Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The neon glare of Linkon City always looked cheap after a heavy storm. It bled into the dark puddles outside your apartment window, a garish smear of electric pink and artificial blue that had no business trying to illuminate the night. You sat on the edge of the wide windowsill, your knees pulled tightly to your chest, watching the droplets race down the cold glass.

In your lap, an old, dented metal thermos, something so ordinary and old, sat completely cold. 

You knew every single scratch on that metal. You knew them because Caleb had given it to you when you were just a kid, back when your world was small enough to fit inside a single neighborhood block.

Your mind drifted back, letting the cold glass of the window pane dissolve into the hazy, sun drenched memories of the past.

Age 6: The Shield

The moving truck had smelled like old cardboard, a jarring, unwelcome introduction to your new life. You had stood on the edge of the driveway, clutching a frayed stuffed rabbit with one ear almost falling off, feeling entirely microscopic under the sprawling, unfamiliar Linkon City sky. The neighborhood kids had already gathered at the edge of the cul-de-sac, whispering and sizing you up.

Then came Caleb.

He was only seven, a single year older than you, but he carried himself with an effortless, easy confidence that made him seem ten feet tall. He didn't ask your parents for permission, and he didn't timidly introduce himself. He simply strolled across the grass, handed you a half melted green apple popsicle that was already dripping sticky green juice down his knuckles.

"You like swings?" he asked, his voice bright and completely unbothered by your wide, defensive eyes.

"I... I guess," you mumbled, tightening your grip on your rabbit.

"Good. Because the big kids try to hog the ones with the chains," he said, offering a wide grin.

"I'm Caleb. I live right there. If anyone messes with you, you just tell me."

A week later, those same kids tried to test the new girl, pushing you off the swings and sending you face first into the dirt. You hadn't even started crying before a small whirlwind of a boy threw himself between you and the older kids. Caleb didn't yell, and he didn't throw punches. He just stood there, his small shoulders squared, his chest puffed out, a fierce, unyielding barrier.

"She's with me," Caleb had barked, his voice cracking slightly but carrying a real, stubborn weight. "If you push her, you have to push me first. Move."

The kids backed down, and Caleb turned around, kneeling in the sand to inspect your scraped knees. He didn't make fun of the tears finally spilling over your lashes. He just blew gently on the scratch to cool it down.

"See? Told you," he said, dusting dirt from your sock. "As long as I'm around, nobody will mess with you."

From that very first day, he became your anchor.

Age 9: The Creek

By the time you were nine and Caleb was ten, your lives were completely intertwined. You spent your summers climbing the ancient oak trees between your houses and riding bikes until the streetlamps flickered to life.

But by then, the MC was seven, and she had become a constant, bright fixture trailing right behind Caleb. She followed him everywhere, her small hand frequently catching the hem of his oversized t-shirts, loud and full of a fierce determination to keep up with whatever the two of you were doing. She hated being left behind, and Caleb never let her be. No matter what you were playing, Caleb's eyes would instinctively anchor to her. His focus was a net explicitly designed to catch her before she tripped, to prioritize her comfort, to make sure her world remained completely soft and secure.

It was a blistering July afternoon when you decided to go exploring in the shallow creek behind Grandma Josephine's house.

"I'm telling you, Caleb, it was huge! It looked like a monster toad!" you insisted, balancing precariously on a slick, moss covered rock in the middle of the rushing water. Your oversized rubber boots were sloshing with every step.
Caleb sat safely on the grassy bank, a blade of sweetgrass clamped between his teeth, lazily tossing pebbles into the water while the MC sat right beside him, pointing eagerly at the ripples.

"There are no monsters in a drainage creek, shorty," Caleb called out, his voice full of easy teasing. "It was probably just a regular old bullfrog. Or a piece of trash you got scared of."

"It was not trash, and it's stuck in the weeds!" you yelled back, leaning over a deep pool of water where the current swirled. "I see its eyes! I'm gonna get it whoa!"

Your boot slipped on a patch of wet moss. With a loud splash and a panicked shriek, you pitched forward, plunging directly into the freezing creek water. The current wasn't dangerous, but the sudden shock of the cold and the weight of your waterlogged clothes sent you into a sputtering, flailing panic.

Before you could even gulp in a breath of air, a pair of strong arms hooked under your armpits. With a massive heave, Caleb hauled you out of the water and dragged you onto the muddy grass of the bank.

But as you sat there gasping, wiping muddy water from your eyes, you saw the split second reality of what had just happened. When you had shrieked, Caleb's very first, muscle memory instinct hadn't been to reach for you. His arm had shot out like a steel barrier in front of the seven year old MC, physically shoving her back into the tall grass, shielding her completely from the edge of the creek before he even looked to see where you had fallen. He had secured her safety first. Only when he was entirely certain she wouldn't step on a slick stone did he dive in to fish you out.

He fell backward onto the grass, letting out a loud, booming laugh that echoed through the trees, masking the automatic hierarchy of his protection.

"You're a complete disaster!" he gasped between laughs, sitting up and pulling his dry denim jacket off his shoulders to slam it over your shivering, dripping frame. He reached out, firmly flicking the tip of your wet nose. "What am I gonna do with you? If I look away for five seconds, you're trying to drown yourself in two inches of water."

"I was trying to save it," you sniffled, your teeth chattering violently as you wrapped his warm jacket tightly around yourself. It smelled like laundry detergent, fresh dirt, and him.

"The frog can swim perfectly fine on its own!" Caleb shot back, his eyes crinkling deeply at the corners, bright and full of that effortless, steady warmth. He unscrewed his metal thermos the very one sitting in your lap now and forced you to take a big gulp of warm cocoa. "Next time, let the wildlife handle their own problems. You stay on the grass where I can see you."

"Are you gonna tell my mom?" you asked, peering up at him.

Caleb rolled eyes, reaching over to ruffle your damp hair until it stuck out in every direction. "And get grounded myself for letting you play in the water? No way. Keep your mouth shut and it stays between us. But you're giving me your dessert tonight."

"Fine," you mumbled, a small smile breaking through your shivers.

You had loved him then. It was a quiet, desperate sort of love that a kid didn't know how to properly name yet, but it was already rooting itself deep into your soul.

To you, Caleb wasn't just the boy next door, he was the sun. But as you watched him turn right back around to check if the MC's shoes had gotten splashed, a cold, unnameable ache settled in your chest.

Caleb was your entire sky, but you were just a person sharing the shade he built to keep her safe.

Age 17: The Divided Light

By the time you turned seventeen, the beautiful luxury of his light became harder to hold onto. You slowly, painfully realized that his true axis the absolute center of his universe belonged entirely to someone else.

In school, you moved in different circles. You were quieter, focusing on your studies, pretty in a soft, understated way that didn't demand the spotlight. Caleb, on the other hand, was entirely in his element popular, athletic, and effortless, the kind of guy who had half the girls in your year looking for an excuse to talk to him. With prom approaching, his locker had practically been targeted by girls trying to ask him out, but Caleb had stubbornly dodged all of them, laughing it off to you by claiming that high school dating drama was "way too much of a headache."

The MC, at fifteen, was his complete mirror. She was a freshman at the same high school, a vibrant, fiery presence who was instantly absorbed into the popular crowd. She was beautiful, bright, stubborn, and full of a chaotic energy that dragged everyone into her orbit of happiness. Because she was constantly surrounded by people or walking right beside Caleb, you found yourself naturally drifting away from her, unable to compete with the sheer volume of her personality.

And to Caleb, she was the absolute core of his protective instinct, center of his life. He would rearrange his entire schedule just to wait by the freshman wing to walk her between classes, carrying her heavy bag without a second thought while she animatedly talked his ear off.

You could be in the middle of a sentence, laughing over some ridiculous school gossip on the walk home, but if the MC so much as tripped on the sidewalk three houses down, Caleb's posture would instantly change. He would drop whatever he was holding and he would run. He always ran to her. You would be left standing on the pavement, the mid sentence laugh dying in your throat, holding your own books while you watched him pull her back to her feet with a frantic, breathless scolding that sounded entirely like devotion.

The sharpest fracture in your illusion happened the spring you turned seventeen. Prom was a few weeks away, and while Caleb was busy turning down invitations, you hadn't been asked by anyone. You had been trying to pretend you didn't care, hanging out in Caleb's garage while he worked on fixing up an old motorcycle engine, grease smeared across his forehead.

"Look, I'm completely sick of people cornering me in the hallways about this dance," Caleb stated casually, wiping his black stained hands on a rag and tossing a playful smirk your way.

"So you're coming with me. Problem solved. I'm not letting my best friend sit at home watching television while everyone else is out making fools of themselves, and you get to save me from having to awkward dance with someone I don't even like."

You spent the next three days floating on air. You bought a soft, delicate dress, spent hours looking in the mirror, and let yourself believe, just for a moment, that the fairy tale was real. You let yourself daydream about him holding you close when a slow song played, his chin resting against your hair, whispering that he had finally realised what was right in front of him.

You were seventeen, dizzy with your first real, agonising taste of teenage romance.

But then, on Thursday afternoon, the MC had burst into the garage, entirely unannounced, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"You'll never guess what just happened!" she declared, slamming her backpack onto a workbench. "Gideon! He just asked me to go to prom with him! He even bought a corsage that matches my favorite color."

In a single heartbeat, the atmosphere in the garage completely froze. The easy, teasing smile vanished from Caleb's face. He set his wrench down on the concrete with a heavy, echoing clink, his jaw tightening as he stood up to his full height.

"No," Caleb said, his voice dropping into a flat, unyielding register. "You're not going with him."
The MC blinked, crossing her arms defensively. "What do you mean, no? He's a senior, Caleb! Freshmen aren't even allowed to go unless an upperclassman asks them. It's my only chance to go, and he's nice!"

"He's a joke, and I know exactly what guys like him are looking for when they ask a freshman," Caleb cut her off, his tone sharp, possessive, and entirely uncompromising. "I don't trust him, and you're not getting into his car. End of discussion."

"You can't just dictate my life!" she protested, stomping her foot, her own fiery stubbornness flaring up against his wall. "You're going with her, so why do I have to sit at home alone? It's not fair!"

You watched them bicker, a heavy, sick feeling pooling in your stomach. Caleb didn't even hesitate. He didn't look at you for permission, and he didn't care about the quiet evening he had promised you. His hyper focused devotion to her safety completely overrode everything else.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sharp exhale, his expression softening just enough to compromise but only for her.

"Fine. If you want to go to prom so badly, you're coming with us," Caleb stated, turning his dark eyes to you, entirely oblivious to the way your heart cracked down the middle. "Hey, what do you think? We'll just make it a group thing. The three of us can go together as a team. Best friends. It'll keep Bradley away, and honestly, with her there, it'll be way more fun than some stuffy traditional date anyway, right?"

"Yeah," you had lied, forcing a bright, supportive smile that made your cheeks ache, while your teenage romantic dreams shattered into a million invisible pieces. "Totally. Way better."

The actual night of the dance was a masterclass in silent agony. The moment the three of you walked into the gymnasium, the MC's vibrant energy drew eyes immediately. Even though she was younger, she navigated the crowd with effortless charm, turning the entire night into her personal playground while Caleb kept a sharp, territorial eye on any senior who dared to look her way.

You spent most of the evening standing near the punch bowl, adjusting the corsage he had bought you, while you watched him guide the MC across the crowded floor. She was teasing him, stepping on his toes on purpose while he laughed his loud, genuine laugh, completely caught in her orbit. His eyes never left her face. He held her gently, effortlessly, protecting her rhythm, while you stood back in the shadows, your chest hollowed out by a devastating heartbreak.

He had kept his promise you weren't home alone but as you watched the crowd drift toward them, completely eclipsing you, you had never felt more invisible.

Age 18: The Chosen Orbit

When graduation arrived and the college entrance exams were scored, your grades were high enough to take you anywhere you wanted.

Your counsellors talked about prestigious universities, scholarships, and comfortable, bright futures in the city.

But Caleb had already been gone for a year. At nineteen, he was already enrolled in the elite aviation academy, fast tracking to become a pilot. You had spent your entire senior year drowning in the quiet emptiness of the neighborhood, counting down the days until you could finally be near him again. Whenever he came home for his brief weekend breaks, you would find any flimsy excuse to wander over to his house bringing over extra food from your mom, offering to help his grandmother with the groceries, or just sitting on their porch steps hoping to catch the sound of his voice.

But even his breaks were a lesson in how easily you were pushed to the side. His time was short, and the vast majority of it was fiercely claimed by the MC. She was sixteen now, completely embedded in her popular high school crowd, but the moment Caleb's car pulled into the driveway, she would abandon her friends entirely to anchor herself to his side.

The two of them would spend hours huddled together in the backyard or bickering over video games in the living room. You would sit on the edge of the sofa, a polite smile plastered onto your face, watching Caleb completely light up the second she walked into the room. He was always so hyper focused on her, leaning in to listen to her dramatic high school stories with an intense, unbothered devotion.

He didn't forget you he was too loyal for that but you were safely tucked into the designated, comfortable slot of his "bestie." He would carve out a rushed twenty minutes to sit with you on the porch before he had to head back, nudging your shoulder with his elbow and asking about your exam scores with an easy, sibling like affection. He would listen, he would smile, and then his eyes would instinctively drift toward the front door, checking to see when the MC was coming back down.

With Caleb gone most of the time, the fragile string holding you and the MC together finally snapped. Without his presence forcing you into the same room, you completely stopped hanging out. She was always surrounded by her loud, vibrant friend group, and you were more than willing to fade into the background, quietly focusing on the only goal that mattered anymore.

The day your acceptance letters arrived, you tore up the offers from the city universities without a single second of hesitation. You altered your applications and enrolled in the exact same grueling flight academy, following his exact path. You didn't do it out of some grand heroic calling or a sudden passion for planes. You did it because you were terrified of the day you would no longer share a life with him. You craved a shared world something, anything, that belonged strictly to the two of you, even if that something was just the heavy burden of brutal morning runs, impossible exams, and exhaustion. You would gladly bleed in the mud at his side just to ensure you stayed in his line of sight.

"You're completely out of your mind," Caleb told you on the first day of orientation, staring at you in your crisp academy uniform. He had caught you outside the training pavilion, pulling you into a quiet alcove. He looked older, his shoulders broader from a year of intense training, his jawline sharper. "This place is a meat grinder, shorty. Why the hell didn't you take that scholarship in the city?"

"Maybe I wanted a challenge, big guy," you shot back, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up to meet his dark eyes. "What, you think you're the only one who can handle a little pressure?"

Caleb stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, a strange mix of disbelief and intense concern crossing his features before a slow, proud grin finally broke through. He reached out, ruffled your hair and his heavy hand coming down to rest on your shoulder, squeezing firmly with a weight that made your chest ache.

"Alright," he murmured, his voice softening into that old, familiar warmth that you had starved for all year. "If you're going to be this stubborn, then I guess I have to make sure you don't wash out. But if you fall behind on the morning runs, I'm not carrying you on piggyback."

"Watch me pass you, Caleb," you laughed, the familiar bickering a sweet, temporary balm over your terrifying reality.

Age 20: The Silent Routine

By the time you turned twenty, the brutal, exhausting pace of the academy had changed both of you. You had grown into a capable pilot, your movements quick and your reflexes sharp from endless hours in the simulator. But when the flight suits came off, the old routines remained exactly the same.

It was a quiet Tuesday night, and the rain was pouring outside your small, rented apartment near the training grounds. You were sitting cross legged on the hardwood floor, a massive container of greasy convenience store dumplings resting between you. Caleb was leaning back against your worn sofa, his long legs stretched out, his hair damp from the storm outside.

"So," Caleb started, tossing a dumpling into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "I saw that guy from the logistics department trying to help you with your gear locker today. He was practically tripping over his own boots trying to get you to look at him."

"He's an idiot," you replied smoothly, not looking up as you dipped your food in soy sauce.
Caleb let out a loud, amused chuckle, nudging your knee with the toe of his boot. "Still nobody? Come on, shorty. You're gonna scare off every guy on base if you keep being this stubborn. You're twenty now. Don't you want to find someone to go on those cheesy weekend dates with?"

"I don't have time for dating, Caleb. Between early morning flight drills and keeping up with classes, my schedule is full." you said, your voice perfectly level, masking the dull, crushing ache that throbbed in your chest.

How can I look at anyone else, you thought bitterly, when I've only ever had eyes for you?

You swallowed down the bitter taste in your throat, trying to turn the spotlight away from your own bleeding heart. "What about you? You're not dating anyone either."

Caleb let out a loud, scoffing laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back against your worn sofa.

"Are you kidding?" he joked, nudging your knee with the toe of his boot. "I can barely keep up with my own flight schedule. And between checking up on her, making sure she isn't letting some idiot senior drive her around, and answering her late-night crisis texts? I'm basically working a full-time security job. I don't have the room in my brain for a girlfriend, shorty. One chaotic girl in my life is more than enough."

He said it with a light, fond smirk—the kind that proved he didn't actually consider her a burden at all. He complained, but it was a duty he wrapped himself in willingly, happily sacrificing his sleep, his time, and his own romantic future just to keep her world safe.

And right there, in the quiet space of your rented apartment, the floor felt like it was falling out from beneath you.

One chaotic girl.

The words echoed in your chest like a physical blow. He had categorized his entire universe in a single, careless sentence. She was the girl who occupied his mind, the girl who consumed his energy, the girl who filled the space where a partner should be. And by default, it meant you were nothing. You weren't a girl to him, not in the way that mattered. You were just the safe background noise, the comfortable fixture he returned to when he needed a break from his real devotion.

You had uprooted your entire life, bled in the mud at the academy, and torn up prestigious scholarships just to stay in his line of sight. Yet, you were completely invisible, locked inside a platonic cage of your own making.

"Fair point," you whispered, forcing a fragile, hollow laugh that felt like glass scraping against your throat. "She definitely keeps you busy."

"You have no idea," Caleb murmured, his eyes softening as he looked out at the rain, his thoughts already drifting blocks away, anchoring right back to her.

His eyes softening as he looked down at you. He reached over, his thumb firmly flicking your forehead, exactly like he had when you were nine years old by the creek. "But don't worry. If you end up alone, I'll still let you come over and steal my food. We'll be those grumpy old neighbors who complain about the kids on the block. Just like the old days."

"Deal," you whispered, offering a small, fragile laugh.

He meant it as comfort. He meant it as the easy, unconditional love of a best friend. He had absolutely no idea that his casual, brotherly affection was the very cage keeping your heart behind iron bars. He was mapping out a future of safe, friendly routines, completely oblivious to the fact that you were breaking right in front of him.

But that's what you chose. Him. When you could have walked away from your childhood love, you couldn't, no matter how hard you tried. Your love for him was so strong you became happy just being around him. And you kept telling yourself that was enough for you.

Age 21: The Shared Wings

Your stubbornness eventually paid off. You didn’t just survive the meat grinder of the academy, you excelled. By the time you turned twenty one and Caleb reached twenty two, your precision and steady hand earned you a spot in the advanced tactical flight division, the very same hangar where Caleb was finishing his final pilot certifications.

For the first time in your lives, you weren't just the girl waiting on the porch, you were his peer. You wore the same flight suits, preflighted the same aircraft, and shared the same hangar space. The academy commanders noticed your seamless rhythm together and paired you up for tactical flight drills. In the cockpit, you became a single unit. You knew his blind spots before he even moved his hands on the throttle, he trusted your voice on the comms.

For a brief, beautiful year, you allowed yourself to believe that this shared world was truly yours. You were working side by side, breathing the same jet fuel, and building a silent, reliable professional routine that belonged strictly to the two of you. You kept telling yourself that being his trusted wingman was enough.

And then, the sun went out.

The sky over the neighbourhood tore open in a horrific flash of orange fire and black, toxic smoke, directly over Grandma Josephine's house. The news reports were a chaotic mess of sirens, flashing lights, and shaky camera footage, showing nothing left behind but rubble, ash, and ruined lives.

When you saw Caleb's name on the official list of the missing and deceased, your world didn't just crack it collapsed into absolute silence. You spent weeks in a state of hollow, numb grief.

The boy who had shielded you from the kids down the street, hauled you out of the freezing creek, and promised you that you would never celebrate a birthday alone was gone, snuffed out in a single, violent second. His bright, warm presence had vanished from the earth, leaving you completely stranded.

Weeks passed like a blur of gray fog. You learned to live like a ghost.

Tonight, the storm outside was particularly vicious, the rain slamming against your window pane with a loud, deafening force. You sat on the windowsill, your fingers curled tightly around the cold metal of the old thermos, your mind completely blank.

Click.

A sharp, metallic sound cut through the howling wind. The heavy lock on your front door turned.
You didn't jump or reach for the weapon. You didn't even turn your head from the glass, you didn’t care anymore. You just listened as the door swung open, the wet, freezing gasp of the storm rushing into your small living room before the door was kicked shut with a heavy, definitive thud.

Then came the footsteps not the quick, easyeven the stride you used to hear down the hangar hallways, but a slow, dragging, heavy sound against the hardwood floor. Someone was leaning heavily against your wall just to stay upright.

You slowly turned your head, your eyes adjusting to the deep shadows of the room.
It was Caleb. He stood in your doorway.