Caleb is a teenager. All hormones and irrational decisions were prominent at this era of his life. Of course, he had his fair share of.. exploring beyond his years.
Which is why his stiff exterior perked up at the sounds upstairs. His game screen on pause, fingers clutching the controller tight.
What the heck is happening?
"Z-Zayne.. I can't do it-"
"..just breath in when I tilt it up."
"ow!"
"be quiet." Caleb heard the rustle of sheets. It can't be right? It can't be. His best friend (begrudgingly) and his meimei..
"it's so hard!"
"no, it's not. you just need some stretching."
"please, Zayne. I-!"
that made Caleb snap.
he tosses the controller out of the way, uncaring whether it hit the TV screen and made it cracked. he made it upstairs within record time as his legs burned from the sudden force.
WHAM!
"what the fuck- oh.."
silence.
it stretched out the same way as Caleb's thoughts stirredâ he tried to comprehend the scene before him. MC was sat by the bed with the future doctor behind her.
it wasn't what Caleb thought was happening.
"good, you're here." teenage Zayne tilts his glasses upright.
"..what are you guys doing?" Caleb forces his breath to become stable.
"stretching her stiff neck."
"sorry, gege." MC sweatdrops, smiling sheepishly. "I'm late in our gaming hours."
"no, that's fine." he stammers out, shaking his head. "just what is- like, what is happening here, pips?"
"well," Zayne answers for her, which ticks Caleb's infuriation. "a certain someone made her stay up late playing games. now she can barely move her head without wincing."
ever the calm boy, Zayne continues to massage MC's shoulders and rotating her head. he glanced up at Caleb, the boy's silence made Zayne smirk.
ah, boys.
"since you're so interested at what we're doing." Zayne's hands just pressed a tad firmer on MC's skin. "I'll do you next."
Caleb has never bolt out of the room so fast in his life.
"You do realize it's one in the morning, correct?" You tense all over, shoulders nearly scrunching to your ears as you flinch. The dim glow of your kitchen lights were effectively drowned out by the bright overhead LEDs that your husband just flicked on.
"Really? I had no idea." You manage to whimper out, no real bite in your words as you got caught red handed.
Slowly, you turn, six month pregnancy belly bumping the counter as you sheepishly look at Zayne. He's still standing in the doorway, visibly tired with his arms crossed over his broad chest.
"I assumed you had gotten up to pee, but when you didn't come back after five minutes? I figured you ended up down here." Beside you on the counter was a slice of five layer chocolate cake.
From your favorite bakery, of course. Zayne had bought you the whole cake since you had been craving it so deeply you shed tears. "Don't blame me!" Your fork was still clutched in your grasp. "Blame your daughter! She's already inherited your sweet tooth."
Your hand smoothed over your stomach; your daughter's kicking had been what initially woke you. In turn, you realized how hungry you were for the cake you knew was sitting in your fridge. "It's not an excuse either, Zayne! I... I was hungry."
You feel your lower lip wobble, pregnancy hormones screwing with your emotions big time. The scolding act he had presented immediately faded, finally crossing the little distance to pull you into a near bone crushing hug. "M'sorry if I startled you, my love."
He felt you sniffle, face buried in his chest as he swayed with you. "I didn't mean to make you cry, either. You can eat cake whenever you are hungry, doesn't matter the time of the day. If our baby wants her mommy to eat, then she needs to eat." He kissed the top of your head, frowning slightly as you trembled.
"I mean it, my love. I was just teasing you. I'm not mad." You hiccup as you pull away, looking up at him with big watery eyes. "B-but you said I should be m-mindful of what I eat b-because..." Fat globs of tears leaked down your cheeks, fork still held in your hand.
You were truly breaking his heart. "I said you should be mindful of when you eat, not what. And that was because of your heartburn and occasional nausea." Another ongoing symptom was pregnancy brain...
"There is no need to cry, let's finish your cake, okay?â
She was already disregarding her father's advice... she certainly has your stubbornness. âOkayâŠâ wobbly and hoarse, but you managed to contain your unpredictable tears. âGood girl.â Another kiss was placed, this time on your forehead as Zayne guided you back to the half-eaten cake slice on the counter.
âSurely our baby would want her dad to have some tooâŠâ Zayneâs voice is is laced with amusement as he eyes the cake, watching you laugh softly as you stick your fork into the slice.
Iâve been wanting to write Zayne dealing with your pregnancy cravings for forever now â itâs 1:30am and I am dreaming of the chicken wings I have in my fridge so the inspiration really just presented itself lmfao. Iâm also very tired, I hope this makes sense.
summary: Zayne, Caleb, and MC have always been your friends. the problem is that you don't really feel like you're their friend. after far too long of letting yourself be sidelined and forgotten, you finally make the choice to put yourself first, even if it means losing them completely because sometimes the greatest act of self-love is to say goodbye.
notes: part one of two; i know caleb is older than mc, just pretend for this fic that he purposely got held back enough when they were younger to be in the same grade.
word count: 6.4k
After nine years, you would have thought the four of you would be closer.
That's how it goes with childhood friends, isn't it? Circumstance brings you together as children, and you stay together for the rest of your lives in that unshakable bond built up over the years. But the close friendships you've daydreamed about are no where to be found in the real world.
You stare at the table, slowly finishing off your drink while Emily Claire, still stubbornly insisting everyone call her MC, laughs at something Caleb said. Zayne, able to join you for once while he's here for the summer, smiles fondly as his gaze is fixed on MC. Even while sitting at a table with the three of them, you feel worlds away.
Has it always been this bad?
Things must have been better when you were younger. Before the world became big and complicated, before Zayne moved away following MC's accident, before you were aware of how others saw you.
In your memories, childhood is soft, full of easy laughter and flowers and skinned knees. You were the last to join the group, moving into the neighborhood a few months after Zayne. He was the first one you met, sent over by his parents to greet the new family. It was Zayne that invited you to Caleb and MC's house to join a game of hide-and-seek, and from there you were a part of them.
You remember being overjoyed to have such wonderful friends. Zayne was awkward but dependable, Caleb was cheerful and eager for adventure, and MC was bright and kind in a way that made everyone love her. They were nothing like you: quiet and shy, hesitant after being bullied in your old school, always hiding behind them.
No wonder you drifted away. You were never going to fit in with them, and they knew it too. They're just too nice to say it out loud to push you away.
"Ooh, the claw machine is open!" MC says, jumping up from her seat. "Come on, let's go! I want to break my plushie winning record today!"
Caleb follows after her easily. "You mean I'm going to win the plushie winning record today. You know my skills are unbeatable."
Zayne leaves the table a second later, content to follow along silently, watching them bicker.
Not a single one of them looks back at you. You stay seated, slowly sucking up the dregs of your drink.
Was it high school when you finally started noticing? Sophomore year, without any shared classes with MC or Caleb. The three of you had the same lunch period, and while you were grateful for it at the start of the year, it soon became the hour you dreaded most during the school day.
Suddenly, instead of it being the three of you always together, with Zayne only returning during summer, you were stuck watching Caleb and MC get closer with new inside jokes, never looking away from each other. You couldn't complain about the same teachers or work on homework together. The invites to Caleb's basketball games stopped coming and you decided against going, unwilling to be ignored after the school day ended.
MC took all of Caleb's attention. She took most people's attention, being so cheerful and perfect. Most guys had crushes on her. A few girls did as well. She was everything you weren't and the rest of the school could see that too.
You overheard too many whispers about how you were clinging to her like an idiot, unwanted but unwilling to take the hint.
It hurt to hear. You didn't want to believe it, stubbornly digging your heels into a friendship that had already started fading years ago. You made an effort to join their conversation some more, but it rarely went anywhere without MC changing the topic. You tried to make plans to hang out during the weekends but they were almost always turned down or canceled last minute. You tried to be more active in the group chat, but the sudden silence after you sent a message was too awful to keep up at it for long.
You wondered if it was just you, or if Zayne was being excluded too. Was it just that Caleb and MC were too close? They did live together. It would explain some things.
But when summer came, Zayne slid back into place like nothing changed and MC and Caleb made space for him. He was never ignored when he spoke, his messages always answered, his presence welcomed easily. Your first friend in Linkon City didn't pay much attention to you either.
Invitations to hang out were sparse that summer. You're sure they spent more time together without you, and only occasionally remembered that you existed.
You can vividly remember the day you trailed after the three of them, going downtown to get lunch at a new restaurant that MC had been excited to try. You caught sight of your reflection in the display window of a boutique and the sight of such a plain, unremarkable person following after a group of incredible people hit like a punch to the gut. It was the first time you really realized how pathetic you've been, always rushing to catch up when they're so clearly trying to get rid of you.
It was a long lunch. An even longer day. You spent the evening looking back through your chat history, seeing all the unanswered messages and cancellations. To rub salt into the wound, you checked MC's stories and found pictures and updates about all sorts of things she's done with her friends â all without you in them.
You got the point. It didn't need to be spelled out for you anymore.
You know when you're unwanted.
You wanted to ditch them completely and make new friends that would actually want you around, but by then, social groups had been set in stone. No one wanted you around. They were friendly, but you didn't speak to any of your classmates outside of school. Any attempt of finding a new place to sit at lunch or other people to talk to lead to MC suddenly remembering your existence and physically dragging you back to join her and Caleb.
They refused to let you go, but treated you as if you didn't exist.
You wanted to rage, to start a fight, to scream that if they didn't want you around so badly, the least they could do is let you go. But you bit your tongue and lowered your gaze.
What good would lashing out do?
At least the promise of university reassured you. Soon enough, you'd be out of Linkon City entirely and you can do what you have to in order to never see them again.
And now, two years later, it's almost time to go. Graduation is a week away. Zayne's university already entered summer vacation, the timing lining up perfectly for him to attend graduation. He's only got a few years left of his degree before he can get a residency, and after that it'll be much harder to meet with him.
Good for him. Whatever he or any of the others do won't matter to you soon.
Hang on a little longer, you tell yourself. Just another week, and then you're gone.
"Are you not joining us?"
You look up from where you've been staring blankly at the table. Zayne is by your side, frowning at you.
"Oh," you say, voice flat. "No. I'm going to get another drink, actually."
"I see. I'll join you, then."
Why now of all times? Frustration squeezes your heart and it takes a deep breath to keep yourself calm. "I was thinking of going down the street to that boba shop. I don't think they have the sweet drinks you usually like."
"I'm always open to trying new things," Zayne replies easily.
You eye him, a little thrown off by his insistence to join you. He hasn't spent time with you one-on-one in⊠years. He's only ever around for MC, and without her there, you never get to see him. Not that he sees you while she's around.
"Alright," you say slowly, getting up. You glance over to the arcade, where MC is focused on lining up the claw to get her next plushie. Caleb leans against the machine, eyes fixed on her. You're not going to bother with telling them where you're headed. They'll be fine without you.
You take your empty cup and toss it into the trash, then leave without looking back. Zayne picks up his pace to walk beside you on the sidewalk. You can feel him staring at you and it makes you want to scream. He's a few years too late to start caring about you.
The silence holds steady as you head to the boba shop. There's a line inside the store and you're quick to join the queue, looking through the menu options hung over the back counter. You're not a fan of overly sweet drinks, and most of the ones offered are fruit based or interesting flavors such as creme brulee or strawberry shortcake. Oolong boba tea sounds decent enough, so that's what you go with once you're called to the counter to order.
After you, Zayne orders something with a long, baffling name that is sure to be 80% sugar.
You wait together off to the side as your drinks are made. Had this been any previous summer, you would have been trying to fill the silence and get a conversation going, but you're too tired to try anymore. The silence stays, lingers, remains unbroken even as Zayne looks at you strangely, a furrow in his brow.
"Let's find someplace outside to sit," he suggests once your drinks are in hand.
You nod and let him take the lead, exiting the store and walking through the streets, dodging other people on the sidewalks. You're getting father away from the arcade where you left MC and Caleb and you're surprised that Zayne doesn't mention them at all. Something's clearly up.
He leads you to a small park, where other people sit on the grass having picnics, watching kids play in the sandbox and swings. There's an empty bench in the shade of a tree that the two of you quickly claim.
You sip your tea, enjoying the flavor, popping boba pearls between your teeth. The day is pleasant, warm but not hot, a cool breeze keeping you comfortable.
Being so frequently ignored means you've given up on having conversations with any of your 'friends'. You've spent a lot of time this year getting lost in your own thoughts, attention drifting off to a space where no one can hurt you. It's second nature to let your mind wander by this point, idly watching people move through the park as you enjoy the mild, slightly bitter tea.
The presence next to you is hard to ignore, but you've had months to master to the art of stubbornly not caring.
Let him glance at you all he wants. Soon, you'll have nothing to do with him and you can start over from scratch.
What kind of life do you want? You've never really thought about it much. Most thoughts about what you want to do with your future devolve into comparing yourself to MC and Caleb, chipping away at your confidence. They're so sure of everything. Caleb already has his eyes set on Skyhaven, following his childhood dream of becoming a pilot. MC's been researching the Hunter's Association and spending more time at the gym to prepare for the entrance exam for the Hunter's Academy.
Zayne is someone you stopped comparing yourself to years ago. He's always been above everyone else; a true genius, making waves in the medical world with his youth and talent.
You, on the other hand, have no promise. There are no special skills for you to show off, no guiding dream to help you figure out what your future will be. To add insult to injury, you're the only one in the group to not have an EVOL.
The universe must really want to make how worthless you are sink in.
You wonder if you can convince your parents to let you take a gap year. Travel around a bit, grow as a person once you're no longer held back by this farce of a friendship. Perhaps you'll even discover something you love, something you can pursue for the rest of your life.
"You're quiet today," Zayne say suddenly. You almost don't catch his words, too distracted by the future.
You give a light hum in response.
"Is everything all right?"
"Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"You justâŠ" Zayne hesitates for a moment. "You seem distant. Did something happen? Are you⊠upset about anything?"
How ironic to be noticed just as you're preparing to disappear. This attention is coming a year too late to be any use now. "No," you say mildly, disinterested, "Nothing happened and I'm not upset. Just getting ready for graduation."
"Ah. You must be excited to be done with high school."
"I am." This, at least, is honest. The sooner you can leave behind every judgemental gaze and pitying whispers, the better. You'll be happy if you never seen any of your classmates again.
He doesn't say anything after that, so you return to slowly drinking your tea, letting your thoughts spin in whatever direction they please. You risk glancing at him just once and catch sight of Zayne frowning, looking uncharacteristically awkward.
The you of the past would have kept the conversation going. You would have rambled about any number of things to fill the air and help his shoulder's loosen up, eagerly waiting for him to speak as well. Now, you leave him to his discomfort. A sharper, more bitter part of you is glad that he can experience a taste of what he and the other two have put you through.
You finish your tea and stand up. "I'm gonna head back now."
Zayne hurries to stand and follow. "I'll walk with you. I'm sure MC and Caleb will be wondering where we've been."
"Oh, no. I'm not going back to the arcade. I'm going home. You can let them know I headed out early." You start walking away, turning to give him a small wave. "It was nice to see you again. Bye, Zayne."
He stares after you, eyes dark and conflicted. "I'll see you later," he returns. You don't bother replying; there's only one meeting left for the two of you at graduation, and after that, you will silently, gracefully exit his life.
You don't go home right away. Instead, you wander the streets of Linkon City, taking in the small details you rarely ever pay attention to. The city is so full of light, people everyone living their lives. The architecture is all neat and clean, plants decorating the streets and hanging on balconies.
Not a single soul spares you more than a glance. You are just another face among the crowd, free of the burden of being unwanted. No one knows how little your friends care for you and it's a relief.
Yes, this is the right move. This is what's best for you.
After graduation, you'll join your parents in moving to a new city for your mother's job. You'll get rid of every trace of MC, Caleb, and Zayne in your life. You'll make a place of your own in this cold world and find happiness alone.
When you get home, your parents are already in the kitchen, cooking dinner together. They look at you with such obvious concern, worried about you as they have been since you told them about not really being friends with anyone anymore.
At least you'll always have them. Your parents love you, and that's more than you deserve.
"How did it go?" your father asks.
"Same as always," you answer, "Left early too. Can we go shopping tomorrow so I can get a new phone? I want a completely new number so they can't contact me again."
"Sure. We can also buy whatever else you want as a graduation gift."
"I don't need a gift," you say, the same line you've been repeating all month. "Really. I'm just ready to leave and go someplace new. Take a gap year and worry about university once I figure some things out."
"I can see if any of my new coworkers have children your age, try to get you some friends," your mother offers.
You laugh. "No need. I can manage just fine without you setting up playdates for me. I kind of want to find a new hobby, see if there's something I can dedicate myself to."
"Why not pick up an instrument again? You used to play the violin when you were really little."
"Really? I don't remember."
"That's because it was while we lived with your grandparents. Your grandmother used to be quite the musician, and she taught you the basics of the violin."
"Huh. I'll think about it," you say. "When will dinner be ready?"
"About an hour."
"Alright, I'll come back down later to eat." You head upstairs to your room, already half packed. You've thrown away quite a few mementos and pictures of you with MC, Caleb, and Zayne. It had been hard at first, getting rid of the things you treasured for so long, but your own peace of mind is more important than any nostalgic relic. After the first few days, it became easier to just toss it all out, erasing the history you shared with them.
It's not like they'll care about you remembering them. There's no point in feeling guilty, so you kick those emotions right to the curb.
By this point, it's more surreal to see you're bedroom mostly packed up, years of your life put away in boxes. One more week, and you'll be somewhere completely new. The thought both excites and terrifies you.
You scroll through social media to pass the time until dinner; seeing the classmates you follow share snapshots of their teenage adventures, always surrounded by friends, no longer causes envy to stab your heart. These days, you just feel hollowed out and wanting. You must have done something wrong, made a mistake somewhere all those years ago to be where you are now. You wish you could go back and try again, live out your teenage coming-of-age movie the way everyone else seems to be.
Abruptly, halfway through watching a video of someone decorating a cake, you get a text notification from MC.
Hey! Zayne told me you went home first. Hope you feel better soon!
You swipe it away quickly, refusing to open it. Zayne must have thought that you were feeling under the weather. As expected of the future doctor. It's all so⊠performative. Every time they reach out to you now, you can see how it's just obligation rather than genuine care.
Caleb, of course, doesn't send anything at all. The last message you sent him, two months ago, was read but never replied to. The past year, all the conversations have been started by you, save for when he asked you about what you were getting MC for her birthday.
It's going to be so cathartic to throw your phone into the ocean once you get a new one. You've already moved all your precious pictures of family into an external hard drive and plan to get them printed and saved in an album, so everything else can be lost forever.
The urge to see what they've posted on their Moments is too strong to resist. You know it's a terrible idea, one that always ends with you upset, but it's like poking a bruise. You just can't help it, needing to feel the pain to know that it's real.
MC's Moments is full of pictures, random updates, and Caleb and Zayne tagging her in random things. The last photo you're in is from last summer, a group shot of everyone in line for an ice cream truck at a park. Even in that picture, you're stuck in the back, behind everyone else, fighting to be seen, strained smile and all.
Your own Moments page is quieter. You don't post much, never having much to say and unable to copy everyone else in how they're so comfortable sharing every aspect of their lives online. What you do have are candid pictures of your parents, of MC with Caleb and Zayne, of your classmates on field trips. But never of you. Even in your own eyes, you're rendered invisible.
Well. You did know it was going to upset you!
You toss your phone aside and collapse onto your bed. You'll just stare at the ceiling until you're called down for dinner. It's just as productive as making yourself feel worse through social media, really.
âŠ
The final week of school seems to drag on endlessly. There's nothing for you to do in classes anymore, so you're left just daydreaming until the hour's up and you can move to the next period.
In an effort to avoid MC and Caleb, to make cutting ties feel more natural, you avoid them completely. You leave extra early to get to school before them, you hide in various spots around campus during lunch, then stay twenty minutes after classes end to make sure they've left before you start making your way home.
MC texts a few more times, but you ignore each message, swiping away the notification as soon as you see it.
It almost feels like they give a shit about you now that you've set into action your exit strategy; you catch sight of Caleb and MC walking around campus more than once, clearly searching for someone. Hell, you even get a text from Zayne asking if everything's alright since no one's spoken to you in a while, as if it's not obvious that you're avoiding them for a reason.
Or maybe they do get that you're avoiding them on purpose, they just can't wrap their heads around why.
Whatever. It's too late for them to start caring about you. They've had plenty of opportunities for the last nine years.
Luckily for you, you've mastered the art of being unseen. You can slip between any group of students and disappear. Caleb and MC can search all they please, they're not going to find you unless you want them to.
And then they start trying to invade your house.
Halfway through the week, two hours after school has ended, the doorbell rings. You're up in your room, watching old videos of your grandmother performing in her prime before the Chronoshift Catastrophe. Some of your memories are coming back, though they've remained faded with time: sitting in her lap, awkwardly holding the bow and dragging it across the violin she held, the smell of rosin, the smooth wood beneath your fingers.
She died when you were young, before you moved to Linkon City, so you don't remember much else about her, but the music makes you wish you did. Something about seeing her perform on stage, just a few years older than you are now, makes your heart ache. It's part missing her and part longing, wanting the same peace that seems to settle over her as she brings a piece to life underneath a spotlight.
The doorbell rudely interrupts her performance. You pause the video and listen to one of your parents go to the door, figuring it's just a package.
And then Caleb's voice filters in from downstairs and your body goes cold.
Numbness settles against you, then it's chased off by anger.
How dare he come here. After so many years, this is the day he decides to ruin your peace when you finally decided to choose yourself? All these years, you've been going to them but now is when they decide to come to you instead? To trap you in your own home?
He doesn't come in, thankfully. You've never been more grateful to have shared your frustrations and heartache with your parents. They liked your friends before, but those affections have cooled after being confronted with your pain.
MC comes the next day while you're in the living room, and you get to here your mother's cold voice say, "I'm afraid she's out right now. If it's really urgent, why don't you text her, Emily Claire?"
Fulling naming MC is the clearest indicator that she has been pushed away from your family. She doesn't come back after that, though Caleb isn't so easy to chase away.
On the last day of school, you don't bother going home until hours later, waiting for the all clear text from your parents. You pass the time by treating yourself to taiyaki ice cream, wandering downtown, enjoying your last free day in Linkon City.
Despite all the pain you've been put through with this friendship, Linkon City is where you grew up. It's been your home for so long. You'll miss it when you leave, though you're sure you'll come to love your new city just as much given enough time.
You take a few pictures with your new phone, just to have a few memories of these streets to take with you. It's a relief to be able to use your phone without feeling like you're suffocating; the growing number on your messaging app haunts you, and MC has yet to give up on getting a response from you.
The only numbers in your contact list right now are your parents, and you're more than happy with that.
Naturally, it's when you've let your guard down that you get ambushed.
Zayne, of all people, is out on the street. He spots you first and quickly crosses the street to reach you. You see him too late, and by the time you start looking for someplace to hide in, he's grabbed you by the wrist, looking a touch panicked.
"Why haven't you been answering anyone's messages?" he demands, "We're all worried about you."
You yank your arm out of his grasp. "I didn't answer because I didn't want to. That's all."
"And what's with avoiding everyone? MC's been distraught. She thinks she did something to upset you, but doesn't know what. You need to talk to her."
"I do not," you reply sharply.
"Please," Zayne pleads, "We just want things to go back to normal."
Normal?
They want normal?
Normal, to you, is being ignored and forgotten, feeling alone even when surrounded by the people you call friends. It's being unwanted but stuck in place, unable to leave for someplace better. It's feeling ugly and worthless and pathetic. It's clinging to whatever scraps of affection they feel like tossing to you. It's watching them laugh easily with each other, fitting into each other like puzzle pieces, while you watch from the sidelines, never invited in.
The only thing that's out of the ordinary is that you're not desperate for their attention, clinging to any opportunity to be with them, struggling to be heard or seen or wanted while they get to enjoy their time together.
You've decided to care about yourself for once. To put yourself first and say, this is enough. I'm not putting up with this any longer.
"Do you?" you say lightly. "Do you want normal? The normal where you get to laugh together and talk all the time and know that everyone else is listening to you? The normal where you walk together on the sidewalk while I'm stuck in the back, alone? The normal where I'm talked over and ignored? That normal?"
"We don'tâ"
"The three of you can still have normal. Nothing has to change at all about how you spend time together, just because I'm not there. You still have normal. But now that I'm not clinging to you all and trying to keep you all happy, you have to think about how you've been treating me and come to terms with being shitty friends."
Zayne opens his mouth to speak, to refute what you've said, but you give him a glare sharp enough to stop him in his tracks.
"Don't interrupt," you hiss. "I am so unhappy when I spend time with you all. You've never had any issues ignoring me while I was around, but now that I'm not there you all suddenly want me back? Quit the bullshit. I've had enough of being treated like this. I never once deserved it."
The shame crawling across his expression is slow, but it's still there. You can practically see him thinking, casting his mind back to all the time you've spent with them, trying to find the truth in your words.
He finds it. You can see the moment he understands why you're so upset.
"I didn't realize," he says quietly. "I'm sorry. I did notice something was off last week, but I didn't think much of it. I thought you were just tired or stressed about graduation."
"I was just tired of pretending everything was fine. I stopped acting like everything's fine. You were the only one who even bothered to look at me, really look at me, that day."
"Is there no way to make things better?"
You sigh, looking down the street. People are giving the two of you a wide berth, unwilling to interrupt the argument. Normally, you'd be embarrassed about behaving in such a way in public, but you can't bring yourself to care about anything right now.
"No," you say, "I'm done. I've spent all week avoiding everyone to make cutting ties easier. I'm moving out of Linkon the day after graduation and then I'll be gone from your lives for good."
"You're leaving?"
You blink. You've never heard him sound so wrecked before. It makes your heart clench in sympathy and you stomp it down. This is the natural consequence for how he treated you. There's nothing you need to feel bad about.
It still makes you feel like the worst person in the world.
"I need to get out. I need to put this facade of a friendship far behind me. I want to start over, someplace new, and learn how to feel like I'm worth something. The three of you are bad for me. Do you get it now, Zayne? I'm tired. I've been tired for years."
Zayne is silent and shame-faced, staring down at the ground. He can't even meet your eyes anymore.
The conversation has drained you of all you had. You can't even feel upset anymore, just hollowed out.
"You can tell MC and Caleb whatever you want. But I'm not talking to them again. Bye Zayne." You almost add a vague well wishing about residency, but stop yourself in time. It wouldn't be sincere, so why bother wasting your breath?
When you walk away from him, he doesn't stop you.
Zayne lets you go. You wish you could feel relieved, but mostly you just want to cry.
But that's a common enough feeling for you that you push it down and keep walking all the way home.
You don't have to say anything when you come home. Your father takes one look at you and sweeps you up into a hug, holds the fractured pieces of yourself together.
When the doorbell rings later that evening, he doesn't bother to open the door. Your parents keep the door shut and locked until Caleb and MC leave as night covers the city.
Graduation is a time you've been dreading. Your entire graduating class together in the auditorium, ready to walk across stage to get their high school diplomas. You're ready to leave the school behind completely, and this is your final hurdle to getting out of here.
It's pure luck that you aren't approached by MC or Caleb.
For once, they've spotted you almost as soon as you walked in, but the vice principal is strict about everyone staying lined up in order of who's walking first, organized alphabetically by last name. You listen intently to her explain the scheduling of the ceremony: the welcome speech from the principal, the valedictorian speech, walking the stage, and then a closing speech which is when they can toss their graduation caps into the air. She gives repeated reminders for everyone to keep their graduation robes on for the entirety of the event, and no never go barefoot in the auditorium. You idly wonder who was responsible for causing those rules to be implemented.
All the while, you ignore the stares burning into the back of your head. Caleb and MC are separated in the line, but both keep their eyes on you and the weight of their attention honestly makes you nauseous.
If it weren't for the vice principal keeping everyone in line, you're sure they would have already dragged you out someplace more private to demand answers for everything Zayne's told them.
You keep your gaze focused straight ahead, counting the seconds until the ceremony begins. It seems to take an eternity before everyone is seated and the lights dim, the principal walking onto stage to deliver a speech to the graduating class and all the attending families.
He goes on at length about how proud he is of the students, encourages everyone to seize the rest of their lives with strength and bravery, to make the most of their futures. The valedictorian goes up next, a girl you recognize from being the lead cheerleader at pep rallies. She talks about everyone's struggles to get here, making the most of their four years in high school. You tune her out a bit; most of what she's saying in her speech is for the more socially active students and therefore have nothing to do with you.
Once that's done, you begin the long wait for your row to be called up to walk the stage. You're in the third row out of the eight total, so it's comes faster than you expect.
Suddenly, you're walking across the stage to polite applause from the audience, shaking hands with the teachers, the vice principal, and the principal. You take your diploma and make your way to the stairs leading off the stage, then following the student in front of you back to your seat.
The next hour and half is dedicated to watching everyone else walk the stage. You let your mind wander, running your fingers over the diploma. It doesn't feel real. Four years, all coming to a close because of this one piece of paper.
After a quick closing speech, the principal congratulates everyone on graduating, and you join your now former classmates in moving the tassel to the left and tossing your cap into the air.
You can't help but smile. It's a small act, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
All around you, people move. Friends hug each other with great big grins and laughter, and families swarm the aisle, reaching for their children. You move with the crowd, hoping to escape the chaos before MC or Caleb can get a hold of you.
There's a dinner reservation for just your family at the fancy place you only get to go to on birthdays.
You manage to make it outside where you promised to meet your parents to avoid the crowd in the auditorium. You find them as expected, but what's not expected in Zayne standing awkwardly with them. He holds three small bouquets; one of orange flowers, one of red flowers, and one of white and blue flowers.
"Hi," he says softly, stepping towards you. Your parents watch him with critical eyes, ready to jump in the moment he upsets you.
"âŠHi," you return.
"I wanted to congratulate you on graduating. Regardless of anything else, I wanted you to know that I'm proud of you, and I wish you nothing but the best in the future." He hands over the white and blue bouquet, which you take with hesitant hands.
He's not apologizing or asking for forgiveness. He's not bringing up anything you said to him the day before. He's not taking away from your night to make you go through an emotionally draining conversation.
Zayne is a thoughtful and wonderful friend when he tries.
He just never really tried with you.
"Thank you," you say. "They're lovely."
"I'm glad you like them."
"MC and Caleb are still inside."
"I see. I'll go to them now, then. I⊠hope we'll be able to speak again someday. I'll be looking forward to it, no matter how long it'll take."
"And if I refuse to speak to you again?"
Zayne dips his head toward you. "Then I'll accept that. But if you ever change your mind, know that I would be happy to see you again."
"I'll keep that in mind," you sigh. "I'll be heading off now. Bye, Zayne."
He nods once again, then visibly steels himself and heads inside.
As soon as he's gone, your mother is quick to pull you into a hug. Your father joins in, wrapping the both of you up in his arms. They congratulate you and go on about how proud they are of you, for school and the maturity to decide what you want your relationships to be like.
This has been the hardest choice you've ever made, and you made it again and again for the course of the year. It's finally starting to feel like the right choice instead of the desperate one. It finally feels like you can breathe again.
Your graduation dinner is small but delicious. The night fades away quickly. You all go home as soon as you're done and settle in to sleep.
In the morning, you'll make the long drive to your new home. In the morning, you'll leave Linkon behind without another word, cleanly disappearing from everyone's life. In the morning, you'll start over anew.
In the morning you'll figure out the rest of your life and find the courage to go after it.
But for tonight, you curl up in bed and cry; the mix of relief and grief is hard to work through, but this was inevitable. This was always going to end with you alone, and as much as you wish things could have been different, you also feel so much freer knowing this chapter of your life is over.
Whatever comes next, you will be ready to face it. You'll never put yourself through this pain again.
You weren't quite sure how Zayne felt about you. But you were pretty convinced it wasn't exactly... great.
Constantly showing up at Akso wounded - some instances more serious than others. Having a finicky heart that constantly required check-ups. Being so high-energy when he was so reserved. If you had to guess, especially based on his interactions with you?
You'd say that Zayne likely tolerates you because he feels obligated to. Y'know, being childhood friends and now doctor and patient. He kind of needed to tolerate you for these things to work.
Which is probably why it hurt so much trying to move on from him. Considering you had never been in a romantic relationship with him the first place, most would assume it would be easy to get over. Rather, you were mourning the chance you'd likely never get.
While also feeling sorry for your younger self who harbored such a crush on him while growing up. You had dreamed of reuniting with him after he had moved away, and seeing how awkward things had been at that first unintentional reunion? You figured he was just a bit awkward still, just as he was as a child.
But now? You feared it was disgust from the start, mixed with annoyance. I mean, he denied letting you sit at the table with him at first, to this day you still felt bad about intruding on his lunch.
"Good afternoon." Zayne doesn't stop typing on his computer as you enter. "Hey, Dr. Zayne." You reply a little more causally than you wanted, internally cringing as you took a seat in front of his desk. This was just adding to the reasons you were sure he didn't like you.
"Just a moment, I'm finishing this report." You can only muster a nod, hands tightly clasped in your lap as you mull over the words you're about to say. Seconds tick by in silence before Zayne finally stops typing, moving his mouse to save the document.
"Today's visit is just a typical routine check up." he starts formally, moving to grab the stethoscope around his neck and roll his chair over to you. "Actually, Dr. Zayne." You hesitate to meet his eyes, cool and calculating. Honestly quite intimidating.
"I wanted to talk to you about something first before we move forward with the appointment." You clear your throat when you see the slight raise of his brow. "Proceed."
"This will actually be your last appointment with me. I put in a request to be transferred to a different primary care physician."
The silence that stretched lasted far longer than the typing of his report. Zayne's expression was unreadable, so many emotions flashing through his typically calculating eyes that you wanted to sink into the chair you sat on and disappear entirely.
"Why would you do that?" It wasn't Dr. Zayne talking to you, you realized that the second he opened his mouth. This was Zayne, the boy you had grown up with, the boy you had crushed on so hard. The man you prayed you'd get a chance to reconnect with later on in life
The tone of his voice was far less formal, and if you weren't mistaken, he sounded hurt. "I-I um..." you stammer, cheeks feeling warm as you try and recall the lines you had practiced. "You're such a busy man, and your patient waitlist is miles long. I take up so much of your time and I figured I'd be doing you a favor by leaving as your patient."
"Doing me a favor by leaving me?" He shot back almost immediately, and it was not the response you were expecting. His brows were pinched, his jaw tense. You realized a moment later that his fingers were trembling as he set them down on his desk.
"Have I done something to make you think you are a burden?" The promise he made to Josephine echoes in the back of his mind, but that is far from being the only reason he wouldn't want to lose you.
Not when he just got you back.
Being put on the spot like that, called out directly left you a little stunned. So stunned that you couldn't stammer an excuse, instead a quiet mumble of "Yeah, kinda." slipped past your lips.
He's left a little speechless himself, heart racing a mile a minute as he tries desperately to think of something - anything to say so you won't walk out of his life again. But he's never been all that great with words, his biggest kryptonite, his achilles heel.
He couldn't just spill his guts out for you, could he? Here you were attempting to distance yourself from him thinking it would be doing him a solid. Here you were admitting he made you feel like a burden. A declaration of love would surely scare you away for different reasons all together. He was stuck, dammit. So stuck.
"M'sorry Zayne. Really, this is ridiculous to put you through." you moved to stand, ready to run, and panic shot through his entire being. "No, don't you dare." It's all he could manage, standing and moving without thought as his hand wrapped around your wrist.
"You are not a burden." he starts, voice steady and firm despite the roaring of blood in his ears. "Not to anyone, and especially not to me."
"It's my fault you feel this way. I've never been the best with words, and I'm not sure what it is about you but you just make me feel so..." he swallows, he knows exactly why you make him feel the way he does but that is too much to unload right now. "Shy."
"I lose all my sense when you're with me, in front of me. I worked for years on my people skills since I was so awkward when I was younger. I've managed to break out of that shell and yet you..." he swallows, eyes darting around his office before meeting yours again.
"You send me right back to our childhood. You leave me speechless in a good way. Because I find myself wanting to impress you but I panic and can't think of much to say..." He's rambling, he can feel his ears turning red when he realizes. But the look on your face is nothing short of stunned, a blush creeping over your own features.
"I'm sorry for giving you the wrong idea, I want you in my life. I can settle for just having this, being your doctor and all. But truthfully, I'd like for us to be so much more."
Was he pushing it?
"Zayne... now I'm the one left speechless." You start softly, and he can see the guilt in your eyes as you process everything. "M'so sorry for this, I feel like I've made such a scene." Apologizing, again. He shakes his head, hand still wrapped around your wrist. "Don't apologize."
He swallow the lump in his throat. "Just... start by telling me you won't leave." It takes you a second to realize his thumb had been rubbing slow, soft circles on your pulse point. Something he had done since childhood, a comforting gesture when youâd get upset.
âI wonât leave, Zayne. Trustfully? I donât think I ever could.â
Idk how to feel about this, Iâm so used to writing smut that sometimes writing stuff like this feels so awkward. But since I took the time to write it I might as well share it? Idk I may delete later lol it's so random hnghhh
part two-ish of this fic, but you don't have to read that to read this one! i just thought it'd be fun to reverse the situation!
- sylus -
You find yourself frozen in the middle of the prarie, listening to the sound of wind blowing away the leaves and petals surrounding you.
You've ran out of tears to shed.
The only thing you could do is watch as the body you hold in your arms slowly turn into flowers.
Sylus.
He's gone.
And it's all your fault.
How could you let this happen?
All those people who'd deemed him as a monster had gone after him, claiming that he's dangerous, when they are the ones who go around and harming anyone that's remotely different from them.
You weren't strong enough to protect him.
All he's ever done is make you happy and keep you safe, making sure you two live a long, good life together.
But now, it's all over.
If only you were just a little faster and stronger.
If only you weren't so weak.
If onlyâ
"I'm glad..."
A weak voice forces you to look down and stare at Sylus' face, gradually forming into flowers that will join the prarie grounds thaf you stand on.
"...I'm glad I could see you... and be held by you... one last time..."
"Sylus..."
Your fingers quiver at the feeling of his cold face, visibly losing life as seconds pass.
His lips curl into a soft smile. "I wish... we had more time. I..."
Then, his lips suddenly become unable to move.
"Sylus...?"
Your own heart feels as if it had just stopped.
"Sylus!"
Slowly, then all at once, nature had come to take him back. He vanished from your arms and soon, your lap is covered by flowers, evidence of the passing of a dragon who was your everything.
"Sylus!"
You couldn't breathe.
Your body couldn't move a muscle as every inch of you felt as if it's being crushed by an anchor.
Then, your vision started to darken. The last thing you'd seen were the white petals on your fingers before your entire senses gave out and you fell into a pitch black abyss.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
You shot up and gasped for air as your brain registered the persistent tapping noises from the window near your bed.
You narrowed your eyes to adjust your slightly blurry vision, looking at the figure by the window.
A crow.
A mechanical one.
"Mephisto?"
You quickly open the window to let him in, but he stays parched outside. He only looks at you with curiosity, head tilting as if to observe you.
Then, your phone rings and your body jumps along with your heart.
"Helloâ"
"Do you want anything? Snacks? Ice cream? Milk Tea?"
"Huh?" You furrowed your brows. "It's... three in the morning... It's normal for you to be having dessert at this time, but not for me, Sylus! What are youâ Why do I hear... Are you riding your motorcycle right now?!"
"I'll come empty handed then." You hear rustling noises in the background before he says, "Unlock your door, sweetie. I'm outside."
"Wait what?! Right now?!"
From the very second you opened your door, you were pulled into the strong chest and arms. Still wearing his helmet and leather jacket, Sylus embraced you tightly.
Your feet were off the floor since he had pulled you up towards him, and it doesn't look like he's going to put you down unless you ask him to.
"You can let go now." He does, but one minute after your demand. "What are you doing here?"
He removes his helmet, and you see the worry in his eyes, catching you off-guard.
"How are you feeling?"
"Me? I'm...."
Sylus removed his motorcycle gloves before carressing your face with his left hand. It was at that moment when you realized that you had been sweating.
Oh, that's right.
You remembered the bad dream you were having just a couple of minutes ago.
About Sylus.
The image of his bleeding body disintegrating into flowers as he was saying his last words to you made your chest tighten again.
"Sylus..."
You couldn't stop yourself from jumping back into his arms, and he doesn't hesitate to hold you tight just like before.
"I... You..."
"It's alright, sweetie." His hands rubbed your back softly to comfort you. "I'm here. I got you."
"I thought I..." You were struggling to talk without choking back tears. "I thought I'd lost you. I wasn't strong enough and I lost you and you were gone and I didn't know what to do and Iâ"
Sylus held you even tighter. "You have nothing to worry about. I promise. You won't ever have to worry about losing me."
He then gave you a playful poke on your forehead.
"Didn't I tell you? You and I have an inseparable bond that can't be broken by anything in this universe. Nothing can take you from me, and nothing can take me from you. That's how it'll always be."
The sound of his heartbeat had calmed you down. You pulled away from his embrace and let out a breath of relief.
He's right.
It was just a bad dream. Nothing else. Sylus is here, in front of you, and that's all that matters.
No one can take him from you.
Not in this life or any life.
You'll make sure of it.
"All good?" Sylus asked, noticing your body relaxing.
"Thanks for coming here."
Sylus pulls you in again, this time to drop a soft kiss on your forehead.
"Are you going back to bed? Want me to sing you a lullaby to sleep?"
You smiled and shook your head. "I don't wanna sleep right now. But since you're here and you mentioned ice cream...."
Sylus was quick to figure out what you want. "Go change into something more warm. I'll go get your helmet. The one with the cat ears."
"Okay~"
- zayne -
"Zayne, wait!"
"I'm sorry, I can't go with you."
Alone in an empty, dark street far from Linkon, the man that you love stands ten feet away from you.
He does everything in his power to avoid looking at your direction.
As if the coldness in his voice wasn't painful enough, his refusal to look you even for a second makes this reunion even more heart shattering.
"Please don't look for me anymore."
"Butâ"
"I've left behind everything and everyone from my past. So please, forget about me."
"No, Iâ"
"Goodbye."
After being separated for a year, fate has led you to him once again, only for him to slip away from you even further.
The man that once looked at you as if you were his entire world now turns his back on you as if you don't matter to him anymore.
He'd shut you out for good.
This time, you're sure of it.
You've lost Zayne forever.
It's fine.
At least he's alive.
That's all that matters.
That's what you keep telling yourself as you made your way back to the cafĂš where you left your colleagues not too long ago.
Your body felt numb and drained, as if your entire soul have been stripped away from you.
Your vision clouded, and your throat tightened.
You couldn't breathe.
Suddenly, your legs give out and you found yourself looking at the night sky without a single star to watch over you.
You're all alone.
No one's coming for you.
Not him.
"Wake up."
"...huh?"
"Please, open your eyes. I'm right here, darling."
That voice...
Did he come back?
Why was it so warm all of a sudden?
You feel as though you've been wrapped in a soft warm, gentle embrace that had your wailing heart calming down.
The dark skies are slowly brightening up.
And then, you see him.
He's looking down at you with worry in his eyes.
"Zayne...?"
He lets out a sigh of relief as he held you tighter in his arms.
"You...came back...?"
He looks confused for a moment. "I did. I just got back from workâ a little later than planned because there were some minor complications with the surgery that I told you about, but thankfully it all ended well."
"Surgery..."
It was only at this moment when you've fully woken up.
You sat up and looked around to realize that you are on Zayne's living room couch, and he's holding you like a baby on his lap.
"Are you feeling better?" He asked, looking at you carefully.
You nodded slowly before nuzzling your face against his chest to feel more of his warmth.
He's here.
He's really here.
"As soon as I reached the living room, I heard you crying and calling my name, and I thought... I thought you were hurt."
His breath shakes momentarily as he recalls the moment he'd found you in the middle of a bad dream.
His heart stopped, thinking that his worst fear might have been coming to life, yet he didn't waste a second in rushing to you.
"But in seems that you've fallen asleep and were having a bad dream."
Zayne brushes some strands of hair away from your face before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.
"I'm glad you're okay, but... this dream of yours... Did it have something to do with me?" After all, you were saying his name in your sleep. How could he not worry?
"It was just a silly dream, it was nothing."
Zayne dismissed the smile you gave him. "It didn't look like nothing. Not when you were moving around and crying like that. I won't force you if you don't want to talk about it, but... whatever it was, it made you upset, so I just want to know if I could do anything to make you feel better."
Your eyes watered immediately, but you hid it expertly by shoving your face against his chest while you pulled him towards you for a hug.
"Zayne..." You took a moment to blink away your tears before looking at him with a sincere smile. "You don't have to do anything. Just having you here with me, like this, is already plenty."
Your chest already feels light and all the discomfort lingering in your stomach had vanished.
"I don't know why I had a dream about that time you left Linkon. In my dream, I found you, but you didn't want to come back, and you just didn't want to see me anymore, and I just...."
Zayne didn't need to hear anymore. "I guess you're right. It was a silly dream." He murmured, intertwining your fingers together. "Because it'll never happen. I won't leave you again. I promise. I'll always be by your side, no matter who or what stands in the way. This is where I should be. And this is where you should be."
"Yeah." The two of you shared a smile and lingered in comforting moment of silence for a while, just holding onto each other.
Then, you realized what time it was.
"Wait, dinner! And the dessert that I ordered! We have to eat right now or else! Hurry, Zayne!"
Zayne chuckles as he watches you run towards the kitchen.
Now that you're okay, he can breathe easier too.
"Coming!"
- caleb -
You watched as three men drop down to the ground, unable to move a muscle due to the strong gravity force that's crushing them.
The Colonel snaps his gloved fingers and you find yourself floating right towards him. The force of gravity is pressing from every direction, and your throat feels as if it's being squeezed by an invisible pair of hands.
"Caleb... It's me...! It's me!"
His eyes held not a single hint of recognition as he stared at you without blinking.
"Where is it? Give me the protocore!"
"CâCaleb!"
You knew there was no point, and yet you can't help but call out his name, hoping he'll somehow come back to his senses.
But he's no longer your Caleb.
He's only the The Colonel.
He'd lost himself to the chip that's been implanted in his body.
He doesn't recognize you anymore.
All the memories he had of you, all the times you spent together... all gone.
"Please... Come back! Caleb! Please, remember me!"
No matter how much you pleaded, no emotions flash through his eyes, now cold and empty. It's as if he's no longer human. Just a weapon to be controlled. To destroy.
"Caleb!"
Suddenly, everything shook and crumbled.
"Waahhâ"
Your body was being shaken by none other than The Colonel.
"Get away from me!"
Caleb immediately releases you and steps back, looking hurt and confused at the way you flinched against his touch.
"Pipsqueak, what's wrong?"
"Whaâ wait..."
You put a hand over your racing heart as you observed your surroundings.
You're sitting on a chair, in front of a window that displayed nothing but clouds.
You're in a plane.
Caleb's plane, to be specific.
That's right. You two were on your way to his house in Skyhaven after picking him up from his work.
"Caleb...."
He steps towards you again, slowly, just in case you push him away. When he saw no signs of resistance, he rested a hand on top of your head.
"You were having a bad dream, so I had to wake you up."
"A bad dream..." You let out a long breath of relief. "It was just a dream."
"Yeah." Caleb smiles as he pats your head. "How are you feeling? Wanna talk about it?"
You paused for a moment, wondering if you should share with him what went on in your head.
"I'm fine now. It was just a stupid silly dream."
Caleb chuckles, though it lacked genuine amusement. "A dream that made you afraid of me. Very silly indeed."
Okay, maybe you should discuss it.
"I just had a dream where you.... weren't the Caleb that I know anymore, that's all."
Caleb was silent for a minute, gaze shifting to the floor.
Without mentioning it, he had a strong feeling you're referring to the chip that the Fleet is known for using. You've had this conversation before, and it wasn't a nice one.
This time, however, Caleb took your hands and held them gently as he knelt in front of you.
"You don't ever have to worry about that. I'll always be your Caleb, no matter what. Even if I lose myself, even if I forget everything... I promise you, I won't forget you and I'll never stop being your Caleb."
After all, you're his priority.
The very reason for his existence.
He might turn his back on the world, but not you.
He's loyal only to you.
That's why he'll always be your Caleb.
"And besides, I'm sure that if anything ever happens to me, you'll do anything to bring me back." Caleb sighs. "Even though I don't love the idea of you doing dangerous things for my sake, you're stubborn and you'll do it anyways."
You can't help but grin at this statement and the defeated expression he wore. "I'm glad you've accepted that now. You're so right! No matter how many times you lose your senses, I'll always find a way to bring you back! Because..."
Your playful tone turns into a serious one.
"Because at the end, there's only you and me. It's always been us two. So I won't let anything happen to you."
"Just like how I won't let anything happen to you."
Caleb kisses your hand before picking you up and bringing you to the co-pilot chair in the cockpit of the plane.
"Now then, since a bad dream got you all rattled up, how about we stop somewhere to get some food that'll make you feel better?"
Normally, you'd instantly jump with agreement. Just not this time.
"Nope! I want you to make me food!" You demanded, pointing a finger at him. "It's your punishment!"
"My punishment? For doing what, exactly?"
"For.... for being a dummy in my dream!"
That was an awful excuse and comeback, but oh well.
In reality, you just want to eat Caleb's cookings.
Because your Caleb will always make the best meals.
"So demanding."
Caleb smiles.
Because he knows the truth too.
"Your wish is my command~"
- rafayel -
At the end, it wasn't good enough.
Your love wasn't enough to keep him by your side.
After everything, you two really weren't fated to be together. You're meant to be in different worlds. You're supposed to be here, and he's supposed to be in the sea.
It's where he's meant to be.
He'll be happier there.
With the other Lemurians.
It's his home.
So, you shouldn't be crying right now.
Why are you sitting at the cold sand, staring at the blue horizon, as if he'll come back to you?
Rafayel is gone.
He went back to the sea, and he won't be coming back.
He told you that he had things to do, so he'll be away for a while. How long? He never told you. The only thing he said was, "Don't wait for me."
You couldn't remember how long it's been since he left. All you know is that he's where he should be, so you shouldn't expect to see him ever again.
And yet still, you find yourself constantly returning to the place where he left you, waiting to see that beautiful face smiling right at you.
Maybe he is smiling right now. Just not with you, but with other Lemurians. Maybe he found the one who was truly meant to be his other halfâ a Lemurian lover.
Someone who can understand him in ways that you won't be able to.
Someone who can be at the sea and won't have to make him leave his home.
Someone who can live for as long as he can.
He's probably happier now, right?
So you should stop crying and leave already.
"Rafayel... Where are you?"
Your vision is blurred by tears. Your body shivers as the temperature drops, and darkness gradually takes over your surroundings.
"Rafayel, please come back."
You feel as if you're shrinking, disappearing.
"Rafayel..."
"I'm here."
"Raf..."
"I'm right here. All you have to do is open your eyes."
Warmth enveloped your body, and you feel yourself being pulled into something soft yet secured. Somewhere safe and familiar. Like home.
"Wake up."
You gave into the light that fought over the darkness and soon enough, your half-lidded eyes reveal a certain someone looking down at you.
"Finally. I thought I'd have to give you mouth-to-mouth to wake you up."
"...You only do that for people that are drowning..."
"Oh. Well, you look like you were drowning, so..."
Rafayel flashes you a smile, relieved that you've woken up from whatever nightmare was making you cry while asleep.
"Wait, it's three in the morning. Rafayel, what are you doing here?"
He's on your bed, holding you softly.
And you can't help but hold him tighter.
Because he's here.
He's still here.
"Weeell, I was doing an all-nighter and finishing up a painting, remember? We were on call. You fell asleep. I started hearing you cry, so I tried to wake you up by screaming at you through the phone but it didn't work. Then, you started calling my name, so... I got here as fast as I could."
Rafayel gently caresses your face.
"Looks like you had a bad dream."
Your stomach shifted with discomfort as you recalled the feelings you had not too long ago. It wasn't real, but you never want to feel that way ever again.
"I dreamt that you..."
Rafayel waited patiently for you to calm your aching heart before you could continue.
"...that you went back to the sea. And that I lost you forever."
His arms immediately wrapped around you tightly.
"That won't happen. Ever."
He's told you this before, but he'll never mind saying it as many times as you need to hear it.
"I'll always be wherever you are. The day I go back to the sea is when there's nothing else for me here. And I know for certain that won't be happening anytime soon. There are so many things that's making it veeerry hard for me to leave, you know? The land has so many cool stuff."
"Really?"
"Yeah! There's so many delicious food, and lots of pretty sceneries to see, and places to visit and plushies to win."
The last one made you laugh loudly.
"Oh, and I still need to be there for Talia's next big concertâ which wil be next month, by the way, so you better tell your boss to give you the days off. There's also Thomas' meeting tomorrow. I have to be there. You don't have to come, but you have to see me afterwards so you can comfort me after he scolds me."
You grinned at the expression he wore as he imagined how Thomas' meeting will go.
"And we can't forget! You promised to take me to that one gigantic aquarium this weekend so I definitely have to look my best, especially if I'm going to be seeing some of my old shark buddies. I have to show off my lovely beloved and make them jealousâ also, we still haven't finished watching that one show. I watched one episode after you fell asleep, by the way."
"What?! How could you?!"
"I couldn't help it. I had to know if Jinshi wasâ"
"No, don't tell me anything!" You covered his mouth with one hand. "Traitor! I'm watching two episodes without you!"
"Noooo!"
"Yes! I'm going to watch right now!"
Rafayel watches you aggressively turn on your TV. He lets out a laugh at your furrowed brows, finding your expression adorable.
More importantly, he's glad that you're no longer feeling anxious about your nightmare. It's never going to happen, so the sooner you forget about it, the better.
"Perfect! We can watch together, cutie!"
You were about to make a sarcastic reply until you remembered what time it was.
"It's so late already. You should sleep, Rafayel." You felt bad that he came all the way to your apartment just to comfort you, though you greatly appreciate it.
Seeing him had calmed you down a lot.
"I'll turn off the TV so you can rest."
Rafayel noticed that you weren't planning on going back to sleep soon.
"I'm not sleepy yet. I was pulling an all-nighter, remember? Instead of finishing up my painting, we can watch our show!"
"Butâ"
"Oooor, I can just tell you what happened, if you prefer listening to my voice."
He clears his throat dramatically.
"Okay, so basically, Maomaoâ"
"Noooooo, stop! I'm putting it on now!"
And so, you two ended up wathing TV together for another hour before you fell back to sleep. This time, you had a peaceful one, and so Rafayel was able to rest with content.
- xavier -
"I thought... we had more time..."
Why was this happening?
Why him?
Why must the universe take Xavier from you?
"But I guess... I've stolen enough time... Every second I spent with you... was more than enough. Iâ I'm glad we finally got to be happy together in this life..."
"Xavier... What do I do?"
Every part of you is shaking with panic.
Your star is dimming.
Disappearing.
You didn't know what was going on and what to do to help him.
His body is slowly disintegrating into specs of bright, white lights.
Just like the stars in the night sky.
"Xavier, please tell me what I can do. Please, don't go..."
You tried to keep him together using your Evol, but it was useless.
He'd done so much for you, and yet you couldn't do anything for him.
"Please, don't cry." With his pale, shaky hands that he could barely feel, Xavier wipes the tears on your face. "I want you to be happy. Even if it isn't with me. I just want you to keep smiling. Keep being brave and strong."
You wanted to stop crying just as he asked, but how could you? When his own eyes are flooded with tears?
"Xavier..."
A sob escapes your lips as you feel his hands turn into tiny specs of lights that surrounded the darkness all around you.
"Please, stay..."
Xavier gives you a weak smile. "I... don't want to go..."
His chest starts to disintegrate into white light as well.
"I wish... I could've stayed by your side forever..."
Several more words followed, yet no sound reached your ears as the rest of his body suddenly burst into specs of light.
They surrounded you like stars in the sky.
It's as if Xavier was never there.
He'd become the stars.
"Xavier..."
Despite all the lights, the darkness terrified you. It's cold and empty. And he's no longer there to hold your hand and tell you that everything is going to be okay, just as he always does.
"Xavier.... please come back..."
"I'm here."
You feel a warm touch on your face, and you're suddenly out of the darkness.
"I'm not going anywhere."
As a soft kiss lands on your forehead, you open your eyes and see Xavier looking down at you.
Like a prince who'd just woken up his lover from a curse.
"Xavier!"
You sat up and grabbed his shoulders. Then, you squished his face to make sure he's real and not a figment of your imagination.
"It's you... you're really here..."
Xavier does nothing to pull your hands away from his face. He just blinks at you curiously.
"Still here. Always."
You smiled at his words before resting your face against his chest, calming down at the sound of his heartbeat.
He's not disappearing.
"I'm glad..."
Xavier rubbed your back. "Did you have a nightmare?"
"I did."
"What was it about?"
"About... you... disappearing..."
He had a feeling your bad dream was because you've been thinking about the consequences of his actions. Now that he'd told you the truth about everything, including his past and how he ended up where he is now, you started to worry about what'll happen to him.
"I can't say I'd live forever, but..." Xavier grabs your hand and holds it over his heart. "I can promise you that I won't disappear. I'll be by your side for as long as you're alive. I swear it. I'll always find a way to be with you."
You nodded. "And I won't let you go either. I'll find a way to keep you by my side forever."
You'll do everything in your power, and beyond.
Because the universe can't take him from you.
He's yours.
Your star.
"It's five in the morning."
After some moment of comforable silence of you and Xavier cuddling and appreciating each other's presence, you noticed the time.
"Weâ or rather, I, have to go to work soon."
Xavier gets to come to work later than others because he's special.
"It's fine. You can keep sleeping."
"I have to start getting readyâ"
"It'll be fine. You can tell Jenna that you couldn't get out of bed because you got crushed by a monster."
"Monster? Like what?"
Xavier shifts so he's partly lying on top of you, with his head on your stomach, arms wrapped around you as if you're a cuddly pillow.
"Me. Goodnight, doll."
"...It's morning already though."
"Goodnight..."
And just like that, he's out again.
He was right, though.
You couldn't get out of bed even if you wanted to. He was so soft and so warm, you just want to stay with him like that forever.
you can feel it. that dread wetness pooling below. something warmâfar too warm. luckily, you're at the end of your lecture. within a few minutes, you're dashing from the theatre, down the hallway to the bathroom.
locking the stall door behind you, you throw down your bag and take a seat to assess the damage. oh, it's bad. could be worse, but the odds aren't looking great. blood has soaked through your g-string (internally screaming) but narrowly avoided your baggy jeans (thank the Lord). even worse, you don't have a pad on you!
blame it on oh, it's not gonna come today, for sure mentality. but nothing can change the fact that the nearest pharmacy is all the way on upper campus and you're all the way down here on lower campus. you do what any woman with a boyfriend would and call him. the phone rings twice before the call connects.
"i'm walking to campus now," your beloved snowman tells you, assuming that you're wondering where he is as you're supposed to study together before your next class.
you whisper-yell, conscious of how echo-y the bathroom is even though you're alone, "zaynie, babe, my period came." he doesn't reply for a few seconds, the honking cars doing the talking.
at last, he says, "i see."
"babe, my period came," you reiterate.
"so i heard," he mutters.
you groan, sudden frustration surging and spilling over, "no, zayne. it came, and i wasn't ready. like i..."
he takes the hint and asks promptly, "where are you right now?"
"physics bathroom." you can hear the flickering sound made when the pedestrian crossing light turns green in the background.
zayne follows up with, "what do you need from me?"
you sigh, glad that he (finally) asked, "pads please from the pharmacy. and..." you hesitate, a rosiness blooming in your cheeks at the thought of asking him forâ
"and?" your boyfriend urges you on with.
cupping the microphone, you whisper, "a pair of underwear. i bled through mine." and i couldn't stick a pad on it even if i wanted to (why did i wear a g-string today? couldn't have picked a bikini? or a brief? are you kidding me?)
"do they sell underwear at the pharmacy?" zayne asks, his voice softer than before, almost swallowed by the shouts of reunited friends and student chatter.
you inform him that "yeah, it should be with the other bamboo undergarments. you know that rack? with all the singlets and socks and stuff?"
"mhmm," he hums. "i'm heading to the pharmacy now. i'll call you once i'm outside the bathrooms. on the second floor?"
"yes! thanks, zaynie. i love you," you say quietly. your hormones are all over the place, a sadness swelling in your chest.
"i love you, too," zayne murmurs before cutting the call.
setting down your phone on the toilet paper dispenser, you try to salvage your poor underwear. it was nude coloured, too! now marred by deep red. you blot the stain with toilet paper, but it has little effect. there's no saving your panties.
you remain in the stall until you receive zayne's long awaited (ten minute) phone call. he must have been running down the 300 staircases to get to you because ten minutes is record time to make it across campus, excluding a quick shop. you answer the call.
"i'm outside. can you come out?" he asks in a hushed tone, mindful of passing students.
you reassure him that "yeah, i can. i'll just be a minute."
"alright."
you reason that wrapping your bloodied underwear a minimum of five times in toilet paper should be sufficient for a brief trip to see your boyfriend. you've never been more thankful for your baggy jeans as you hobble out of the bathroom, hyperaware of the toilet paper party in your pants.
pushing upon the heavy door, light fills your vision. zayne's just outside with a plastic bag on his arm. upon seeing you, he steps closer and hands the bag to you.
"thanks, zaynie!" you chirp, taking the goodies from him. he nods, and you scurry back into your stall. opening the bag, you pull out the few items he bought: mid-rise briefs and your usual pads. how he knew which ones they were? you must have told him, or maybe he saw them in your bag (where they usually are!), you're unsure.
a lovesick smile spreads across your lips. you'll have to give him a million kisses for this.
when you exit the bathroom, you're a new woman with a tortured past. at the bottom of your bag is your bloody underwear, wrapped in pad packaging for disposal the moment you get home. zayne glances up and puts his phone away as you come up to him. wrapping your arms around him, you sigh into his dress shirt and squish your cheek against his steady heart.
your boyfriend's body stiffens, but soon relaxes into your tender hold. he pats your head affectionately and squeezes you comfortingly. you release him after a minute or so.
gazing up at zayne, you cup his cheeks and plant a sweet kiss on his unsuspecting lips. the first of many to come later.
as you two walk to your usual study spot, your lover asks how you're feeling. you respond with the usual: "like shit."
honesty is the best policy, and zayne appreciates it. he'd much rather you share your pain with him than keep it to yourself, even if he can never fully understand it.
when your cramps distract you from making notes, your boyfriend suggests taking a break and journeys to the food court to grab you a treat. upon returning, he hands it to you wordlessly and watches with a micro smile as you enjoy it.
not once does he make you feel bad for the money he's blowing through on your girl needs. it's his responsibility (or so he feels) to support you in this trying time, whether that be period products, snacks, cuddles, gentle reminders and more.
with zayne by your side, your period is a little more bearable and a lot less lonely.
(very excited for the upcoming myth, enjoy >:) ! not proofread, i apologize for any mistakes! )
"my dearest," Zayne enters the bedroom, hands full with the tray of hair ornaments and different shapes of brushes.
setting the item down, he sat by the edge of the bed. cold silk meets his fingertips, drawing mindless patterns trailing up to your face.
"wake up, my love." he rasps. "we have come to meet another day."
Zayne leans down, pressing warmth to your forehead, cheeks, and lips. it took a while of peppering your skin with love, hands caressing down your body.
"fine then, sleep a little longer."
he exasperatedly shake his head. leaning back against the headboard, he grabs a hairbrushâ the material raking along his silk, raven hair. humming a soft tune as he waits.
"you know," he says to himself, more than to you, "i'd barely nudge you awake and you're already behind me. 'wanting to test a new hairstyle', you say, when by heart you desire to challenge the durability of my well-cared locks."
for a while, there was silence. the kind where it settles a heavy weight by his chest gradually, like the waves of ocean begging to drown him. each bating breath was followed by a choked cry. his eyes closed as if relieving a pained memory.
barely recovered, he opened them again to glance at the body beside him.
"can't you wake?" his voice wavered with each plead, his free arm embracing your form whole. "don't leave me."
Zayne placed the brush on your cold hand, as if every weak nudge could make you hold it again. to utter warm words and songs of loveâ just like before.
he had tried everything. offered his soul and back to the gods, pleading for a life that has long but passed to another realm.
he knew he could go to a darker, unethical path. yet, the disappointment he imagined by your face was the last thin thread separating him from attempting the deed.
"i'll wake you tomorrow once more. by then, you'd open your eyes for me, right?"
setting your ice-encased body back to the sheets. he stood up to clean the mess, the tray abandoned by the table.
again and again, the immortal god deludes himself to a neverending despair and self-destruction.
Zayne (love and deep space fan fiction) - Angst - Hurt/No comfort - Major character death - Word count: 1,022 - Read at your risk!!
Ao3: Blinkbunni
TikTok: bunniedive946 (Insie đ đ) (I significantly post more stuff here)
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Zayne was perhaps the most fortunate soul on the planet. He certainly felt that way. The perfect day was drawing to a close.Â
You had finally become his wife. The future stretched out before them, radiant and full of promise. He had longed for this day, dreaming of it endlessly. Maybe, just maybe, he could finally lead a normal life.
Just a quiet existence with you, children, and perhaps, just perhaps, banish those haunting nightmares for good. Zayne understood that those nightmares were detrimental, not just to him, but to you as well. Because when he was pulled too far into the abyss, his fists would tighten, and the evolution he had fought so hard to suppress would emerge.Â
It wasnât safe for either of them. Yet, he had finally attained what he had desired since the dawn of time, quite literally. The honeymoon suite was extravagantly luxurious, perhaps a bit excessive, and the staff seemed overly eager, but still, after you slipped out of that otherworldly wedding dress and donned a silk robe that matched his, he sat on the bed, arms outstretched, ready to catch you and never let go.Â
You laughed and flung yourself toward him. Maybe this moment was even better than the wedding itself. Just basking in your warmth.Â
Forever.Â
Tears streamed down your face, overwhelmed by the sweetness of this embrace, so familiar yet distinct from all other cuddles.Â
âMy wifeâŠâ he murmured, as if casting a spell. The way it flowed from his lips was so natural, so tender, it felt flawless. It was real, it truly was.Â
And as you exchanged goodnight kisses, snuggling closer than ever before. (Personal space? What even is that?) He shut his eyes. For once, he felt serene. He was convinced that all the tormenting thoughts that plagued him would retreat, frightened away by your presence, his anchor. Forever.
Your anguished face reaching out to him, your hand stretching towards him, yet trapped in the frozen prison of your despair. Your final words reverberated in his mind, your voice a haunting scream. "I trusted you, Zayne." Meanwhile, in the depths of his nightmare, his ice powers spiraled beyond his control. His knuckles turned stark white from the tension of his clenched fist. He had to awaken. He understood that he must. But he was powerless to do so.
He fought against the urge to roll out of bed, but his body was immobilized. The ice held him captive, binding him to the mattress. He reached out for you, but your warmth was a distant memory. Words failed him; he couldnât call for help. Yet, he felt the ice creeping up his skin with every agonizing second. Each minute stretched into an eternity.
The analog clock on the wall read 5:07. He had been ensnared in that nightmare since he fell asleep. He pressed his hand against his heart, fearing it might leap from his chest with how rapidly it raced. Slowly, he exhaled and gazed at you. He caressed your cheeks. He hadnât harmed you, had he? As he examined your body, you remained still.
"Love...?" he whispered, but you didnât respond. A surge of panic welled up inside him as he shook your body. "Hey, this isnât funny Y/N!" He attempted to keep his voice steady, but when he shook you hard enough for the bow of your night robe to come undone, he noticed it. Was that... black and grey staining your stomach?
He tore the robe away from you. Your entire body and chest were enveloped in grey ice, and it continued to spread. "Oh my god," he gasped, hesitantly placing two fingers on your neck to check for a pulse, unwilling to accept the horrifying truth.
There was nothing. No breath, no pulse, no sign of life. Zayneâs eyes grew wide with disbelief. "No.. no, no, no, no." He kept uttering, unable to accept even a fragment of this reality. He looked down at his own hand. The same black ice that enveloped your body.
Oh my god.
He took your life.
While he was in a current of nightmares swirled in his head.
Why?
Why couldnât he have calmed himself down?
A torrent of tears engulfed him. This couldnât be real. It had to be a nightmare, right? Not now. He was on the brink of having everything he ever desired. He was so close to finally loving you. But your lifeless form lay there, motionless. In a frantic effort, the doctor began CPR, counting the compressions, pressing his lips against yours. You didnât stir.
His demons were meant to have vanished. You were meant to be his solace, his warmth. He vowed to dedicate his existence to your union. "Please, why me?" he choked out, before breaking down in a flood of tears. The day that was meant to usher in a new beginning, filled with peace, love, and a home, now left him in utter darkness.
SEVEN YEARS AND COUNTING . . . on the night of your seventh anniversary, Zayne is faced with a cruel reality that his marriage might be torn into pieces.
đ â f! reader x zayne
đ â angst. hurt and comfort. fluff. established relationship. workaholic zayne. reader feels neglected. pregnancy. zayne crying and whimpering. very minor suggestive mention near the end. been so down bad for this man and the fact heâs so husband material that I just had to get this out of my system. 4.7kWC
After seven years of marriage, waking up alone was no longer a new thing for you.
When youâd opened your eyes, and saw that Zayneâs side of the bed had already gone cold, all that you felt was⊠that. Cold, hollow, and empty. The quiet of the house was a sound youâd grown used to, a reminder of the unspoken long nights spent without him, and early mornings of eating your breakfast alone. But today, it was a little different.
The silence was broken not by your alarm, but by a folded piece of paper on the kitchen counter. Zayneâs neat scrawl â a rarity outside of his medical charts â promised an 8PM rendezvous. Our spot, heâd written, Canât wait to have dinner with you. Happy Anniversary, love.
And just like that, your mundane Tuesday youâd resigned yourself to had transformed into that feeling you got when you first him: breathless, with your heart fluttering in anticipation.
Glancing at the calendar, youâd frowned. You hadnât marked todayâs anniversary, because it didnât really make that much of a difference. On your fifth anniversary, Zayne was suddenly called for an international function that he couldnât miss. Heâd brought you along, wined and dined you with the most expensive liquor on the flight there, but it didnât hit quite the same. The entire time, Zayne kept glancing at his phone for important messages. Reading patientsâ charts, and constantly smiling at you in apology. Heâd done his best, and you couldnât blame him. His job kept him away most of the time.
When your sixth anniversary rolled around, heâd stumbled home, weary and ill around four in the morning. Youâd woken up with a kiss on the forehead. Sorry, honey, heâd murmured as he wrapped his arms around you, didnât mean to take so long.
You brushed it off, and to make up for it, he spent the day off after. Heâd tried to take you out despite his exhaustion, but you werenât heartless. After multiple attempts of convincing him, youâd spent your anniversary the entire time in bed.
Before he went away for work again.
Today, though⊠today felt different.
You spent the entire afternoon meticulously preparing, your nerves practically making you jump off the walls. You chose the dress you knew Zayne loved â one that showed off your back, so he could place his warm hands in a silent declaration of his possessiveness. Youâd worn the earrings heâd bought on your third anniversary, dangling like tiny snowflakes and shimmering like diamonds. By 6:30, you were all dolled up. Your eyes shone bright, your lips curled into the happiest smile youâd worn since â since he was around.
Needless to say, you felt beautiful. Loved. Zayneâs gifts adorned your body, and you drove to the cozy Italian place with your fingers drumming against the wheel. You hummed under your breath, sang along to the songs playing on the radio. You felt unstoppable.
The restaurant was the same one you and Zayne had your first date, a place where you had countless celebrations since. When he was promoted to Head Surgeon, when he got an award recognizing him for his dedication, when he said I love you for the first time, and when youâd finally kissed him, your knees growing weak at the taste of him and red wine.
It felt like coming home.
The hostess greeted you warmly, a knowing smile on her face. âTable for two?â she asked, even though she already knew the reservation would be under Dr. Li. Nodding, you let yourself be led into a quiet booth in the corner â a perfect spot to people watch, and to hold Zayneâs hand under the table.
For the first twenty minutes, you were the image of patience. You sipped the sparkling water and looked around, letting yourself be lost in quiet joy. You loved the familiar scent of garlic and fresh bread, the low murmurs of conversation, the clinking of silverware.
This place hadnât changed since the last time youâd been here.
Pulling out your phone, you texted Zayne that youâd arrived. You could imagine him reading it in the dark of his office, a small, weary smile crossing his handsome face.
Thirty minutes came and went.
You checked your phone again. The message was sent, but remained unread. Not delivered yet. Concern flickered at the back of your mind â if heâd eaten yet, was he drinking enough water, or was his meeting still going on? Whatever it was, he mustâve just been busy.
And an hour passedâŠ
The waiter, as gently as he could, offered to take your order. You declined, your smile feeling just a little bit more forced. The single gray checkmark flickering on your phone was a silent accusation â Zayne couldnât even read your text. It was a detail so small, yet it felt like a whole bus had just come down crashing on you.
Excusing yourself, you walked to the back of the restaurant, your hand shaking slightly as you pulled up his assistantâs contact. He answered on the first ring. âMrs. Li,â he said, a light groan to his voice (as if he knew youâd call, and heâd have to be the one to deliver the news.) âIâm so sorry, Dr. Zayne had an emergency patient come in about two hours ago. Itâs cardiac trauma. Iâm so sorry again, he was looking forward to tonight.â
âOh.â You bit back your tongue, resisting the urge to ask â can he still try? I had something important to show him.
The words were all too familiar already. Sorry, Mrs. Li, he canât make it. A meeting, an emergency operation, a sudden summon from the higher-ups, it slipped his mind â youâd heard it all before. Really, it shouldnât sting this much.
But you could picture him in the sterile white glare of the operating room, his hands steady and sure, his mind focused and filled with purpose. You didnât doubt he was saving lives. You never questioned how important he was. You knew â no, youâd known long before â that your heart, this anniversary, had been more your companion than your husband ever was. That this aching might never really go away.
When you returned to the table, your hand that clutched your phone hanging limply by your side, you didnât feel angry. You just felt a deep, profound sadness that lingered.
This wasnât the first time, and it wouldnât be the last. The first Christmas. Your first birthday after getting married. The third anniversary â the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh. Each event he missed cut a deep scar on your marriage. The understanding you once felt so easily had hardened into resigned acceptance. You didnât want to keep sitting there, drowning in your own pity, hopelessly waiting for someone who had you second on their priority list. So you hid your tears behind a menu, and beckoned a waiter over.
âIâll order just for one, thank you,â you mumbled, ordering the comfort dish Zayne always got. Because for some masochistic reason, it was the closest to him you could be right now.
You ate slowly, each bite tasting like a bitter lie.
The seat across you remained empty for the next hour, a harsh reminder he wouldnât be showing up anytime soon. The entire time, you watched other couples â holding hands across the table, leaning in close to whisper a joke, laughing. You felt like a stranger looking in from the outside, separated from the world of lovers by this invisible, impenetrable wall.
Your eyes fell on the wrapped gift beside you, a flash of blue and silver wrapping paper peeking out. You pulled out the small, carefully wrapped box. It was a new watch, an upgrade to the old one you knew he still wore. With this watch, he could see his upcoming appointments and operations. He could send messages to you, too. If he had time, anyway.
Now, the gift felt like a relic from a different time, from a marriage that was once full of shared laughter and stolen, yearning glances.
You ran your thumb over the smooth surface of the box. You thought of the early days, when your lives were so much simpler. When your nights were spent with long conversations, cuddled at your couch, sharing reckless promises of spending forever together.
You remembered him calling just to hear your voice, when he would surprise you with flowers for no reason, and made you feel like the center of his world. And now, he was saving a different personâs life, and you were sitting alone in the same corner heâd pulled out a ring to ask you to marry him.
The love was still there⊠you knew that. You didnât think you could ever stop loving him.
It was the connection that was fraying, worn thin by the long nights, the missed calls, the âemergency cases.â It made your heart sink with a heavy question â when did your marriage turn out like this? When did you stop being each otherâs entire world, and just become⊠a part of each otherâs lives?
Running a hand down your stomach, you glanced wordlessly at the rock sitting on your finger.
Zayne placed the final suture with a precise, practiced movement. The team began to stir around him, the tense air finally dissipating of that into victory. Glancing at the monitor, he let out a sigh of relief at the steady, rhythmic beat of the heart heâd just saved. It was a beautiful, terrifying thing â to have such a fragile life at his hands. Until now, he still struggled to wrap his head around the fact people actually trusted him to care for them, to save them.
It was an honor that almost always dulled the exhaustion â almost.
He was still in a blur of fatigue as he peeled off his surgical gloves, the sticky latex peeling away from his skin with a small snap. The patientâs wife, a young woman stained with tears, waited outside. Walking out to her, he straightened his aching shoulders into that of composure. âHeâs going to be okay,â he told the weeping woman, âHeâs stable. The next few hours are the most critical, but your husbandâs a fighter, and the surgery was a success. I promise heâll get through this.â
The womanâs relief was a physical thing. She collapsed against the wall, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. âThank you,â she cried out, clutching her chest. âYou saved his life. You saved our family.â
Her words hit him like a physical blow, reminding him of what he was missing.
A memory surfaced â your face, lit by the gentle glow of a single candle, on the night youâd made him the happiest man by saying youâd be his wife. The gratitude in the strangerâs eyes mirrored the look of joy he hadnât seen in his wifeâs for far too long â the look of pure, unburdened hope. Heâd saved a life, but at what cost to his own?
Zayne didnât think twice. He nodded curtly at the woman, his mind already running a mile per minute. Running a hand through his hair still damp from the surgical cap, he turned on his heel. He didnât bother changing out of his scrubs. He just pulled his coat on over them, grabbed his keys from the locker, and headed for the parking. Suddenly, the sterile, cold hallways of the hospital he was too familiar with felt like a prison.
He needed to get out now. He needed to get to you.
The drive was a blur. He slammed on the gas, breaking every speed limit he knew, the tires a silent scream against the asphalt. He drove with a frantic, single-minded focus. He pictured your sweet face, the soft twist of your mouth when you laughed, the worried furrow between your brows when you thought he wasnât looking. He was a surgeon who lived and breathed by the clock, but tonight, he was utterly oblivious to it. He just drove, and drove, and drove.
By the time he pulled up to the restaurant, his heart was a wild thing. He looked up, scanning the nearly-empty crowd for any signs of you. But the windows were dark. The neon sign was turned off. A small, written sign was flipped at the door: CLOSED. THANK YOU.
Zayneâs stomach dropped. Glancing at the clock on his dashboard, it read 11:47PM. He missed his date with you. Again. He fumbled for his phone, wincing as the screen lit up with two missed calls and unread messages. Heâd been so immersed in the operating room that heâd forgotten today was your anniversary â even though heâd just booked a reservation before he left for work.
He cursed under his breath, and immediately headed straight home.
The streets were empty now, the world practically asleep, and the silence was a loud, mocking sound. When he got into the garage and pulled into his spot, he just sat there for a long time. All kinds of thoughts played in his head. How long you mustâve waited, how many times heâs done this now â how afraid he was of losing you.
Just the thought of it made him scramble out his car, tripping all the way upstairs. The front door was unlocked, and stepped right in, unsurprised that all the lights were off.
He flicked the light on, took off his shoes and coat, and headed straight to your bedroom.
Please be there, he chanted to himself, please donât get tired of me yet.
As he walked past the kitchen counter, his eyes fell on a small, wrapped box. He instantly knew what it was. Walking over, he picked it up with shaking hands. Taped to the top was a small envelope. He peeled it open, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and was greeted by your handwriting.
Happy 7th Anniversary, Zayne! I canât believe itâs been 7 years since you asked me to be your wife, and I canât wait to spend more years with you. To think that we were once too shy to ask each other out, and now weâre here â living together, building dreams together, sharing a future and a forever. These seven years have been the happiest of my life, and I couldnât thank you enough for being the best husband anyone could ask for. I truly am so lucky to have such an intelligent and hardworking â and devastatingly handsome â man to call my own. Even though I know your work often keeps you away, I know your heart is in the right place. You make me so proud knowing youâre out here saving lives.
Zayne swears he could hear your voice when his eyes fell on the final line.
It just makes me miss you sometimes. The house gets lonely and cold when youâre not here. But Iâll wait for you. I always will.
Love, your dearest wife.
A single, hot tear traced a path down his cheek. Zayne didnât know how long he spent standing there in the kitchen, using his palm to stop himself from crying. There, he wasnât a surgeon anymore. He was just a husband, standing in the middle of a dark, empty house that was once filled with the sound of your laughter.
Zayne had to see you. Hold you. To apologize for a betrayal he knew was unintentional but no less painful. He moved through the house, his feet padding against the cold hardwood floor, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. He went to your bedroom first, the one place he was always certain heâd find you in after a long day. Youâd be curled up under the thick comforter, an arm outstretched to where he would be asleep. Pushing the door open, he peeked his head inside, his voice nothing but a shaky whisper. âHoneyâŠ?â
The bed was empty. The comforter was pulled back, neat and untouched. The sight of it made cold, nauseating panic seize him. Flinging the doors open to the guest room, the home office, your studio â the only thing he could hear was the pounding in his ears. He called your name again and again, his voice cracking and becoming hoarse.
Where were you? Why werenât you at home?
A sudden, terrifying lurch of dread washed over him. His mind jumped to the worst possible scenarios â that you were gone. Youâd given up. Youâd left.
He ran back to your bedroom and into the bath, slightly â but not completely â relieved that all your things were still there. Your floral shampoo, your favorite perfume â all sitting next to his things. You hadnât left any rings behind. As he scanned the small space, a glint of white and something crumpled caught his eye. Walking over, he reached into the bin, his hands trembling as he pulled out the discarded box.
The logo on the side sent a jolt of static through his brain.
A pregnancy test.
The noise in his mind went completely blank, his hands numb as his eyes flickered to the small stick inside, and his heart stopped. A cruel, brilliant blue. Positive.
Zayne felt his world tilt on its axis. The heartbreak, the guilt, the exhaustion â it all evaporated, replaced by an unstoppable force of pure, unadulterated terror. He â he had to find you. Now.
He stumbled out of the bathroom, pulling his phone from his pocket as he dialed your number. The phone rang, and rang, and rang. No answer. His stomach twisted again, this time with a kind of fear heâd never known. Not even when he thought he was about to lose a patient.
Zayne couldnât wait any longer.
He ran out of the house, leaving the front door hanging open as the cold night air slapped his face. He sped through the street, his legs running faster than he thought he could. None of it made sense now. He needed to find you, needed to tell you he loved you. He had to know if it was real. And he ran for what felt like miles until his lungs burned. The city lights blurring into nothing but melancholic blue skies and white snowflakes. He ran until he found you â able to pick up your silhouette even from afar â his arms crushing you into his chest, his face buried in your hair.
âOh my God, let go of me!â you cried out, struggling around his hold when his scent enveloped you. You deflated around him then, squeezing his arms that wouldnât let go. âZayne? Baby, what are youââ
Zayne didnât let you finish. âIâm so sorry. Iâm so sorry, honey,â He was a mess of tears, his face growing wet against your face. He felt your hands come up and push against his chest, twisting into his hold. He pulled back just enough to look at you â his eyes red and glistening with tears. âI went to the restaurant, and I missed you,â his voice cracked, âY-you werenât there, and when I came home, I saw your letter. I-It broke my heart, and you werenât in the room, and I thoughtââ
âThought what?â you whispered, cradling his face in your hands. âThat I was going to leave you?â
Zayne broke down again. He didnât know what to say â just held you, pulling you against his body as thought you were the only thing that kept him from falling apart. And when you wrapped your arms around him, he felt it â the way you pieced him back together, kissed all his hurt away. âIâm not a good husband,â he found himself saying, leaning into the warmth of your touch. âIâm never here. Iâm always too late. I always miss our most important daysââ
âBaby, donât,â you wiped his tears away with the pad of your thumb, looking up at him with a broken expression. âDonât say that. Youâre not a bad husband.â
âBut I am,â he insisted, âItâs the truth. But Iâm going to be better. Iâll take a month off â or two months. However long you want me. I donât care about the hospital. Iâll plan a trip somewhere, warm. Iâll spoil you. Iâll give you anything. Just⊠donât leave me. Please.â
Your eyes softened. âI was never going to.â
âBut⊠you left your gift at home, and you werenât there when I arrivedââ
âI was torn, Iâll admit,â you confessed with a sniffle, âI didnât think you were coming home soon, and I needed fresh air. I thought a walk wouldnât hurt.â
The confession made him ache. How bad of a husband had he been, to make you think he wouldnât come around? That youâd been so used to his absence, it made your home feel like something you had to escape from? Just how many of his promises had he broken to you?
âI missed you,â you choked out, your thumb now slipping to trace the softness of his lips. âI missed you so much. There isnât anything that I want but to spend more time with you.â
âAnd we will. I promise,â pulling back, his eyes filled with awe. âThe trash can. In the bathroom. I saw⊠I saw a box.â
You looked up at him, a small, nervous smile playing on your lips. âYou were snooping,â you teased, âI purposefully hid it under some napkins so you wouldnât see.â
Zayne frowned. âYou didnât want me to know?â
âI wanted to tell you over dinner,â you mumbled, resting your head on his chest, letting yourself be soothed by the sound of his heart. âThought it was gonna be a good gift⊠to tell you youâre going to be a daddy.â
Zayne couldnât stop the tears from coming then. âAnd here I thought you couldnât make me happier.â
Some days, it was too easy to forget you were pregnant.
Your bladder, a persistent little alarm clock in your body, was full, and your head constantly felt foggy. Blinking a few times, a sleepy yawn escaped your lips. The spot beside you was cold, as it often was. Zayne had probably already left for work. The thought no longer saddened you, however. After that failed anniversary date, Zayne kept true to his word. He took you on dates every other weekend, and on the nights he caught you still awake, waiting up for him to come home, he made sure to show you heâd been thinking of you all day. Safe to say, things had taken a turn for the better â if the growing bump on your stomach wasnât enough.
When you finished relieving yourself, you stepped out into the hallway. A scent hit you then, the delicious, mouthwatering aroma of bacon. Your nose, now a sensitive and demanding organ, led you into the kitchen, where confusion settled in.
The sun was streaming through the windows, casting long, golden shadows on the floor. It had to be past eight, which meant Zayne was already gone, but the usual quiet was now broken by the sound of a spatula clinking against a pan. Was Zayne⊠still here? Mentally, you checked his schedule. He didnât have another day off until the weekend.
And yet, there he was.
He stood at the stove, his back turned to you. He wore an old gray T-shirt that hugged his form deliciously, his pajama pants wrinkled, and his dark hair that was usually neatly styled back was now falling on his forehead. He was humming a quiet tune to himself, moving around the kitchen with just a little hesitance. Now you felt bad for the poor man â heâd spent more time outside his place that he could barely find what he was looking for. But he looked so at ease, so peaceful, so present.
You couldnât help but just stand there for a moment, letting the sight of him â bathed in the morning light, soft from his sleep, and utterly kissable with his lean form moving around in your kitchen â fill you with awe. Countless times, you were reminded just how lucky you were.
Tiptoeing over, a small smile played on your lips. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried in the curve of his back, and pressed a soft kiss to the skin of his neck. Warm, like you thought. Soft and hard all at the same time, smelling like an absolute dream come true. Zayne stiffened for a second, not expecting you to be awake, before slowly, wonderfully, he melted. Leaning back against you, you let his head rest on top of yours, his muscles relaxing in your arms.
âGood morning,â he rumbled, his voice deep and thick with sleep.
âGood morning,â you replied, your voice muffled against his back. You pulled away just enough to look at him, your lips tilting into a confused frown. âWhy are you still here? Youâre going to be late.â
A hint of a smile played along his lips. âI took the day off,â he said, moving one hand to squeeze around yours. âIn fact, Iâm gonna take a lot of days off. We have a little one to look after now,â Spinning in your grasp, he promptly turned off the stove, and pressed a kiss at the top of your head. âAnd I have to look after you, tooâ
You couldnât help it â you melted like putty in his arms. Here was why you fell for him in the first place. This was the Zayne whoâd stolen your heart. The one who liked to hold you, the one who often dozed off on your chest when he was utterly exhausted â the one who cooked you breakfast and spoiled you, gently scolding you if you even try as to lift a finger. To prove his point, he made you both a plate, ushering and fussing over you like the overthinker he was.
âBabe,â you rolled your eyes, âIâm pregnant, you know, not sick.â
âJust sit still,â he shook his head, âIf you want anything, Iâll get it for you. What do you want? Tea, coffee â anything?â
Your smile wavered. I have all that I want, here, with me, you wanted to say. But you decided to entertain him, and demanded a list of meals that sounded ridiculous â but of course, was not enough to deter Zayne. With a grumbling stomach, you ate breakfast together. Eggs and bacon never tasted this good before, but because Zayne prepared it, and you were sharing it with him, it was easily the best meal youâd ever had.
After breakfast, he insisted on doing the dishes. You were left with nothing to do but to look at him from across the table, admiring the way his back flexed with each movement. Now⊠Zayne had always looked too handsome, but was he always this handsome? Even after so many sleepless nights, he looked effortlessly dashing.
One glance down at your growing belly, and stained tank top, did not make you feel better.
âI feel so gross,â you suddenly blurted out, unable to help it. âIâm already bloated, and I feel like an ugly, pregnant whale. I canât imagine youâd still wanna sleep next to me knowing I look like this.â
His face, so full of love and softness a moment ago, turned serious. Zayne reached across the table and took your hands in his, his grip firm. âYou are not bloated. You are growing our family, and youâre the most beautiful thing Iâve ever seen in my life,â his thumb gently rubbed the back of your hand, and just like that, your pout grew deeper. âDonât ever, for a single second, think youâre anything but. I love you, and nothingâs going to change that.â
âBloated and all?â
He nodded, âBloated and all.â
âBut⊠You just said I wasnât bloated. Are you lying to make me feel better?â
The flash of panic across his face was enough to send you howling into laughter. Zayne, abashed, scratched the back of his neck. âBaby, I was just joking,â you poked his cheek, leaning forward to press a kiss over his day-old stubble. âI know you love me. I love you too. So much.â
Here was to a marriage that lasted seven years, and counting...
