who else is up thinking about “nope-alite is for people who want to choose to be unhealed, opalite is for people who want to choose a path that serves them” in relation to “just how low did you think i’d go before i’d self-implode, before i’d have to go be free?”
Synopsis: After a messy break up and years of constant longing for your ex back, Caleb makes his way back, but you can’t let go of what happened.
Word count: 9.1k (I went overboard)
Tags: heavy mention of mc, Mc isn’t reader, angst, break up, yearning, no beta we die like the author’s mentally unstable mind, hurt/nocomfort, Xia Yizhou, Caleb, Too many Taylor swift based references, the smallest man who ever lived, you’re losing me, how did it end?, So long London, The story of us, right where you left me, Twilight Zone, I’m done.
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺ੈ✩
The low hum of the AC was the only sound accompanying your stifled sniffles of disappointment in the dark apartment. You were hugging your knees to your chest, head lowering to fit the eye sockets to your kneecaps on the hard, wooden‑planked kitchen floor. The wood was cold and unforgiving beneath you; the slats dug into your shins through the thin fabric of your dress. Every small creak or settling of the building felt magnified, as though the walls themselves were listening to your heartbreak.
You told yourself you weren’t going to cry. Because it would be stupid. After all, it’ll always be his best friend who comes first. MC. Jesus Christ, how the thought of her makes your heart shatter. How your boyfriend, regardless of the scene, would run to her first. And you knew she was family, at least that’s what he said, but for once, couldn’t you have one thing to yourself? Even if just one night, one hour, one moment in which you weren’t competing with her?
You press your face harder against your knees, letting the tears threaten again, sharp, stinging behind your eyes,while your breath hitches. You taste salt, betrayal, longing. You imagine every time he called her name, every time he comforted her first, as a blade twisting inside your chest.
The faint chimes of the front door’s code being overridden and then the slow click of the doorknob twisting following was your cue to wipe away any trace of tears. You jerk upright. In one fluid motion you smash your face blank, as though your features are a mask you can secure at will. You plaster on an emotionless surface. Relaxed, but not in the face you usually make when it’s resting. Doe gleaming eyes now replaced with mundane, tired eyes, the corner of your lips slightly tugging up was now in a perfectly straight line. And the look of pure yearned love your boyfriend always received from you was now repainted into just another stranger to you.
Because that’s what you felt like sometimes with this man. You leaned on the kitchen counter, pretending that you didn’t see or care that Caleb came in. You watched his shadow cross the threshold before your ears caught his voice. “Hey, I’m home.” He softly called out. If he was expecting you to run into his arms like a lovesick puppy, something that was routine for you and him, then he was wrong.
He could see your silhouette made from the light bulb hanging low in the kitchen as it flickered a little. He should change that, he noted. He knew that you could see him from your peripheral vision, but you didn’t want to. So, like he always did to make you feel better, he walked up to you and reached his arm out to snake around your waistline, but you swiftly moved away, grabbing a glass from the glasses cabinet.
You thought he didn’t think much of it, like he always did, didn’t he? But Caleb did. He always overthinks when it comes to you. Calculating and memorizing each change to your facial expression, stance, everything. He could read you like a book, and you let him. But this time, you kept your poker face intact, and didn’t start a conversation up. Waited for him to say something. You count the seconds of silence, your pulse banging like a war drum.
He strained out a chuckle and raised his hands up. “Alright, alright, I’m guilty, now tell me what I did.” Hoping to lighten the mood. But a sinking gut feeling that was slowly rising up his heart knew why you were being like this. He just needed you to let it out. So he could pick up the pieces, and stitch them back together with a hug and kiss. But unfortunately for him, the pieces were too far shattered to be saved.
“You don’t know what you did?” And your voice turned out colder than expected, even you were a little taken aback from how icy your tone is. But you just let it slip out. Caleb was startled, after all, he’s never heard that tone from you. You were soft spoken, giggly and kind. Your cheeks would redden with each cheesy flirting he did, but did what he said was true?
Caleb knew that he had to choose his words carefully. One slip up, and you’d slip away. He sighed a little, building up the courage to speak. “Listen, I’m really sorry.. I know we had plans but MC..”
You didn’t even let this man finish. “MC.” You echoed a few times, each one getting louder and louder as you bitterly laughed. “It’s always MC this, and MC that, huh?” And you had to swallow the shakiness of your throat drying up and layering lumps. Your boyfriend stepped in a little closer and you turned, to face him across the marble counter. The glass of water you filled up was slammed down on the table, distancing you two.
“Hey, that’s not fair.. listen I understand you’re upset but..”
“But what?” You spat out. And there was no stopping you. No. The kind words you were rehearsing in your head, to put it down gently, to do this right, wouldn’t do. Heartbreak and humiliation intertwined with the anger bubbling from your chest.
“You always go back to her, because it’ll always be about her, huh? She’s not five, Caleb. You say it’s not fair for you but what about me?”
Tears from the bottom corner of your eyes burned with piping hot tears as they threatened to run down your cheek before you added more again after a huge inhale. Every syllable you speak tastes like regret, like acid.
“It feels like I have to fight for my boyfriend’s attention!”
“Honey, please, you know that is not the case, and I think you just need to take a pause, you’ll hurt yourself.” And he glanced at how you gripped the half empty glass, straining and threatening for it to shatter. Did your ears hear right? Were they failing now? And a broken laugh mixed with tears slipped out.
“You don’t even know what day it is huh?”
And Caleb’s mind went into overtime, head reeling for what it possibly could be. And when it hit him? It felt like a truck slammed right into him and a large wave crashed down on him as he was drowning with pure mortification. “Oh my God..” he whispered.
And the rose petals scattered on the floor, your black silk dress that accompanied your carefully curled hair, and all the scented candles, God. Was he stupid?
“I suppose when it comes to Caleb’s dear best friend, he’s oblivious and everything is out of proportion. He doesn’t even remember our one year anniversary.” And the fake sarcasm in your voice stunned him. “Honey, please, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t.” And that shut him up, before you turned around, facing the floor‑to‑ceiling windows, the clear night now turned into a raging thunderstorm eerily yet perfectly contrasting your whirlwind of emotions. “Three hours Caleb. Three hours of lovingly preparing, baking, tidying up. Waiting for her damn boyfriend to come home after he promised he’d be back in time from work. But then what happens?” You pause for a fake sarcastic gasp.
“MC, the one who’s the most important person in his life, has a dilemma. Poor girl doesn’t know how to do her damn college work. Who set that up? I don’t know.”
“Come on, Y/n, seriously? She needed help, and..”
“And all of a sudden your location was at a cafe. Back in Linkon.” You finished flatly, your voice cracking here and there.
“It’s not even about her needing help, it’s about you always choosing her over me?”
And what could Caleb say? Because it was true. It didn’t even matter that nothing romantic happened. Because he stood you up. Again. For the exact same fricking reason.
You lowered into a broken whisper. “Please tell me. Does she matter more to you than me?”
“That’s not fair Honey, you two are the most important to me.”
And you erupted back into a rage. Rightfully so. “So your lover is on the same pedestal as your best friend? The same lover that you said you’d die for? Blow the whole world up for? Vowing that you’ll always be mine? Have you told her the same thing?”
“Please don’t do this to me.” He croaked out, reaching to cradle your face, and you brushed his hand away, not roughly, but a way that broke your heart as you teared up.
“You love her, not me, am I right?.” Your voice couldn’t pick a lane, and it dropped back into a low, shaky whisper. Caleb could’ve denied instantly, but deep down.. he knew that as much as he loved you, it was MC.. wasn’t it?
The rose petals that scattered this very apartment, that was filled up with strong memories of devotion, tears for each other and pure bliss as you would stupidly smile how maybe unconditional love was a real thing. How this man was the love of your life. But now, you couldn’t find the raging pulse that Caleb once gave you just by smiling. Those memories and those times had slipped away in the blink of an eye, leaving you vulnerable, alone. It didn’t feel like home when he wasn’t in it, he didn’t feel like home anymore.
He was losing you. He was oblivious to it until the last second. He knew today meant everything to you, because once upon a dream ago, you uttered that he was your everything. And now? The slight change of events that ripped apart this relationship was tearing away as they spoke.
“Did I, ever, even once.. mean anything to you?” Your bottom lip quivered. And Caleb’s silence said everything to you. You desperately wanted to plead, beg for him back. Tell him how you’ll do anything for him.
Because that’s what he’s turned you into. All those words, their meanings shattered the illusion away. He never truly meant it. Your feelings were just something to toy with.
You turned on your heel, didn’t even bother snatching any of your clothes that found a home in his apartment, or anything. Not even the expensive handbag filled with everything he’s spoiled you with. You ran out of the apartment. In the raging storm, and the sounds of Caleb’s leather boots ran after you. Calling and pleading for you to stop.
But you couldn’t look back, and he ran, non‑stop for you, tears and thick water droplets intertwining as they landed and fell off both of your faces.
And then?
After running, in a fancy dress, high heels and your phone, when you got away from him, you trudged the rest back to your apartment. You had to block him. On everything. Messages, social media. But even though your finger would hover over the “block” button, you just couldn’t.
As you slammed your apartment door half heartedly, you collapsed onto the floor, and cried. But not like a loud cry, sobs filling up the whole space, making you feel more alive than ever. A pathetic one, soft stifling of tears and hiccups. Like you just lost your favourite lipgloss, except but you lost the love of your life, your everything.
Meanwhile, Caleb? He’d lost you. Both physically and emotionally. As he ran after you in the pouring and bustling large city of Skyhaven, but also as you too. He couldn’t articulate his feelings. He hadn’t been able for a ridiculously long time.
He loved you. So dearly. You were his air, a safe place he could always confide and come back to all the time. But that was the problem. Because Caleb thought he needed you to live. Not just as a lifelong partner, because someone he’s eyed on for so long, since childhood, was MC.
You understood him, but MC could relate to him more. She was someone Caleb had always had a crush on. But he loved you as well. Or did he?
Caleb never cheated on you, but you felt so much more alone.
His heavy uniform, that carried badges and achievements with pride, now felt even more heavier as the raging storm soaked it. There was only one place you’d be at. And it would be back at your place. But Caleb knew that he may have messed up everything entirely.
He couldn’t even go to that place, what he called a home away from home. Where you two would dance around the kitchen, in the refrigerator light. Where he could feel the most at home. But he couldn’t pick a side, could he?
That love had burnt to ashes. And it wasn’t replaceable, even by MC.
………………………………………………………………………
A year went by, and the day of that one year anniversary with him was nearing closer and closer. And when it did come? You found yourself unable to get out of bed. Because that day, Hell, every single day you were reminded of if you dodged a bullet or just lost the love of your life.
You didn’t bother throwing out all his shit. You couldn’t. Not when each singular item, even a shirt, held some endearing memory that only you two could hold. Stealing one of his shirts and him trying to tickle you out of it, matching Cherry blossom charms, sheets that smelled like him no matter how many times you tried drowning the scent out with laundry detergent.
Like clockwork, numb to everything now, you woke up at seven am, trudged your way downstairs after shrugging on a sweater and maxi skirt, not bothering to even eat breakfast and left for work. It didn’t help that you had to see him as he clocked in for a work, one of the many downsides to working at the same damn place as him.
Today, you especially didn’t want to look at his face. You hated yourself for missing that lovesick expression he always gave you. Or at least you thought he gave. One year of desperately speed‑running dates, blocking out love in general, or just isolating yourself more and more, and he still roamed your mind.
You could hear him right this second gently scolding you for skipping breakfast. You didn’t have much of an appetite either way. “Come on, how are you supposed to tolerate this entire fleet’s existence with that smile, without any food?”
Because it was a standing joke that he hated being the colonel. It was an honour, but it felt like leading a bunch of Neanderthals, he once described before quickly and awkwardly following up that you were the only exception. But now? God knows what he filed you under as. The last you heard, a month after you two broke up, MC had the nerve to approach Caleb and they were together. Who knew if they were married, or broken up.
Why were you even thinking this? You rubbed your temples, silently nodded to the receptionists as you scanned your card and trudged to your office. If only you didn’t have a high position. The Head Deepspace Analyst. Then you wouldn’t have to ever see this man. But it wasn’t like you tried talking to him, in fact, you did everything to not talk to him.
Having representatives who love‑sickly saunter in, oblivious to your and his previous affairs. Or sending reports to the colonel, making him ‘figure it out himself’.
A long gruelling day inched towards the end. You briefly glanced up at the window. “Wouldn’t you look at that, Chief, It’s pouring cats and dogs out there.” Your intern assistant observed. Just like all those years ago. Three years ago, this exact day, where you left early and waited until nearing midnight. Only to feel like a crumpled up piece of paper lying there.
You checked the time. 6:34. You leaned back from your computer, your eyes strained and tired after staring at the blank report of yours for hours. “You’re dismissed, kid. Tell the receptionists I’m letting you off early.” The meek intern bowed down, saluted and quickly scurried off, and you broke oh chuckled at how she looked so excited to leave early.
In an attempt to try and talk to the kid, you learnt how she’s been going strong with her boyfriend for three years. A lot longer than Caleb.
You couldn’t even understand why you weren’t over him. How everything was written as him. This workplace, your home, your sheets, that cafe you both loved. Meanwhile, you just stayed buried in your office all day, home did not feel like home anymore, you wasted more money on strong smelling, sterile detergent and didn’t even bother to go to that cafe anymore. You knew you would see him there again.
It was dark now, dark grey clouds covering the half moon, and water droplets clinging onto your floor‑to‑ceiling windows. You exhaled heavily, muttering to yourself that there was too much work to be doing at the moment, but you knew it was because the colonel would pace past your office any moment, doing his usual and final round.
And sure enough, you felt his amethyst piercing eyes stare at the translucent tinted window, and you buried yourself into the computer, counting down the minutes until he was done. He carried on, marching through the headquarters, and he would be there for another twenty two minutes. You already had calculated this in your mind.
Once the ten minute mark passed, then you made your escape, and you wouldn’t cross his way.
Unfortunately for you, just like how you’ve memorized when he went around, he had his eyes on you too. In fact, he always had. He glanced into your office longer than he was supposed to, even before everything came crashing down.
He also had cameras. Everywhere. So he would gaze at your silhouette as it left the building, as you were oblivious to how out of sight he was.
Caleb hadn’t been doing well. Sure he got with MC, but he soon realized how weird it felt. It was so unnatural. He brushed it off at first, after all, he just got out of a relationship, and crossed those boundaries from best friends to lovers. But it was so much more different than it was with you.
For one, the dynamic was so much more indifferent than from you. With you, it flowed so much more naturally and he felt happier. Even with the girl he’d been in love with for years, maybe… maybe it was a crush.
It dawned on him. One random night once MC left his house to go back to Linkon. He wanted you back. No, he needed you back. Because it was just a crush. The more he thought of it, he couldn’t see MC and him in the future, but with you, whenever he thought of his kids, those kids resembled you.
A dream wedding was only a dream with you in it. Those nights of drunkenly imagining the future life, lying in bed together.
He loved you. More than he thought he did. And still was. Yearning for you.
But he messed everything up. Even after he quickly ended things with MC, and tried everything to see you again. Constantly stopping by that cafe you two would always catch up in, the laundromat, hell, outside the office, until he realized that you’d never come outside the same way he did.
But dare he? Today, out of all the other days, he could see your neck craning literally into your computer, focused, as you pushed up your glasses again absentmindedly. All these years later, and he was still head over heels for you, but he never had the guts to approach you again, like a lovesick teenager all over again.
And suddenly he had a plan.
You typed away, describing the attributes of a protocore and what nots. You reread it, deleted all of it and groaned. This report was going to Caleb, the Colonel in about a couple of hours, tomorrow five am sharp. And you were far from finished.
You couldn’t focus. You never could on this day, on a stormy night like this.
Twenty two minutes had painstakingly, and finally passed, but in that time, you haven’t seen the colonel marching back. You sighed, realizing that you’d be here for longer. Because you couldn’t face that man. God knows what your body and heart could accidentally do, betraying your mind.
But you typed away, mindlessly going on and on, rambling. Unaware of your surroundings. And an hour had passed, without you realizing. You went over the report one more time. And then… a sharp rap came from the door. You flinched, head whipping back up. And you saw him.
Crisp, sharp in his uniform, eyes never leaving you, even as you hesitantly walked to the door. What was he doing here? You inwardly groaned as you opened the door, and retreated back to your desk after saluting him, not looking him in the eye. “Sir?” You asked, flatly and more cold than you wanted it to be.
You didn’t dare stare at him, because you knew if you saw him, you’d start tearing up and run into his arms like a desperate ex.
“I’ve wanted to ask about the status of the report.”
Of course. It was still either work or his dear love of his life, MC.
“It’s almost done, sir.” You still stared at the marble floor, and at his shoes. He walks towards you, and you walk back, just like three years ago, except while your feelings were resurfacing, there’s nothing friendly or romantic anymore. Except that’s what you thought.
“Look at me when I address you.” His voice was icy and you reluctantly stared back at him, pierced eyes meeting each other. He’s a little taken aback. He stares out my office window. It’s pitch black, and stormy.
“May I ask how you’re returning home?” But he knew the answer to that, because he knew that you didn’t have a car, and just caught the last train. But it was far too late to catch the train now.
“I can take you home.” “Sir that isn’t neces…” “It’s Caleb to you.”
And the silence hung in the air. “I can get home myself, you know.” “And you’ll be sick when my report is supposed to come in? I don’t think so.” And your heart sank a little. Of course. It was about the report, wasn’t it?
And all of a sudden you were walking to his car. To the passenger side that was once considered yours, maybe now MC’s. He held the door open and you silently thanked him. As he got in the car, he didn’t start the engine. Just locked the doors.
“Caleb?” You ask, confused.
“I’ve always loved how my name rolled off your tongue, y’know?” He mused, clutching the wheel, despite not steering to go anywhere. You can see his hand straining to not touch yours. And you pull it back. Because if you let him hold it, then you might never let him go.
“Strange words for a taken man.” You murmur. And he looks at you. Really look at you. A half surprised look on his face, and half hurt. “Is that what you really think?” You raise an eyebrow and slowly nod, like it was obvious. “You think I was stupid?”
“Please, hear me out for just a few minutes, and I’ll take you home.” He pleaded with that same damn expression that shamefully still made you fold for him. You cross your arms and exhale, gesturing for him to go on.
“Yeah, I dated MC, but as that year flew by, I realized my actual feelings. I always looked for you in her. Anything she did reminded me of you.” And he paused before taking your hands. You let him.
“It was just a crush, just a stupid childhood crush. But I’ve always had my eyes for you.” And a singular tear falls down the stoic colonel. “It didn’t feel like they were…” you whisper back, broken my, like you were on the verge of tears. “It’s always been you, and I was the idiot for not cherishing you the way you deserved..”
“And what about MC?” “We broke up two months ago, it was just a crush I guess..” “you guess?” And he slowly nods.
“That guess blew everything up Caleb.. I thought you didn’t love me.” “I did.” He sputtered. “I just didn’t understand what my heart wanted. But now, I promise, I know.” You don’t say anything, just pursing your lips. His hand found its way to your face, and you only realized tears were falling as his warm touch met your tear droplets.
You let him. Just like you let him walk into your life, crash down everything, and come back. “You don’t have to love me back, but I learnt that I’ve always loved you.” And he planted a kiss onto your temple. It felt so natural, you were so touched starved for him that you wanted to kiss him right now.
So was he it seemed, because his kiss lingered for a few seconds, and his hands wrapped around your head, possessive and lovingly. He then started the engine. “Let’s get you home.”
You felt the engine hum beneath you, the scent of leather and rain mixing inside the car. The storm outside hammered against the windows, each drop drumming like a memory trying to claw its way back. You stared straight ahead, fingers fisting in the fabric of your skirt, as though you could anchor yourself to reality. You were terrified to look at him…afraid that if you did, you would let him in again, let him rewrite your walls with promises.
He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. His face was taut, vulnerable, hopeful. “I’ve waited so long to say that,” he murmured, voice raw. “I’ve wanted to fix this for so long.”
Tears slipped down your face again, silent. You blinked them away. “You ruined it,” you whispered. “You stood me up for her. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”
He exhaled, ugly remorse etched across his features. “I know. I was selfish. I was blind. I thought she would make me happy. But every time I was with her, I saw your face behind hers. And it never felt like I belonged there.”
You risked a glance at him now. The rain painted streaks over the window. His uniform was soaked, but his eyes were luminous. “Then why did you do it?” you asked, voice small.
“Because I was a coward. Because I was afraid to admit what I felt. Because… I thought I had time. I thought I could fix it later.”
“Later destroyed me.”
He didn’t argue. He only reached over, tentative, as though afraid you’d recoil. His hand brushed yours. You didn’t pull away. For just a moment, your world narrowed to that contact: warm, real, imperfect.
“Let me try,” he pleaded. “Just one chance. Let me prove that you were, are, will always be the one I meant to love.”
The car rattled on the wet road. Thunder rolled overhead. You swallowed. Your heart pounded. You weighed the memory of betrayal against the memory of love.
You nodded, barely. The smallest movement. But it was enough.
He pressed his lips against your hand where it lay. “Thank you,” he whispered.
And the storm outside raged on, as the two of you sat in silence…two souls torn, tentatively reaching, uncertain whether this was the start of everything or the final echo of a dream.
The storm outside raged on, but inside the car the silence grew heavier than the rain. You felt it pressing on your chest, filling the space between the two of you until it was almost hard to breathe. His hand still hovered near yours, but you could feel the tremor in it, as if even his bones knew what he’d lost.
Lightning flashed, white and cruel, illuminating his profile … the same profile you used to trace with your finger when he slept. The scar at his jaw, the slight dip of his brow when he thought too hard, the crease that deepened whenever he was about to say something that mattered. All of it hit you at once, like your own memories were out to betray you.
He drove in silence for a while, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Each turn of the wipers sounded like a metronome to your heart. You stared out at the blurred city,neon signs smeared by rain, people hurrying under umbrellas, a world moving on without you.
“Do you remember,” his voice cracked, “that night on the roof? The one where you made me swear I wouldn’t ever let you go?”
The question came out of nowhere. You blinked at him. Of course you remembered. It was summer, heat still clinging to the city even after midnight, his fingers laced through yours while you dangled your legs off the ledge. He’d kissed your temple then, too, murmuring promises into your hair. Promises that now tasted like ash.
“I remember,” you said quietly. Your voice was flat, but inside, you were screaming.
He exhaled, a shudder running through him. “I meant it. I still mean it. I just…” He broke off, jaw clenching. “I don’t expect you to believe me. But I swear, every day without you has been like breathing underwater.”
You turned back to the window, fingers digging crescents into your palm. You hated how much you wanted to believe him. You hated how, even now, his words threaded themselves into the hollow places in your chest.
When the car finally stopped, it wasn’t at your apartment. It was at the old café, the one you’d both lived in for months of your life. The sign buzzed faintly, half the letters burned out. Through the window you could see the same chipped tables, the same corner booth where you’d once fallen asleep on his shoulder after a long shift.
“Why here?” you asked, throat tight.
“Because this is where I first realized I loved you,” he said simply. “Before everything. Before I ruined it.”
You almost laughed. It came out more like a sob. “Do you think dragging me here fixes anything?”
“No,” he said. His eyes were steady on you now. “I think maybe it lets me tell you what I should have said back then.”
You stayed seated. Rain pattered on the roof like a heartbeat. He killed the engine but didn’t move to get out. Neither did you. The two of you sat there, watching the door of the café swing open and closed as strangers came and went.
He finally spoke again, softer. “I used to picture our life. Stupid little things. You making coffee in the morning for the both of us. Me sneaking up behind you. Kids with your eyes. I wanted all of it. But I kept running back to the idea of MC because it was safe. Familiar. I was scared of how much I wanted you.”
Your throat burned. “And you think telling me that now erases the nights I spent crying over you?”
“No. It just…” he swallowed hard. “It just gives you the truth, so you can hate me with all the facts.”
Silence. Only rain. Only thunder. You finally opened the door and stepped out. Rain plastered your hair to your cheeks, but you didn’t care. You needed air. You needed distance. He followed, of course, calling your name, but his voice was quieter now, almost reverent.
You crossed the street, stood under the awning of the café, and stared at the window where your reflection wavered beside his. You could feel him stop behind you, the heat of him even through the cold.
“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“I know,” he said. His voice was a rasp. “I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to let me try.”
A flash of memory hit you, the two of you at this very café years ago, splitting a piece of pie, your fingers sticky with sugar, his smile wide and unguarded. It almost knocked the air out of you.
You turned then, finally, and looked at him. Really looked. The rain had flattened his hair, run lines down his face that might have been tears or might have been water. His uniform clung to him like penance. His eyes, though, they were still that same impossible color, still fixed on you like you were the only anchor he had left.
“Caleb…” you began, but your voice broke.
He stepped closer but stopped just out of reach, as if waiting for permission. “If you tell me to go, I’ll go,” he said. “But if there’s even one piece of you that still wants us, I’ll spend every day earning it back.”
The streetlight above flickered. The café door swung open, releasing the smell of coffee and cinnamon into the rain. For a moment, the whole world felt like it was holding its breath.
You inhaled, shaky. You thought of the anniversary dinner that never happened. You thought of the years since, the nights alone, the reports, the silence. You thought of the boy on the roof, promising to never let you go.
And for the first time in years, you let yourself imagine a future again … not a certain one, not a safe one, but one where you weren’t just a ghost haunting your own life.
You reached out, fingers trembling, and touched his sleeve. Not his hand, not yet. Just the sleeve. His breath hitched.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you said.
“I know,” he whispered. “It means you’re still here.”
And then the two of you stood there, rain falling around you like an absolution, not knowing if you were rebuilding something or simply standing in its ruins but, for the first time in a long time, not entirely alone.
The rain didn’t let up. It seemed endless, hammering the pavement, drowning out even the city’s noise until all you could hear was your own heartbeat and his breath behind you.
When you’d touched his sleeve, it had been instinct. A fragile, dangerous instinct. And you hated yourself for it … hated the way your body betrayed the boundaries your heart had been clinging to.
But touching him unlocked something. A flood of memories rose so fast you almost staggered under them.
The rooftop. Summer three years ago. The world below buzzing with life, car horns echoing, neon lights blinking like fireflies. You and Caleb had climbed up with two cheap sodas and a bag of chips, lying on the gravel as if you owned the stars. He’d been talking nonsense about constellations, making up shapes and stories, when you’d blurted out … “Promise me you won’t ever let me go.”
You remembered the way he’d turned serious, instantly. No jokes. No teasing. Just his hand tightening around yours, his thumb brushing your knuckles. I promise, he’d said, and it had sounded so solid, so unbreakable. You’d believed him like a prayer.
Now, standing under the café awning, rain dripping down your face, you almost laughed at the cruelty of memory. The promise had been broken long ago. But part of you still clung to it, like a stubborn child clutching a worn-out toy.
You exhaled shakily, dragging yourself back to the present. Caleb was watching you with that same gaze … steady, heavy, filled with something you wanted so badly to believe in. His lips parted like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He just waited.
The silence stretched. The café door swung open again, a bell chiming, and the smell of coffee curled into the air. You imagined what it would be like to go inside with him … to slide into the corner booth, to feel his thigh press against yours again, to hear his laugh echo off the walls. Your chest ached with longing so sharp it was almost physical pain.
But you didn’t move. Neither did he.
Finally, you whispered, “You can’t fix everything with a promise. Not this time.”
His throat bobbed. “I know.”
“And you can’t expect me to just… forget what you did.”
“I don’t,” he said softly. “I expect you to hate me for a long time. I already do.”
The rawness in his voice sliced through you. You turned away, hugging your arms around yourself. The rain poured harder, slipping past the edge of the awning and soaking your skirt.
“I’m tired, Caleb,” you admitted. “Tired of waiting. Tired of competing with someone who will always come first. Tired of not being enough for you.”
He stepped closer then, but still didn’t touch you. His voice was low, almost desperate. “You were always enough. More than enough. I just… didn’t know how to love right. I didn’t know how to stop being a coward.”
You shut your eyes. The storm roared around you, echoing the storm inside.
After a long pause, you turned back to him. His face was wet, whether from rain or tears you couldn’t tell. His hands were trembling slightly at his sides.
“Then prove it,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “If you really mean it … prove it. Not with words. With time. With actions. With… with everything you didn’t give me before.”
For a moment, he looked stunned. Then his shoulders sagged, as if your words had both crushed and freed him. “I will,” he whispered. “As long as it takes. Even if it takes the rest of my life.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your chest was too tight, your throat too raw. Instead, you stepped back under the rain, letting it wash over you. Letting him see how broken you still were.
He didn’t follow this time. He just stood under the awning, watching, hands balled into fists at his sides.
When you finally turned toward your apartment, he moved, walking silently beside you. Not close enough to touch, not far enough to disappear. Just there. A shadow at your side, in the storm.
And for the first time in years, you didn’t push him away.
The storm had followed you home. Even after Caleb finally left … after that wordless walk back where neither of you dared to bridge the silence … the rain kept hammering the city. You’d closed your apartment door behind you, leaned against it, and just breathed until your legs gave out. By the time you stumbled into bed, your clothes were still damp, your hair clinging to your skin, and your mind too loud to sleep.
When sleep finally dragged you under, it wasn’t kind.
You dreamt of him … not in the storm, not broken, but as he once was. Laughing in your kitchen while stirring pasta sauce. Humming off-key against your neck while you tried to swat him away. The weight of his head in your lap as you read aloud, his fingers tapping a rhythm against your knee. Every memory so vivid it felt like you’d slipped back in time. You wanted to scream at Dream-You for smiling, for touching him so tenderly, for believing him.
When morning came, it was cruel.
Your eyes cracked open to pale gray light seeping through the curtains. The storm had passed, but the world felt damp and heavy. Sheets tangled around your legs, still faintly smelling like him. Your throat burned, raw from crying even though you hadn’t realized how much you had last night.
For a few seconds, waking up felt normal … as if maybe he was in the kitchen already, making coffee too strong, clattering mugs around, ready to tease you for sleeping in. Your chest even fluttered at the thought.
Then the truth hit. The silence was absolute.
No clatter. No humming. No warmth beside you. Just the echo of his voice still tangled in your head: It’s always been you.
You groaned into your pillow, burying your face. Tears stung again, though you thought you’d run dry. Why did mornings always hurt more than nights? At least the darkness gave you cover to lie to yourself. Daylight stripped you bare.
Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. One message. One name.
Caleb.
Your heart lurched so hard you nearly knocked the phone off the table. The message preview burned into your eyes: “Did you sleep okay?”
That was all. Four stupid words. Too gentle, too familiar, too much like the Caleb you had loved before everything shattered.
You stared at it for what felt like hours. Your thumb hovered over the screen, trembling. You wanted to reply. You wanted to type out something sharp and cold, to remind him he didn’t deserve to check in anymore. But another part of you … the weaker, softer part … just wanted to say yes, to let him know you had seen his words, to not feel alone in this morning haze.
Instead, you threw the phone back on the nightstand and rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. The cracks in the plaster suddenly looked like maps, routes leading nowhere.
The world outside was already moving … cars honking, footsteps echoing on wet pavement, vendors shouting about fresh bread. You had work in an hour. People waiting on your reports. A whole galaxy of responsibilities. And yet, all you could think about was four words from the man who had broken you, the man who was suddenly trying to rebuild what you weren’t sure existed anymore.
You whispered into the still air, barely audible: “I don’t know if I can do this.”
And maybe the worst part was that you didn’t know if you meant him or yourself.
just thinking about "i would've died for your sins instead i just died inside" and "i died on the alter waiting for the proof" and "all these people think love's for show but i would die for you in secret"
