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134340 𝙗𝙮 𝙗𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗

[sinnisterlight]

Caleb doesn’t get jealous. Why would he be jealous? He trusts you with his whole heart — whole, okay?! You could be knife-deep in his chest and he’d still be like, “They probably didn’t mean it. Look how cute they are.”

So yeah, jealousy? Not in his emotional vocabulary. ...At least that’s what he keeps telling himself. Repeatedly. Loudly. With unnecessary emphasis.

But. BUT. Sometimes — hypothetically, obviously — he does get this little... feeling. Not jealousy, no. Just a tiny, very rational, entirely logical awareness of someone else’s existence near you. And honestly?? It’s valid in his eyes.

Because there’s a checklist. A very reasonable checklist someone has to complete before Caleb even starts to consider being maybe, possibly, the tiniest bit jealous.

Number 1: They have to be at least as tall as him. Otherwise?? It’s like fighting an ant. What’s the point?? Swinging at ankle-height nonsense. He has standards.

Number 2: They touch you more than three times. Why three? Because Caleb gets it. Poor creatures — they’ve probably never seen someone like you in their life!! Of course they don’t know what to do with themselves. So he allows three. He’s not heartless. Besides, Caleb’s more of a firm ruler than a power-hungry emperor. He grants mercy. A little.

Number 3: They have to actually make Caleb notice them. Not a quick glance. No no. If you want to awaken the purple-eyed dragon (that's what he calls himself...), you gotta earn it. Eye contact. Suspicion. Maybe even a narrowed gaze across the room!

Number 4: They make you laugh. Not just a “haha” — no, we’re talking full-body, tilt-your-head-back, hand-on-chest, can’t-breathe kind of laugh. Because that??? That’s dangerous. Caleb can deal with looks, sure. But if someone gets that kind of reaction from you… He’s watching. Intensely. Possibly pacing.

Number 5: They survive one (1) full conversation with Caleb without running away or crying or mysteriously needing to take a call. Because if you want to threaten his nonexistent jealousy, you better have the guts to stay in the ring. And Caleb? He throws shade with a smile.

So yeah, Caleb doesn’t get jealous!! Believe him!!! He’s been repeating it to himself for years!!! But if someone actually checks every single box… well… maybe, just maybe, he’d reluctantly admit it. (But don’t hold your breath!!!)

[sinnisterlight]

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 by jk

wc: 600 short n' sweet!

He didn’t plan it!! Correction: Caleb never planned to confess from the start. Not because he didn’t want to—he did, with every breath, every sideways glance, every second he let his hand hover near yours and then pulled away. But he was ready to keep it quiet forever. Because being near you was enough. If silence was the price, he’d pay it.

Until they started showing up.

First was the “super helpful coworker.”

“Oh, that’s just Xavier. He always helps me carry reports.”

Caleb didn’t even blink. Until he saw Xavier commenting on your photo with a blue heart emoji. BLUE. Like subtle affection. Loyalty. Property lines.

He nearly ate his phone.

Then came the artist. You said it so casually—“We met at a gallery opening, that’s all.” But then Caleb saw the painting. You, looking like an angel conjured out of stardust. Signed: “For you. Always.”

Excuse me? ALWAYS?!

He tried to hold it in. Tried. Until Gideon leaned over one day and muttered:

—“If you don’t tell her how you feel, dude... you’re gonna be the sad backstory in her wedding toast.”

And that was it. (Caleb died a little that day)

And then—Sylus. The so-called “fruit guy.” Except no fruit guy had a voice like expensive whiskey, cheekbones sculpted by divine beings, and an aura that screamed “I sell peaches but also possibly secrets and black-market tech.”

When Sylus said to him, —“So you’re the one she talks about,” Caleb smiled politely.

Internally? He was already building Sylus-shaped punching bags in his head.

And that’s how he ended up here. In front of your door. No speech. No chill. No exit strategy.

You opened it, relaxed and soft in your home clothes. Looking perfect. And that little smile you gave him? Yeah, that did it.

—“Hey, you okay?”

Caleb laughed. The panicked kind.

—“Nope! Not even close. I was gonna be normal, y'know? Be your friend forever and secretly die inside whenever you smiled at someone else. But then Javier—no, Xavier! appeared. And Rafayel or whatever! the soul-painter. And then—THEN came Sylus, with his charming fruit-seller dark prince vibes and his stupid perfect face.”

You blinked.

He kept going.

—“So I’m saying it. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you forever. I know I probably missed my shot, but I’d rather go out swinging than keep watching every guy with decent eyebrows try to flirt with you.”

You stared at him.

—“...Are you jealous of Sylus?”

He exploded.

—“COOOOOME OOOONNNNN!!!!” He threw his hands in the air like he was calling out to the universe. —“LIKE—LOOK AT THE DUDE’S FACE!! He’s like if a Greek god and a noir villain had a baby and decided to open a fruit stand just to make the rest of us feel bad!!”

You snorted.

Hard.

—“Wait, is that why you’ve been pouting every time I buy apples?”

—“YES! Do you know what it feels like to be jealous of a man who could seduce someone using a mango and a whisper?!”

You were laughing now. Fully laughing.

And then you stepped forward. Reached for his hand. —“...You didn’t miss your shot.”

He stopped breathing.

You looked up at him, calm, fond, amused. —“Took you long enough.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Caleb was like "IS THIS REAL???" He was about to explode!!!! Because your lips brushed his, soft and certain, and he forgot every speech he didn’t write.

Later, he'd say he confessed like a man. Gideon would say he confessed like a malfunctioning blender.

But you? You’d just smile and say: —“Tasted like honeycrisp apples.”

[sinnisterlight]

𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙮 by bts

wc: 2,313 emotional yearning with a side of emotionally constipated caleb please!

Caleb had always been like this. So oblivious it was almost a talent. Back in high school, girls would fall head over heels for him, and he wouldn’t even notice. Not a clue! And yet—he’d look at me with this softness, this quiet kind of attention that felt different. Obvious. Painfully obvious. To everyone but him. And somehow, it never changed. Years passed, and he’s still the same—still looking at me like that, still not realizing what it means.

Which brings us to today.

We were in his apartment in Skyhaven—Caleb, Gideon, and me—just hanging out, doing nothing and everything at once. Caleb had been buzzing around like usual, pouring tea for us like he’d been raised in a royal court, fussing over whether we were too cold or too warm, and teasing me about how I always stole his side of the couch. It was the kind of domestic comfort that made it really hard to remember we weren’t a couple.

Gideon, for once, was quiet. Watching. His eyes kept darting between me and Caleb, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his head. I knew that look. He was about to start some nonsense.

But then Caleb stood up and grabbed his jacket.

— I’m just gonna run to the store real quick, to make us dinner, shouldn’t take long. You two behave.

He gave us a grin and ruffled my hair—again with the hair—before heading to the door.

— Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, — he called over his shoulder.

The second the door clicked shut, I let out a long, dramatic sigh and sank down into a crouch, burying my face in my hands.

— How can he be so stupid!? — I groaned into my palms, muffled but loud enough for Gideon to hear.

I heard a low chuckle above me.

— I’ve been asking myself that for years.

I looked up at him, completely exasperated.

— It’s so obvious! I mean, you see it, right?

— Please, I’m not blind. The way you two act? I thought you were already dating until, like, ten minutes ago.

— Exactly! — I stood up, throwing my hands in the air. — He looks at me like I hung the stars, but he’ll never admit it. Never cross that line. He’s so sure we’re just friends.

Gideon leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, smirking.

— Honestly, I thought he was being subtle on purpose. You know, some kind of long game.

— Oh no. There is no game. That man genuinely believes “platonic cuddling” is a thing.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. — He cuddles you?

I narrowed my eyes. — He calls it “keeping me warm” and then drapes himself over me like a human blanket.

Gideon whistled, clearly amused. — Damn. He really is a lost cause.

— I’ve dropped every hint in the galaxy, and nothing. I could wear a shirt that says “I like you, idiot” and he’d probably say “nice shirt” and move on.

Gideon tilted his head, thoughtful. Then he smiled. That mischievous Gideon smile that always meant trouble.

— Well... what if we gave him a little push?

I folded my arms, suspicious. — What kind of push?

He grinned.

— Let’s see how he likes it if I start acting like he does with you. All the little touches, the inside jokes, the laughs. Let’s see if it finally hits him.

I blinked. — You want to pretend we’re each other?

— Not completely. Just... mirror the energy. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

I narrowed my eyes, then slowly, a wicked grin formed on my face.

— You’re evil.

— I prefer “brilliant.”

— Alright, but we keep it subtle. I’m not risking an actual scandal.

— Subtle is my middle name.

(Which was a lie, but I let it slide.)

And so, we waited.

ᯓ★

When Caleb came back, he pushed the door open with the ease of someone who lived in a constant state of mild chaos. One hand full of grocery bags, the other already reaching to close the door with his foot.

— I’m back—wow, what did I miss? You two look suspicious.

I was sitting closer to Gideon than usual. Not by much, just enough to make Caleb blink. Gideon was mid-laugh, and my hand was resting casually on his arm as if we were sharing some ridiculous inside joke.

— Oh, nothing, — I said, way too casually, as I leaned into Gideon’s shoulder just enough to make Caleb’s brow twitch. — We were just talking about that show I’m obsessed with. Turns out Gideon watches it too!

— You watch Starflame Eclipse: Rebirth? — Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow at Gideon as he carried the bags into the kitchen.

Gideon shrugged. — Guilty. Huge fan of the whole space-opera-messy-romance genre.

— I thought you said it was "galactic soap with laser guns." — Caleb peered at him from behind the kitchen counter.

— It is, — Gideon grinned. — But I love it.

I nodded enthusiastically, turning to Gideon with dramatic passion in my eyes. — Finally! Someone who gets it! The character arcs, the betrayal, the outfits—!

— The emotional damage, — Gideon added, dead serious. — The emotional damage, — I echoed, grabbing his hand in a mock solemn pact of pain.

Caleb dropped a spoon.

Just a spoon, but I heard it. And the silence that followed felt heavier than it should have.

He emerged from the kitchen with two mugs of tea, one for me and one for Gideon, his expression unreadable. Still that same polite calm, but I could see it—the micro-glitches in his routine.

He handed Gideon his mug first.

That never happened.

— So... when did you two start bonding over this? — he asked, walking around the couch to sit across from us, his voice light but edged with something else.

I tilted my head innocently. — Just now. It was fate.

Gideon took a sip of tea. — She was ranting about Episode 19 and I said “yeah, that scene wrecked me” and it was over.

I leaned into Gideon again, giving Caleb a sweet, almost teasing smile. — Honestly, I feel so seen.

Caleb nodded slowly, his gaze flicking between us. — Yeah. That’s... great. Glad you finally found someone who understands your weird obsession.

There it was. The smallest frown. The barely-there shift in tone. A flash of something he didn’t recognize in himself.

I bit back a smile. Step one: successful confusion.

Then Gideon turned it up a notch. He bumped my knee with his, then looked at me and said, completely deadpan: — Want to rewatch that scene later? I’ve got tissues ready.

— You know the way to my heart, — I sighed dramatically, hand over chest.

Caleb inhaled slowly and stood up, stretching as if he just so happened to need a moment. — I’ll uh... be in the kitchen. Yell if you need anything.

He walked away, but not before shooting one last look over his shoulder. His eyes flicked to where my hand still rested lightly on Gideon’s knee.

Gideon waited until he was out of earshot before whispering:

— He totally noticed.

I grinned, wickedly pleased. — Told you.

And so, Operation Make-Caleb-Feel-It had officially begun.

ᯓ★

Gideon leaned in slightly when Caleb disappeared toward the back of the apartment again, pretending to inspect a cereal box or something equally unimportant.

— You should go grab some napkins or something, — he said under his breath, far too casual. — Y’know… kitchen’s probably missing you.

I shot him a look, but he was already grinning.

— You’re enjoying this way too much.

— Can you blame me? This is the best kind of drama—other people’s.

I sighed, stood up, and made a show of stretching.

— I’ll go get some napkins, I guess, — I said just loud enough for Caleb to hear.

I found him in the kitchen, leaning over the counter, reorganizing grocery bags like he was prepping for war. He was a little too focused on flattening a tea box.

— Need help? — I asked, already opening the drawer where I knew he kept the napkins.

— You? — he said without looking up. — I thought you’d be too busy bonding with your new soul-twin over space soap operas and dramatic kisses.

I froze for a second, napkin in hand. Was that… jealousy?

— Wow, — I said, raising an eyebrow. — That’s a very specific summary.

He finally turned, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes… they were trying to read me.

— Just saying. You two looked pretty cozy. I didn’t know you liked Gideon that much.

— We’re getting along, that’s all. He’s funny. Easy to talk to. You know that.

— Sure. A pause. — Just… didn’t know you two were that close.

The way he said it—it wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t cold. But it lingered. Like something he didn’t understand and didn’t quite like.

I shrugged, placing the napkins on the island.

— I mean, I thought you’d be happy. I’m finally making friends in Skyhaven.

— I am happy, — he said immediately. But something in his voice didn’t match.

— It’s just... you’ve always been mine, you know?

Silence.

I blinked.

So did he.

— Wait— I mean, not mine mine. Not like that— I just meant—like—my person. You’ve always been... around. With me. You get it, right?

He looked at me with that face. The one he used when he’d pass me his jacket without asking. When he’d wait up just so I wouldn’t walk home alone. When he’d remember things I said once, a long time ago, and pretend it wasn’t a big deal.

He didn’t say it. But he did it. Always.

— Yeah, — I said softly. — I get it.

Our eyes held for a beat too long.

Then he cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

— Anyway. I got that tea you like.

He handed it to me like nothing had just happened. Like he hadn’t casually dropped an emotional grenade.

I took it, my fingers brushing his, and smiled. — Thanks.

From the living room, Gideon called out, — Are the napkins made of silk or what?

Caleb smiled, too. Still unaware of why his chest suddenly felt tight.

I left the kitchen with the napkins in hand, my thoughts a mess of Caleb's voice echoing in my head — you’ve always been mine — and the way he’d said it like it meant nothing when it meant everything.

I handed the napkins to Gideon and gave him a look that probably said more than it should.

— I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, — I said, more distracted than I meant to.

Gideon raised an eyebrow but nodded, tossing me a silent “good luck with your feelings” look as I slipped down the hall.

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, Caleb stepped back into the room. He carried two bowls with chips, one in each hand — his usual distraction tactic.

Gideon didn’t look up at first, just accepted one of the bowls when Caleb handed it over.

— Thanks, Captain. You survived napkin duty?

— Barely, — Caleb muttered, settling onto the couch.

A moment passed in silence. Then:

— She seems… comfortable with you. Lately.

Gideon smirked, not bothering to look subtle about it.

— Comfortable? Is that your word for it?

Caleb frowned slightly, eyes flickering toward the hallway as if he could see through walls.

— Just... she’s different around you. And you’re different with her.

— Maybe she just finally realized I’m charming as hell. He took a long sip of his tea. — Why? Bother you?

Caleb scoffed, too quick.

— No. Just noticing. That’s all.

Gideon leaned back, eyeing him over the rim of his mug. — Huh. And here I thought you’d be relieved she had someone else watching over her for once.

That hit something.

Caleb shifted slightly, brows knitting.

— What’s that supposed to mean?

Gideon tilted his head, considering. Then, lightly:

— It means you’ve been acting like her personal guardian angel since forever, but the moment someone else steps in — someone she laughs with, someone she leans on — you start asking questions.

Caleb didn’t answer. Not right away.

Gideon leaned forward a bit, tone softer but still teasing:

— You’re not jealous, are you?

Caleb’s eyes narrowed, defensive out of instinct more than certainty.

— Of course not.

Gideon raised both hands in surrender.

— Alright, alright. Just checking. A pause. — I mean, I’d get it. If I were in your shoes… and I saw her with someone else, I might start realizing a few things.

Caleb stared at him. Not angry. Just… lost in thought.

And that was new.

Very new.

ᯓ★

By the time I came back from the bathroom, they were both pretending like they hadn’t just paused the world in my absence.

Caleb was back on the couch, legs sprawled in that effortless way of his, tea mug balanced on his knee like he didn’t have a single intrusive thought in his life. Gideon, on the other hand, was biting the rim of his cup and definitely not making eye contact with me.

— Took you long enough, — Caleb said without looking up.

— There was a line, — I answered, settling next to Gideon. Or trying to.

But just as I was about to sit down beside him, Caleb shifted—very subtly, but deliberately—patting the empty spot between him and the armrest.

— Hey. Come sit here. It’s your show, isn’t it?

He wasn’t even looking at me when he said it. Just kept his eyes on the screen, casual. Too casual.

I blinked.

Gideon blinked.

I slowly turned to look at him, already halfway onto the cushion next to him.

Gideon, still mid-sip, caught my expression and followed my gaze to Caleb’s hand, still tapping the space next to him like I hadn’t just made a perfectly reasonable choice to sit anywhere else.

Then he saw Caleb’s face — calm, steady, but with the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth — and that was it.

Gideon choked on his tea.

— You good? — I asked, concerned.

— Peachy, — he wheezed, coughing into his sleeve and turning slightly away, clearly fighting for his life not to burst out laughing.

I hesitated, then stood back up slowly and walked over to Caleb, who, by now, had finally looked up at me with the most innocent pair of eyes I’d ever seen on a man who’d just marked his territory with a cushion.

He tilted his head.

— You are obsessed with episode 19, aren’t you? Thought you’d want the best seat.

I narrowed my eyes.

— I was fine where I was.

He shrugged, eyes sparkling with something dangerous.

— I wasn’t.

Gideon made a noise that might have been another cough or might have been a muffled laughing into his hoodie sound. Hard to tell.

I sat down slowly, still watching Caleb.

He didn’t even try to hide the smile that curled at the corner of his mouth.

And for the first time in a long time…

…I wasn’t sure if I was the one playing games anymore.

We’d barely made it ten minutes into the episode when I felt it — Caleb shifting just slightly closer to me. Not enough to make it obvious, but enough that I noticed the way our arms nearly touched. The way his shoulder leaned just a little toward mine whenever he laughed at a scene.

He wasn’t usually this... still. Or quiet. Caleb was always commenting, always gesturing, always doing. But tonight, he seemed content to just be there, next to me. Eyes flickering to mine every now and then like he was checking to see if I noticed.

I did.

Gideon, sitting to the side with his mug now cold, was watching both the screen and us. Less focused on the drama playing out in episode 19, and much more focused on the slow, subtle drama playing out right in front of him.

When Caleb reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and, without asking, gently placed it over my legs like it was the most normal thing in the world, I didn’t say anything.

But Gideon choked for the second time that night.

— You okay? — Caleb asked, turning toward him without moving the rest of his body, like even his attention had a radius now, limited to whoever was within touching distance.

— Yeah, I just… remembered I have to be up early. — Gideon stood abruptly, leaving his mug on the table. — Super early. Painfully early. In fact, I’m late for being early.

I raised an eyebrow.

— You’re spending the night.

— Not anymore. I wouldn’t want to, uh... interrupt your soap-based bonding ritual. Besides—he flashed Caleb a grin—seems like you’ve got things under control.

Caleb looked mildly confused, which only made Gideon smile wider.

— Anyway. Goodnight, lovebirds.

And with that, he grabbed his jacket and keys, and was out the door before either of us could stop him.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence.

I turned back to the screen, pretending my heart wasn’t pounding in my ears. Caleb stayed quiet for a beat longer before murmuring:

— He’s acting weird tonight.

I didn’t dare look at him when I said:

— You think so?

He hummed.

— You’re not cold, are you? — Not really. But he still tugged the blanket up, brushing his hand against mine and letting it stay there for just a second too long.

Then he shifted again.

Not closer this time — actually, a little farther. He leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling with a loud, dramatic sigh that came out of nowhere.

— I don’t get it.

I blinked.

— Get what?

He stayed like that, eyes still pointed upwards, like the answers were written on the ceiling tiles.

— You and Gideon.

Oh. So that’s what this was.

I stayed quiet, because something in his voice told me this wasn’t a casual question.

— You barely know him, but suddenly you’re watching shows together and laughing at everything he says, and going to the kitchen for, what, serviettes together like it’s some kind of secret mission—

— Are you... jealous?

The words slipped out of me before I could stop them. Not teasing. Not light. Just… honest.

His head snapped toward me so fast I half expected whiplash.

— What? No. No. I just think—he’s not as funny as you pretend he is, that’s all.

I raised an eyebrow.

— Caleb.

— And he always acts like he knows everything about you, but he doesn’t. Not really. He just met you. He doesn’t know that you always skip the opening theme if you’re sad, or that you pretend to hate rom-coms but always rewatch the same three when you’re sick. He doesn’t know you freeze when you're anxious or that you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re holding back something. He doesn’t know—

He stopped. Too late.

The room went quiet again, but this time it felt loaded. Breathing felt different.

I turned toward him slowly.

— You notice those things?

He blinked. Then looked down at his hands like they’d just betrayed him in a court of law.

— Of course I do, — he muttered, softer. — I’ve always noticed.

My throat felt tight.

— Then why do you always act like you don’t?

He rubbed the back of his neck, as if trying to physically erase the words out of the air.

— Because if I let myself act like I do— he hesitated, then looked at me, finally, really looked. — I wouldn’t know how to stop.

I stared at him.

He wasn’t joking.

He wasn’t playing dumb.

He looked… terrified.

My heart ached. Ached in that stubborn, beautiful way only he could make it ache.

And still, he managed to sound defensive when he added:

— And maybe I didn’t like the way he looked at you.

— Why?

— Because you looked back.

Silence again.

And then—

— What if I told you, I only did it to make you jealous?

His jaw clenched, and he sat up a little straighter.

— I’d say you succeeded.

— And if I told you it wasn’t just to tease you?

That finally made him pause.

He stared at me like he was trying to figure out if he was dreaming. Then, voice hoarse:

— Then I’d ask what it meant.

I swallowed.

— You already know what it means.

He leaned in, slow and unsure, like he was waiting for a trap to spring.

— Say it anyway.

So I did.

And this time, he didn’t move away.

Caleb's breath caught, his eyes flickering between mine like he was trying to decide whether to keep holding back or just... let go.

I could feel the weight of it — the years of quiet feelings he’d buried, the distance he’d kept, the way he had always tried to pretend like none of this mattered.

But it did. And I needed him to know it.

I reached out, hesitating for a moment, before placing my hand on his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and it made the room feel warmer, closer.

— Caleb... — I whispered, almost as if the word itself was enough to pull him back from whatever distant place he had been hiding in.

He swallowed, his eyes still wide, and his lips parted like he had something to say. But nothing came out.

And that was when I realized.

He wasn’t going to move.

So, I did.

I closed the distance between us in one slow, almost deliberate motion, until the air between us was too thin to hold anything back. I leaned in, and my breath mingled with his, the warmth of his lips so close, yet still an eternity away.

— I don’t want you to pretend anymore, Caleb, — I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. — I want you to feel what I feel.

And then, with all the courage I could muster, I pressed my lips against his.

It was soft at first, just a gentle meeting of lips, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was real. His hands came up to cradle my face, pulling me in closer, deepening the kiss as his uncertainty melted away.

I could feel him smile against my lips, and it made my heart flutter.

When we finally pulled away, his forehead rested against mine, and he was breathing heavily, like he’d just run a race.

— You’re sure? — he asked, his voice rough and vulnerable, something I rarely heard from him.

I nodded, a soft laugh escaping me.

— I’ve been sure for a long time, Caleb.

And then, as if on cue, his puppy eyes returned — soft, warm, full of something sweet and terrifying all at once. He smiled, his thumb gently brushing over my cheek.

— I’m a mess, aren’t I? — he said, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly.

— Just a little, — I teased, my hand reaching for his, holding it tightly.

He chuckled, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe everything that was happening.

— So, what now? — he asked, still with that hint of uncertainty in his voice.

I smiled, tracing a line down his arm, feeling his muscles tense under my touch.

— Now? Now, we just… see where this goes. Together.

He grinned, his eyes lighting up in a way I hadn’t seen before.

— Together, huh? That sounds pretty good.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like everything was excatly where it was meant to be.

[sinnisterlight]

𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 by bts

wc: 3430 alternative ending to Homecoming Wings 2-9 or soft hurt/comfort

“𝐴𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑚𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ, 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑀𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒, ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

The silence between them felt heavier than all the sirens that had blared for weeks.

Outside, the news played on loop.

"The lockdown will be lifted after being in effect for weeks... The Farspace Fleet assures everyone that the explosion in the Cascade District will not happen again..."

But none of that mattered now.

Because Caleb was looking at her like she was the only thing left holding him together—and the only thing breaking him apart.

His words struck like thunder in the dark:

"...And if one house isn't enough, I'll build you a whole maze."

She stared at him, chest aching, lungs tight.

"I'll decorate it with everything you could ever want. It will be the most beautiful, stunning garden you've ever seen."

He wasn’t smiling. There was no softness in his expression, no playfulness. Just conviction. Pain. Obsession dressed up in love.

"No one will be able to find you ever again. I'll protect you forever."

And that was when she realized: He wasn’t threatening her.

He was begging her.

Begging her to let him build a world where no one else could reach her. Where she wouldn’t be hunted. Controlled. Hurt.

Where it would just be them. Always.

"Caleb... You can’t just..."

Her voice trembled. Not out of fear—but out of something more dangerous.

Because part of her wanted it.

The world had broken both of them in different ways. The city was a battlefield. Her memories, a minefield. And the only thing that had ever truly felt safe… was him.

Even if he wasn’t the same anymore.

"You used to be... the one I always counted on. My constant. My safe place..."

She said it. And hated herself for it.

Because the words felt like a memory too far gone, like something that didn´t belong to them anymore.

"Is that really what you still think of me?"

His voice cracked. Like a dam giving way.

"...Your biggest mistake, is thinking I was ever willing to keep up playing that role."

And then it shattered.

Whatever had been left of Caleb’s mask, his restraint—it fell to pieces right there.

The echo of his words filled her chest like smoke, choking out the last of her resistance.

She looked up at him. Really looked.

At the man who had followed her into every fire. Fought through every shadow. Killed for her. Lied for her. Loved her.

And now, he was asking for one thing.

Her.

She didn’t even realize she had taken a step forward until his eyes widened.

Then she whispered—soft and wrecked:

—"Then don’t pretend anymore."

The silence snapped like a live wire.

"What?" His voice was hoarse.

She took another step. Closer now. Closer to the edge of the life they’d never dared imagine.

—"Build it." Her eyes didn’t leave his. —"Build the garden. Build the maze. If you still want me there… I’ll go with you."

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

"You're safest only by my side."

His hand twitched. Like he was still unsure this wasn’t a hallucination, some cruel echo of hope.

She closed the distance.

Slowly, carefully, she lifted her hand and touched his chest—right where his heart should be.

It was beating like mad.

And so was hers.

—"Then take me there." Her voice broke. —"Before I change my mind."

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

Golden light draped the orchard like a soft veil, seeping through the branches of the apple trees as they swayed gently in the late summer breeze. The leaves fluttered, whispering old secrets to the wind, and the fruit—round, red, sun-warmed—hung low, almost ready to fall. Wildflowers grew at the edges of the grass, dancing lazily in the heat. The wooden fence, half-covered in ivy, cast long shadows across the yard where the earth still remembered their footsteps.

It smelled like ripe apples and dry hay, like cinnamon clinging to the wood, like something familiar and far away. The garden, now overgrown with color, bloomed with clusters of Caleb’s Orange Crush, their fiery petals catching the glow of the sunset like little suns of their own. Bees drifted lazily from bloom to bloom, unbothered by time.

The house sat quietly at the edge of it all.

A humble countryside home, soft blue wood and white trim, worn by years and weather but strong—lived in, not broken. Its porch wrapped around the front like an embrace. One corner had a rocking chair that still squeaked, and the roof bore the stubborn nail Caleb had never gotten around to fixing. The windows reflected the orchard and sky in hazy, warm tones, the way memories blur at the edges.

Inside, the scent of baked apples and cinnamon lingered like a lullaby that never stopped. The living room glowed gold, filled with softness: old cushions, frayed quilts, a stack of books left open on the armrest. On the sideboard near the kitchen door sat a row of picture frames, slightly faded with sun.

One captured her—years younger, knees in the dirt, a straw hat shadowing her eyes as she smiled with flushed cheeks. Gloves too big for her hands, a bloom of Caleb’s Orange Crush in one palm. Another showed him, in a sleeveless tank stained with blue, his face freckled with paint splatters. He stood in front of the house half-painted, hands on his hips, grinning at her through the camera lens like he knew exactly what he was doing. Because of course he did. She was the one behind the lens.

They had built this life slowly. Carefully. With mistakes and laughter, sweat and shared silence.

And now, in the hush of dusk, they sat side by side on the old wooden porch, two worn chairs creaking softly beneath them. She was wrapped in a light blanket, her frame smaller now, curled like a question mark. Caleb sat close enough that their knees touched. His hand found hers without looking—an old habit, familiar as breath.

The sunset stretched long across the orchard, coloring the sky in apricot and wine. The apple trees swayed like they were nodding off to sleep.

“You ever think about it?” Caleb asked after a while, voice gravel-soft, worn by time but still unmistakably his. “What we gave up?”

She turned her head slightly toward him, catching the shape of him in the corner of her eye—silver hair unruly, lines around his mouth deeper, but eyes still full of quiet storms.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Late at night. When I hear a ship pass far above.”

He nodded slowly, thumb brushing along the back of her hand. A silence settled between them again, heavy and kind.

“And do you regret it?” The question didn’t sting. It simply hung there like dust in warm light.

She looked at him then. Really looked. At the faint scars near his temple. At the way his other hand rested on his thigh, fingers curled ever so slightly inward from age. She brought their clasped hands to her lips, pressing a kiss into the knuckles before resting it against her cheek.

“Never.”

His chest rose and fell with a quiet sigh, one that let years out all at once. He leaned forward just enough to let his forehead brush hers.

“Me neither, honey,” he murmured.

Their matching rings—simple, dulled with time—caught a last glint of sunset where their fingers tangled.

They stayed like that while the light faded, the apple trees whispering goodnight in the wind. And though the world had long since moved on without them, in this place—this home—they had everything they'd ever needed.

Each other.

[sinnisterlight]

𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 / 2𝙐 by bts / cover by jk

wc: 1515 angst with a tint of love and definitely no hope

The high command had spoken— a final verdict delivered with sterile voices and cold eyes. Caleb was to lead the next mission.

Not dangerous. Doomed.

A slow drift into the mouth of the Deepspace Tunnel— a place where signals curled into silence, where ships vanished like the breath of a dream.

And of course, it had to be him.

The unshakable. The flawless. The fleet’s own myth in the shape of a man. He had never failed. Never faltered. He was their last card, their perfect weapon.

But titles never meant much to Caleb. Not when the cost was you.

They said it was critical. That the mission was life or death for thousands. That no one else could walk that deep into the dark and return.

He didn’t flinch. He never did.

But when they told him the how long, the how far, the how unlikely— his breath caught in his throat.

Because this time, even he could see it:

He wasn’t coming back.

And before fear, before duty, before anything else— came the image of you.

Not the medals. Not the stars. Not the mission.

You.

Who would hold you when the silence closed in? Who would protect you from the eyes always watching, from the shadows that waited for him to look away?

Who would keep the promise he whispered the day your fingers first touched his?

That he’d always keep you safe.

He sat at the edge of his chair in his Skyhaven apartment, still wearing the uniform like it was part of his skin— a second spine forged from orders and guilt.

The lights were off. Rain skated down the windows like falling stars, and thunder rolled in slow, patient waves.

A flash of lightning split the room, and there—on the table— your pendant caught the light.

The one you gave him when you still believed in futures. It gleamed like a dying star, small and defiant in the dark.

He picked it up.

It was warm. Still holding your heat, your scent, your faith.

Caleb had never feared the end. Not when you made him catch that giant insect just to set it free. Not when his first mission nearly tore his shuttle apart. Not even when death wrapped its fingers around his throat— and he clawed his way back from the void.

But now?

Now he was terrified.

Not of dying. He would do that a thousand times, if it meant you stayed safe.

But this— this quiet leaving, this slow unraveling— this was worse.

Because he wouldn’t just lose his life. He’d lose you.

And gods, he wanted to run. To grab your hand and disappear into the stars, leave the war behind, the weight, the ghosts.

But he couldn’t.

Because love like his was dangerous. And they would come for you. Not for answers. Not for justice. But because one truth still burned brighter than any galaxy—

The only thing more dangerous than a missing colonel… was a colonel in love.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

He appeared at your door just as the sky began to pale. He didn’t knock. He didn’t speak.

You opened it before he could raise his hand, already knowing he’d be there. Already knowing what today was.

“I have today,” he said.

Not forever. Not a week. Not enough.

Just today.

And somehow, that hurt more than silence.

He took your hand as if it were something sacred, as if the weight of it anchored him to this world. As if letting go might unmake him.

Maybe it would.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You walked beneath a low sky bruised with clouds, the morning soft and gray, like the universe had lowered its voice for you. There was no plan, no destination—only time slipping quietly between your fingers.

He watched you with the urgency of someone trying to memorize the sun before the eclipse. The way your fingers curled into his. The way your eyes caught the morning light. The way your laughter trembled—like even it was trying not to cry.

You ended up in the café. Your café.

The same cracked leather booths. The same dusty windows blurred with years. The same corner table where you used to wait for him— mud still drying on your boots, hope steady in your chest with every creak of the door.

Nothing had changed. And yet— everything had.

Caleb ordered your favorite drink. Two sugars, no cream. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. He remembered. He always would.

He sat across from you, the silence stretching long and gentle between sips. He didn’t fill it with empty words.

He just watched— your hands around the cup, the way the steam curled upward like a whispered prayer.

“You always held it with both hands, pips',” he said quietly, eyes tracing yours. “Even in the summer. Said it made it taste warmer.”

You smiled—soft, fragile.

“I still do.”

He nodded, barely. A flicker of a smile crossed his lips, but behind it— something fragile was unraveling.

He wanted to say it all. I’m scared. I don’t want to go. I wish there was time. But this wasn’t a day for breaking. It was a day for pretending. A day to press pause on the ache.

So instead, he asked about the book on your nightstand. The little garden you’d started by the window. The neighbor’s cat that kept climbing your balcony.

You answered. You laughed. You teased him. And for a moment—just a breath—it felt like the world had been kind.

But then silence returned. Not heavy. Not empty. Just… real.

The kind of silence that exists when truth has no more disguises.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice soft enough to be mistaken for a heartbeat.

“If we had come back to each other before the stars changed me… before the fleet… before everything started falling apart…” His gaze met yours—full of sorrow, of wonder, of love so deep it didn’t need to speak.

“I would’ve asked you to run away with me.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Your fingers reached for his, brushing softly— not to hold, not to stop him, but simply to be there. To say I know. To say I would have gone.

And in that gentle, wordless moment, Caleb understood:

This— this stolen morning, this fragile calm before the dark— was the closest he would ever come to peace.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

That night, the rooftop didn’t feel like a place—it felt like a moment suspended between heartbeats, floating between the warmth of the earth and the cold silence of the stars.

The wind moved gently through the space between you, like the last breath before a long sleep. Above, the sky had cleared completely, as if the universe itself wanted to bear witness—no clouds, no distractions, only the quiet shimmer of ancient light. Light from stars that had already died, but still burned, still reached you.

You stood beside Caleb, shoulder to shoulder, souls tangled in a silence too deep for words.

He didn't move. He didn't speak. But in the weight of that stillness, you knew—this was the end of something you never wanted to begin.

“I’ve faced gravity storms and dark voids that swallow sound,” he said, voice low, almost reverent. “But nothing ever made me feel as lost… as this.”

He looked at you then, really looked—like he was memorizing the way your eyes held galaxies, the way your breath fogged in the night air like a fading nebula.

“I’m not afraid of dying,” he murmured. “But I am afraid you’ll forget the way I loved you.”

From his coat, he pulled the pendant you gave him—worn, but still carrying your touch. He turned it over in his palm once, then pressed it gently into your hand.

“I wanted to take it with me,” he said, and his voice cracked like ice under pressure. “But if I disappear out there, I want this to stay with you. Let it hold the pieces of me I couldn’t bring back.”

Your fingers curled around the metal. It felt impossibly heavy, like stardust soaked in memory.

He reached for your cheek, brushing a tear away before it could fall, and lingered there—his touch tender, trembling, full of everything he couldn’t say.

“Promise me…” His voice was quieter now, like a radio signal on its last frequency. “Promise me you’ll keep living. That you’ll plant something. Watch it bloom. Laugh, even if it aches. Fall in love again—if it means you're still here.”

You closed your eyes, because looking at him hurt more than any goodbye.

His forehead met yours, and for a moment, time stopped.

No stars moved. No wind stirred. Just two souls, breathing in the silence between worlds.

And then—he stepped back. One slow movement. Then another.

He didn’t turn around.

Because he knew: if he looked back, he’d stay. And if he stayed, you’d both be lost.

So he walked into the dark— and the stars didn’t weep, but they remembered.

And above you, the sky kept his secret, cradling it among constellations, where love is eternal, and stars never truly die.

[sinnisterlight]

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 by bts

wc: 4,871 fluff and silly love

Caleb was good at everything—not in that show-off, “I was born to win” kind of way, but because he genuinely put in the effort.

And you noticed. Everyone did, really. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to admire him. Or maybe that’s why, sometimes, your chest felt a little tight when people talked about how amazing he was.

People adored Caleb. The elderly at the park smiled wider when he walked by. The little kids followed him around like he was some kind of hero. Teachers praised him constantly, always holding him up as an example. And somehow, even with all that, he wasn’t annoying about it. He was just… Caleb.

And yeah, he helped you too. All the time. With anything. Even the little things that didn’t matter much to anyone else. He always seemed to know when you needed help—even before you asked.

So maybe, just maybe, you were a tiny bit jealous. Not because he was perfect, but because he made it look so easy. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d seen him fail. And even when he did, he took it with a grin and a shrug. You’d never once heard him brag. Well… maybe that one time when he beat Zayne on a test. But even then, he said it with a laugh, and Zayne didn’t even blink.

Still… you couldn’t stay jealous for long. Caleb never made you feel small. Never made you feel like you were just someone in the background. He always made space for you. Like you mattered.

That day had started like any other. You’d spaced out during class and had no clue what the homework was about. You figured you’d ask Caleb. That was the usual plan. He never said no.

So, you wandered over to his room and knocked three times on his door.

“Caleb? You there? Can I come in?”

No answer.

You waited a moment, knocked again. Still nothing. Maybe he was asleep? You cracked the door open gently. His room was its usual neat self, his phone sitting quietly on the bed.

Just as you were about to close the door, you heard a laugh. A girl’s laugh. Light, airy, sweet and… unfamiliar.

Curious, maybe even a little nervous, you peeked through the window. And there he was—Caleb. Standing in the backyard, hand behind his neck like he always did when he was flustered. He was talking to a classmate. You could only see his back, but she was smiling, laughing even, one hand lightly resting on his arm.

Your chest felt weird. Tight, like you couldn’t breathe right. Something heavy and warm settled behind your ribs. You didn’t stay to watch. You backed away, closed the curtain, and went straight to your room.

You sat on your bed and stared at your hands, confused. Why did it feel like this? You weren’t mad. Not really. But something stung, soft and sharp at the same time.

You weren’t going to cry. Obviously not. That would be silly.

Instead, you picked up your phone and called Zayne.

“Hey, Zayne… are you free?”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before he answered, voice low and calm as always. “Yeah. Why?”

“Can I come over? I… kinda need help with some homework.” Your eyes were locked on the floor, like the scuffed pattern of your socks had suddenly become the most important thing in the universe.

Another pause. This one a little longer.

“…Sure,” he said finally, though there was a quiet uncertainty behind the word.

You could almost picture him frowning slightly, already connecting the dots. Caleb usually helped you with stuff like this. Everyone knew that. Zayne especially—Caleb had even told him once, only half-joking, that if you ever asked for homework help, he should just send you back Caleb’s way.

So yeah. Zayne definitely knew something was off. But he didn’t ask. He never did.

You grabbed your book and pencil case, slipped on your shoes, and made your way to the front door. No sign of Caleb or the girl. Good. You didn’t think you could handle seeing them again so soon.

Just as your fingers touched the door handle, you heard that familiar voice behind you.

“Where you goin’?”

His tone was gentle, curious. When you turned, he was standing there with one eyebrow slightly raised, like he already knew something was off.

“To Zayne’s house,” you answered, keeping your voice casual.

“Why?”

“He’s gonna help me with homework.”

Caleb tilted his head, his expression softening. “Why didn’t you ask me? You know I like helping you, pipsqueak.”

That nickname. It always made you roll your eyes—but also made something flutter in your chest.

“You seemed busy earlier,” you said, trying to sound like you were teasing. “Didn’t want to interrupt your moment with your girlfriend or whatever.”

He blinked. “She’s not my—”

But before he could say anything else, you cut in quickly, avoiding his eyes. “I’m going. And yes, I’ll be back before dinner! I promise.”

Except… you weren’t

After dinner, Zayne quietly stood up and grabbed his jacket.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said, not quite asking—just stating it, like he already knew you wouldn’t say no.

You nodded, grateful.

The walk was calm, filled with a comfortable kind of silence. The kind you only get with someone who doesn’t mind quiet. You talked a little—nothing deep. Just small things. A funny TikTok you saw, a teacher’s weird tie, a dumb rumor going around school. Zayne didn’t say much, but he listened, occasionally offering a small nod or a quiet chuckle. That was enough.

Then, as you turned the last corner, your heart gave a small jolt.

Caleb.

He was standing by your front door, arms loosely crossed, gaze scanning the street like he’d been there for a while. When his eyes found you, he didn’t look angry… but he wasn’t smiling either. Just watching. Waiting.

You slowed down.

“Well… looks like I’m good now,” you said softly, giving Zayne a small smile. “Thanks for everything today.”

He gave you a quiet nod. “Yeah. No problem.”

You hesitated, then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. A thank-you, nothing more. Just something warm to hold between you before heading into whatever came next.

“Really,” you added, meeting his eyes. “Thank you—for being there.”

Zayne blinked, the tips of his ears turning just a little pink. He didn’t smile, not exactly, but his eyes softened. “Get home safe,” he said simply, and then turned to head back without another word.

You turned toward your front door, your steps a little slower now. Caleb had uncrossed his arms, his expression unreadable up close—somewhere between concern and something else.

Once you were standing in front of him, you could see it clearer. He looked… conflicted. Like he didn’t know what he was supposed to feel.

“What took you so long?” he asked, voice low—not angry, but definitely hurt.

You looked down, guilt curling in your stomach. “Zayne’s parents asked me to stay for dinner,” you said quietly. “I… I didn’t mean to take so long. I’m sorry.”

And you meant it. You really did.

Caleb didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you for a moment, his jaw tightening like he was trying to keep words from slipping out too fast.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the silence stretching between you like a thread pulled too tight.

“Didn’t think you’d actually go to him,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thudded. “I needed help, and… you weren’t there.”

“I was,” he replied quickly, then hesitated. “I was just… outside.”

“With her,” you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed—not in anger, but in frustration. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“I didn’t say it was,” you answered, even though the way your voice trembled kind of gave you away.

For a second, you both just stood there, the space between you full of things unsaid.

˙⋆✮

The next morning, you left early. Way earlier than necessary. You didn’t want to risk running into Caleb in the kitchen, or hearing his voice ask, “You ready to go, pipsqueak?” Not after last night.

On your way to school, you ignored his messages. The first one was simple: “did you already leave pips' ? :(” A few minutes later: “did you wait for me? :c” And the last one, shorter, sharper: “ok.”

The silence between you stretched long and heavy throughout the day.

In class, you sat closer to Zayne than usual. It wasn’t a big thing, but Caleb noticed. You could feel it in the way his eyes flicked toward you when he thought you wouldn’t catch him.

He tried to talk to you during break—approaching with that soft smile he always saved for you—but you turned your back just in time, pretending you hadn’t seen him. You asked Zayne something random about history homework instead.

Zayne, quiet as ever, didn’t question it. He just nodded and followed your lead, like he always did. He was good at that—at staying silent when it mattered most.

Meanwhile, Caleb stood there for a second longer than he should’ve, his expression caught somewhere between confused and… something else. Something a little bit hurt.

˙⋆✮

At lunch, you and Zayne sat under the trees. You talked like everything was fine—jokes, casual questions, the usual—but your mind was miles away. Still, you smiled. You kept it light. You were good at pretending.

At some point, Zayne glanced across the yard, and your eyes followed.

Caleb was there. With her.

He was laughing at something she said, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Her hand rested lightly on his arm, and he didn’t move away.

This wasn’t about revenge. Or jealousy. You were just tired. Tired of feeling like you had to fight for a place that had always felt like it was yours. Like you’d earned it.

He looked at you—once. Just as you turned your head toward him. And that moment—so brief, so silent—hurt more than the whole day of distance.

Still, you didn’t go to him.

Because if you did… you might not be able to keep pretending it didn’t hurt.

The walk home with Zayne was quiet. More than usual.

Normally, you’d fill the silence with soft chatter—complaining about teachers, wondering what to eat for dinner, rambling about whatever popped into your head.

But today, you just walked.

No earbuds, no music. Just the steady sound of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot. Zayne didn’t say anything at first, like he was giving you space to be quiet if you needed to be. But eventually, even he noticed the difference.

“You’re really quiet today,” he said gently, not looking at you. Just facing forward, voice soft like he didn’t want to scare the words away.

You didn’t answer right away. Mostly because you didn’t know how.

“Just tired,” you mumbled eventually, eyes on the sidewalk.

He gave a slow nod, like he knew you were lying—but wasn’t going to call you out on it.

You walked a little more, the quiet stretching between you again, but it didn’t feel awkward. Not with Zayne. He had this way of making silence feel safe.

“I get it,” he said after a while. “Some days feel heavier than others.”

You glanced at him. His expression was unreadable as always—calm, steady—but his eyes flicked toward you for a moment, just long enough to let you know he meant it.

You offered a tiny smile. “Yeah.”

When you got to your house, the lights inside were on. Caleb was probably home already.

You stopped at the gate, hesitating.

“You sure you’re okay?” Zayne asked, this time looking at you.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t push. Just gave you a small nod and said, “Text me later if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks.”

And as he turned to leave, you stood there for a second longer than you meant to—wondering if Caleb was in the kitchen, waiting to ask why you hadn’t talked to him all day.

You weren’t sure if you were ready to answer that.

˙⋆✮

The next day felt even worse.

You barely slept the night before. You didn’t hear Caleb knock on your door—not that you were sure he did—but part of you waited anyway. He didn’t text either.

At school, you saw him again. With her.

They were standing by the lockers, talking. Laughing. Again. She looked so natural beside him—so at ease. Her hair was done perfectly, her skirt pressed, her smile bright. She was everything you weren’t this morning. Put-together. Confident.

You couldn’t stop the thought. Of course he’d like her. She’s not messy, or moody, or… confusing.

You looked away, forcing your steps toward your classroom like you hadn’t even seen him. You slid into your seat next to Zayne and let your head fall gently onto the desk with a quiet thud. You didn’t say a word.

Zayne glanced at you. You felt it more than saw it. That careful, quiet way he always observed things. He didn’t say anything either—but you knew.

He was piecing it together.

It wasn’t normal for Caleb to be hanging around someone else so much. It wasn’t normal for you and Caleb to go two whole days barely talking. And it definitely wasn’t normal for Zayne to be this involved in the space between you.

By the end of the day, you were exhausted. Your brain couldn’t hold another math formula, your heart couldn’t take one more glimpse of them. You just wanted to go home.

But as you stepped out the front doors, you saw them again. Caleb and her.

They were standing a few steps away from the school gates, close—closer than usual. Her face was soft, glowing almost, eyes full of something you recognized all too well. Hope. Admiration. Affection.

Caleb wasn’t smiling. His expression was strange. Serious, maybe. Or unsure. Like he didn’t know what to do with whatever was happening.

You froze in your tracks, Zayne just behind you.

And then you heard it.

Two students walking past, whispering just loud enough: “Someone’s confessing—over there, by the gate.”“Is that Caleb?”

You didn’t catch the rest. You didn’t want to.

Your stomach dropped. Your chest tightened like someone had just punched the air out of you. You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or just throw up.

He promised. Caleb promised. Years ago, in the silliest, most childish way—he made you both swear that you wouldn’t date anyone until you were old. Like really old. Wrinkly and grey and maybe living next door with a million cats. That was the deal. That was your deal.

And now he was breaking it?

Tears stung the back of your eyes, but before any could fall, Zayne’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask if you were okay.

He just pulled you away. Quick, careful steps until the voices faded behind you.

And for the first time that day, you let yourself breathe.

You didn’t stop walking until the school was far behind. Zayne hadn’t let go of your wrist, not until you both reached the quiet park a few blocks away.

You sat on a bench. The kind that creaked a little when you leaned back. The air smelled like grass and the sky was starting to turn gold.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at the ground, chewing on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the knot in your throat from rising.

Zayne didn’t push. He never did. He just sat beside you, hands resting on his knees, eyes forward like he could wait forever if that’s what you needed.

Eventually, your voice came out in a whisper. “I feel so… stupid.”

He turned his head slightly. “Why?”

You scoffed, but there was no humor in it. “Because I knew this would happen. I knew it. Caleb is… he’s Caleb. Everyone loves him. Of course some girl would fall for him. Of course she’d be perfect. And I’m here—feeling like a complete idiot for caring.”

Zayne didn’t answer right away.

You kept going. The words were coming too fast to stop now. “I just—God, it’s not like we ever dated or anything. I don’t have the right to feel like this. I’m just… I don’t know. Mad? Sad? Jealous? All of it? None of it? I don’t even know why it bothers me so much—he’s allowed to talk to other girls. I’m being selfish, right?”

Zayne’s voice came out quiet. Calm. “But he’s not just anyone to you.”

You looked down again, pressing your fingers into your knees. “I just… liked it when it was me. When it was us. When I didn’t have to share.”

Zayne tilted his head, studying your profile. “And you don’t think that means something?”

You blinked. “What?”

He gave you a look. Deadpan. Subtle. “You’re literally spiraling because Caleb might like someone else. And you still haven’t figured it out?”

Your brows furrowed. “Figured what out?”

A beat. Then, with the most neutral tone ever: “That you like him. Obviously.”

You froze. Mouth half open like the thought had never even dared to form that clearly in your brain.

Zayne raised an eyebrow, dry as ever. “Come on. I’m not even good at this stuff and I noticed.”

You looked away, heart beating too loud now. “I… don’t. Not like that. We’ve just… always been close.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it can’t turn into something else. Doesn’t mean it hasn’t already.”

Silence.

And then, barely above a whisper: “…I don’t want to lose him.”

Zayne softened. Just a little.

“You won’t.”

You finally met his eyes. And in them, there was no judgment. No smug told-you-so. Just quiet understanding.

“Okay,” you said, barely audible.

He leaned back against the bench, folding his arms loosely. “I mean, if it helps… he looked like he was about to pass out.”

You blinked. “Who? Caleb?”

Zayne nodded. “That girl looked ready to carve his name into a tree. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.”

You stared at him. “…Really?”

Zayne just gave a small, knowing shrug.

You tried not to smile. But you failed.

You were finally breathing again.

Zayne was still beside you, quiet and calm like always, legs stretched out in front of him. The breeze was soft, the sky almost orange now, and for the first time all day, the weight in your chest didn’t feel unbearable.

You were about to say something—maybe even joke a little, maybe thank him again—when Zayne’s eyes shifted.

He looked over your shoulder. His jaw tightened, just slightly.

You turned around.

Caleb was there. Standing a few meters away, hands stuffed into his pockets, his expression unreadable—but his eyes were locked on you. And Zayne. Sitting together. On that bench. Alone.

For a second, no one moved. The air suddenly too still.

Then Caleb started walking toward you.

Each step felt louder than it should’ve been. His gaze didn’t waver, not even once. He stopped just in front of the bench, close enough that you had to look up to meet his eyes.

You swallowed.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you. Like he didn’t know where to start.

Zayne stood up beside you, slow and calm, his presence steady as always. He didn’t say anything either. But the tension was there. Not hostile—just… known. Familiar. The kind that lived in the spaces between them.

Caleb finally spoke, voice lower than usual. “I was looking for you.”

Your heart skipped. “Why?”

His eyes flicked to Zayne, then back to you. “We need to talk.”

Zayne shifted beside you, watching the interaction closely. Like he was ready to stay if you needed him to.

You hesitated. “About what?”

Caleb tilted his head slightly, his brows pulled in just a little. “You’ve been ignoring me. I thought maybe I did something wrong.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

He took a breath, trying to stay composed. “If it’s about earlier—about her—can we just… go somewhere and talk? Please?”

His voice cracked slightly at the end. Not enough for anyone else to notice, maybe. But you did.

Zayne looked at you, quiet as ever, waiting for your move. He didn’t say a word. Just stepped back a little—not leaving, but giving you space.

You looked at Caleb. At the boy who used to know every single thing you were feeling. The one who used to annoy you just to make you smile. Who made you pinky-promise stupid things like growing old together with a million cats and zero relationships.

You didn’t know what to say.

But maybe… maybe it was time to listen.

So.

You followed him.

Neither of you said much as you walked—just the crunch of gravel beneath your feet and the breeze brushing past like it didn’t want to interrupt. The sky was painted in soft golds and pinks, the kind of light that made everything feel like a memory before it even finished happening.

He led you to the small hill you used to sit on as kids. The one that caught the last bit of sunlight before the world went dim.

When he stopped and turned to face you, the light hit him just right.

Golden rays spilled across his face, tracing the curve of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the gentle lines of his mouth. His hair caught the sunlight like a halo, warm and messy, and his eyes—those soft, purple-orange eyes—looked even softer, like liquid light was pooling in them.

But there was something else in them too. Worry. Guilt. Fear.

“She’s just a classmate,” he said, voice low, hesitant.

You didn’t answer. Just listened, your heart balancing on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

“She’s in my lit class. She needed help with some essays. She kept asking, like, really asking—following me around, showing up with notes and questions, and…” He shook his head slightly. “At first I just wanted to help. But it got weird. I tried to put distance, I swear I did, but she wouldn’t back off.”

His eyes flicked toward the horizon, lips pulling into a tight, frustrated line.

“And maybe… maybe I should’ve said something sooner. I didn’t want you to think—God, I didn’t want you to feel like I was replacing you.”

He looked back at you, and that’s when you really saw it.

The crease between his brows, the way his jaw clenched like he was holding something in, the faint flush on his cheeks that wasn’t from the sun.

“I saw you with Zayne,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You looked down, but he stepped closer. The light followed him, made every freckle on his nose look like stardust.

“I know you can spend time with whoever you want. I know that. But when I saw you with him… laughing, walking together like that… it hurt.”

His voice cracked on the last word.

“I’ve always tried to be the one you looked for first. I worked for that. I wanted that. Because being near you? That’s always been the best part of my day, pipsqueak.”

Your breath caught.

He looked so open. So him. But stripped down to something raw—something that made your chest ache just looking at him.

“And today, after school,” he continued, his gaze dipping for a second before returning to yours, “she asked me to meet her. Said it was important. And then she…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “She confessed. Told me she liked me. And I…”

His voice dropped, barely more than a breath.

“I told her no.”

He stepped closer. So close you could see the sun painting soft golden lines on the curve of his lashes.

“I told her I already liked someone.”

You stood still, your heart thudding so loud you could barely hear your own thoughts.

“I’ve liked someone for a long time,” he said, eyes locked onto yours with a desperation that was both terrifying and beautiful. “And it’s not her.”

The wind shifted. You blinked slowly, like maybe this wasn’t real, like maybe the sun was playing tricks on you.

But no—it was all real.

Caleb was standing in front of you, heart on his sleeve, sunlight in his hair, and a truth he couldn’t hold back anymore.

And he was waiting for you to say something.

Anything.

You stood there for a second, the weight of his words pressing gently against your chest, like a hand not trying to hurt—just to be felt.

The golden light clung to both of you, soft and slow, like the day itself didn’t want to let go.

You swallowed. Your voice was small when it came out.

“I thought you liked her.”

Caleb blinked, surprised. “What?”

“You were always with her,” you continued, your gaze lowering to the space between your shoes. “Laughing. Talking. She’s smart, and pretty, and… confident. She’s everything I’m not.”

Your voice cracked, and you hated it.

“And I guess I just felt… replaced.”

He took a step closer, but didn’t interrupt.

“I was going to ask you for help with my homework. Like always,” you admitted, a sad little laugh slipping out. “It was nothing serious. I just didn’t understand the assignment. But when I went to your room, you weren’t there. And then I saw you through the window…”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “You were laughing. She was touching your arm. It just… it felt like too much.”

You paused, breathing in slowly, then out.

“So I went to Zayne’s instead. I didn’t even really want help. I just—” You blinked fast. “I just didn’t want to feel like I was second place. Like I didn’t matter anymore.”

Caleb looked at you like the world had tilted under his feet.

“I know it sounds childish,” you whispered. “But I was jealous. And I hated that I was jealous. I thought maybe I was just used to you always being there. But then…”

Your voice trailed off. You didn’t need to say it. Not fully. He knew.

But you forced yourself to finish.

“Then I realized I didn’t just want your attention because I was used to it. I wanted it because it’s you. It’s always been you.”

His expression shifted—hope rising behind those sad, soft eyes like sunlight through clouds.

“I hated seeing you with her,” you confessed. “And yeah… maybe I acted cold. Maybe I pushed you away. But only because it felt like I was losing something that I didn’t know meant this much until it started slipping.”

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. It was warm. Safe.

Then you looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes.

“I like you, Caleb.”

He blinked once, twice, like he couldn’t quite believe you’d said it out loud.

You smiled, a little shy. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

His laugh was soft, full of relief and something almost fragile.

“Biggest idiots,” he said, stepping even closer, his fingers brushing yours. “But at least we’re on the same page now.”

You nodded, and for the first time in days, everything felt like it had clicked back into place.

Golden hour still wrapped around you, but now it felt different—less like a goodbye, more like a beginning.

The air felt still—like even the breeze was holding its breath.

You stood there, facing each other, the last sliver of sun melting just beyond the horizon. That soft golden glow kissed the edges of Caleb’s face one last time, painting his lashes in light and making his warm eyes shine even more. He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were really there, like maybe he was afraid to blink and find you gone.

And you were still.

For once, neither of you needed to speak.

And under the last ray of sun, with the sky blushing pink behind you, you lean in.

A kiss on his cheek

Soft.

Short.

Sweet.

His hand awkwardly brushed yours like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

It wasn’t a full-on romantic movie kiss.

But it was real.

It was his heart in a moment.

Yours, too.

And when you pulled back, he was smiling in that way only he did with you—like everything else in the world could wait.

You both laughed, barely a sound, like you were afraid of breaking the spell.

And then, without saying anything else, you walked home together.

Hands intertwined, no more distance.

Just two kids with feelings too big for their chests and a golden memory quietly blooming between them.