon myself to write for my babies. no matter the route, i feel like MC has so much love for caleb—be platonic or romantic. her love for caleb defines her in so many ways, mainly through the actions she takes to uncover the truth of the explosion.
anyways, i've rambled too much. happy easter to those who celebrate!
ADDITIONAL NOTES. Some sections of this work were directly taken from and/or inspired by canon, namely:
The first section is taken verbatim from Under Deepspace, Chapter 4: A Real Nightmare.
In the recent World Underneath update, it is mentioned that Caleb contained the blast of the explosion using his evol.
The text Caleb sends is his last message before becoming an official love interest.
MC canonically doesn't like Asiatic apple flowers for the same reasons described in the fic (see Caleb's Standard Myth: Lucid Dream).
In Painful Signal, it is mentioned that Caleb's grave is under a tree. However, the tree was left unspecified.
Additionally, other parts of this work were adapted from and inspired by other sources:
The title of this work was adapted from "The Five Stages of Grief," a poem by Linda Pastan.
Some dialogue was adapted from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Specifically, the passage: "You say I killed you—haunt me, then! Be with me always-take any form-drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!"
