Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Zayne, can you—"

You blink when you look back and don't recognize the clothes, brows furrowing.

"This is what you've been up to?"

Caleb.

You stare up at the familiar face, and you blink another two times.

"Hold this." You hand him a drink and your jacket, tugging the new one off of the hanger.

You think Caleb's upset that you're not giving him a reaction. Well, to be fair, you don't really owe him one, but he might think you do. It's not technically your fault that he decided that his little sister childhood friend was worth more than whatever the hell was going on. It's also technically not your fault that you had walked in on her kissing his cheek before he had the chance to tell her that he had a girlfriend or your fault that you had just broken up with him on the spot because while Zayne felt like he had a shot, you decided that Caleb wasn't really worth it. It's never worth it to fight a woman who wants your man if he doesn't push her off.

You try the jacket on, looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Nothing?"

"How does it look?"

"Are you not going to—"

"Ugh, this is why I like shopping with Zayne." You grumble. "It's a yes or no question."

"Are you not going to ask me anything?"

"Not very fond of it." You raise a brow, putting the jacket back.

"Can't you just—"

You take your jacket back from him, raising a brow when he doesn't hold it up for you to put on.

He complies, letting you thread your arms through the sleeves and take the drink from his hand.

"Why Zayne?"

"Where is he?"

You think you deserve to feel bitter over the breakup. You think you deserve to be pissed at him that he's somehow back in your life on a random Wednesday afternoon when you're supposed to be out shopping with Zayne for clothes for his coworker's wedding, but you don't think it's worth all the anger anymore. You don't think you're all that mad at Caleb anymore if you don't even think he deserves it. He should've just stayed in the past, to be completely transparent. You don't think you want him back in your life again.

"Why are you looking for dresses?"

You crane your neck to look past the aisles to try and find Zayne, but Caleb steps in front of you to block your vision.

"Don't be an ass."

"She's with him."

"He has my purse."

You stare at Caleb, blinking.

"He'd give it to me first."

"Not with her."

You glance at Caleb, crossing your arms as your brows furrow at him.

"Alright. Spit it out. Get the shit you need to say out of your mouth and then go back to her like you always do. Come on. I'm listening."

"Do you hate me?"

"I said statements. Not questions."

"I miss you."

You scoff. "And I'm supposed to just take it?"

"I don't—"

"I think you realized that she wasn't good for you and the two of you decided to go back to the ones who were better to begin with. I think you don't miss me at all. You just miss when I took care of you and did whatever you wanted me to because I was sickeningly blind with love. I think you miss the person who was healthy for you now that you've realized how awful the two of you are in a relationship. I'm not your mom. I'm not grandmother either. I don't care about you."

"She didn't care for me either."

"It's a shame that the person who did doesn't now." You notice Zayne finally, and he locks eyes with you, nodding.

"Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Baby, please—"

"There you are." Zayne takes your wrist gently, shaking the girl off as he locks eyes with Caleb. "You done?"

"My mood's been spoiled." You huff. "Can we get dessert?"

"Of course."

You wander off with Zayne, footsteps light as you wait for the two to be out of hearing distance.

"He thinks we're dating."

"She does too." He hands you the purse, and you mumble.

"Told him I was shopping for your coworker's wedding instead of our. Do you think he has access to my files as a colonel?"

"No. You're not high-ranking enough to be in the database."

"Mmk." You point at the dessert shop, and you hope that this is a one-time occurrence.

It's not, because you find Caleb at the hospital talking to Zayne when you need to hand him a file, and when Zayne locks eyes with you, he shakes his head slightly to have you come at a later time. Maybe you're not quite sure what's going on with Caleb now that somehow he's back in your life, but you don't want him back. You really don't think it's worth it at all. Maybe Caleb hadn't been so willing to break up with you, but he still didn't bother fighting for the relationship or defend you when the love of his life had gotten hurt by some other girls and mistaken it for you.

She's not a sly vixen or evil regardless of what you say.

She just liked the attention he gave her. You like the attention you get from people. It's not a crime to like being spoiled by someone you're used to being spoiled by. Maybe there was a sudden waking up or a realization that she should find someone who would actually set boundaries with her and not let her get away with thing she shouldn't. You don't know. Zayne's kind, and your bond formed after finding out your exes ended up together, but he's still sober-minded when he dates. Well, a little more sober-minded.

You don't have it in your heart to hate her.

"Zayne." You call, tapping the file. You'll ignore Zayne's protection because you like the attention a man gives you when they grovel too. You'd be a hypocrite to hate her when you do the same thing sometimes.

"You heard them."

Caleb's heart drops to his stomach, blinking at you quietly as his mouth opens.

"Since when did you—"

"Read the file when you have the time. Kid. Pediatrics. Refuses to see anyone but you or me. I'll pay him a visit, but you'd have to do the surgery. Come with me?"

"Come on."

Zayne pauses to stare at Caleb, nodding at the man before going back to walk with you.

"Really?"

"He said he missed you last time I saw him. You didn't seem quite pleased with the conversation either."

"He was asking what we are."

"Coworkers. Friends." You knock on the door of the patient, peeking in with Zayne as the boy's face lights up.

You loved Caleb a long long time ago.

When you graduated from high school and he accepted your confession, you thought everything would be perfect forever. After all, he told you everything and confided in you about his troubles — mentioning how much he didn't like his grandmother but wished that his sister would take things easier. His sister. You'd find out later on that she really did like him in a non-platonic way when he graduated from the academy and she had kissed him before stealing his hat to wear, and maybe that's when things shattered or maybe that's when you really paused to consider just what kind of a person you were to Caleb.

Yes, the horror in his eyes when he had spotted you in the crowd was real, but you didn't feel the need to fight for him. The relationship had grown cold at that point. You were too sober to fight the girl he knew all his life. All he ever talked about was his cute little sister who was going to be seeing him at the academy again. You were still in your program at the time. Maybe it was just a foolish wish for you to mean anything to Caleb the way his little sister did. Yes, perhaps disappearing from the apartment and yelling at him wasn't the best way to go, but you doubt you would have been able to do anything else.

You'd expected him to try and fight back the advances, maybe. You don't know what you had expected at the time. You were painfully aware of how annoying it was that you were crying over a breakup you had initiated, but you honestly didn't really care. It reached a point where it no longer mattered to you. You thought perhaps you could tough it out and he'd change eventually, but nothing happened. It was the same as always. It was always the same.

But you did love Caleb. You took care to make sure that he never had cilantro in his food and cut up apples into shapes. You took meticulous care of his lunches so that he wouldn't have had to deal with the canteen food, and you mailed him any food that you thought he might've wanted to take a bite of and snacks that he missed. You texted him back constantly and made sure that he'd never have to struggle with anything ever. In the same way, he had taken care of you to make sure you never had to order anything that you were running low on or carry groceries back from the car. He took meticulous care of the things that he knew you hated, so you thought maybe he did love you.

Maybe he had just been used to taking care of all of that for his little sister.

You don't think your breakup was a well-thought-out thing on your end. It was a little bit of a rush, and yes, you had hurt Caleb in the process of it, but you don't think he really loved you either. You think he had been looking for her in you — telling you things about his little sister that you would eventually come to adopt into your own personality, clothes brought for you that she liked to wear. Maybe there was some truth that he did love you, but there was also truth that he really didn't love you nearly as much as he probably should have.

He didn't need to change himself because you loved everything about him.

You just needed to change yourself because he loved an ideal of you.

Caleb lingers around the hospital for the first few days — sneaking food to your desk in the office that you hand to the younger workers, leaving flowers that you hand to the little ones who don't have pollen allergies, waiting for you after work that forces you to beg Zayne to pick you up in the morning. You do everything in your power to refuse a reaction to him. He doesn't deserve the grace of a gentle look on your face that you give to people you love or people you take care of. You just hate a lot of it, you suppose.

You don't like being the one that your ex returns to once he realized that you're better for him.

Zayne drops you off and makes sure you're inside before he leaves, but you should know better than to try and stay away from the man with a gravity evol, because he's in the house with the spare key that you forgot to take back from him when you broke up.

"I can't believe you never changed your lock."

You blink twice, kicking off your shoes and making a beeline for the bathroom.

"You're not even going to flinch?"

You lock the door to the bathroom behind you, reaching to toss your clothes into the hamper and turn on the water, brows furrowing when the door clatters behind you and opens.

"Using your evol to break into my bathroom isn't very nice, you know?"

"You act like there's a piece of your skin that I haven't seen or explored."

"That was forever ago." You close the shower door behind you, turning the water on. "So? Why did you break in?"

"You wouldn't talk to me."

"I think the chip in your brain is fucking with your sense of right and wrong." You feel for the water, and Caleb's breath hitches.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." You wash out the grime from the day, and Caleb settles on your toilet.

"I'm sorry."

"We broke up on okay terms. Shouldn't I be apologizing for breaking your heart?"

"No. Well, maybe. I wanted to apologize for trying to replace pipsqueak with you." He pauses. "I'm sorry for suggesting things that you had adopted into your personality so that I would like you more."

"Well? Did it work?"

"Not really. I didn't like how similar the two of you were. I called her by your name once."

"I'm surprised you never called me by hers." You speak up.

"I'm sorry for breaking in, by the way. You weren't reading the cards I was sending so I got desperate. I figured you'd just escape me if you saw me on the street, and I didn't want to use my evol on you."

You think he's fiddling with his fingers with how he's positioned, but you can't really tell from the frosted glass.

"I just wanted to talk to you, and I figured that this wouldn't be an argument where we could talk through it after you get some air, so I just. I broke in. Sorry."

"Apology for that accepted." You hum. "We can debrief about the break up after I finish showering. Can you leave?"

"I'd prefer to stay."

"What good is it to stay while I shower?"

"I want to be close to you."

"Did you tell her that?" You scrunch your nose, laughing at yourself. "Don't answer that. I'm being childish. I want you out unless you can somehow grab me dinner."

"You should stop working yourself to death."

"It's a little more chill when it's pediatrics."

"You don't like the dinner menu."

"I don't eat at the cafeteria anymore?"

"Zayne says you sneak food from there sometimes. I see you still don't eat unless reminded to."

"Caleb. If you're just going to be an ass then maybe you shouldn't be here." You shut the water, stepping out of the glass as he hands you the towel. "Thank you."

"Can we start the debrief here?"

"Alright. I'm sorry for breaking up with you immediately after spotting your… sister… kissing you on the cheek and blowing it way out of proportion. I'm sorry. I still stand by my decision, and I still feel like the breakup was necessary, but I'm apologizing anyway because we probably should have talked about it like proper adults. Not that we were proper adults at the time."

"Apology accepted. Well, you still need to accept mine."

"We'll talk about accepting yours after we—"

You turn around to meet Caleb chest to face, your blow dryer in hand as he blinks at you.

"Can I dry your hair?"

"I can't hear anything if you blow dry it. I was going to air dry it."

"That's not good for you."

"Neither is stalking down your ex and breaking into their home, but here we are."

Caleb purses his lips, sighing.

"I'll cook for dinner."

"Is there anything else to really debrief?"

"Do you not think there's anything to talk about? How have you been all these years?"

"Working?" You tilt your head, closing your eyes as Caleb squeezes your hair.

"How'd you even meet Zayne?"

"Work." You purse your lips. "Well, I met him through you, technically. We just ended up at the same hospital."

"I'm sorry."

"We're just friends. Not that it matters." You swat at his hand, and he raises a brow.

"Couch."

You think Caleb misses the normalcy he had with you prior to getting with… her. The normalcy that you had offered for a short second was more than enough for temporary rest, and maybe the thrill of a childish relationship with someone he knew better than anyone else. Maybe it was—

"It was codependency." Caleb flexes his fingers slowly, staring at nothing in particular. "I think she was dependent on me and I liked having someone depend on me. You can get things done with or without me."

"So you decided to go back to her?" You fish out a bottle from the fridge for him, and he takes it with a nod of his head.

"No. I just. You broke up with me, and— not that it's your fault, of course — but I just found myself back in her arms crying. It was a nice false sense of security." He pops open the bottle, pausing at the smell.

"When'd you make this?"

"Couple weeks ago. I had a feeling you'd break in." You hop on the counter, opening a bottle of water. "And? Why'd you find yourself back here?"

He stares at you without saying anything.

"She wanted Zayne back."

"Don't blame her."

"He was better."

"So I'm stuck picking up the pieces of my ex because his ex wanted her ex back?" You scoff. "I'm not taking you back."

"You don't need to. I just."

"I don't have any assurance that you'll keep me even after she leaves." You blink.

"You left."

"But you decided to find her anyway." You chew on your bottom lip. "You get that, right?"

"Yes."

"Also. Gemini."

"Sorry for being a June baby."

Despite it all, you don't actually love Caleb all that much. Sure, it's easy to just let yourself be taken care of by someone else, but it's also something that feels much more normal. Maybe you feel normal. Caleb slots into your life fine, and you work just fine with or without him. It's not really something that makes your life easier or whatnot.

When Zayne picks you up in the morning and finds Caleb at the frame of your door, he hesitates to speak.

"Is he."

"I don't really care. He's kind of like a puppy? Which makes me the problem, but, really." You pause to glance at the people passing. "How have you been? I heard she's trying to get back with you."

"I'm fine. Just make sure he doesn't interfere with work."

"And her?"

"Therapy helped." The edge of his lip quirks up slightly, and you laugh.

"Glad group counseling worked."

You lied to Caleb, truthfully. You applied to Zayne's office because you met him in an anonymous group counseling situation that you had decided was necessary to make sure that you would be alright at the end of the day. When you found out that Caleb had left you for the girl that had left Zayne for Caleb, you forced a bond between the two of you. No one expects it to happen, you suppose.

Zayne is wonderful, and you doubt you'll ever find someone who is more perfect. It's understandable that she wants him back.

"If you marry her, I'm not going to your wedding."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't put myself through that."

There's something else, though. You use Zayne. When it's less feelings attached, you get used to using the people around you, and Caleb had been right to twist the knife right where it hurt back when you had argued with him so long ago. You use the people around you because you trust them with things. But Caleb had been annoyed that you used people. It was a problem that you think therapy really helped with. But the truth is, it's still a problem.

You thank Zayne and file through the papers on your desk when you arrive, quiet staring as you blink quietly.

You should call your therapist sometime.

The truth is you don't remember enough to know. You refuse to get it checked out because you remember enough to get by, but you don't remember anything that's mental health-related that could get you checked again. It's an automatic filtering process that you don't know why you have, but it exists in the back of your mind as you go about your day. It's fine. You'll forget about it again.

You have lunch that you prepared beforehand, chewing on the rice as you stare at the work on your laptop. You've spaced out a little, maybe. You don't know. You're not scatterbrained — you don't think. You're not stupid either considering everything, but you don't know. You remember enough about the patients and of work to be able to survive. That's enough, you suppose. You offer a sticker to the boy that blinks up at you, and he giggles.

Maybe you're just overthinking it.

When Zayne offers to take you home for the night, you accept without second thought. You think there isn't much to consider, but when Caleb shows at the door of the hospital when the sun peeks out, you wonder just what kind of a rabbit hole you ended up throwing yourself down. You wonder if you should turn down Caleb to establish some kind of a boundary first, but there's also this gnawing reality in your chest that you like it when Caleb grovels a little. Well, grovel isn't quite the right word. You like the attention he gives you.

Maybe you're the problem for soaking up the attention, but he's the one at fault for causing the breakup in your relationship to begin with.

Well, the better thing to say would be that he's at fault for going back to his ex in the first place.

Or dating his… sister.

You pat Zayne twice on the shoulder before making your way to Caleb, and Zayne nods.

"Text me when you're home."

"If I don't, stalk my location." You wave.

So, yes. Your fault for maybe leading him on, but also his fault for even coming back to you to begin with.

"I expected you to reject me."

"I'm off shift tomorrow. Dinner's on you."

"I bought the beer you like."

You tilt your head. "What if I stopped liking it?"

"Saw it on your grocery list at home."

"Fuck off." You huff.

"Tried. Didn't like it." He opens the door for you, and you kick off your shoes to the sight of a snack on the center console, and you narrow your eyes accusingly at him when he presses a slice of fruit into his mouth first.

"You don't need to use your evol. I'm not crazy enough to drug you."

"Not anymore, maybe." You rest the fruit on your finger, pinching it between your fingers as the fruit glows.

"You don't trust me."

"Don't flatter yourself. The only person I trust is Zayne, and that's because he knows better than to drug someone he works with." You press the fruit to your lips when you don't detect anything.

"Glad your evol is still handy."

"Thanks. The other nurses hate me for it." You hum. "Chemical composition is boring but handy."

"It's why everyone with your evol sticks to medicine."

"Except Zayne, I guess." You offer him a piece.

"Oh, I think you might want me."

"Oh, if that's how you're going to take it then my answer is no." You snag the fruit before Caleb can bite down, and you puff out your cheek.

"And if I throw in a drink?"

"I don't know, Caleb. What kind of a drink?"

One drink turns to two, and two turns to too many to count. You think at some point you give Caleb the true debrief that you didn't really want to tell him. The struggle with finding out who you were again — the struggle of not being enough or perfect or some kind of a perfect child of a godsend. You think you tell him about group counseling that you attended for over a year with Zayne — how you were finally healed from him just for him to return to your life and haunt every corner you weaved through. How he had just decided to show up in your life again after you were finally alright.

But there's this kind of sadness in his eyes that you don't understand why is there. He's the one making you miserable, so what right does he have to look like he's just been kicked by you? You're not the one who caused the breakup. He was just suffering the consequences of his own actions. Maybe you're just. Maybe you've lost the empathy you once had for him. You don't know. It's unfair that his eyes reflect so much mourning when no one has died. What right does he have to mourn what could have been?

You were never quite enough for him, you think. You were never quite on par with him, and you'd struggled so much more with things that he didn't understand the same way as you did. He was perfect in whatever way he could offer, and you had been confused when he initially even agreed to going out with you. But you don't know what it was. He was toxic, yes, but you think you weren't perfect either. You don't know anymore. You don't even remember too much from your relationship anymore. Too much has been wiped from your mind as a natural response. Block out the past — don't remember the things you don't want to. You doubt you'll find any diary entries on him either.

You doubt you'll remember getting drunk and him hauling you home after everything.

When you wake up, there's a splitting headache and a heaviness in your chest that you know won't go away for a while.

Caleb has breakfast for you, except seeing him makes you bitter, so you skip his breakfast on the table and decide to just head out of the door to catch Zayne. Sometimes he makes you bitter too, so you decide to stay quiet for the ride, staring out of the window at the passing city instead. You think you shouldn't feel this way, but it's the morning, and Zayne doesn't like talking all that much, so it doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter that you're holed up in some kind of a self-loathing spiral again, but here you are.

You just make sure it doesn't affect the children you work with.

"Have you… called your therapist recently?"

You roll your eyes at Zayne.

"I will now."

It doesn't affect work. It never really does. You do plenty fine keeping to yourself and letting things stay bottled up and chucked into a chest never to be touched again and left for your brain to eventually forcibly repress, but you also know it's not good for you which is why you never really touch upon anything or ask for anyone to help you when you actually need it because, well, you suppose it's just a struggle you'd have to grapple with alone… and with your therapist who you barely call back because you insist that you're completely fine when you aren't. That's also a struggle. The never-ending cycle of thought. You need to learn to breathe right or something. You don't know. You doubt you ever will.

When you spot Caleb there to pick you up, you brush past him to follow after Zayne, asking to be dropped off somewhere else instead.

You don't know what possesses you to be dropped off at your therapist's office when you finish work, but you go anyway because you think you're fine. You don't know. You really don't want to find out either. It's a shame, though, because you're at the door of your therapist's office asking if she's available even though it's well past her hours, but she lets you in anyway because you think she knows that you'd rather kill yourself than visit her even though her sessions don't do you much. You haven't been writing down your crashouts lately because they just haven't been worth writing down.

You tell her about your ex that broke into your apartment, though, and she asks you if she should be calling the police for you. You tell her it's fine and that you know what you're doing, but you really do hate his ass sometimes. You really do hate that he's so perfect and you're stuck grappling with the remnants of a failed relationship while he decided that he should just go back to your life and force you to grapple with the relationship all on your own because he made his problem yours while your problem is still yours. You don't think all of that comes out as nicely as you wished it did, though, so you sit there and let her process all the words that you've just spat out.

You think Zayne texts you because your watch vibrates, but you don't check because checking social media isn't good for you.

Well, not that checking the messages aren't good for you. You just shouldn't be opening moments.

When you finish the session, you tell her that you might go and get drunk, even though you really have no intention to do that. You have work in the morning, and it sucks that you have to go to work. You're not very special, you realize. Plain as flour, dry as dust — like watching grass grow and it's so awful that you wonder how you even have friends. Maybe you're just cursed to give more than you— well, no. You just went to therapy, so there's no way that's possible. You're loved and maybe you just need to sleep it off.

Except you don't really want to see Caleb because that means you'll have to deal with mister perfect number two, and you don't want to crash Zayne's because he'd never let you — but also because he's mister perfect number one.

You wonder if you should crash on your therapist's couch, but that's just unheard of.

So, you call a friend and ask if you can couch surf for a bit.

He lets you into the guest room and you call off work for a couple of days — sick, you tell her with the most convincing cough that even has you grimacing, but it flies, so you don't really care. Heartbreaking, you know. Horrible thing you fear is contagious. Five days off. You don't need the pay. That's how desperate you are.

You turn your phone off and tell Zayne where you are in case he really does have an emergency, and you pray that Caleb doesn't somehow lose his shit and decide to send the city into lockdown so he can somehow find you. You doubt he's that psycho, although you will admit that you're not entirely uncertain of how insane he is since it's been a while since you've talked to him. You don't know.

You're unsurprised when you find Zayne at the door with files, but you think you should be even more unsurprised when Caleb's behind him with food for you.

"I thought turning off my phone meant—"

"Yes, which is why I'm only here to drop food off. I doubt you've been eating well." He hands you the handle of a cart full of foods that you used to love and honestly haven't had in a while, and you frown.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles. "I got worried, and I figured you would probably kill me if I tried anything sketchy. Also, before you ask, no, the food is not drugged, no, it's not toxic, yes, it is vitamin heavy."

"The boy misses you." Zayne nods at you when you let him in, and Caleb gawks at the door.

"Baby—"

You shut to door in his face, staring at the food in the cart.

"So?"

"You want a bite?"

"Well it has been a while since I've had his cooking."

Despite it all, you find that Zayne is much better for you. You think it's upsetting that you've never fallen in love with him when he's so wonderful, but you suppose the universe has other plans for you. It's just slightly upsetting, you think. You know so many things would be better for you if your heart would just cooperate, but you suppose it's for the best that you don't end up dating someone you met at group therapy.

"And then new files came in for someone."

"How does that concern me?"

"Do you know why Caleb's back?"

"No."

You read through the file — dying, it says. The implanted chip is eating away at his sanity, and soon they'll have to put him down like he's some kind of dog, so he's back looking to tie up loose ends before they're dead, and all of a sudden you feel bad for being so rude. You don't know. You doubt Caleb has a single bone in his body that knows what it feels like to be taken care of. It might be why he's decided all of a sudden to return to your life.

You understand it now.

You think he deserves some empathy after so long. Some kind of gentleness that you had offered him a long time ago. You don't think you'll choose to let him pass with the heartbreak that you had to grapple with for so long. You have the option to continue living — and you can heal yourself slowly through therapy and learn to coexist with the nausea that you've learned to exist with for so long. Peace and love on the planet earth. You're a horrible person, not a monster.

You ask Zayne if he knows it's the truth, and you ask to run tests just to double and then triple check.

When the results come in much later, you decide that maybe it's just not worth the struggle, and you return to work.

Not without a final debrief, though.

"I received these from Zayne the other day." You hand Caleb the files, and he stares at the scans of his brain.

"Yes. The… black hole is proving to be useless."

"I see." You hum. "You only kept memories of her, though, so I was surprised to find that you would come back to me."

"No. Not just of her. Of you too."

You look at Caleb, tired eyes mirroring his, heart quiet in his chest.

"I see." You bite on your tongue, blinking slowly as you exhale. "It says you have two months."

"Before they scan me again to see if I'm going to be put down like some kind of a dog."

"And if you fail? I saw that you failed your psychological exams."

"Yes."

"Has therapy helped?"

"I don't have time for it."

You blink slowly, and you consider everything that you know about the two of you.

"Have you pulled out of the fleet?"

"Mandatory. I was put on mandatory break."

"So you decide to come back into my life."

"I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Then be honest with me, Caleb. Did you ever date her?"

"No. We used each other as a ruse to try and elicit a reaction out of you both. It failed."

"How about her?"

"She can be fixed since she's stabilized." He mumbles. "I didn't let the fleet catch her."

"I see." You blink slowly at nothing in particular, staring at Caleb as he stares back.

"So?"

"I think my therapist would shake her head at what I'm about to do, but I think I know what I'm doing."

Zayne's your boss, which means that asking him to get paid time off for a month with all of the vacation days you have saved up over the years isn't a struggle, but convincing him that it's so Caleb can spend the last month and a half of his life making up for what he couldn't do in the past is a lot harder. Well, it's really your fault. You tell Zayne you might consider getting pregnant so you could really grind the hospital dry of money since maternity leave could last up to a year while getting half pay. The look of disdain on Zayne's face is enough to have you laughing with warm cheeks, though.

"I don't know if I trust your decision."

"Well, maybe you do, maybe you don't. Will you approve it or not?"

Zayne lets you go after you help him sort out shifts with the other nurses, and you return home to half of Caleb's things in your apartment. He'll finish moving the rest in the morning, and maybe you're being stupid, but you think you don't blame a single part of him for being who he is. You aren't responsible for him, but you think even if he's somehow fixed after these final two months to live, it doesn't matter. There is kindness in the world that you wonder whether or not will show back to you, but it's fine. All things are alright, you suppose.

"I'm starting to think that you were waiting for an excuse to skip work, baby."

"Can we not call me baby?" You help him unpack, staring at the scrapbooks he had never thrown away, fingers sliding over the image that a classmate had taken of the two of you after you confessed and burst into tears.

"Then what should I call you?"

You blink quietly, flipping through the pages.

"Not sure."

"Love?"

You gag.

"Sugar."

"What am I? A cake recipe?"

"Then what?"

"Whatever sticks."

You don't know what sticks. You don't know, and you fear you never really will, but you learn to live a slow life with Caleb, scrolling through possible visits in the short time you have, but you think you'd really like to take him once to the beach. He can't exactly feel with the mechanical arm, but it's weather resistant, so it should be fine to let him run on the beach for a bit. You pack up the things with him and head off in his car.

"Your car doesn't exactly match the beach."

"Yeah, it's getting old." He hums. "We should take yours next."

"Are you allowed outside of Linkon?" You zoom out on the map, humming as you lean on his shoulder.

You think it's fine to play pretend. To pretend that everything is fine when you know better. It's alright. One day, Caleb will not know you anymore, or he'll be in the ground next to Josephine, and everything will turn back to normal. You will bear the burden of two souls willingly, fond smile on your face as you look back on your youth when you're all old and wrinkly. You don't quite care all that much, despite it all. You think the burden of a soul you once loved doesn't hurt at all.

"I am." Caleb hums. "Did you want to go somewhere?"

"Was thinking about visiting there." You point on the map to the mountains where most technology remained untouched, and Caleb laughs.

"Did you want to go stargazing? Isn't that best seen up in the sky?"

"Maybe, but there's much beauty from below as well." You tilt your head.

There were a variety of reasons that led to your breakup, now that you think about it.

Caleb soars in the sky, wings breached out of his back, controls familiar in his hand when he navigates in the air. There's a sense of freedom that he encapsulates without even trying, and sometimes it's suffocating for you. Maybe that's it. You're much better on the ground where at least you won't mess things up, but you're also not nearly as elegant as you'd like to be. You do things inelegantly, quiet rumbles of the earth under your feet when you step around, staring up at Caleb who stares back down at you, stuck wondering how things are just so easy for him.

But it doesn't matter to you, you don't think.

"So?"

"Mm… I think our colonel should rest, and we should spend your final days driving around instead."

"Shouldn't we take yours instead?"

"Then get my car." You reach to unbuckle, and Caleb holds his hand out for yours.

"Do you wanna drive mine?"

"You trust me with your car?"

"Well if it'll be sold when I'm put down, how does it matter?"

You realize this now late, but still realize, that there's something just impossibly strange about the two of you. You sit on the sand of the beach, staring up at Caleb as he stares at the setting sun, breeze in his hair as he stares out at the sun, basking in something you don't understand anymore. You don't know. Maybe you never really will. It's alright not to, you think. It doesn't hurt anyone when you don't know what's going on. When the birds of the sky soar over the creature's head, does the creature not wonder what it is like?

But you're no poet and neither are you a saint. You think you're fine with just being someone there.

The breeze rattles through your hair, and you stare at Caleb step into the water. It's too late to surf, but you think it'll be alright to surf a little tomorrow. Only if he wants to, though. You suppose it'll take a little getting used to as his emotions fluctuate in his mind. It's a temporary setback in the long run. Well, a huge setback if he somehow does pass away from it. Though, it gives you the perfect excuse to let loose and breathe a little after so long of staring at nothing in particular. You're tired of chasing something that doesn't quite exist yet, you think.

You'd be much happier where Caleb is, but you're also no saint, so no promises from anyone.

Caleb offers you a hand to get up, and you take it.

"Thank you."

"Will you mourn me?"

"I think a lot of us will." You hum quietly.

"How about you?"

"I'll burn you a chrysanthemum every other week when I remember to."

"How about a letter?"

"If that's what you want."

The red in the sky fades to black, and you stare back up at the constellations of the sky. It's something new, you suppose. Something more recent according to the elders of the city. Something about an explosion that happened a while back. A world that you don't really understand of experience, you suppose.

You lie back in the car as you stare, and Caleb stares at you.

"Will you tell me why you're really here?"

"Will you be mad?"

"I don't think I can be mad at someone who's about to die."

"If I don't get put down, they'll wipe all of my memories for good. Including the ones of you."

"So either way, you'll be dead to me."

"You'll be dead to me too."

"Equal exchange, I suppose." You sit back up, blinking slowly at Caleb as he sits up as well.

"So did we book a hotel… or?"

"You mind sharing a room?"

"As long as you don't accidentally kick me off the bed."

Caleb jabs at you as you laugh, cheeks warm.

The premature mourning of the death of your ex creeps in slowly. You know it will, and you're certain that it'll punch you when you least expect it. So, ultimately, it's a choice that you'll be stuck with. You wonder why Caleb is choosing to do this if he;l forget it all in the morning anyway. Yet, maybe there is meaning in why he wanted to spend his final moments of being truly human with you. When he is erased and no longer who he once was, maybe he'll wonder why there's an empty feeling in his chest during the few moments that he won't be someone used by the fleet. It's a shame that he isn't high ranked enough. Maybe he'll remember one day when he is.

You wake up in the morning in Caleb's arms, thumb brushing his cheek as you let your heart flutter just for a second at the intimacy.

He exhales quietly when you rest your fingers under his nose to check for air.

"Checking my pulse?" He whispers.

"Checking to see if you're alive."

He shifts next to you, purples blinking slowly down at you as he rests his forehead on yours.

"Missed this."

"I'll miss this one day." You mumble back.

He stays holding you for the morning, quiet blinking of his lashes against your skin as you keep your eyes closed, listening to the way his heart beats. It feels alive — still. It's enough that the chip in his mind is eating him whole, but it's also enough that he remembers enough for the time being to want to return to you. It doesn't matter if he's just manipulating you in order to cause a problem or to shatter your heart one day. If you're stupid because you had chosen to love someone again and believe in the best in him, then so be it. Your only sin would have been to have hope.

When you finally do wake (you didn't realize you fell asleep), it's to the smell of breakfast and Caleb's cooking. He shakes you awake gently and lets you smell the food so you won't get mad at him, and you blink slowly when he coos about how you need to eat to start the day. You ask if you can brush your teeth first, and he lets you wash up for the day.

You think the temporary domestic bliss is unfair.

Unfair that he's going to pass eventually, and unfair that he gets to act like nothing will ever happen when you'll be stuck wondering if you ever did enough for the final moments that he was a human. Shame, though. Shame it had to be him and not you. It would have been much better if he had somehow made it so that he could do it without hurting you. You don't want to think about all the therapy you'll have to attend.

"It's to do one final thing before I lose all of myself."

"I suppose it has to do with the fact that she's returning to Zayne as well?"

"He's not as easy to convince as you are." Caleb hums.

"I know. I'm much easier than he is." You laugh. "But the truth is, it doesn't matter as much to me if you pass. I'll live without you sooner or later. Whatever."

"Doesn't seem very much like a whatever right now." Caleb hums, resting his chin on your shoulder as he stares in the mirror. "I love you."

"I doubt you do, really." You pinch his cheeks together with your free hand, and he makes duck lips at the mirror.

"Oh, I know I do."

"Sure, sure."

The world moves slowly yet quickly when you are with someone you love.

When the beach is wrapped up, Caleb takes you for a fly in his plane. You sit in the copilot, seat, blinking slowly at the buttons that Caleb used to talk about back when you had dated the first time, and you wonder a lot whether or not it was truly something that made you truly happy. You think you were happy. You are not pure good nor pure evil. You are simply a product of circumstance — someone gentle-hearted who wants to believe that maybe this will make a difference to Caleb one day. You do not know. Maybe you're doing it because you're selfish. Who knows. You like to think that it doesn't matter anyway.

You rest your head on his shoulder gently, staring quietly at the setting sun and breathe. Quiet breathing that has your chest rising and falling with the breeze, quiet blinking that makes it so that you refuse to look at the way Caleb looks at you. You know what look it is. It is the look that you give him because the heart-crushing truth was that you had never gotten over him. It proved to be hard, so you decided that you would simply forget that you ever loved him, but the heart betrays the mind, and you are once again stutter-hearted in the eye of him.

Maybe it is human nature to feel the way that you do about someone you loved with your whole heart.

"I loved you." You mumble into the wind for no one in particular to hear.

"I loved you too."

"I do not know why you chose to spend your final moments with me instead of her. You had chosen her so many times before."

"Because I will not remember you in the future one day. But also because I think the only instance of true love was with you. I did not know love until you."

"Mm." You close your eyes again, body sinking and shoulders relaxing. "Caleb."

"Yes?"

"I hope they don't wipe your mind."

"I'll hold onto my feelings until they have to."

"You can't choose to die instead of be separated from me."

"I will." He whispers, and you tell yourself not to believe him, but you can't.

Your heart understands his just as much as his body knows yours. He is only ever truthful when it came to you. With her, he lied and cheated and spoke all sorts of lies out of his mouth because he thought it'd be best for her. But with you, reality and truth came simple. You will never stop comparing yourself to her when it comes to him, you fear, but you're also impossibly aware of the fact that there would never be someone quite like Caleb for you ever again. You've spent your token of affection on him, and there are none more to spare.

And if you are honest with yourself, you regret none of it.

"You're softhearted. Painfully human." Caleb whispers back into the wind like it is a secret of his own — that one day, the small blades of grass will grow tall and whisper it back to you when you come to visit on your own.

"Are we not both human?"

"No, we are." He closes his eyes. "But you are more than I am."

"Because I don't have a chip." You laugh.

The warmth on your cheek isn't unwelcome.

You go down the list with Caleb, booking a flight out of the city that you insist Caleb not pilot for since he is on break. The world spins round and round, and you fight Caleb for the last bite of food, chopsticks clashing with his as the two of you earn looks from strangers. He had been mature for the sake of her, but perhaps it did not matter to keep up appearances around you. The strange devotion he had for her looked different when it came to you.

But you think you've made peace that you'll never quite be her — though, you still wonder just a little what it would be like if you were her somehow.

You're sure Caleb did drop the act around her eventually. It'd be hard to pretend to be sane when you were… well, Caleb.

The hand wrapped around your ankle yanks as you kick him away with the last piece, food falling between your tits as you blink at Caleb.

"If you don't want it, I'll take it."

"You WHORE!" You shriek, trying to fight him off with no real urge for him to get off, and his hands slide under your shirt with ease to grab the piece, pressing it to his lips as his free hand lingers on the skin of your torso. "Was it worth?"

He licks his lips, staring down at you with a lazy smile. "You wanna find out?"

You think you were childish in your youth — not a sin or something wrong, but still. You enjoyed every moment that came to you even at the expense of yourself sometimes, but it ultimately didn't matter all that much. You got to experience the quick fling of romance and the childish glee of university and all sorts of classes that you could take. There was a lot to be thankful for even in the midst of your brain developing.

The chill of Caleb's skin is not unknown, your back arching as a cold hand slides under your waist, plush of skin and pudge slotting between his fingers naturally as you try to focus on breathing, nails digging into his biceps as his necklace dangles tauntingly between the two of you. You try and stare at it when you can, but Caleb pinches your cheeks between the fingers of his hand and forces you to look into his eyes instead — no matter how out of focus you may seem.

It burns the unbearingly truth that he loves you. passionately so. Maybe the haunting truth about how maybe he always did and just went back to her because that's what you thought he'd do. You don't know if you should be touched that he did it because you thought he would or hurt that he would hurt you or whatever. Maybe it was your fault for just handing him a knife and letting him stab you like that.

You wonder if it's a kind of regret when he returns to bandage you up from the stab he had caused in the first place.

But your chest rises and falls when you're finished anyway, vision blurred as Caleb moves around the hotel to find a towel to wipe you down with. It's always been easy with him, you find. He takes care of others like it's second nature — part of him just as much as anything else is.

"Come on." He pulls you gently, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you over to the bathroom to pee.

"I'm sorry."

You're not quiet sure for what.

There's this disconnect, maybe. That the bird that flies so free in the sky is the very bird that never lands on the ground. And maybe you are cursed to overthink everything that you know about him. Maybe you are cursed to just ponder and sit in your mind despite eating healthy and having all of your bodily functions taken care of. No one cares for yourself more than Caleb does, and maybe it's some cruel twist of fate to have to tear him away from you. As if it's a cruel reminder that somehow, someway, anyone who tries to ground themselves with you is destined to just return to the clouds.

Maybe that's why you liked it so much more when hanging out with Zayne.

Caleb presses his cheek to yours when you do rouse, slow blinking of his lashes fluttering over the color as you stare down into the purple. The endless color of abyss in his eyes as you blink slowly back at him. It's like two cats — though you'd argue that Caleb resembled a puppy much more than a cat. It was always a lot yet somehow not enough. Your greed really didn't know any bound when it came to quiet shaking of your hand as you brush your thumb over his cheek, his lashes fluttering awake.

"I knew you were awake." You whisper quietly, body sore as you shift your waist, and he runs his hand up and down your side.

"I know." He mumbles. "You always know."

"It comes with knowing you."

"Not loving?"

"No. Not anymore."

But the truth is something you refuse to admit to yourself. The selfish part of you wants to make it that you'd never have to admit it out loud and only ever show Caleb. Your fingers smooth over his skin in public when he brings you things he knew you loved. Despite it all, Caleb still loved you enough to remember everything that you loved before you had slowly carved yourself into the look of his first love. Cruel of him to bring it up, but cruel of you to even do so to begin with. You should not have hurt your body in such a way. You were purely too childish to be able to do that at all.

Caleb did love you, despite it all.

Maybe he still does.

When you lie in bed with him with his screen pulled up, you check through everything that he had ever wanted to do.

"I always wanted to get married." He whispers slowly.

"You don't get that luxury in the fleet." You hum. "It's dangerous for your wife."

"Wouldn't you be willing to bite the bullet for me?"

"I don't know, Caleb. I don't really think I'm in love with you."

"Which is what you say." He pinches at the skin on your lower waist, and you squeal.

"Caleb!"

"Then how about a tattoo? Married in heart?"

"You're going to leave me a widow?!" You gasp. "Without even your life savings?"

"I don't have life insurance." He hums quietly, thumb finding the center of your ribcage as he slides it down your skin. "I won't be able to leave you anything."

"Then leave me the necklace I bought you. Take not that with you into the grave."

"Do you not want—"

"At least let me be the one to bury you with the necklace." You close your eyes. "Your sergeants will find it and take it from us."

"Let me ink you into the skin of my bones, then."

"Wow, awfully poetic of you, Colonel."

He pinches the plush of your waist, and you squeak.

"And let me imprint the band of silver onto the finger of my heart."

"Okay, you're reading too many romance novels. Get a grip." You huff. "You imprinted on my DAUGHTER?!"

"It wasn't my choice!"

"SHE'S A BABY!"

You burst into a fit of laughter with Caleb in bed, cheeks warm and chest struggling to breathe at the comfort of his arms with the sheets.

You think it's fine. You'll be fine.

You'll survive as you always have.

You don't ink your own skin but sit with Caleb as he has his ring finger tattooed, feeding him as he squeezes your hand for comfort. You're sure he's felt pain worse than this, but you entertain him as he shows you the rings he had bought initially after considering getting engaged to you. He distracts himself by explaining everything about the rings — where they were made, how he came up with the design… everything.

"It would've been yours with or without the rings." He whispers.

"Not hers?"

"Never."

The tattoo artist finishes up with Caleb, and you drive him back while he pretends to huff and puff because he secretly enjoys being taken care of by you. You let him stay the way he is because you loved him once. It's not a sin to treat someone the same way you once did. If anything, you think it heals a part of you to pick up the pieces that you had broken yourself after he had handed you a knife. Was it your fault? Was it his? Why does it matter anymore? He'll be gone soon— no, only happy thoughts.

"Can I put it on for you?"

"I don't know, Caleb. Shouldn't you be getting down on one knee and proposing?"

He thinks about it, laughing.

"Alright. If that's what you want."

But you set little reminders of who he is for yourself. Matching charm dangling off of your phone, reactions that start mimicking his more and more — you think you embody everyone you have ever loved, and you fear you had loved Caleb the most. It is fine, you suppose. There is nothing wrong with loving someone. He's back in your arms, and you think that's more than enough. The simplicity of the moment will be fine.

You'll take photos on an old camera with a card that has more than enough space for every single moment you'll spend with Caleb. Then, you'll forget it ever existed, tucked into the back of your closet for years to come. Maybe one day you'll tell your kids about it — or maybe you'll never find true love again and won't ever marry. Maybe the camera will rot in your upstairs and someone will sell it at the thrift for a good price and someone else will find photos of a man no one recognizes.

click.

That will be fine, you think.

Caleb is smiling in all of them, and it is more than enough.

"I love you." He whispers, ink in his skin as you press your hands to his cheeks, humming an affirmative back quietly.

"I know."

"Say it back?"

"I don't think I can."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

You notice the signs slowly at first.

Caleb's a little more irritable, choosing to let off steam on his own in the morning before you rouse, smile a little less gentle and eyes a little less soft. Maybe it's just downright cruel to assume that you could take any of the hurt, but it's alright. He isn't hurting you, but it does concern you when you apply bandages to his fingertips from working out too hard or whatever. But it's small. It's fine.

"I'll make breakfast today." You hum.

"Baby, you really don't—"

"Your fingertips are bruised, and I'm sure your muscles hurt." You hum, tying the apron around your back. "I can cook for a day. After all, I lived alone for so long."

"I love you so much."

"Yeah, yeah."

You cook, smell of breakfast in the air as you take care to leave the cilantro out of his dish, and it earns you an affectionate kiss on the corner of your lips when you serve it to him.

"I love you."

"I know."

There's something that you think Caleb understands fundamentally about you that you don't quite understand about yourself. Like he's waiting for you to be completely honest with yourself when you aren't, and you think it's something where the lines of your past and present blur. You had chosen to refuse to listen to Caleb when he tried explaining about his little sister, and the more you consider it, the more you realize that maybe you didn't know what he had done after breaking up with you. You didn't even bother fetching half of your things when you were supposed to.

Maybe you had been stubborn — not that it made Caleb any less flawed.

You're fond of Caleb — like him, even. He's impossible not to, and the more time you spend with him the more you remember why you hadn't wanted to give up Caleb to begin with and spent so many nights crying over the breakup you initiated. You didn't date for a while after it — you went to therapy, you know, like a psychopath who wanted to be mentally stable. A good decision that brought you Zayne as both a coworker and friend, but also like who does that. What the fuck.

How self aware do you have to be to check yourself into therapy after a breakup you initiated?

"Caleb." You whisper, lashes fluttering as you listen to his heartbeat.

He looks away from his book and at you, humming as a question of what you needed.

"If you die…" You pause as you draw circles on his chest.

"Yes?"

"I call your apartment."

"You already have a key to it."

"No, no. I mean, I want to sell it."

"You and your money-hungry drive."

You hum quietly, vibrations of your skin on his as he puts his book down to pull at the bedside lamp.

"I love you."

"Mm… mhm." You close your eyes, body succumbing to exhaustion before you can think of a reply.

You like Caleb. a lot. It's not just a concerning amount that has your heart fluttering and your cheeks warm, but it's also a perfectly natural feeling where the warmth in your chest from being taken care of by him just feels so wonderful. Even when you're making sure you wake up before him so he'll take the meds you've gotten for his migraine every now and then, and you enjoy taking care of him in the morning so he can take care of you in the afternoon. Well, it's nice anyway. You need to return to a work schedule so you aren't dying when you really do get back to work. Zayne was generous with the month.

You're given a schedule of half days instead of full since Caleb still technically has a month left to live.

"I wish I could've spent more time with you all day." Caleb mumbles, clinging onto you as his breath fans your naked back.

"It practically flew by, huh?" You blink at the calendar on your window, and Caleb sighs.

"I wonder what I have to give Zayne to convince him to let you go another month…"

"Nothing, apparently. I only get half days until you're gone." You sigh. "My poor salary…"

"Mm." He huffs into your skin as you try and pull out of his arms. "You're warm."

"I'm cold." You whisper. "Your arm is cold."

"I know." He pinches at the skin of your waist as you yelp, hand flying to his hair to push him off of you.

"Caleb!"

"Just a little longer." He mumbles.

"You need your meds."

"It doesn't hurt right now."

"Not right now, but maybe in a bit." You hum. "Don't take them because they hurt. It's to prevent your head from hurting again."

"Mm…" He closes his eyes, loosening his arms around you as you slip out to get his meds ready.

The truth is that you're scared. You had gone so long without Caleb and then he comes back to fix everything in your life, and it drives you up a wall a little. It's unfair that he's just going to disappear after it all, and it's unfair that you're stuck nursing him for as long as you can for the two months. You worry if he'll collapse when you return to work — well, he's not so weak as to collapse immediately, but it still worries you. Maybe you should get one of those pet cameras— well, he's not a dog exactly.

Such a shame.

Maybe he's rubbing off on you.

A part of you just wants to keep Caleb in your apartment forever as some kind of a househusband, but the other part of you doesn't. The impending end of one's life ticks quietly over your head like a grandfather clock, and it makes you blink quietly sometimes. Though, it's human. If you let Caleb return, he might have a chance of actual survival even if it's without you. He can live without the memory of you. You'll just simply remember him while he won't you.

When you return from work, the house is empty for once.

You think you spot Caleb pinching the bridge of his nose in the kitchen, and you make sure not to make too loud of a noise as to not startle him, but you pause at the doorway to let your bag fall to the ground as you observe. You think Caleb is pale.

Which is strange, you know, considering that you think Caleb seldom has a look of dizziness on his face except you've never really see him feverish or weak since he's started taking the meds, so that means you don't really know if he needs—

"CALEB—" You catch Caleb as he falls onto his knees, brows furrowed as he breathes through his mouth, eyes watering as his gaze loses focus.

"I'm sorry."

"Caleb, stay with me."

"I'm sorry for lying." He whispers, head falling onto your shoulder as he gasps, heaving with a shaking chest. "I wasn't given two months off."

"What do you mean—"

"I had Zayne lie for me." He chokes out. "I ran away. The chip is eating away everything I know about you and they plan on killing you in my mind. I couldn't— I couldn't forget about you after being so in love with you. Fuck, I'm sorry."

"Caleb."

"I love you too much to let go of you. I was planning on just leaving one day and leaving a letter explaining it all, but, shit, I ended up collapsing here. I'm sorry. I love you so much. I don't want to live in a world where you don't exist to me."

"I'd rather live in a world where you're alive and don't know me than a world where you're dead." You croak, eyes shaking as Caleb slides a hand up your neck to wipe at your forming tears.

"I can't live without you."

"You won't be living without me if you don't know who I am."

"No, please." He whimpers. "I can't live without you."

"There will be no me in that life, and that's fine."

"I can't."

"You have to." You mumble. "I'll pack your things. I want you to live."

"What living is it if I don't know who you are?"

"A life where we had never met. It's fine. You'll be alive. That's all that matters—"

"I can't live in a world without you!"

"I can't live in a world where you're dead either." You furrow your brows as he sobs into your shoulder, and you decide that even if the world ends and Caleb resents you for the rest of your lives, he must live. Even if you live with the guilt of choosing to have him live in a world without ever knowing or loving you, he has to live. You're only human, after all.

"Just." Caleb whispers, ring in hand, staring at the metal band covering his tattoo as you glance at the circle. "Marry me? I'll forget, but it's just—"

"I do." You whisper, pressing your forehead to his as you let him slip the ring on your finger. "In this life, the next, and any other world out there. My soul will remain bound to yours and yours alone."

Caleb brushes noses with you first, then brushes lips with yours as you let your heart clench around nothing and slip a few droplets of salt that Caleb accepts with closed eyes.

"In this life and every other. I will find you again."

You pack everything, handing Caleb ibuprofen as you book tickets for the way up, and the two of you stay tucked in the corner of the ship, Caleb's head on your shoulder as he closes his eyes and you stare out at the passing clouds. The world is going to end, and it is going to be your fault. But it's alright. You'd rather know he's alive than not know what happened to him with only a letter on your bedside to read again and again. But your heart aches, and your soul cries over the crushing ending.

"I don't want you to go." You whisper like it's a secret you weren't supposed to break.

"I don't either." His voice comes out strained, almost as though he knew that you'd come to regret it, but it's only human to want your loved one to live even if they do not remember you.

You go with Caleb up to Skyhaven, sending him back to the very people that were going to kill him whether it be literally or figuratively, and maybe you wish there would have been a better ending to the tragedy of your relationship. He doesn't choose to have his sister send him off, he chooses you. It's a little cruel, maybe, but it's fine. It doesn't matter all that much anymore.

Caleb slips the necklace off of his neck and pauses to stare at it for a moment too long, someone yelling at him in the distance as he winces. You're sure the chip in his head is already starting to skitter through his brain even more, and soon the meds won't have any effect on the pain, and you squeeze his forearm through the fabric of his uniform as he stares down at you with heartbroken eyes.

"You're not going to let me be buried with the necklace?"

"They're going to take it."

"You'll never get to see my body."

"No, they'll tell family."

"We aren't married."

"Then maybe that's for the best." You whisper. "Your sister will keep it a secret from me. I just know it."

"Should I tell them to contact you— no. They would use you as leverage against me." He cuts himself off, and he lets the necklace fall into your hand as you close your eyes.

You squeeze the metal between your fingers. It's warm.

"I love you."

Your voice fails you as you watch him leave, adjusting the hat on his head before his expression neutralizes, and he returns with the rest of the colonels.

You stay in his apartment for the last time that night, strangely dark and empty now that Caleb was not in it, and you finish the last of the food — portioned off by Caleb before he left so that you would have enough for two meals. A late night meal because you'd get hungry when it hit midnight, and a breakfast that you would feel too guilty to skip since he had portioned it off for you. There's a beer with a sticky note to tell you to throw it away, but the hole in your chest tempts you to drink it. Maybe a final message from Caleb over just how much he actually knew you.

Fuck.

You spend the night sobbing into the sheets that smell more of you than him, breathing rough as you try to remember what it felt like to have his arms around you, and suddenly you know you're going to regret it and the first handful of months and maybe years are going to be hell. You don't know if you'll survive the grief, but hell, you might die from it, choking as you eventually fall asleep from the exhaustion of crying.

When you rouse, you bring your suitcase and clean out the last bit of his apartment, leaving the key where he always leaves the spare (tucked behind his doorplate), and you stare at the door to his apartment for a moment too long for comfort, turning away from the numbers as you try to steady your breathing. It's stupid. It's so stupid. You think it's stupid to have to be the one to carry the burden of a doomed relationship all over again, and it's almost as if Caleb had planned for you to be the one to tank the hit in the end even if it was because he wanted to spend his final moments of being human with you.

You think it's stupid.

Stupid, stupid, man.

So you turn back, running back up out of the ship that takes you back down to the earth, clouds under your feet foreign to your body, but you do it anyway because you think the lack of acknowledgment of your true feelings will most likely choke you to death before you could ever die to a disease in the hospital. It doesn't matter if you never see him again or end up dead because you decided that yes, you will bite the bullet for Caleb because the choking feeling in your chest is just too much of a burden for you to carry alone, and he deserves some kind of acknowledgment for something that you think he knew but would have liked to hear.

"What are you doing here?"

You blink quietly at Caleb, tilting your head slowly as he stares at you.

He's changed. Well, it'd have been stupid if he never did, but he's changed in a way that you don't really think you understand all that much anymore. It's been less than a day and he's already someone you no longer recognize. It breaks your heart, but you find that maybe you don't need to understand. You just wanted a semblance of understanding and perhaps one final look into the familiar purple eyes that you'll love for the rest of your life. You note the outline of a band still on his finger, and you swallow slowly as you meet his eye.

"Leave." He says the words to you, but the tinge of pain left in his eye reminds you that no matter how foreign he is, he is still Caleb.

So you find a crumb of confidence, hand flying out for his when he starts to turn, jingle of his necklace in your hands as you throw your arms around his neck to return the metal to him.

"Caleb." You whisper, arms squeezing around his neck as you shake.

He stays still other than the hand held up to tell security to leave you alone, hands refusing to move up to hug you back, and you think maybe you are cruel, but you love him far too much to care. You're sure that he won't remember anyway, so it's not like it'll matter in the end. Who knows. Maybe they'll even get rid of the ink on his finger. But it's fine because you were honest. You were truthful with yourself and with him, and that in itself is not a sin.

You let go once the necklace is around his neck, and you loop two fingers under the chain to let your ring touch the apple as you give it a final kiss.

Caleb looks down at you, and you fight the shaking in your body to be honest with him for once.

"I love you."

And you're back to work. You don't receive news from him after he leaves, and you doubt he'd remember anything about you if he did somehow survive having his memories wiped. You have photos, but you doubt he'll remember even with them. Your life is just broken pieces and shattered glass, but it doesn't hurt you anymore. You've learned to live with it and eventually move on. The grief no longer slows you.

You check on patients and go to work, eating lunch with Zayne and Caleb's sister, and maybe it did hurt at once. Maybe there was this unknown air of resentment that his sister had when you had returned him to the fleet so that he would continue to live even if it meant he would have never known you. You just wanted him to live even if it was without you.

It's fine even when you keep a pot of chrysanthemums at the window of your apartment that you keep alive to reminds you of all the love you once had.

And maybe one day you'll pass him while the fleet lands in the hospital to check in, or maybe one day you'll find the necklace you had given him in a second-hand antique shop on display, but it doesn't matter anymore.

After all, you aren't where he is.