ABOUT ME! cherry. 20s. gemini. sporadic writer. caleb and xavier enthusiast. gege!caleb truther
ASKS & REQUESTS! open 💌
MAIN! @accioriddles
CALEB (XIA YIZHOU; Ꮚ˘ ꈊ ˘ Ꮚ)
FICS.
GRIEF IS A CIRCULAR STAIRCASE. I HAVE LOST YOU. [AO3]
Synopsis: You are twenty-two when a twenty-four year old Caleb dies in a burst of flames, leaving you to navigate life without the gravity that had once kept you grounded.
DRABBLES.
good or bad—you're mine
HEADCANONS.
bf!caleb (1)
caleb's family (1)
filo!caleb: high school edition
social media takeover!
XAVIER (SHEN XINGHUI; ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡)
FICS.
OUROBOROS
Synopsis: A queen finds herself in a lab, occupying a body that is hers yet not. Everything and nothing changes. [Or more accurately, the one where Philos!MC awakens in Linkon!MC's body during her time at the Gaia Research Center.]
Cute idea I had, not a drawing request but something I just wanted to share
What if the lads guys(either one of them or all) have blobbus MC like a little pet and MC has the blobbus guys. They spoil MC blobbus and the blobbus guys are like protective dogs with MC. Or it could be vise versa with MC owning blobbus MC.
PAIRING. caleb x reader, caleb x mc (can be read platonically or romantically)
SYNOPSIS. you are twenty-two when a twenty-four year old caleb dies in a burst of flames, leaving you to navigate life without the gravity that had once kept you grounded.
TAGS. set before long-awaited revelry and homecoming wings. angst. hurt no comfort (slight comfort from zayne actually). discussions of death and grieving. codependency, heavy on codependency. suicidal ideation. survivor's guilt. self-hatred. mentions of vomiting. use of gege (literally once).
[EDIT: 08.26.2025] Revamped this sometime in June. You can also read this on AO3.
EXPLOSION AT 502 SUNSET STREET, BLOOMSHORE DISTRICT
2 deaths. No evidence of human-triggered detonation detected. No remains of any detonation device found. The deceased were not known to have had disputes or financial conflicts of interest with any others. According to the evidence gathered, this was an accident caused by Metaflux fluctuation.
You are twenty-two, fresh out of the Hunter Academy and days into your job as a Deepspace hunter when you bury a twenty-four year old Caleb.
Caleb is twenty-four and dead. He will be twenty-four forever, never to grow old—stuck in time as a young man robbed of his bright future due to a freak accident.
His funeral is that of a hero’s, only the best for the top fighter pilot of the Deepspace Aviation Administration. Rain pours midway through the ceremony. It is only fitting, you think, for the heavens to cry for the boy who had once loved to fly in its skies.
It should have been you. The words rang continuously in your head as you glared at his tombstone. Maybe if you looked angry enough, he'd claw his way out of the ground and beg for your forgiveness. Caleb had never been one to sit still whenever you were angry at him. So maybe, just maybe, your anger would bring him back to life.
Spoiler: it doesn't.
In the end, the anger you feel is just grief—love for the man buried six feet beneath your feet. It shouldn't be like this. Caleb should be soaring the skies, the nose of his jet kissing the clouds. He should be doing those godforsaken power loops—performing the tricks that never failed to make your already frail heart falter in your chest from pure worry for his well-being.
He shouldn't be dead and buried six feet under, far away from the skies he loved enough to leave you behind for. You never quite forgave him for leaving you all those years ago. It feels petty now, foolish even. You will never get those purposefully missed calls back. You will never get back the summers you spent not going home. The missed opportunities, the wasted time—all of it has been reduced to ash. You will never be able to go home to him again. And for what? For petty vengeance? To give him a taste of what it was like to be left behind?
In the end the one who was truly left behind was you, not him.
Where Caleb Xia goes, you are quick to follow. It is a simple and known truth. One Zayne Li knows all too well. It is a truth that has him going past the speed limit in the pouring rain after a long day full of surgeries and consultations. It is a truth that has him fearing you’d follow Caleb into his grave.
By the time he arrives, the ceremony had long come to a close and yet… there you remain, kneeling by the foot of Caleb's grave despite the relentless downpour of the rain. No matter Caleb's childhood fears that he would steal you away from him, Zayne had always known the truth that both of you were blind to.
Some part of Zayne—the selfless, altruistic part that ultimately pushed him to become a doctor—wonders if he should have told you the truth of the matter. If he should have played matchmaker despite his heart's misgivings. Another part of Zayne—the selfish, unforgivingly human part of him—is relieved that his only competition for her heart is buried six feet under.
But the part of Zayne that considers Caleb his friend—the part that loves you—flinches at the mere thought, even more so when he catches a glimpse of your empty, almost soulless eyes.
In all his childhood memories, your eyes had always been bright, so full of life that he was convinced that the sun itself shone in them. Now though, they were dead.
Death is no stranger to Zayne. Still, he doesn't know what to say, and so, he doesn't. Instead, he tips his umbrella slightly forward, shielding you from the pouring rain.
“I should have died with him.”
Zayne frowns, but you continue before he could retort. “I was only a few steps behind him. It doesn't make sense that I came out of this so unscathed.” You stare down at the now soaked bandages covering the palms of your hands. Zayne follows your gaze, making a mental note to redress your wounds. “He controlled the blast, didn't he? Contained it and bore the brunt of it like an utter fool?”
Your words echo Zayne's own suspicions. In fact, they are true enough. Given your proximity to the explosion, a few scrapes and a concussion simply don’t make sense.
The way you scoff when he confirms your suspicions nearly makes Zayne flinch. Something bitter bleeds into your next words. “Of course, he did. That self-sacrificing idiot. I was right behind him. It… it doesn't make sense that I didn't die alongside him.”
This… this is the truth of the matter. You and Caleb have always belonged to each other in ways he couldn’t fully comprehend.
However, there was one thing he did know.
“Caleb would've wanted you to live.”
Where Caleb goes, you follow. It is a simple and haunting truth. One that Zayne wishes to prevent, most of all.
The fire is raging. It is all-consuming, leaving your childhood home in ruins. Smoke, black as coal, rises from its ashes. It is thick and heavy, assaulting your lungs and obscuring your vision as you desperately try to catch a glimpse of him.
Deep down, you know you won't. You’ve been here before. Nothing changes. In all iterations, his frowning face is always the last you see of him. Caleb always dies in a burst of flames, reduced to ash alongside Gran and the house you had once called home.
Except this time… he doesn't.
This time his body is tossed outward, landing a few meters away from your own. Like always, you crawl, but this time with more vigor. This time hope outweighs desperation. Maybe if you reach him in time, Caleb will live. Or maybe you'll die with him. Either way, it doesn't matter—at least you'll be with him.
Everything hurts. Still, you crawl. Despite the heat from the raging flames. Despite the burning friction of the pavement. You crawl to him.
Oddly enough, Caleb seems as unscathed as you are. He is beautiful, but he is too still. Panic floods your veins. No, no, no… don't take him away from me. Please.
Whatever gods you were praying to don’t listen. Caleb remains still. His eyes remain shut. Maybe you should plead with him instead. Perhaps he was still mad and playing a cruel prank on you. Maybe if you beg, he'll open his eyes.
“Caleb.” You caress his cheek, but instead of leaning into your touch as he always does, he remains eerily still. “Open your eyes.”
Nothing.
“Caleb, please.”
You’re desperate now. Mad even. “Caleb, this isn't fucking funny. Open your eyes.” You resort to shaking him, going against all the first aid protocol that was drilled into you at the academy.
You plead with him to wake up, banging against his chest when he doesn't.
Finally, his chest moves. You frantically try to meet his eyes, but they are squeezed shut in pain. His brows are furrowed as he wheezes, coughing up blood that stains your face red.
Horror floods your system. You scream, begging for forgiveness as blood continues to pool out of him, not just from his mouth but all over. His head, his eyes, his chest. Soon enough, all movement stops except for the flames that continue to rage on behind the two of you.
Caleb's eyes had long fluttered shut. The rise and fall of his chest had long ceased. The only movement from him was that of his own blood pouring out of him.
You killed him. In all iterations, you always end up killing him. Whether it be through pride, stubbornness, or dismissal. This, however, is the first time you killed him with your own hands.
You killed him. Youkilledhimyoukilledhimyoukilledhim—
Soaked in sweat and your heart thoroughly broken, you wake up screaming. In the end nothing changes. Your dreams always end the same way. Caleb always dies at your hands.
Message from: dummy caleb :P
I promise you'll see me every day when you wake up. ;)
Message to: dummy caleb :P
Liar.
For someone who always seemed larger than life, it is laughable that all his personal belongings fit into a single box.
DAA jackets. The trinkets you'd mailed him as good luck charms whenever he had exams coming up. Lego models of the fighter jets he once flew. Pictures upon pictures of the two of you as children, then teenagers and eventually young adults. The way you'll never have pictures in old age doesn't escape your notice. It haunts you instead.
Was this really all his twenty-four years of life had amounted to? You frown, then berate yourself for your own stupidity. Of course not. Everything Caleb once had has been reduced to ash, lost in the explosion that took his life.
His jackets still smell like him. A mix of the laundry detergent he preferred, sweat, and the scent that was so uniquely him. It was the scent you always sought out whenever you hugged him, burying your nose into the crook of his neck. A scent that never failed you make you feel safe.
You wear one of his jackets to sleep that night. And for the first time since the explosion, you dream of happier times—of the childhood you will never get back.
The first time you have braised chicken wings after Caleb's death, you vomit.
Zayne rushes after you, holding your hair up as you vomit into the sink.
The memory of that disastrous dinner is more vivid than ever. Caleb had prepared braised chicken wings just for you that night, only for you to throw his efforts into his face and run off to play capable hunter.
(Some hunter you are. What upstanding hunter lets their family get killed right before their eyes?)
Zayne hands you a glass of water, which you then use to rinse your mouth clean of any bile. He lingers behind you, anxious and unsure of how to proceed. It is unlike the Zayne you know—self-assured with a quiet, yet steady confidence.
“I'm sorry. I… I thought it would make you happy,” is what he settles on saying. His sincerity is so clear, so genuine that you can't help but hug him.
For a moment, he is frozen like the ice he commands. But then, slowly, he wraps his arms around you, enclosing you in a long overdue hug. And while it isn't as warm, as all-consuming as Caleb's once were, it is enough to make you cry in his arms.
Grief needs somewhere to go. And right now, it rests between the heat of your bodies.
Everything comes spilling out. Your regrets, your self-hatred, your loneliness.
And Zayne? He simply hugs you tighter, uncaring of the tears and snot that stain his cashmere sweater.
For those who are left behind, life goes on. You meet new people and create new memories. You move on, or so you like to tell yourself.
The memory of Caleb lingers. His absence colors every aspect of your life—every relationship you have.
The men who have recently entered (or re-entered in Zayne's case) mean well. They do; they truly do. But it isn't the same.
For all that Caleb liked to claim you ruined him, you know the truth of the matter: he ruined you first. He carved himself so deep into you that every person who came after him was unfairly subject to him and his care of you.
Try as they might, they weren’t Caleb. It's evident in the way Xavier cuts fruits a tad too thick and wonky. In the way you have to fight Rafayel tooth and nail for a turn at the claw machine. In the way Zayne offers you lukewarm water instead of ice cold whenever you find yourself at his apartment.
Would it be mean of you to say that you'd trade all of them just for another minute with Caleb?
Perhaps it is. And yet, it is still the truth.
You'd give up everything just to see Caleb alive and well again.
You are not a good person. A good person would have buried Caleb with the necklace he had once cherished. A good person would not have held onto the necklace as if it were a leash, as if it would anchor his ghost to you.
You are selfish, spoiled—the definition of a brat. You are were Caleb's brat though. His to discipline; his to cherish.
You are not a good person. A good person would pray that the departed have gone to a better place. A good person would not have cursed them to stay.
“You say I killed you—haunt me, then,” you say to the Caleb that appears in your dreams—the one who's bloodied and bruised, burns all over and missing an arm. The one who's six feet under instead of skies.
“Haunt me. Drive me mad.” You beg; you plead. “Just stay. In whatever form you can, stay. Don't leave me alone. Please.”
If he cannot love you enough to stay, then may he hate you instead. May he hate you enough to haunt you.
Caleb's grave is nestled under the protection of an Asiatic apple tree.
When you buried Caleb (and your heart alongside him), its flowers had yet to blossom. Now though, they are in full bloom. Its petals fall to the drift of the wind, cascading down and coloring Caleb's grave a soft pink.
You hate Asiatic apples. They have always taken Caleb away from you, blooming whenever he left for Skyhaven. So perhaps it's only fitting that his final resting place is under an Asiatic apple tree.
Some days you feel like you hate him. Other days, you recognize that the hatred you feel is just intense longing. Today, the former outweighs the latter. Of all promises to break, it had to be the first he ever made.
“I'm Caleb. I'll always be by your side.”
Except, he isn't. Not when he's dead while you're still breathing. Not when his jackets are slowly losing his scent. And certainly not when Asiatic apple flowers are blooming.
Grief comes in waves.
When it ebbs, you are able to walk with Zayne in the hospital gardens, throwing your head back as you laugh at his attempt at humor. But then… you catch a glimpse of the sky as a plane zooms by—Caleb. Grief crashes into you. Its chains cling to your feet, dragging you down to where he is—six feet under.
Your Caleb is no longer in the sky. The gravity he had once commanded dragged him back down to Earth. It dragged him down and down and down until his lifeless eyes could longer see the skies he had once been king of. Your Caleb is now with the worms and bugs he'd once collected for you as a child. He is dead.
Dear Caleb,
You know, sometimes, I want to hate you. Regretfully, sometimes I truly do. Of all the promises you could have broken, you really had to choose the one that mattered the most, didn't you? You said you'd always stay by my side, so why am I still breathing when you've long ceased to?
I shouldn't blame you. I know I shouldn't. I don't blame you—just so it's clear to you. You were always one to overthink.
I just… I'm adrift without you. Whatever gravity anchored me died with you.
You know, I always used to say that I didn't need you anymore. That I was a big girl who didn't need your protection anymore. You always hated it whenever I'd say it. And no, don't lie. I know you. I know you hated it. And yet… you were still first to leave. You were first to deprive me of your presence.
Okay, maybe that was too much. Cruel even. I'm sorry. I know you had your reasons. Still, it doesn't change the hurt I felt whenever you'd leave for Skyhaven.
The truth of the matter is that I'll always need you. At heart, I still need my gege. But you made it so, didn't you? After all, I was spoiled rotten by your very hands. Can't you take responsibility for me, ge? Can't you tell me where to put all this grief? Where am I supposed to put all my love for you now that you've left me?
“A black glass means you'll pay a high price.”
Without breaking eye contact, you down the drink in one shot.
Rafayel sighs. “Since you've made up your mind, I won't stop you. I hope you find the answers you seek.”
It is true what they say: you cannot outrun grief.
So you run headfirst into it instead.
CHERRY'S NOTES. oh wow... this... this took forever because i kept crying while writing it 🥹 now you get to cry with me! 😋
jokes aside, i honestly feel like mc's grief hasn't fully been explored in canon yet, so i took it upon myself to write for my babies. no matter the route, i feel like MC has so much love for caleb—be platonic or romantic. her love for caleb defines her in so many ways, mainly through the actions she takes to uncover the truth of the explosion.
anyways, i've rambled too much. happy easter to those who celebrate!
ADDITIONAL NOTES. Some sections of this work were directly taken from and/or inspired by canon, namely:
The first section is taken verbatim from Under Deepspace, Chapter 4: A Real Nightmare.
In the recent World Underneath update, it is mentioned that Caleb contained the blast of the explosion using his evol.
The text Caleb sends is his last message before becoming an official love interest.
MC canonically doesn't like Asiatic apple flowers for the same reasons described in the fic (see Caleb's Standard Myth: Lucid Dream).
In Painful Signal, it is mentioned that Caleb's grave is under a tree. However, the tree was left unspecified.
Additionally, other parts of this work were adapted from and inspired by other sources:
The title of this work was adapted from "The Five Stages of Grief," a poem by Linda Pastan.
Some dialogue was adapted from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Specifically, the passage: "You say I killed you—haunt me, then! Be with me always-take any form-drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!"
good angst cannot be triumphed by anything honest to god. especially post-explosion mc . i love the references here and how alive (hah) and real the pain feels. i think there’s so many iterations of mc’s grief from the fandom but i think this is one of my favorites (mostly bc there’s no comfort LMAO) thank you for writing this!
AAAAAA thank you so much for reading! and for the feedback as well. u have my heart 🫶
mc's grief post-explosion is so interesting to explore, especially since in canon we only really get references to her grief for josephine. well, except for homecoming wings, but that's a given
to me, caleb played such an integral role in shaping the woman MC currently is. you can see echoes of caleb in her—from the way she speaks (e.g., "stay frosty") to her brat behaviour in general. so it only feels right to give MC's grief for caleb the spotlight it deserves
PAIRING. caleb x reader, caleb x mc (can be read platonically or romantically)
SYNOPSIS. you are twenty-two when a twenty-four year old caleb dies in a burst of flames, leaving you to navigate life without the gravity that had once kept you grounded.
TAGS. set before long-awaited revelry and homecoming wings. angst. hurt no comfort (slight comfort from zayne actually). discussions of death and grieving. codependency, heavy on codependency. suicidal ideation. survivor's guilt. self-hatred. mentions of vomiting. use of gege (literally once).
[EDIT: 08.26.2025] Revamped this sometime in June. You can also read this on AO3.
EXPLOSION AT 502 SUNSET STREET, BLOOMSHORE DISTRICT
2 deaths. No evidence of human-triggered detonation detected. No remains of any detonation device found. The deceased were not known to have had disputes or financial conflicts of interest with any others. According to the evidence gathered, this was an accident caused by Metaflux fluctuation.
You are twenty-two, fresh out of the Hunter Academy and days into your job as a Deepspace hunter when you bury a twenty-four year old Caleb.
Caleb is twenty-four and dead. He will be twenty-four forever, never to grow old—stuck in time as a young man robbed of his bright future due to a freak accident.
His funeral is that of a hero’s, only the best for the top fighter pilot of the Deepspace Aviation Administration. Rain pours midway through the ceremony. It is only fitting, you think, for the heavens to cry for the boy who had once loved to fly in its skies.
It should have been you. The words rang continuously in your head as you glared at his tombstone. Maybe if you looked angry enough, he'd claw his way out of the ground and beg for your forgiveness. Caleb had never been one to sit still whenever you were angry at him. So maybe, just maybe, your anger would bring him back to life.
Spoiler: it doesn't.
In the end, the anger you feel is just grief—love for the man buried six feet beneath your feet. It shouldn't be like this. Caleb should be soaring the skies, the nose of his jet kissing the clouds. He should be doing those godforsaken power loops—performing the tricks that never failed to make your already frail heart falter in your chest from pure worry for his well-being.
He shouldn't be dead and buried six feet under, far away from the skies he loved enough to leave you behind for. You never quite forgave him for leaving you all those years ago. It feels petty now, foolish even. You will never get those purposefully missed calls back. You will never get back the summers you spent not going home. The missed opportunities, the wasted time—all of it has been reduced to ash. You will never be able to go home to him again. And for what? For petty vengeance? To give him a taste of what it was like to be left behind?
In the end the one who was truly left behind was you, not him.
Where Caleb Xia goes, you are quick to follow. It is a simple and known truth. One Zayne Li knows all too well. It is a truth that has him going past the speed limit in the pouring rain after a long day full of surgeries and consultations. It is a truth that has him fearing you’d follow Caleb into his grave.
By the time he arrives, the ceremony had long come to a close and yet… there you remain, kneeling by the foot of Caleb's grave despite the relentless downpour of the rain. No matter Caleb's childhood fears that he would steal you away from him, Zayne had always known the truth that both of you were blind to.
Some part of Zayne—the selfless, altruistic part that ultimately pushed him to become a doctor—wonders if he should have told you the truth of the matter. If he should have played matchmaker despite his heart's misgivings. Another part of Zayne—the selfish, unforgivingly human part of him—is relieved that his only competition for her heart is buried six feet under.
But the part of Zayne that considers Caleb his friend—the part that loves you—flinches at the mere thought, even more so when he catches a glimpse of your empty, almost soulless eyes.
In all his childhood memories, your eyes had always been bright, so full of life that he was convinced that the sun itself shone in them. Now though, they were dead.
Death is no stranger to Zayne. Still, he doesn't know what to say, and so, he doesn't. Instead, he tips his umbrella slightly forward, shielding you from the pouring rain.
“I should have died with him.”
Zayne frowns, but you continue before he could retort. “I was only a few steps behind him. It doesn't make sense that I came out of this so unscathed.” You stare down at the now soaked bandages covering the palms of your hands. Zayne follows your gaze, making a mental note to redress your wounds. “He controlled the blast, didn't he? Contained it and bore the brunt of it like an utter fool?”
Your words echo Zayne's own suspicions. In fact, they are true enough. Given your proximity to the explosion, a few scrapes and a concussion simply don’t make sense.
The way you scoff when he confirms your suspicions nearly makes Zayne flinch. Something bitter bleeds into your next words. “Of course, he did. That self-sacrificing idiot. I was right behind him. It… it doesn't make sense that I didn't die alongside him.”
This… this is the truth of the matter. You and Caleb have always belonged to each other in ways he couldn’t fully comprehend.
However, there was one thing he did know.
“Caleb would've wanted you to live.”
Where Caleb goes, you follow. It is a simple and haunting truth. One that Zayne wishes to prevent, most of all.
The fire is raging. It is all-consuming, leaving your childhood home in ruins. Smoke, black as coal, rises from its ashes. It is thick and heavy, assaulting your lungs and obscuring your vision as you desperately try to catch a glimpse of him.
Deep down, you know you won't. You’ve been here before. Nothing changes. In all iterations, his frowning face is always the last you see of him. Caleb always dies in a burst of flames, reduced to ash alongside Gran and the house you had once called home.
Except this time… he doesn't.
This time his body is tossed outward, landing a few meters away from your own. Like always, you crawl, but this time with more vigor. This time hope outweighs desperation. Maybe if you reach him in time, Caleb will live. Or maybe you'll die with him. Either way, it doesn't matter—at least you'll be with him.
Everything hurts. Still, you crawl. Despite the heat from the raging flames. Despite the burning friction of the pavement. You crawl to him.
Oddly enough, Caleb seems as unscathed as you are. He is beautiful, but he is too still. Panic floods your veins. No, no, no… don't take him away from me. Please.
Whatever gods you were praying to don’t listen. Caleb remains still. His eyes remain shut. Maybe you should plead with him instead. Perhaps he was still mad and playing a cruel prank on you. Maybe if you beg, he'll open his eyes.
“Caleb.” You caress his cheek, but instead of leaning into your touch as he always does, he remains eerily still. “Open your eyes.”
Nothing.
“Caleb, please.”
You’re desperate now. Mad even. “Caleb, this isn't fucking funny. Open your eyes.” You resort to shaking him, going against all the first aid protocol that was drilled into you at the academy.
You plead with him to wake up, banging against his chest when he doesn't.
Finally, his chest moves. You frantically try to meet his eyes, but they are squeezed shut in pain. His brows are furrowed as he wheezes, coughing up blood that stains your face red.
Horror floods your system. You scream, begging for forgiveness as blood continues to pool out of him, not just from his mouth but all over. His head, his eyes, his chest. Soon enough, all movement stops except for the flames that continue to rage on behind the two of you.
Caleb's eyes had long fluttered shut. The rise and fall of his chest had long ceased. The only movement from him was that of his own blood pouring out of him.
You killed him. In all iterations, you always end up killing him. Whether it be through pride, stubbornness, or dismissal. This, however, is the first time you killed him with your own hands.
You killed him. Youkilledhimyoukilledhimyoukilledhim—
Soaked in sweat and your heart thoroughly broken, you wake up screaming. In the end nothing changes. Your dreams always end the same way. Caleb always dies at your hands.
Message from: dummy caleb :P
I promise you'll see me every day when you wake up. ;)
Message to: dummy caleb :P
Liar.
For someone who always seemed larger than life, it is laughable that all his personal belongings fit into a single box.
DAA jackets. The trinkets you'd mailed him as good luck charms whenever he had exams coming up. Lego models of the fighter jets he once flew. Pictures upon pictures of the two of you as children, then teenagers and eventually young adults. The way you'll never have pictures in old age doesn't escape your notice. It haunts you instead.
Was this really all his twenty-four years of life had amounted to? You frown, then berate yourself for your own stupidity. Of course not. Everything Caleb once had has been reduced to ash, lost in the explosion that took his life.
His jackets still smell like him. A mix of the laundry detergent he preferred, sweat, and the scent that was so uniquely him. It was the scent you always sought out whenever you hugged him, burying your nose into the crook of his neck. A scent that never failed you make you feel safe.
You wear one of his jackets to sleep that night. And for the first time since the explosion, you dream of happier times—of the childhood you will never get back.
The first time you have braised chicken wings after Caleb's death, you vomit.
Zayne rushes after you, holding your hair up as you vomit into the sink.
The memory of that disastrous dinner is more vivid than ever. Caleb had prepared braised chicken wings just for you that night, only for you to throw his efforts into his face and run off to play capable hunter.
(Some hunter you are. What upstanding hunter lets their family get killed right before their eyes?)
Zayne hands you a glass of water, which you then use to rinse your mouth clean of any bile. He lingers behind you, anxious and unsure of how to proceed. It is unlike the Zayne you know—self-assured with a quiet, yet steady confidence.
“I'm sorry. I… I thought it would make you happy,” is what he settles on saying. His sincerity is so clear, so genuine that you can't help but hug him.
For a moment, he is frozen like the ice he commands. But then, slowly, he wraps his arms around you, enclosing you in a long overdue hug. And while it isn't as warm, as all-consuming as Caleb's once were, it is enough to make you cry in his arms.
Grief needs somewhere to go. And right now, it rests between the heat of your bodies.
Everything comes spilling out. Your regrets, your self-hatred, your loneliness.
And Zayne? He simply hugs you tighter, uncaring of the tears and snot that stain his cashmere sweater.
For those who are left behind, life goes on. You meet new people and create new memories. You move on, or so you like to tell yourself.
The memory of Caleb lingers. His absence colors every aspect of your life—every relationship you have.
The men who have recently entered (or re-entered in Zayne's case) mean well. They do; they truly do. But it isn't the same.
For all that Caleb liked to claim you ruined him, you know the truth of the matter: he ruined you first. He carved himself so deep into you that every person who came after him was unfairly subject to him and his care of you.
Try as they might, they weren’t Caleb. It's evident in the way Xavier cuts fruits a tad too thick and wonky. In the way you have to fight Rafayel tooth and nail for a turn at the claw machine. In the way Zayne offers you lukewarm water instead of ice cold whenever you find yourself at his apartment.
Would it be mean of you to say that you'd trade all of them just for another minute with Caleb?
Perhaps it is. And yet, it is still the truth.
You'd give up everything just to see Caleb alive and well again.
You are not a good person. A good person would have buried Caleb with the necklace he had once cherished. A good person would not have held onto the necklace as if it were a leash, as if it would anchor his ghost to you.
You are selfish, spoiled—the definition of a brat. You are were Caleb's brat though. His to discipline; his to cherish.
You are not a good person. A good person would pray that the departed have gone to a better place. A good person would not have cursed them to stay.
“You say I killed you—haunt me, then,” you say to the Caleb that appears in your dreams—the one who's bloodied and bruised, burns all over and missing an arm. The one who's six feet under instead of skies.
“Haunt me. Drive me mad.” You beg; you plead. “Just stay. In whatever form you can, stay. Don't leave me alone. Please.”
If he cannot love you enough to stay, then may he hate you instead. May he hate you enough to haunt you.
Caleb's grave is nestled under the protection of an Asiatic apple tree.
When you buried Caleb (and your heart alongside him), its flowers had yet to blossom. Now though, they are in full bloom. Its petals fall to the drift of the wind, cascading down and coloring Caleb's grave a soft pink.
You hate Asiatic apples. They have always taken Caleb away from you, blooming whenever he left for Skyhaven. So perhaps it's only fitting that his final resting place is under an Asiatic apple tree.
Some days you feel like you hate him. Other days, you recognize that the hatred you feel is just intense longing. Today, the former outweighs the latter. Of all promises to break, it had to be the first he ever made.
“I'm Caleb. I'll always be by your side.”
Except, he isn't. Not when he's dead while you're still breathing. Not when his jackets are slowly losing his scent. And certainly not when Asiatic apple flowers are blooming.
Grief comes in waves.
When it ebbs, you are able to walk with Zayne in the hospital gardens, throwing your head back as you laugh at his attempt at humor. But then… you catch a glimpse of the sky as a plane zooms by—Caleb. Grief crashes into you. Its chains cling to your feet, dragging you down to where he is—six feet under.
Your Caleb is no longer in the sky. The gravity he had once commanded dragged him back down to Earth. It dragged him down and down and down until his lifeless eyes could longer see the skies he had once been king of. Your Caleb is now with the worms and bugs he'd once collected for you as a child. He is dead.
Dear Caleb,
You know, sometimes, I want to hate you. Regretfully, sometimes I truly do. Of all the promises you could have broken, you really had to choose the one that mattered the most, didn't you? You said you'd always stay by my side, so why am I still breathing when you've long ceased to?
I shouldn't blame you. I know I shouldn't. I don't blame you—just so it's clear to you. You were always one to overthink.
I just… I'm adrift without you. Whatever gravity anchored me died with you.
You know, I always used to say that I didn't need you anymore. That I was a big girl who didn't need your protection anymore. You always hated it whenever I'd say it. And no, don't lie. I know you. I know you hated it. And yet… you were still first to leave. You were first to deprive me of your presence.
Okay, maybe that was too much. Cruel even. I'm sorry. I know you had your reasons. Still, it doesn't change the hurt I felt whenever you'd leave for Skyhaven.
The truth of the matter is that I'll always need you. At heart, I still need my gege. But you made it so, didn't you? After all, I was spoiled rotten by your very hands. Can't you take responsibility for me, ge? Can't you tell me where to put all this grief? Where am I supposed to put all my love for you now that you've left me?
“A black glass means you'll pay a high price.”
Without breaking eye contact, you down the drink in one shot.
Rafayel sighs. “Since you've made up your mind, I won't stop you. I hope you find the answers you seek.”
It is true what they say: you cannot outrun grief.
So you run headfirst into it instead.
CHERRY'S NOTES. oh wow... this... this took forever because i kept crying while writing it 🥹 now you get to cry with me! 😋
jokes aside, i honestly feel like mc's grief hasn't fully been explored in canon yet, so i took it upon myself to write for my babies. no matter the route, i feel like MC has so much love for caleb—be platonic or romantic. her love for caleb defines her in so many ways, mainly through the actions she takes to uncover the truth of the explosion.
anyways, i've rambled too much. happy easter to those who celebrate!
ADDITIONAL NOTES. Some sections of this work were directly taken from and/or inspired by canon, namely:
The first section is taken verbatim from Under Deepspace, Chapter 4: A Real Nightmare.
In the recent World Underneath update, it is mentioned that Caleb contained the blast of the explosion using his evol.
The text Caleb sends is his last message before becoming an official love interest.
MC canonically doesn't like Asiatic apple flowers for the same reasons described in the fic (see Caleb's Standard Myth: Lucid Dream).
In Painful Signal, it is mentioned that Caleb's grave is under a tree. However, the tree was left unspecified.
Additionally, other parts of this work were adapted from and inspired by other sources:
The title of this work was adapted from "The Five Stages of Grief," a poem by Linda Pastan.
Some dialogue was adapted from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Specifically, the passage: "You say I killed you—haunt me, then! Be with me always-take any form-drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!"
filo!calebmc and that one scene from she's dating the gangster. you know, the one where athena screams "go sexy! go sexy! go sexy sexy love" at one of kenji's basketball games
something about MC using caleb's evol in clearwind glide really gets me. it's probably another facet or her evol that's yet to be explored in canon, but just the thought of MC and caleb being codependent to point that she uses his evol as if it was her own? yeah... going feral
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