Noeul Ha

25 ♡ she / they ✧ leo ☾ I’m under your bed

[noeulha]

“OMG!! a new protagonist just dropped!!”

✧ And the ratings are already 10/10. ✧

𖥔 noeul | 26 | main character energy 𖥔 4EVER falling for the villain | ✧ pro at pausing for dramatic effect 𖥔 waiting for my contract marriage arc

“Don’t blame me, blame the writers.” leopard print. “Kimchi slap era pending…”

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[noeulha]

How did we end up here?

Caleb x You

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Implied emotional distress/self-destructive behavior, Mentions of existential themes, Strong tension (emotional & physical), Implied intimacy

Plot : After one too many drinks, you find yourself drowning in the weight of your past, seeking oblivion in a dimly lit bar at the edge of the galaxy. But when a mysterious stranger with knowing eyes and a dangerous smile takes an interest, the night takes an unexpected turn—one that might just change everything.

The low hum of the bar’s chatter blurred into the background as you raised your glass, your mind spinning in circles. The last hour, maybe even the last five minutes, was a haze of whiskey and broken thoughts. All you knew was that the weight of the universe felt too heavy, and the only thing that could dull the ache was the burn of alcohol—more of it. All of it.

You weren’t even sure how many shots you’d had by now, but the bartender had stopped counting. The warmth was seeping into your limbs, the world tilting just slightly, the glow of the overhead lights too bright for your eyes to focus.

You glanced over, catching the bartender’s eye. He wasn’t judging, but the way he was wiping the glass—a quiet, knowing gesture—told you he was keeping an eye on you. His silence was the only thing that kept you from turning around and confronting the other patrons, their eyes boring into your back. You didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. You didn’t want anyone’s pity. All you wanted was to sink into the oblivion of alcohol and forget… forget everything.

A fresh shot slid across the counter, the amber liquid swaying with the bartender’s fluid motion. He didn’t even ask. Just set it there.

You stared at it for a second before your fingers curled around the glass. “I didn’t—”

“I know,” the bartender said, his voice calm, almost understanding, as a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “But you’re looking a little worse for wear. Thought this might help.”

You were about to protest, but the words fizzled out. You were too tired to argue. You just needed to drown out the thoughts that kept circling, gnawing at your brain.

“No offense,” you muttered, swirling the shot in your hand. “But I’m not sure anything can help right now.”

He didn’t respond immediately, instead giving you a patient look, something deep and steady in his eyes. The kind of look that felt like it could pierce through all the bullshit. “Well, if you’ve got a death wish, there are better ways to go about it.”

You stiffened at his words, your chest tightening. “What makes you think I’ve got a death wish?”

He didn’t reply directly, but his gaze flickered to your shot glass before glancing back at you. You felt the intensity of it—an almost magnetic pull between you—and the silence in the bar thickened, the air charged.

Without thinking, you downed the shot, the spicy heat of cinnamon whisky washing over your tongue. It burned, but in a strangely comforting way. Your face flushed, your body tingled, and for a moment, the edges of your reality softened.

“Good?” the bartender asked, his voice low and steady, a hint of something unspoken in his tone.

You blinked, a slight smile tugging at your lips, more from the warmth spreading through you than from any humor. “Yeah. Actually, it’s good.”

He nodded, almost to himself, before turning his attention back to the other patrons.

The silence between you and the bartender stretched, but it was peaceful, like the calm before a storm. The alcohol was dulling the sharpness of your thoughts. Maybe… maybe you didn’t need to remember. Maybe you could just be here, in this moment. Safe. For now.

And then, a thud beside you broke your thoughts. You didn’t turn to look, just took another slow sip of water, letting the coolness calm the heat spreading through you.

“Scotch. On the rocks,” a voice murmured, smooth, like velvet. The accent was familiar, but you weren’t in the mood to focus on it.

“Coming right up,” the bartender replied, not missing a beat.

A long pause followed, and then the voice spoke again. It was teasing now, almost amused.

“You look a little out of it.”

You finally turned, meeting the sharp, dark eyes of Caleb, the Colonel. -Of all people, of course it had to be the Colonel. Your damn luck.- He leaned against the bar, his posture casual, but the intensity of his gaze didn’t match. It was like he could see straight through you. He cradled his glass lazily, the dim light catching the edge of his jaw, highlighting the faint scar running down his cheek. There was something predatory in the way he smiled—a thin curve that didn’t reach his eyes, but it wasn’t threatening. It was something else. A challenge, maybe.

“What?” you asked, trying to focus, to really see him.

“Just thought I’d say hi,” Caleb said, his voice low and smooth. “Not often we get newcomers in here. Name’s Caleb, by the way.”

You let out a small laugh, more of a huff, and took another sip of your water. “Right. Nice to meet you.”

His lips quirked as though he was amused by something you hadn’t said. “What’s your name, then?”

You told him, but you weren’t sure why. It didn’t matter. You didn’t expect him to remember it, or even care.

“Huh. Never heard that one before.” His tone was nonchalant, but there was an edge to his curiosity. It made you uneasy, but you didn’t feel like getting into it. Not tonight.

The bartender slid Caleb’s drink across the counter, and he took it with a soft thanks, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something magnetic about his gaze, something that held you there, even as you tried to pull away.

“So, what’s your story? What brings you to this little corner of Skyhaven?”

You stared at him for a moment, the alcohol giving you a bit of bravery. “Drinking.”

“Obviously,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But what else?”

You glanced at your shot glass, and for a second, you wondered if it would be easier to just say nothing. But your mouth moved before you could stop it.

“Honestly? Just trying to forget.”

Caleb’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Forget what?”

“Everything,” you muttered, slumping a little against the counter, trying to will the weight of your thoughts away. The room seemed to spin a little, but you didn’t care.

There was a beat of silence, just long enough for you to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his stare. He took a sip of his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass, and then leaned in just slightly, his breath warm against your ear.

“Can I ask why?”

You snorted, the bitter edge of your laugh not hiding the pain you were feeling. “Not sure I want to tell you.”

His gaze didn’t waver, though, didn’t flinch. “I get it,” he said, his voice softer now, more sincere than before. “But sometimes, talking can be the best way to forget.”

“Maybe,” you muttered, but you didn’t really believe it. You weren’t sure you even wanted to believe it.

“Yeah, it’s complicated, isn’t it?” Caleb said, his voice low, almost contemplative. “Everyone’s got their demons. But there’s always a way forward. That’s what I like to believe, at least.”

You raised an eyebrow, finally looking him directly in the eye. “Is that so? And what if it’s one bad thing that changes everything?”

He didn’t flinch at your words, just considered them for a moment before responding, his voice steady, measured. “Then you learn from it, and you move on. Because there’s always something more out there. Something better.”

“Is there, though?” The bitterness slipped into your voice, sharp and raw. “Sometimes one bad thing is enough to ruin it all. You can’t just forget that.”

“I suppose,” he said quietly, but the intensity in his eyes remained. “But if you let it consume you, it’ll swallow you whole.”

For a second, you didn’t know what to say to that. His words hung in the air like an anchor, keeping you tethered to the present. The weight of them felt too much to shake off, even if you tried. Caleb turned the glass in his hands, his fingers curling around the cool edges, and his gaze softened, thoughtful. “You ever feel like you’re searching for something? Something bigger than all of this?”

The question threw you off balance. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could stop it, the words slipped out of your mouth.

“Yeah. I want to believe there’s something else. Something more.”

Caleb’s lips quirked into that same small, predatory smile. “And do you think you’ll find it?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, your throat tightening. “But I have to try.”

“Yeah,” he said, almost as if to himself. “Sometimes the universe has a way of showing us what we need, when we least expect it.”

“And sometimes it doesn’t,” you added, barely above a whisper.

The air between you felt charged now, thick with something unspoken. Caleb’s eyes softened, his gaze shifting from intensity to something else, something almost warm.

“Then we make our own way,” he said quietly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “I don’t know if I’m capable of that.”

“Maybe you don’t have to be,” he replied, his voice steady. “Not when you’ve got someone who believes in you.”

The words hung there for a moment, heavy, suffocating in their truth. You swallowed hard, staring into the depths of your empty glass, the last traces of whiskey clinging to the edges like a memory that refused to fade.

“But I don’t have anyone who believes in me,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. The admission scraped against your throat, raw and bitter, and you hated how vulnerable it made you sound.

Caleb didn’t answer right away. He just watched you, his dark eyes unreadable, but there was something steady in his gaze—something that didn’t waver, didn’t judge. Then, after a moment, he set his drink down with a quiet clink and leaned in just slightly, enough that the warmth of his presence pushed through the cold emptiness gnawing at you.

“You do now,” he said, his voice low and sure, like an undeniable truth.

Your breath caught, and for a second, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the weight of his words making your head spin. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But doubt curled in your chest like smoke, refusing to clear.

Caleb must have seen it in your expression, because his lips quirked—not quite a smirk, not quite a smile, but something in between, something softer. He lifted his glass again, his fingers brushing against yours as he nudged it toward you.

“Here’s to proving you wrong,” he murmured. “One way or another.”

You hesitated, then—almost reluctantly—lifted your glass to meet his. The cool burn of whiskey filled your throat, but it was nothing compared to the slow, smoldering warmth in Caleb’s gaze. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you wondered if maybe, just maybe… you weren’t completely alone.

—————

The next thing you knew, the dim lights of the bar were long behind you. The night had taken on a different energy as you and Caleb found yourselves standing at the door to your place. You couldn’t remember exactly how you’d gotten here, only that somewhere between the shared drinks and easy conversation, the tension in the air had shifted.

One moment, it was the warm buzz of alcohol and laughter, and the next, there was a pull between you that you couldn’t explain. Something about his eyes, the way his gaze never left yours, made your heart beat a little faster. The heat between you had been building all night, and now, in the quiet of your apartment, it felt like it was about to ignite.

You had barely stepped inside when his hand found yours, pulling you closer. His lips were suddenly on yours, soft at first, then urgent. Your pulse quickened as you responded, your body instinctively leaning into him, the space between you narrowing until there was nothing left but the taste of whiskey on his tongue and the heat of his chest against yours.

You didn’t know who made the first move—it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the pressure of his lips, the way his fingers gripped your waist as if he needed to hold onto you. The kiss deepened, more intense, more desperate, until the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you.

His hand slid up your spine, pulling you closer still, and in that moment, everything felt impossibly right. Like you were finally in the place you were meant to be. His body pressed against yours, the heat between you crackling, and you felt something shift in the air—an undeniable pull, like two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.

You stumbled backward, never breaking the kiss, and before you knew it, you were pressed against the wall of your hallway, your hands threading through his hair, tugging him closer. He groaned softly, a sound that sent a rush of heat through your veins, and you responded, matching his urgency.

Everything else disappeared—no past, no questions, just this. Just the raw, electric connection that had taken hold between you. The weight of the night, of the loneliness, of the questions and the fear—it all melted away in the heat of his touch.

Somehow, in the chaos of the moment, you’d both found yourselves here—together. And neither of you was ready to pull back.

How did we end up here…?