Chapter Text
You have a love-hate relationship with summer.
You love the sunshine and napping like a cat in a pool of golden rays. You hate how it can fill you with a sense of loneliness. But today it’s your favorite season, because opening the door to Grandma’s house reveals a familiar face. Caleb is sitting by the large bay window scrolling through his phone. You drop the grocery bags you’re carrying and call out.
“Caleb! You sneak!”
He turns and smiles, giving you that boyish grin that makes your stomach flip. You want to run towards him as if he’s an oasis in the desert. But you don’t. You don’t want to seem too eager; too clingy. Even though you were raised by the same person, there’s still a line you want to respect. Caleb isn’t ‘yours.’ You may have called him that when you were younger. But now you’re adults; you in college and him in the DAA. So, you’re careful, smiling as you approach, but keeping your hands clasped behind your back.
“Grandma said you couldn’t get time off again.”
“I traded leave days with a friend.” He pockets his phone and stands. The difference in stature is almost alarming; not to mention how broad his shoulders have become. You pout a bit. Your last growth spurt ended embarrassingly early.
The pout becomes a held breath as he stretches his arms above his head. Gone is the lanky teen; replaced by lean muscles and radiant confidence. You’re too distracted by the way his jacket gapes to show off his abs to notice the slightly predatory grin. Caleb takes a step towards you.
“What, no hug?”
“Wh-Caleb!”
He’s fast, closing the gap between you and picking you up. You push against his chest in a panic as he laughs.
“Hey, pipsqueak.” He chuckles, hoisting you up so that you’re looking down at him. “Did you miss me?”
“No.” You scowl at him, hoping he can’t see the blush on your ears. “Why would I miss an annoying flyboy who never calls?”
“So, you did miss me.”
You pinch the tip of his nose, drawing out yet another laugh. You did miss him. So much that you feel like you’re flying now that he’s here. You’re liked by your classmates and get along with most anyone. But Caleb is like a puzzle piece that matches you perfectly. His joy floods into you like summer rain. But it comes at a cost; a reminder of the ache just under your sternum that comes with both missing him and being around him. Even your heartbeats seem to remind you that you’re lonely; incomplete.
You stutter as he carries you to the kitchen; only letting you down when you start to whine. In reality, you wouldn’t mind being carried a bit longer. But the feeling of his chest against yours is causing your body to buzz in ways you’d like to forget.
He peers at the mess you’ve left on the countertop: a mix of flour and other ingredients. “What in the tornado-aftermath is this?”
“Nothing.” You step around him, a blush creeping over your face. But it’s too late. He’s seen the apple slices and sugar. He cages you against the countertop; chest pressed against your back.
“You never say you miss me. Should I take this as a sign you do?” His voice is light and playful, yet another sign that he isn’t thinking twice about the fact that your bodies are so close. You, on the other hand, are as red as the apples you sliced.
“Get off.” You reach up to poke his cheek. “You’re like a clingy Great Dane.”
“So, what does that make you?” His eyes glint as he smiles wider. “A Pomeranian?”
“As if.” You turn around to poke him again, getting revenge. “I’d be a greyhound if anything.”
“A miniature one.”
He snatches your hand before you can poke his cheek for the third time. You counter by using your other hand, but the end result is the same. Now you’re fully trapped with your hands held against his chest.
“Maybe a yorkie.” He teases, “Sweet and pretty with silky hair.”
“I take it back. You’re an untrained mutt.” You stick your tongue out at him, only to yelp when he leans down and pretends to try and bite it. The playful action has your heart racing. Caleb raises an eyebrow as he studies your face.
“I wasn’t going to really do it, pipsqueak. Twitchy much?”
Thankfully, it seems he’s misunderstood your wide eyes to be from fear, not a racing heart. So you keep up the ruse.
“Says the jerk who's always biting me.” You pout at him, eyes thinning. “I seem to remember a certain someone leaving a mark on the back of my neck right before a school event. I couldn’t wear the dress I wanted.”
“You still looked beautiful.” He shrugs, eyes thinning as he raises your trapped hands towards his mouth. You struggle to pull them away.
“No! Down!”
“Nope.” His breath tickles your fingers as he gently bites a knuckle. “I thought you said I was an untrained mutt?”
“I take it back!”
“No take baksies, pip.” He bites another knuckle, canines indenting the skin. You let your arms sag and lean into him, tone grumbled.
“I’m not a chew toy.”
He relents, letting go of your hands and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “At least you learned your lesson. Just hug me next time and I won’t resort to dog-tactics.”
“Jerk.”
“Midge.”
“Flyboy.”
“Teacup poodle.”
Seeking revenge, you snatch his hand and bring it to your mouth. You make sure to bite hard enough to leave a reddened mark. But where you expect him to joke or tease you, he takes your chin and makes you look up at him. His thumb wanders over your bottom lip as he eyes you.
“You shouldn’t copy me too much.”
You puff your cheeks at him. “Who says I copy you?”
“Let’s consider the evidence.” He clicks his tongue, “There’s the biting. Then there’s the surprise attacking. Pinching. Plushie stealing. Aaand there’s you wearing my shirts.”
“All right, all right.” You avert your eyes to try and hide yet another blush. “Little sister stuff. I get it.”
“Wrong answer, pipsqueak.” He makes you look at him again. You don’t usually like people taking your chin or restraining you in any way. But it’s different with Caleb. You have countless memories of him holding onto you, pulling you. And, yes, biting you. And each recalled moment only stokes the ache in your chest.
Lonely.
The mantra has you closing your eyes to block out the view of his purple ones. But Caleb, as he always does, finds a way to chase you. He leans down to kiss your forehead.
“What’s wrong?” He breathes into your skin. “Is miss ‘free as a bird’ trying to hide from me now?”
“No.” You resist the urge to throw your arms around him. The ache is agonizing now, a stabbing pain in your chest. But it’s hard to stay still when he’s now pinching your cheek.
“Come on.” He says, “Tell me what’s up. You look like I gnawed on your favorite plushie.”
“You. You’re the problem.”
You open one eye to glare at him. And goodness is his face close. Too close. You flush and back away. But he pursues, caging you against the countertop.
“Not good enough, pip.” He says, “I can do this all day.”
“I’m well aware.” You snap back, “Now get off. I need to put the butter in the fridge.”
He finally relents, helping you put away groceries and organize the ‘tornado-aftermath.’ You’re thankful that the air between you lightens. Just friends, just far enough apart. He even leaves you alone when you push him out of the kitchen to finish baking. The smell of cinnamon and apples fills the house as you tidy up. It’s the smell of togetherness, of home. And of Caleb. You find your chest feeling hollow and search around the house for him, finding him napping in the sun. But he doesn’t seem completely relaxed. His eyes move behind the lids and his breathing is ragged. You sit beside him and brush his unruly hair away from his forehead.
“Caleb? Is it another nightmare?”
He doesn’t stir even when you place a hand on his chest. You thought he’d grown out of his nightmares years ago. But it seems like they remain; episodes that have him waking up gasping and saying strange things. You wonder if you should call the doctor and stand, only for his hand to grab yours.
“Don’t go...” He mumbles, “Don’t leave me.”
He’s so vulnerable, returned to the boy who held your hand and not an air force officer who can topple a can at three thousand meters. You sit back down and find yourself pulled to his chest. He nuzzles your hair, seeming to find comfort in your presence despite being asleep.
“Don’t go...” He mumbles, “Don’t close your eyes. Stay with me, pip.”
It seems like you're in his dream. The thought makes you silently groan. How can one person be like a black hole that pulls you in every time? He’s imprinted on you, on your behaviors, on your likes and dislikes. Your only solace is that he’ll bear your mark even when he finds a partner. And maybe he’ll dream of you, even when you’re old and grey.
The arms around you tighten as he lets out a whimper.
“Keep breathing for me, pip.” He pleads, “Don’t… you can’t…”
He gasps awake, arms tightening until you can’t breathe. You wiggle and he seems to finally realize that he’s hugging you.
“Pipsqueak?”
Caleb relaxes his hold so that you’re able to look up at him. His pupils are dilating and constricting wildly, and he’s trembling slightly. Then there’s his expression. It’s one of fear, loss, and confusion. And it’s directed at you. He reaches up hesitantly to caress your face. “Why’re you so…”
He blinks a few times, seeming to come to his senses. “Sorry.” He lets out a long breath and closes his eyes, brow furrowing. “Didn’t sleep much the past few nights. Nothing to worry about.”
“What happened?” You say, laying your head on his chest. His heart pounds against your ear. You know you shouldn’t be practically laying on top of him. But it feels right, like he needs you as much as you need him, even if it’s just for comfort. He lets out an unsteady sigh.
“Nothing you need to worry about, pipsqueak.”
“But you called my name.”
He’s silent, seeming unsure of what to say, so you fill in the silence.
“You kept asking me to not leave. And something about breathing.”
He lets out an unsteady breath and hugs you closer. “I can’t really talk about it, pip. Okay?”
“Okay.” You sigh and snuggle closer. The summer sun has him smelling like oak and honey. Maybe a bit like cinnamon, too, as you slowly fall asleep.
The next thing you know, you’re blinking up at the living room ceiling. You get up with a groan. The house is quiet, and you smell apples baking.
“Crap!” You race towards the kitchen. Caleb is there, pulling out the finished pastries.
“No timer?” He grins at you playfully. “Someone likes to live dangerously.”
“I forgot.” You admit, expression meek. He chuckles and sets the pan on the cooling rack. The view of him with potholders and humming as he closes the oven is homey and warm. Maybe, in another life, he would look at you, see you as a woman. Maybe the other you would have endless idyllic days like this one, not as almost-siblings but as committed partners. But you know you only have this one life with him. And it makes you want to cry.
Caleb turns to you and his brow furrows. “Now you’re worrying me, pipsqueak. Don’t tell me you still cry at the drop of a hat.”
“What if I do?” You wipe at your eyes, coming away with a few stray tears.
You feel guilty that he’s already coming over and hugging you. That he knows exactly the right words to say. It feels like a form of manipulation to let all of this continue. But you’re weak and, as your heart reminds you, lonely. He picks you up in a princess carry.
“We’re both a bit sappy today, aren’t we?” He says, kissing your forehead. “Should we go for a walk? Maybe go snag plushies. I’ll cheat for you if that’ll make you feel better.”
“Cheating’s against the rules.”
“What can I say? I like when you giggle and hug something I got for you.”
You groan. Those kinds of words should be reserved for someone other than you. Yet he doesn’t seem phased, purple eyes trailing over your face.
“Pip, you know you can ask me for anything, right? I may not be rich or talented in anything other than flying. Well, I guess I’m an ace when it comes to shooting. And cooking. And knowing what you like. And-”
You interrupt him by playfully swatting at his shoulder. “Look who’s not humble much.”
He just laughs. “What? Just being honest. I can also read your mind.”
“As if.”
“I can tell you want something.” He eyes you; expression still playful but with a hint of something you can’t place. “I can probably even say what it is.”
You blink at him. Panic is like ice in your veins. He can’t know. Because the next thing that will happen will be him letting you down softly; him taking your hands and saying that, while he loves you, he doesn’t feel the same way. That it’s not appropriate and that you’ll eventually find someone that’s good for you. So, you swallow and try to play it off.
“What if I want to be taller?”
He snorts; your comment effective in breaking the tension. “Yeah, that one’s out. I’d have to break the rules of spacetime to make that wish come true.”
“Then what good are you?”
“Plenty good.” He tosses you lightly in the air, drawing a surprised yelp out of your lips. “See?”
“See what?” You scowl playfully at him. “That you’re a hulking piece of meat?”
“Flyboys like me usually are.” He sets you down gently; hand just brushing over your waist. “How about we clean the house for Gran? She won’t be back until late.”
You find that tidying relaxes you. It’s soothing to hear Caleb’s humming as he sweeps, and you like to keep your hands busy. It’s as if you’re back to being children again. You even feel ‘normal’ enough to meekly ask for a favor.
“Hey, I forgot to mention that my luggage got delayed. Can I borrow a t-shirt?”
He glances at you with one eyebrow cocked. “Sounds like I’m going to lose yet another one.”
Your ears burn as you pout at him. “They’re comfy.”
“They also smell like me.”
You don’t stay to see his expression, turning and hurrying upstairs. The blush on your face is a dead giveaway that he’s right. But you lose to temptation and call back down the stairs.
“Is that a no?”
“It’s a yes.” He calls back, “Just don’t whine when they make you look even tinier.”
“Jerk!”
“Clothes thief.”
You grumble and stomp to his room. It’s the same as when you were young; tidy with a few posters framed on the walls. You slow as you pass a box on his desk. It’s something you haven’t seen before; a deep cherry color with tiny, bronze hinges.
“Bad idea…” You murmur, but your fingers are already lifting the top. Within are notes and a few trinkets. And they’re not just any bits and bobs. They’re notes with your handwriting and trinkets you distinctly remember giving him. It’s more a box of lover’s tokens than a time capsule. You snatch your hand back and the top snaps shut.
There’s no way. Caleb doesn’t act like the boys who have had crushes on you in the past. He doesn’t blush, doesn’t get nervous. If anything, he’s too confident. Yet there are the small moments, the way he’ll avert his eyes at times with an almost guilty expression. And his clear desire for you to depend on him. So, you let out an unsteady breath and hatch a plan. It’s not sinning, it's testing a hypothesis. Right?
You find one of his favorite shirts in his travel bag. And, yes, it smells like him. Honeyed and oaken in a way that has you pressing it to your face. Wearing his shorts is out; they’d slide right off. Then you remember you have a pair of ones from high school gathering dust in your room. You grab those next before showering and getting dressed in the ‘experiment.’ But your appearance in the mirror makes your shoulders droop. You look cute but small, especially since the shirt hangs so low that it completely hides your shorts. It seems like there won’t be any hypothesis-testing. Just Caleb laughing and calling you pipsqueak.
Your phone, balanced precariously on the sink, buzzes and you look to see your college roommate is calling. Her voice is hard to hear over the sounds of a hair dryer blowing in the background.
“Hey girlie! Can I borrow that blue dress? The low cut one.”
“Sure.”
“You make it home in one piece? How’s the granny and mister wolf?”
“Mister what?”
“The guy who came to help move you in.” Your roommate says, “Tall, intimidates the boys away, scary eyes. Total ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’ vibe. Hence the nickname.”
She’s talking about Caleb in terms that you can’t associate with him. So, you frown and glance down at the phone as if she can see your confused expression. “Caleb is the sweetest person I know. I’d hardly call him a wolf. And if he’s protective, it’s because we’re practically siblings.”
“Uh…” She hesitates, “Hun, that man does not think of you as a sister.”
“News to me.”
“Are you…” She sighs and you can imagine that she’s pinching the bridge of her nose. “Babygirl, if you don’t want to get eaten, be careful. Dogs have leashes. Wolves make their own rules.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes. Yet her comments make your heart race. Maybe there’s a chance, if a slim one.
She blows a kiss into the phone. “Well, have fun.”
“You too.”
You hang up and glance at the mirror one more time. The getup does make you look fluffy like a sheep, painfully so, but maybe there’s a bit of sexiness in how your legs look smooth and long. You trudge downstairs and find him cutting into one of the pastries. He glances over at you with a boyish grin.
“These’re…”
Caleb trails off, his expression becoming hard to read. But then he’s smiling again. It doesn't reach his eyes, leaving them more the cold purple of dawn rather than warm, spiced wine. You cross your arms and scowl at him.
“No ‘small’ comments or I’ll transform into a chihuahua, temper and all.”
You expect him to come up with a snarky comment. But instead, he’s turning away from you. It’s like seeing double; the boyish and cheerful Caleb you know, and something else, something that pulls at you like gravity. You swallow as he stands up. His height and broad back are suddenly a bit overwhelming. You call out, voice quieter than you planned.
“Caleb?”
He turns back and suddenly it’s as if nothing had happened. His eyes are bright, and his smile relaxed and easy. He adjusts the chair and sits back down, elbow on the counter as he rests his chin on a fist. “That’s not really a threat, pipsqueak. One treat and your tail would be wagging. I’d have to get you a collar and everything.”
“That’s it buster. You’re officially dead.” You stomp towards him as he opens his mouth again. But it’s all pretend. He laughs as you grab his cheeks.
“Ohhh, so fierce.”
You play a game of cat and mouse: you trying to flick his forehead, him evading as he grins at you. But he’s always a step ahead. And so, you forget; forget to pull away, forget that putting your knee between his legs to lean against the chair isn’t something ‘normal’ between people raised alongside each other. He catches a wrist in each hand and secures them behind your back, both of you panting slightly.
“Bad girl.” He breathes, and you’re suddenly drowning in his eyes. He’s never looked like this, mouth parted, and eyes fixed on you as if trying to bind you up. So, this is the wolf. Your lower abdomen flutters and you try to struggle. But he’s got a vice-like grip and keeps you still.
“I’d stop doing that, princess.” His eyes flick over your face, resting just a moment too long on your lips. The sound of the doorbell has you both startling, and Caleb releases your wrists. You back away, face flushed, and practically flee to the front door. The person on the other side has you blinking. He’s not immediately familiar, then you remember that you went to high school together. It takes you a moment to remember his name.
“Joseph?”
“Hey!” He grins at you, and you also remember that you’d had a crush on him for a few weeks back when you were classmates. He’s still cute with messy blonde hair and eyes that twinkle. Your conversation is interrupted when an arm slides around your waist. Caleb holds you so tightly that you can’t turn around and look at his face.
“Need something?” He says over your head.
Joseph’s eyes widen as he looks up at Caleb. The smile stays, but falters slightly at the corners. “Just… saying hi. Someone said… um...” Joseph glances at you. “Just wanted to say hi. See ya around, maybe.”
He practically flees, leaving you gaping in his absence. Caleb keeps you held tightly as he uses his free hand to close the door. You struggle, grabbing the arm around your waist.
“What was that, Caleb!? We should have invited him in!”
“Why?”
“Why?” You jab an elbow into his stomach. “Because it’s what adults do. Invite people in, offer them snacks, talk about the weath-”
“Adults.” You feel him rest his chin on your head. “You have your own world now.”
“And?”
“And am I in it?”
You blink and try to look up at him, only to fail miserably and flop in his arms. “Of course you are. We were raised together.”
“Yet you run away from me.” He moves his head from atop yours to tap his nose against your ear. “Just like a little bird who’s grown wings.”
“Says the flyboy.” You pout, a bit angry. He’s the one that ran away first, far enough that you two barely see each other outside of the rare holiday at grandma’s. He lives in the sky and you on earth. Not the other way around.
“You left first.” You grumble.
“I need to do everything first.”
“You always say that.” You try to mimic the voice he had when he was younger. “‘My hands are bigger’ and ‘I’ll go to school first.’ If I copied anything, it was your competitiveness.”
“Not that.” His voice is breathy, quiet as he kisses the top of your head. Suddenly you're a bit angry. Not only did he leave first, but he’s always kept things from you. He and Gran both. But it hurts most when it’s Caleb keeping you in the dark; Caleb hiding the dreams; Caleb keeping you at just the right distance. You’ve been here before; with you desperate to have him promise his everything to you, yet sick with the knowledge that he’ll pull away at the last moment. Not just that. He’ll joke a tease until you’re confused and dizzy, wondering if it was all a lucid dream.
“Caleb…” You swallow, feeling desperate to keep him here, holding you. “Do you ever dream of me dying?”
It’s a question you know you shouldn’t ask. He might retreat so far that you’ll want to rip your heart out. But you want him to show you at least one of his cards. And not while he’s hiding his face from you.
It works. His body stiffens and he hides his face in your hair. “Don’t, pipsqueak.”
“What if I did?” You reach back to thread your fingers in his hair. “I’m going to be a Hunter. I could die on a mission. Or maybe my heart will give out. Or maybe I’ll get shot and-”
“Stop.” He flips you around and grabs your shoulders. And there it is: the terrified, wild eyes and parted lips. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He says, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “So, stop talking like that.”
“You’re too far away to do anything.” You feel tears well and don’t bother to wipe them away. “You’re so busy becoming a pilot that you wouldn't even know I’d died-”
“No, no.” He cups the back of your neck and pulls your forehead to his. “Pip, don’t do this.”
There’s the second crack; a look of barely hidden devotion. It has your breath coming short and your hands trembling as you cup his cheeks.
“I’m all grown up, Caleb. I can share whatever pain this is.”
To your dismay, he pulls away, a sad look in his eyes. The moment is broken, and you flee. His t-shirt flaps around you as you race through the kitchen. But then there are arms around your waist, and you’re being turned around. The kiss is awkward, clumsy, and tastes of apple pastry. You gasp into Caleb’s mouth as he pushes you against the counter. He grips the edge, knuckles white as he traps your mouth with his. It's as innocent as it is decadent; as wrong as it is right. But part of you screams in agony. This is his way of keeping you chained to him. He may not even feel the same but is so fixated on keeping you close, on keeping you safe, that he’d pretend to want you. Maybe he’d even go farther to keep up the ruse.
So, you pound on his chest with your fists. He releases your mouth but keeps you pinned to the countertop. “Why-”
“Get off!” You’re angry now, and it only adds to the tears. “I don’t want handouts.”
“This isn’t a handout.” He takes your chin and makes you look at him, expression yearning.
“Liar.” You struggle and are reminded of how he’s easily able to physically overpower you. Tiny. Small. Weak. A whimper escapes you and he finally backs away.
“I don’t want to scare you.” He murmurs as you wrap your arms around yourself. You can’t even look at him and stare at the floor.
“I need space.”
“Okay.”
He’s slow to leave, stopping a few times, but then ascends the stairs. You cry in the kitchen for a while. It’s impossible to escape the smell of apples; just like you can’t wash away the burning kiss. He’s marked you irrevocably. And it’s agony. But, as you calm down, you remember his eyes. The guilt, the desire.
Maybe he wasn’t pretending.
You let out a slow breath and try to focus. If he wants you, then it makes sense that he would feel some hesitation to show it. You were raised together and, as much as you hate it, he is a few years older. He has always been always one step ahead. Yet the thought makes your mouth twist. Even if he kept from letting his status as the older one from coercing you into a relationship, he’s still manipulative. And perhaps there’s more hidden between the two of you. A fear of a possible future. Or something from the past. But him keeping secrets isn’t going to make you back down. You have a trump card of your own and decide that it’s time to use it.
The stairs creak as you ascend them. The carpet is worn with a thousand steps from you and Caleb, from childhood to adulthood, going up and down. A shared history; shared memories akin to secret promises.
His door is cracked, and you push at it gently. He’s sitting in bed, reading, and looks up at you.
“Are you… okay?”
“No.” You slip through the door, chest twisting. “I think I'm getting sick.”
“Come here.” He sets his book aside and reaches for you. The few steps over to him seem like miles, but then you’re in his arms. He pulls you on top of him and rubs your back.
“Is it a stomach bug? Or did you pick something up on the flight?”
“It’s a certain someone’s fault.”
“Oh…”
You pull back to look into his eyes. He’s not completely unaffected. The sadness is still there, as well as a new uneasiness. Then there’s how he brushes his thumb over your lower lip. You stay still as he rubs it in slow circles.
“Caleb… remember when I got locked in the attic as a kid?”
“Yeah.” He gives you a faint smile. “You were inconsolable. My shirt got soaked with your tears. Who would have thought you’d be so scared of thunder?”
“It wasn’t the thunder… at least completely.” You pause, wondering if you’re making a mistake, but eventually continue. “I… remembered something. About when I was really little.”
He stills, eyes fixed on you. The fear there almost has you wavering, but you manage to whisper out the rest of it.
“I think I died. Over and over again. And then, one time, something…. some kind of power tore everything apart. And I think it came from me.” You tangle your fingers in the front of his shirt. “But I also remembered someone holding my hand.”
He closes his eyes, looking as if he’s in pain, so you reach up to caress his face.
“Pipsqueak.” He murmurs, “Don’t leave me alone again.”
It’s not the answer you want, but it’s something. You stroke his temple until he’s looking at you again.
“Caleb… why won’t you love me?”
“I…” He lets out an unsteady breath, seeming more vulnerable then you’ve ever seen him. “I do love you.”
“Not in the same way.”
His jaw tightens. He looks like a man trapped between needs and desires. And the latter seems to win, breaking free in a rasped admission. “No, pip. The same way. Since the first time you held my hand. I just can’t act on it. Trust me, please?”
He takes your right hand with his left and presses them to his heart. You feel it then, the racing thuds that mirror your own heartbeat. It’s a connection beyond love; a link that feels dangerous in its intensity. He fixes you in place with purple eyes.
“You still wanna confirm it?
You nod, eyes welling with tears as he pulls you in and places kisses across your forehead and cheeks.
“I love you.” He breathes, “I’ll endure hell for you. I’ll suffocate and starve. Just don’t… don’t leave me. Don’t hate me.”
“I could never hate you.” You close your eyes as he wipes tears from your cheeks.
Caleb lets out a sad chuckle. “No, you can’t. Not with every fiber of your being. But you really should. I’m not a good person, pipsqueak. Not like you.”
“I’m not.” You say, “I’m a crybaby and needy. And I am a clothes thief.”
“I like that you’re a clothes thief.” His eyes warm as he smiles fully at you. “I want you to smell like me all the time. And I want you to walk around with my bite marks.”
You blink at him. “Oh…”
“So now little miss tease gets it.” He chuckles and strokes your hair. “I love you, pip. I can’t always be with you, but I’ll be right there when you need me. Gravity can affect time, you know.” He suddenly winces, and you cup his cheeks, searching his eyes for the reason.
“Tell me what you’re hiding?” You say, “Just a hint?”
“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “It’s not real. I’m making sure it’s not real. It’s just a lucid dream, pip, something you’ll forget as time goes on.”
“I don’t like forgetting…”
“I know, and that’s why we need to be careful with how things go from here.” He watches as you sit upright, straddling his waist. But the change in position as you dizzy and tired. So, rather than fight it, you collapse into him again. Caleb rolls you to his side and pulls you close.
“Even copying what I do when you’re sick?”
“I'm not sick.” You grumble, “Just tired.”
“Then you should get some sleep.” He tucks your head under his chin, sealing your bodies like two puzzle pieces. “I’ll cover for you when Gran finds your room empty.”
“Caleb… I don’t want you covering for me anymore.”
“Then this is the last time.” He murmurs, “One last good deed to make up for all of my sins.”
“Caleb?”
‘“Yes?”
“Stay with me. Till death do us part.”
He hugs you tighter, your mirrored heartbeats comforting in the silence. But he eventually responds in barely a whisper.
“I'll always be yours. But let's say for as long as he both shall live instead.”
You nod and snuggle closer. “Okay. For as long as we both shall live.”