You let him in through your phone’s security system, forcing yourself out of bed just enough to give him a half-assed greeting.
“Why are you here?” you ask.
Caleb walks in carrying a bunch of things.
“To bring your favorite takeout. And ice cream. And chocolate. And flowers. And the DAA hoodie you tried on at my place and liked so much. I thought you might want to wear it,” he says sweetly, setting everything down.
They were all your favorites. He even remembered that you loved peonies, you’d only mentioned it once in passing.
Caleb takes a look at you.
He sees a stained oversized hoodie swallowing your frame, loose sweatpants, unwashed hair & face half-hidden behind the tightened hood.
“You look pretty cute for someone depressed,” he tries to cheer you up. Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect.
“You think this is funny, Caleb?”
His smile doesn’t fade, neither his determination to lift your mood.
“Not at all. That’s why I wanted to bring you some things,” he says softly.
“I said I didn’t want you to come over. I didn’t want you to see me… like this. Why couldn’t you just listen to me?”
Caleb steps closer, trying to pull you into a hug, but you immediately take a step back.
“No, I don’t want a hug, Caleb! I want you to leave!” you blurt out, frustrated tears filling your eyes as you glance at the gifts he brought, feeling extremely guilty.
Caleb stays still, refusing to look away from you.
“I know. I know you said that. But I needed to do something for you. I couldn’t just leave you by yourself in this state,” he explains calmly.
“The only thing you could’ve done for me was not come here. I didn’t want you doing things for me nor seeing me like this. Caleb, I’m not rational right now. I’m impulsive, I’m angry, I’m mean, I’m overly sensitive, I’m in pain, I look like shit, I feel like shit!”
“Okay?” he says ,”then be all that. Just don’t be all that alone.”
His eyes are soft, at least you think they are. Your vision is still blurred with tears.
“You don’t understand, Caleb! I’m not a good person right now—so just go, please. I told you I didn’t want you here, you’ve ignored that and shown up anyway with… all this stuff. Which is super kind, but I didn’t ask for it, now I feel forced to show gratitude, be nice to you, but I don’t have the energy to do this right now.”
Caleb is watching and listening attentively.
You take a deep breath and continue:
“And this is exactly why I didn’t want you here. I yell at you, I’m angry at you for no fucking reason, for looking out for me, now I owe you, and I don’t want to feel this way, but you force me to put in effort, but this is no phase where I can afford to do that. And now you’re stuck seeing me like this and hearing the ugly thoughts out loud, and I really didn’t want you to. I just want to be in bed alone, crying, shutting everything out, waiting for the suicidal thoughts to pass when my period starts so I can feel even a little bit normal again and show you my better side again.”
You breathe out again.
Caleb stands there for a second too long in your opinion, so you decide to shove him toward the door. Instead, he catches your wrist and pulls you closer.
“What? You think this will push me away? You’re saying this is your ugliest side?”
You struggle against the hug, his grip is firm. It annoys you to your core.
“Yes!! Now let go! I’m being an awful person.”
“Not really. But go on, if that helps,” he replies, his grip not loosening.
“But I don’t want to.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t help it?”
“I can’t.”
“Then don’t hold back.”
“But you don’t deserve this, Caleb. I’m doing fine without you. I’m used to going through this by myself. I don’t need you playing the hero. You can’t fix this… or me.”
“Who says I want to fix anything?” he asks quietly. “I just want to be by your side.”
“Right, pfft. You say that now because this is the first time you’re actually seeing it. You still think you can play savior. Maybe not my next luteal phase, but give it 6 or 8 months. Eventually, you’ll get fed up with me being 50% of the time in a month the worst person to have around. Spare yourself — and spare me — the pain and just go. I don’t want you sticking around.”
Caleb sighs. He loosens his grip slightly, crouching down to your level but while still holding your arms.
“No chance,” he says.
“Caleb, LEAVE!”
“So you’re saying you’d leave me too once you see my ugly sides?” he asks.
You click with your tongue, annoyed from his comparison.
“Of course not, but it’s different! What ugly sides do you even have? Accidentally using too much salt? Not liking cilantro?”
A faintly amused huff leaves him, though it’s more a form of showing his disbelief.
“You really think I don’t have ugly sides?” His gaze drifts for a moment as he searches for the right words.
“You just haven’t seen them yet because I try SO HARD not to show them. But I won’t always be able to hide them. You’ll see the real me eventually, and yeah… part of me is terrified you won’t like your perfect Caleb anymore, realise what an ugly Monster I am. But I’d rather have you hating me, yet by my side, than not have you at all.”
“That’s—Caleb, I… I would never leave or hate you,” you whisper, hurt that he would even think that.
Caleb gently strokes your cheek with the back of his hand.
“You say that now. But maybe in six or eight months, you’ll change your mind,” he says, throwing your own argument back at you.
You sigh, unable to completely suppress the defeated smile that escapes you.
“Hm? What was that? Did I see someone smile?” he teases gently.
“Stop it. I don’t feel like it, Caleb,” you hiss back.
“Alright, alright. But that one second of a smile in a month would be enough for me to not let you push me away.”
He gets up, grabs his hoodie, the ice cream, and two spoons. „Now, you swap your hoodie for mine, I’ll change into something comfy too, and we eat ice cream in bed. Or not. You can cry instead. Blame me. Hate me. Ignore me. But do all of that while I’m physically next to you, please.”
The two of you crawl into bed together.
You lie in bed for the next 16 hours, eyes closed, his faint breathing is the only thing keeping you together. Using this form of escapism to cope with all of this may feel comforting at first, yet somehow hurts even more once reality comes crawling back in.
When you open your eyes again, you see the game app has reset to its main screen. It crashed overnight.
{Permission to reupload as a visualiser for this fic! Fic idea was on my mind for a while and when I saw her artwork, it just fit perfectly. !
}{Artwork credits Korin Archives (X) | Instragram}
🥀 A little PMDD & maladaptive daydreaming awareness in this story, because I’ve been struggling with both for half my life. 🥀
