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It wasn’t until night drew to its peak that the reality of the day sunk in.
Caleb.
Caleb was alive, and had been for the entire year she had mourned him.
His face was thinner than she recalled, but his eyes still had an endless depth that reflected the universe back to her. His cheek still dimpled when he smiled boyishly at her, a stark difference to his voice when he didn’t.
She stared at the bruises on her wrist, from where the restraints had dug into her skin and she can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t him that changed– if it was her. Maybe she had changed picking up the pieces of the only family she had known.
Grief welled unbidden and unwelcome and burned her eyes. She had thought that she should have been mad– furious at him, for leaving, for not contacting her but the relief of his heartbeat underneath her ear and the unsteady rhythm of his breaths under his uniform dissolved into relief.
Caleb's arms had slid around her, his hands cupping the pieces of her that were rapidly falling apart and had tucked her against himself, like he had when they were kids. Always the stalwart protector between her and the world.
She fumbles for the chain underneath her sweatshirt, shaking fingers running over the grooves she knows by heart already. A shuddering breath, another, and the metal has warmed underneath her touch.
It had been the only thing that remained after the explosion, the only thing that she could still tangibly touch and hold that had been part of him.
Caleb.
She curled into herself further, the artificial softness of unused sheets chafing against her skin. The fabric didn't hold any traces of him when she buried her face into the pillow to muffle her sobs and it led her to question further if this– the day, this place, him was a dream.
The thought that he could slip away from her again causes another choked noise to come from her, and she throws her arm out in the direction of the bedroom that Caleb had taken after she claimed his. If she could feel his Evol– maybe– maybe that could be enough confirmation for her to finally fall asleep.
Golden spirals unfurl from her fingers, their glow briefly illuminating the room before dissipating through the wall.
His Evol answered her prodding, its whispers embracing circling and embracing her in discordant whispers. She opens her eyes, catching the last couple of moments where her golden threads had tethered them to each other.
It felt different, like a melody that has half a second off count but in the right key. The feeling of energy yielding around her fingers was the right key, but there wasn’t the usual synchronicity that made it feel as though she was cutting water.
Maybe she had changed more than she thought, in the year that Caleb was gone.
She wipes her eyes and pushes herself up from the mattress, grimacing when her hand makes contact with the wet pillow. She ignores the shaking in her limbs, and refuses to acknowledge the sting of fresh tears over her reddened cheeks.
She was happy that he was alive. Ecstatic– but she couldn’t help the insidious anger that mingled in her chest when she thought too much about it. It was easy to push it aside when he was next to her, under her hands and laughing. It was hard to stew when she finally heard his voice next to her and not just pressed up against her ear.
And oh, was it different to hear him say her name and call her pip-squeak not through the tinny speakers. To be able to bat away his hands when he ruffled her hair. She was overwhelmed by how warm he was.
Her fingers clenched in the sheets, and a fresh wave of tears sprung unbidden. She didn’t hear his approaching footsteps through her ragged, uneven breathing until his knuckles rapped against her door.
“You okay, pip-squeak?” He called through the door. She didn’t need to turn on the light to know that his hand was on the handle, ready at a moment's notice to burst in and chase away her demons.
“Yeah.” She calls back, hoping it sounded less pathetic to his ears then she felt.
The handle turns– she apparently wasn’t all that convincing– and she forces herself to unclench the wrinkled bed sheets from beneath her grip. She doesn’t look at him– she can’t, so instead she watches his silhouette approach her from the doorway.
The anxiety draws closer to her, stealing the breath from her lungs and by the time Caleb closes the short distance between them, she’s hyperventilating.
“Oh, what is it?” He drops to his knees in front of her without hesitation, the worry in his voice causing her to hiccup. Her hands tingle, twitching when he gently cups her face.
Caleb tries to tilt her face up so he can see her better, but she refuses to move. Her stuttering breathing beats an uneven rhythm against his palm, but she can’t help but curl into it– its so cool against her flushed cheeks.
He says something that she can’t hear over the ringing in her ears and a split second later, her hand that was still outstretched is moved to press against something warm and solid.
His heartbeat was undeniably alive underneath her palm, and she can’t help but clench her hand, grappling against smooth skin in a misguided effort to try and hold his heart in her hands.
“Breathe , sweetheart.” Caleb's voice was impossibly soft, his words registering faintly in the echo chamber of her screaming mind.
Alive. He’s alive, and real and–
She lurches forward, curving herself around his hands to throw her arms around his neck instead. Her legs get tangled in the blanket, but he accepts her into his embrace, fingers splaying over her back like she was something precious.
He had caused the storm, but he was inexplicably also the only thing she could cling to weather it.
“--there you are, pips.” He says when she finally pries her face from his shoulder. She faintly registers one of his hands running through her hair.
She wipes her face with her hands, still sniffling. Caleb smiles, something soft and laced with affection when she finally looks at him. The hand that was in her hair slips away to swipe at her cheek.
“Is it the storm?” He asks, hushed. It was the same voice he would use to coax her from the back of her closet when they were kids.
She shakes her head, “No, it’s..” You . She can’t say it. Something painful twists in her chest.
He must see something unspoken written on her face, because he cups both of her cheeks and says her name with such guilt she wants to sob all over again.
“I’m real, this– this is real, Pip’s, I promise. I’m here.” His thumbs swipe under her eyes, and she can’t help but stare at his face through blurry eyes.
She’s trying to commit the planes of his face back to memory, her eyes flickering unsteadily between each feature. Caleb's pursed eyebrows, the darkness drawing the shadows weighing down underneath his eyes, the way his lips curve around the syllables of her name.
Its all so Caleb that she sucks in a deep breath and allows herself to lean into his hands, just slightly.
“But you weren’t .” The words slip between chapped, bitten lips and she hears his breathing hitch.
“You weren’t and I had to pick it all up– I had to bury you, and Gran, and–” She squeezes her eyes shut again but she can’t escape the afterimage that is his gaze that's been permanently embedded behind her eyelids.
“I had to do it alone.” Caleb's apology is cut off under the sound of her sobs starting anew. The wound wasn’t as raw as it had once been, but it bled sluggishly.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–” He brings their foreheads together, whispering dozens of apologies over her heartbreak like it’s enough to soothe her. His warm breath wafts over her, and it's only the lifeline of his hands that’s keeping her from completely losing it again.
“You can’t leave again.” She whispers in between hiccups.
“I won’t.” He promises, and she chokes out a laugh that half of a sob.
He had promised her that he would always be there when she called, but he hadn’t been; he had left her out to dry, to try and pick out the pain that had lacerated her down to the bone.
“I’ll always be here, always.” Caleb presses his lips against her cheek, lips rough when he speaks.
He says it definitively, as if it was a vow more than a promise.
Caleb was resolute to not be parted from her again, no matter the cause– He couldn't--wouldn't put her through the pain a second time.