₊⊹Synopsis: Caleb’s love consumes you, cages you — and you don’t want to be saved. You’d rather burn beside him than breathe without. And if God’s watching, he’s letting it happen.
₊⊹Pairing: Colonel Caleb x Adjutant! Reader
₊⊹Content: Reader is implied to be female, not canon, established relationship, a little suggestive, toxic relationship, yandere Caleb, peak obsession and possessiveness, manipulation, emotional dependency, isolation, controlling behaviour, gaslighting, brief mentions of sedation, surveillance and stalking.
₊⊹Word count: 1.7k
Now playing: Sneaking Out of Heaven by Water Parks
₊⊹Notes: based on this writing challenge by @cathedralofaudra. This song was so Caleb coded to me that I wrote it out. You said it was upto me to interpret the song into my writing and honestly, one thing that stood out to me was that the singer of the lyrics was no less toxic than their angel lover. In the song, we only see the singer's perspective but from bits we can gather that the lover is an angel-faced manipulator. Boom! I made Caleb the lover and reader the narrator, I think. I could yap more about this but then the notes would've to become a seprate story of its own lol. Enjoy reading everyone!!!! ♥
You whistle softly, the sound low and satisfied, as you slide into the driver’s seat of your car, the leather sighing beneath you with a familiar creak. The engine purrs awake at your touch, sounding far too loud in the early stillness of the morning. The city of Skyhaven stretches lazily beyond the windshield, bathed in the dim, silvery glow of an early morning sun that filters through the crystalline towers, throwing fragmented rainbows across the dash.
A soft smile tugs at your lips — not because of the view, but because of the memory still lingering on your skin, sweet and suffocating like the ghost of perfume clinging to a silk collar.
As the dashboard lights flicker on, you're already lost in thought, your mind drifting backward to the man whose home you just snuck out of — though calling it sneaking out feels almost theatrical, considering he probably watched every movement you made through his cameras.
Caleb was your lover, your commanding officer, your shadow and your sun. Living with a man like him means you've become part of a spectacle. Every eye watched you, some with envy, others with suspicion, all with interest. In enemy territories, his name was met with caution; within Skyhaven, it was whispered with reverence, depending on who was speaking.
And with you by his side, visible, touchable, reachable — you became a point of vulnerability. Or possession. Or both.
You hadn’t always lived here. Two months ago, you packed your life into boxes back in Linkon, leaving behind the comfort of the familiar for something far more consuming. Caleb had suggested the transfer with the kind of persuasive softness that made resistance feel like betrayal.
And with Caleb’s encouragement — no, his suggestion, that honeyed coercion you’ve come to embrace — you accepted the role of an adjutant in the fleet. It was a role carved out with meticulous care, placing you directly within his orbit.
Sometimes your old friends still called. Voices from a life that now seemed muted by distance and blurred by haze. The calls often started the same way — with warm laughter, half-teasing complaints about Association’s workload, with gossip traded like candy — but they always seemed to tilt, eventually, into warnings, veiled and not-so-veiled.
They spoke of Caleb like a weather pattern. Unpredictable and downright dangerous. “He’s trying to keep you all to himself,” one had said last week, voice sharp beneath the static. “He’s completely manipulative — insane, even. You need to leave before he swallows you whole.” another added, quieter, as if afraid Caleb might somehow hear him through the signal and wipe his existence off the planet.
You remembered biting back a smile, letting them speak as if you didn’t already know.
You’ve grown beside Caleb, shaped by him, molded in tandem with the man — maybe even twisted into something matching. You know him as intimately as your own skin. You know the rhythm of his breath at night when he sleeps, the downward tilt of his smile when he lies, and the withering glare in his galaxy-drenched eyes when someone steps too close to what he claims as his. He knows you just as deeply. Perhaps more.
Caleb didn’t hide what he was from you. He didn’t need to. You understood him the way a flame understands its wick, the way a soldier understands the weight of a trigger. He didn’t need to lie to you, not when he could simply look into your eyes and watch you unravel willingly.
Your gaze flicked up to the faint shimmer on the dash, almost imperceptible, just a pinprick of black — an embedded camera, one of many cameras he’s installed to monitor your movements. Caleb’s handiwork. You chuckle softly, leaning forward with practiced ease, brushing your fingers along your hairline as you blow a kiss to the lens. A little show for the man who’s probably watching you already. You know he always is.
There's a tracker hidden beneath the sole of your boot, too. You felt the faint shift in weight the day he handed them to you, the press of metal that wasn’t quite part of the design. You could remove it. You never do.
Some had accused you of being brainwashed, of having fallen under Caleb’s spell, as though you were some glass-eyed doll made to dance. Maybe they were right. But if this was a spell, then you drank the potion yourself, emptied the bottle, and offered it back to him for another pour. And if he was extremely toxic, you’d simply wrap yourself in a hazmat suit and continue to stay with him.
You weren’t just submitting — you were evolving, learning to see his deceits not as flaws, but facets of his personality. If you still aren’t fully enthralled yet, you’re certainly trying to be. You’ve even started to admire the way your boyfriend operates — every manipulation, every lie lacquered in the glow of his devotion.
You know about the cameras he has planted around you. All of them. Even the one nestled discreetly above the mirror in the bathroom.
You’re aware that he only suggested you join the fleet so that you’d remain within arm’s reach, directly under his command.
You play along when your car mysteriously refuses to start, pretending not to notice how it always seems to fail when you have plans to go anywhere without him. You even laugh when he insists on driving you himself, slipping easily into the role of the grateful partner.
And the sleeping pills? You’ve tasted their ghost on your tongue — bitterness buried beneath a kiss or a casual bite of lunch when you’ve mentioned visiting a friend or preparing for a mission outside Skyhaven.
Because what the world doesn’t understand — and never will — is that you are just as insane as he is.
Why do you still stay?
Because behind closed doors, Caleb is an angel. You’ve seen the blood on his halo, and still kissed him like he’s holy. His love is intense, obsessive, suffocating — but it is also full. He doesn’t just want you, he wants every breath, every heartbeat, every thought. How could you despise someone who pours so much of himself into you?
Each night with him feels like a ritual, like the sacred union of two souls unraveling and binding again, over and over. The intimacy you share isn’t just physical — it’s something deeper, a kind of sacred madness. As if with every touch, you drift further from the world and closer to whatever twisted version of paradise you’ve both built together.
It’s like stitching two souls together, over and over again, until neither could tear free without ripping apart entirely.
Your fingers tap the steering wheel idly as you shake the thought loose, only slightly flushed, and turn into the quiet parking lot of a café tucked away from the main avenues of Skyhaven. Its glass walls shimmer like ice, and the smell of coffee wafts outward, thick and promising. The early hours keep the space mostly empty, a soft jazz melody trickling from inside.
You slip out of the car with a soft sigh, straightening your jacket — a muted navy piece that brushes your thighs, with collar high and underneath dark slacks and a burgundy blouse.
You step inside, order two drinks — yours, and the extra one you knew would be needed. As you wait, you glance around and see a couple by the window and a tired-looking man hunched over a datapad.
Caleb never liked when you slipped away without announcing it, and he especially didn’t like when your plans involved places you hadn’t vetted with him beforehand. And even now, you know he’s not far. You feel him like gravity.
Carrying the drinks with ease, you nudge the door open with your hip, the glass squeaking as it moves. And there he is.
Leaning against your car, arms folded, back straight as a blade. Caleb. He’s dressed immaculately as always — pressed attire, gloved hands, His uniform is crisp, charcoal black with golden accents that reflect the dawn light, his rank displayed with quiet pride on his collar. His features are set, unreadable yet his eyes find you the moment you step outside.
You don’t even pause. You place the tray in the backseat, slow and then deliberately move toward him with a grin already curving your lips. “What?” you taunt, voice light. “Got worried I’d run away forever?”
He studies you for a heartbeat, then lifts one hand to brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing your temple like a brand. A crooked smile curls his mouth, slow and dangerous in its intimacy. “Not at all,” he says, low and certain. “You’d never willingly walk out of this world I built for you.”
He opens the driver’s side door for you with practiced elegance, a gentleman’s gesture that would melt hearts if not for the way he slips your car keys out of your pocket with such ease you barely notice. But you know. Of course, you know.
You climb in, smooth your coat, and glance sideways as he joins you in the passenger seat. “Why’d you come here anyway?” He asks, curious but unsurprised.
“I wanted to give you a surprise,” you reply as you gesture toward the drinks. “A friend recommended this place.”
He nods, slow and thoughtful, but his gaze turns toward the café again, colder now. You know that look. That friend would be gone soon — removed from your orbit. Distance always followed proximity to you, courtesy of Caleb’s hand. And you let it happen. You always did.
Because he wasn’t wrong. You would never walk away from this world. Even if the doors were wide open and your path unbarred.
You lean toward him once more, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of his jaw. Your lipstick leaves a smudge — a bold crimson that stands out like a brand against the fairness of his skin.
He doesn’t wipe it away. Instead, he smiles, that rare kind laced with a ghost of warmth that belongs only to you, before you drive off together, back into the quiet madness you both chose. A world sculpted of control and obsession, built by his hands and inhabited by your willing heart.
And as the car disappears into the fog, the city rising around you like a cathedral, one thought hums in your chest like a hymn:
Synopsis: You and Caleb make a pillow fort for old time sake that ends up being steamy. Will your Gege take care of your needs?
Word count: 2,700~
"Let's make a pillow fort like we used to as kids!" You smile up at Caleb, eyes gleaming. "Aren't you a little too old for that?" He chuckles. "No! You can make one whenever you want! Doesn't matter your age." You pout at his teasing. Making a pillow fort was the best thing ever when you were a kid. It was a safe place from the scary thunderstorms and your Gege was there to protect in your fluffy castle.
"Fiiiiiiiine, if it'll make you happy." He acts annoyed before grabbing you into a bear hug nuzzling into your cheek. You giggle before pushing him off of you. "Let's do this!" The two of you spend the next hour or two making the fort from couch pillows, blankets, and anything else fluffy you could find. A couple of times pillows were slamming into each other because a pillow fight was needed a long the way. "We finally finished!" You offer Caleb a high five which he indulges in with a satisfying clap. "You're spoiled, you know that?" He tussles your hair with a cheeky grin on his face. "I am not! And if I were, then it'd be your fault." You scoff at the accusation, crossing your arms over your chest. He laughs, "You got me there, Pips. Let's go try out your new fort." He gestures for you to go in before him like a true gentleman.
You crawl into your new home, making yourself comfortable as Caleb crawls in next to you. "I might be too big for this." He frowns and looks towards the entrance where his feet are hanging out of the door. The blanket covering the door was now hanging over his ankles obscuring his feet. "Oh, well that's not good. You need to shrink!" You chuckle before poking him in the cheek. "I think we should have made it bigger like I said in the beginning!" Caleb grabs your hand before you're able to touch his cheek and cradles it with his large, warm hand. "Do we need to add a TV and a game console next time as well? Make it into a real home?" He teases before moving your hand to his lips and gently kissing your fingertips. Caleb looks longingly into your eyes with dark amethyst eyes while still kissing your fingers. You startle at the sudden intimate contact. Blushing brightly before looking away and trying to pull your hand away from him, but he holds onto it tightly.
"Gege, I don't think you should be doing that." You chastise him with a shaky breath. Your cheeks were burning like you had gotten a sunburn while your stomach did a flip. It had been a while since the two of you had seen each other in Sky Haven and well it got pretty heated with a secluded hallway make-out session during a break for a ceremony at the Sky Fleet. Thoughts of the two of you locking mouths and teeth gnashing at each other replayed constantly in your mind since you returned home to Linkon. Going to work was the only thing that kept the thoughts at bay until you returned home. Caleb was your Gege, he knew better than to touch you like this, buuuuut you loved the way he did.
"I'm not allowed to touch you anymore? Especially not after what happened at that ceremony a couple of months ago?" He hooked his finger under your chin to make you look at him again. His eyebrow was cocked up in question with his eyes shadowed by something darker, making you bite your lip before saying something stupid. This look always told you that you were going to get in trouble, but god did it make you wet at the same time. "I think we're on a different level now, Mei Mei. You can't go back on how I made you moan my name by just sucking on your neck a little." Your blush deepens as your core tightens.
He's right. In that hallway, he kissed along your neck making you mewl his name before someone came looking for him and ruined the moment. You hadn't been able to look at him or really even text him back since then, but you had the hickey to prove that it indeed happened. "You're so mean to me, Gege. I wasn't in the right mind at that time. You know I had a couple of drinks that night." You spurt out, trying to think of an excuse to move past this, but Caleb always was watching you, no matter what. "No you didn't. I watched you that whole night. The only thing you had was maybe a small cup of champagne. Do you not want us to be together?" He hesitates slightly before letting his hand cup your cheek which you lean into.
"I'm scared of these feelings for you." You confess hesitantly, embracing the warmth from his large hand on your cheek. "I'll help you." He leans in for a kiss, but hesitates before putting his lips to yours, "If you want?" You reach behind his head pulling him in the rest of the way to kiss him. Fireworks light up behind your closed eyes. Holy fuck, did he taste amazing. Almost as good as last time you two had kissed. Caleb scoots closer to you that your bodies are now pressed into each other, feeling the hardness of his body against your plush one is making your pussy so wet. He moans softly into your mouth when your bodies connect, it's almost like when you click the correct puzzle pieces together.
Caleb's tongue swipes at your lips for entrance which you gladly accept with greed. You bring Caleb's face closer to your by gripping his hair tightly. His hands trying to touch every part of you, trying to memorize your curves and valleys before you leave again. His one hand reaching under your shirt and bra to grope at your breast. You moan into the kiss as his hand plays with your nipple, pinching it to pebble up. He pulls back slightly so the both of you can catch your breath, "Fuck, Mei Mei. I've been waiting for you so long. This is like a dream come true." You pinch his arm and he hisses in pain. "WHAT was that for???" He looks down at you with concern in his eyes thinking he's gone too far and you're not actually okay with this. "To show you that you're awake." You mischievously grin at him before going in for a second one which he grabs before you can land it. "No, now you're in trouble." Caleb rolls the two of you over that he's laying on top of you with his weight.
Oh god… You think to yourself with Caleb now pressing his whole body into you, you can FEEL his hard cock grind against your pussy. "Caleb…" You mewl wanting him even more now than ever. You hadn't really seen his dick as an adult, but you did as a kid several times. As the two of you grew older, the more the two of you lusted badly after each other, but with Grandma in the picture it was hard to understand what was right and wrong. At least until now. At least until now with his throbbing cock aligned with your aching, weeping slit. "What Mei Mei? You like this?" Caleb teases you by grinding into your clothed cunt. You groan at the sensation making him grin in satisfaction. "Who knew my Mei Mei was a dirty girl? Needing her Gege's cock so badly." He grinded against you again pulling another groan out of you. "C-Ca-Caleb…" You plead with a shaky breath, trying to catch your breath to keep your head straight.
"I think we need to assess the damage, Mei Mei." He states like he's giving a report to one of his superiors. Caleb starts kissing a hot trail down your neck with nibbles along the way before making a beeline to the top of your shorts. He stops for a second before doing anything, looking up at you with his now blow out eyes that are almost black. "Mei Mei, tell me what you want." Caleb commands while he toys with your short line. His long fingers dipping under the fabric making you tense up. "I-I want…." You pause trying to collect your thoughts.
You sooooo wanted this, but you were having second thoughts. This man had been with you all of your childhood and knew all of your deepest darkest secrets. He'd been through thick and thin with you most of your lives as well until the explosion happened and now you wanted to change the narrative of a brother and sister to lovers? Obviously Caleb never thought of you as a sister since the beginning, but he was happy to play along until you were ready. Till you were ready to fall from grace entwined with him from what your "grandmother" had written for the two of you.
"Pipsqueak?" Your nickname brings you back to the present. "I want an answer." Caleb demands gripping your hips roughly before leaving a hickey on your panty line. You hiss in pleasure before shaking your head yes. "I need you to say it." He growls before leaving another love bite on you. "YES! YES, GEGE! I want you to!" You blurt out before even processing what just came out of your mouth. "That's my girl." Caleb grins against your skin before leaning up and ripping your shorts and panties off at the same time to get at your sopping hole.
He pauses in admiration at your puffy pussy, love juices seeping out. Caleb's already hard cock pulses at the sight of you blushing deeply in your nest of pillows and blankets. Leaking all over the blankets because of him is making his mind go feral. "C-Cal- AH!" You try to ask him if he's okay before he dives into your cunt like a starved man. How many times did he fist himself at the thought of tasting this beautiful pussy? Maybe too many times with so many panties he'd stolen from you without you knowing. He was on cloud nine as his tongue swirls around your puffy clit. You grab onto his brown locks trying to hold on for dear life. It feels so good, that you arch your back making him eat more of you. "Fuuuuck, Pips. You taste so good." He groans into your pussy before continuing his attack on your poor clit.
Two of his long fingers dip into your folds making you arch more into his mouth. "Hah, Gege…" You sob. Your cunt grips onto his fingers greedily, making a wet squelch upon his entrance. His fingers pump into your gummy walls, memorizing the feeling while listening to the cute sounds coming out of your mouth. If he touches here you mewl, if he touches here you pant, oh right here is where you clutch onto his hair for dear life. "I-I'm gonna c-cum, Gege. Right there…!" You pant as Caleb rubs his long fingers just the right way and sucks on your clit just enough to make the tension in your gut snap. You scream out his name as your back arches off the floor, legs shaking from your orgasm. He keeps his mouth on your clit as he rubs the rough patch in your cunt prolonging your orgasm. The edges of your vision go blurry as he rides out your orgasm with you.
You settle down after your orgasm and Caleb pulls his fingers out of you with a wet pop. "Wow, that was awesome." He grins up at you with his messy hair from all of your clutching. He looks like he just rolled out of bed instead of eating you out like a delicious meal. Not wanting to let your juices go to waste, he sucks on his fingers like he was just eating the messiest chicken wings of his life. The scene makes you make instantly pulsing for more. Caleb gets on his knees, crouching over you with his large figure as to try and not to disturb the blanket draped across the top of your fort. You watch him as he slides his gym pants and boxers down to release his wet throbbing cock. You hadn't realized until now that the front of his pants were wet.
"You taste so good Mei Mei that I got a little excited myself." He grins devilishly as he removes his pants the rest of the way. You are in awe of the sheer size of him. There's no way that was going to fit in you, but you reach out towards him. Rubbing your fingertips against the red tip of his cock causing him to hiss. "I need a taste." You say almost in a dreamlike state, getting the cum off of his dick and putting it in your mouth. It was salty and musky, but it's exactly what you thought he'd taste like. He chuckles darkly, "Mei Mei, you bad girl." He aligns his thick cock with your hole, rubbing his cum with yours. "We haven't even gotten to the good part yet." He slowly pushes into your entrance whimpering and making you suck in air at the intrusion. "Fuuuuuck. Pips, so tight. Breathe and relax for me." He growls as he continues his endeavor. "Cal, M-Mh!" You whimper until he bottoms out into you. "Oh god… 'ts so good." You mumble in a daze.
The stretch felt so good, you had been waiting for this for awhile now. Ever since you felt his hard cock at the ceremony, it had been teasing the back of your mind for months now. Caleb slowly starts to pull out of your tight cunt until it's just the tip of his cock still in you before pushing back in, pulling you out of your haze. "Focus now, Pips. I want you to stay with me." He mumbles as his mind starts to haze out as well. He's dreamed about this a lot and he was so close to getting you at the ceremony that when that solider came to get him, Caleb gave him the tongue lashing of a life time the next day at work. Caleb begins to rut into your gummy walls as your pussy clenches harder, sucking him in. If he died right here, he'd be okay with that cause fuck, did you look amazing. One titty out of your shirt, pussy dragging him in deeper into madness, and your cute little face blushing a deep red with glazed eyes because you were cock drunk off of him.
"S-so deep, Gege!" You mewl as he slams himself deeper and deeper into your pussy. "P-Pips.." Caleb grunts, you can feel him getting closer with his cock twitching inside of you. The muscles in his arms tense as he grips the pillow under your head trying to not lose it just yet. "I-I'm… 'm cum. Gonna cum." You whimper with tears welling up at the edges of you eyes as your pleasure increases. Your bleary eyes can barely focus on his face as he grimaces. "S-Shit, me too. C-Cum for me, Mei Mei." He pants as hips become more erratic with each thrust into you. "C-Caleb!" You squeal as you come toppling over the edge of your ecstasy, hands gripping onto Caleb's forearms. Caleb gives a few more thrusts before he topples into his own orgasm after you.
As he shoots ropes into your cunt, the pillow fort collapses onto the two of you. He lifts the blankets off of you before lifting it off of him. You're slightly dazed from cumming before you realize what has happened. "I guess we need to make a better fort next time if it has to withstand me fucking you." Caleb chuckles. You give him a look, before he leans in to kiss you. He pulls back slightly, "Want to rebuild and go for round 2?" He grins devilishly before leaning you back against the blankets and pillows with a kiss.
so in this sylus x reader princess bride au, I have caleb filling the role of fezzik and obviously I have to make our man hurt (which was actually surprisingly easy given fezzik’s crippling fear of loneliness and caleb’s… traits)
anyway, here’s a little excerpt around caleb’s introduction :)
Stepping to the edge of the boat, Caleb watched the trees and villages go by. If he looked closely, he could almost see people in their homes, children running around with laughter spilling out and couples holding each other close. He couldn't help but wonder what that would feel like. To feel the warmth of a family, to be recognized as a man, as a lover, as a companion, instead of a strong piece of equipment.
Caleb knew where his worth came from. He knew people kept him around because his strength was useful. Some had the decency to hide it behind politeness. Viper didn't see the need for that, and Caleb couldn't decide if he appreciated it or not. The honesty was refreshing, sure, but not comforting.
It's not exactly nice to know that no one really wants your presence.
He had Zayne, though, and that was enough. His dearest friend, his only friend, really. They had known each other only a year at this point, and yet Caleb didn't see the need in remembering what life was like before. Why should he, when all it amounted to was loneliness? He didn't have to worry about that anymore. Zayne was here, he would always be here, and Caleb could finally relax his shoulders and let the pressure fall. Someone else could carry the weight, for a time.
I have to admit I was really hesitant about Caleb even wayyyyy back when he was first introduced in the story but when they resurrected him I think my heart skipped a beat and I suddenly understood it. Childhood best friend with yearning puppy-dog eyes who will stop at nothing to protect you and is a little (too) protective? Ohhhh how that will always have me down baddddddd. And don’t even get me started on the new card…
It's ME the little goth clown that I am, and the relationships I'd think I'd have with the lads if I was MC. also I'm going to write it because it can be a little confusing!!!!
Xavier's Thoughts
-Please stop being reckless
-pearl from steven universe singing do it for her~
₊⊹Synopsis: What feels like a flaw you can’t seem to escape becomes unremarkable to Caleb, and in that difference you learn that intimacy isn’t about perfection, but about being held without urgency to change.
₊⊹Pairing: Caleb x Reader
₊⊹Content: Reader is implied to be female, not canon, established relationship, Caleb being an absolute sweetheart, insecurity over hair loss, original characters, sweet n short n fluffiest, a little bit mockery, very self indulgent.
₊⊹Word count: 1.6k
₊⊹Now playing: Make You Feel My Love by Adele
₊⊹Notes: As someone who has always been berated for having my hair flying around and getting into things even when I try my best not to, this fic is very important to me kinda like a self-comfort work thing. I hope this finds the ones who need it. Enjoy reading everyone!!!! ♥
Of all the things you expected to lose control over in your life, your hair had never made the list.
Yet here it was — everywhere.
You found it on the bathroom sink first, thin strands catching the light like silvery threads. Then on the couch cushions, clinging stubbornly to the fabric. Later, it appeared wrapped around the handle of a mug, coiled at the edge of your pillow, drifting across the floor like it had a will of its own. No matter how often you cleaned, no matter how careful you were, it kept returning — quiet, persistent, unavoidable.
Caleb noticed long before you said anything.
He noticed when he reached for his coffee and paused, fingers deftly plucking a stray strand from the rim of the cup. He noticed when one curled around his fork during dinner, stubbornly refusing to let go of the food. He noticed when the broom gathered more of your hair than dust, collecting it into pale, tangled crescents along the floor.
And every time, without fail, he said nothing.
At dinner, when you stiffened in your chair after seeing him lift that strand from his plate, your apology hovered at the back of your throat. You were already bracing for discomfort, for that polite tightening of the jaw people got when they were pretending not to be bothered.
Instead, Caleb simply set the strand aside and continued eating.
“Did you want more rice?” he asked, as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
You stared at him, wanting to say something, needing to say it. “Caleb… I’m sorry. I didn’t see it.”
He glanced up, eyes calm, voice steady. “It’s just hair.”
The way he said it — easy, unbothered — made your chest ache more than if he had complained.
Later that evening, you found him sweeping the living room. The broom moved in slow, deliberate arcs, gathering hair and dust alike. You stood in the doorway, arms wrapped around yourself, guilt pressing heavy against your ribs.
“You don’t have to do that,” you said quietly. “I can—”
Caleb stopped, resting his hands on the broom handle. He turned to you, expression gentle but firm in that way of his, the way that left no room for argument.
“I don’t mind,” he said. “Really.”
“Let me do it instead,” you insisted, your voice cracking despite your efforts. “I’m used to sweeping most of the times.”
He leaned the broom against the wall and crossed the room in a few long strides. When he reached you, he pulled you into his arms, his hand caressing your head. When he pulled back after a few minutes, he simply rested his forehead lightly against yours, grounding, familiar.
You swallowed hard, finding your voice again after momentary breathlessness. “You don’t get tired of it?”
“No.” A pause. Then, more quietly, “I could never get tired of you.”
The days had rippled on like that with your hairfall getting more and more on your nerves. A walk down to the market where a stray gust lifted hair from the crowd and you found it stuck along the collar of a passerby, and later, getting embarrassed to give your hair brush to your friend when she had asked for it. Even one day at home when Caleb had been cooking spicy chicken for you, chatting with you.
You had been careless with your movements — an unthinking brush of your fingers through your hair, a sigh as you talked about assignments due that week — and another strand fluttered from your hand onto his apron. He left it there. You hadn’t noticed at first, you had only seen it later when you had leaned over the counter and looked up to find him watching you, a faint crease between his brows.
“Do you want me to… remove that off you?” you had asked, ridiculous question stacked on top of the deeper one.
He put down his spatula and stepped so close your breaths blurred. The strand dangled on the fabric over his chest, an unremarkable thing — except to you, because you had been attuned to every small sign. He leaned forward and covered your hand with both of his.
“No,” he said simply, and then — so quietly you wondered if you had imagined it — “I like it there.”
The first time one of your hairs had ended up on his coat in public was an accident. You had pressed a kiss to his jaw at the doorway of the café, a gratitude for driving you there, and later when you had stepped back, you noticed it, a dark line against the pale wool of his lapel. Reflex, old and panicked, made you reach for it. He stopped you with a rough, half-amused sound and a hand at your wrist.
“Leave it,” he said, smiling sweetly. It wasn't an order as much as a statement. He straightened his coat and stepped out into the street with that strand visible along with a few new ones, bobbing slightly with each movement. When a stranger’s gaze flickered to him — curiosity, amusement — Caleb did not smooth the strand away. He held his head high like a quiet announcement.
It struck you later, in the low hush of the cafe as you waited for your friend to arrive, what he had done. He had invited the world to see what he never needed words to say: this is mine. He wore it not out of spite or display but because, in his way, leaving that strand there is tenderness. It is an unvarnished claim, not possessive so much as owning of a beautiful, fragile thing without shame.
Not everyone understood though.
One evening your small living room filled with the chaotic warmth of your friends, laughter spilling across the furniture, someone set a playlist buzzing softly from the speaker in the corner, and the smell of takeout pressed in on all sides. You tried to relax, to let the comfort of company seep into you, but then one of them leaned over and, with a careless, not-malicious cruelty, plucked a stray hair from the back of your chair.
Someone else pointed it out too — a few strands of your hair caught up in the rug.
“Wow,” one of them laughed. “You shedding or something?”
A few other voices chuckled, someone nudged the comment into a joke. The atmosphere cooled in the particular, awkward way that small cruelties do. You laughed weakly along, your smile brittle, while heat crawled up your neck and into your face.
Another friend suggested you get checked for autoimmune conditions. It wasn't anything else but genuine concern but your hands still went cold, the room tilted for a moment and you felt very small, like a moth caught between lamp and net.
Every strand suddenly felt like proof of something wrong with you, something you couldn’t control.
You excused yourself, retreating into the quiet of the bedroom. The door clicked behind you, and the silence rushed in, thick and suffocating. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your hands, breathing shallowly as shame settled deep in your chest.
You didn’t hear Caleb follow you in, but you felt him when the mattress dipped beside you.
He said your name gently.
You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “I hate it so much,” you whispered. “I do everything and it doesn't end. I'm sorry that you have to deal with it everyday too.”
Caleb didn’t argue right away. He let the silence stretch, letting you breathe, letting the moment settle. Then he reached up, carefully lifting a loose strand from your shoulder.
“Don’t listen to them,” he murmured, voice a private thing meant only for you. “Listen to me.”
You looked at him then. His expression was serious, not stern — focused, unwavering.
“I don’t mind,” he repeated. “Not the hair, not the cleaning. Not any of it. You could leave strands in every room we walk into, and it wouldn’t change how I feel.”
He brushed his thumb beneath your eye, wiping away a tear. “You don’t have to make yourself smaller to be loved. You don’t have to apologize for existing the way you do.”
After your friends left, you cozied up on the couch, curled beneath the lamp’s soft glow, and Caleb was beside you before you could ask him to stay. You wanted him to say that he didn’t mind — no, you wanted him to swear it, to promise that never, not even in a million small cruelties, would he shrug you off. He did better than that.
He told you the small things. He told you how he noticed you had a small cut on your wrist from tightening the strap of your bracelet a few months ago and how he carried an extra bandage now, how he kept your favourite mug in the front cupboard because you said it makes herbal tea taste better, how sometimes he found your socks in the strangest places and folded them anyway. Each confession was a quiet proclamation. Each one made the knot in your chest loosened and made you feel more loved.
“Even if the hair gets in my nose,” he said with a faint smile, and you almost laughed at the memory of him fishing a curl out of his nose that had somehow got in there because of the tissues. “Even then I’ll love you.”
You rested your forehead against his shoulder and breathed him in. Outside, the city moved on, indifferent, but inside this small orbit there was a gravity anchored not by force but by choice. Caleb chooses you, again and again, in tiny, ordinary acts. He chooses to hold you steady when the world made you wobble.
You understood, then, that love can show up in the smallest of rebellions: in a hair left on a coat like a flag, in a hand that never flinched from picking up someone else’s pieces, and in the patience to live with the imperfect, tender things that made a person whole.
You leaned into him, into the steadiness he offered, and felt, finally, that the world is not as big as it seemed before.
