Chapter Text
The sun is hot as it shines down on you, the cone in your hands growing sticky from the melting ice cream slipping down the sides. You've got the other half smeared across your cheeks and lips, staining your skin pink. You hear a playful huff and you turn your head to look at the boy walking beside you. The one who bought you the cone.
Your gege.
"Sheesh, pips, you can at least try to keep the ice cream on the cone." He chides with a smile, napkins in hand as he gently steers you to the side. You pout at him as he holds your chin still, gently wiping the ice cream off your face.
"But it was gonna melt if I didn't finish it fast! It's super duper hot today!" You pout even harder when he shakes his head, tossing the crumbled and used napkins in the plastic bag he got from the convenience store.
"Yet it's still dripping down your hand right now."
"Oh no!" You quickly stuff the rest of the cone in your mouth, smearing your newly cleaned face with more half-melted ice cream. Caleb stares at you in silent disbelief, but you ignore him as you lick at the rest of the stuff on your fingers. Eventually, he blows out a loud breath and reaches for you again.
"...What am I gonna do with you?" He mumbles, laughing when you blink up at him innocently.
"Wipe my face off because you're a kind gege who loves me?"
Snorting, he grabs more napkins from his hoodie pocket. It takes only a few moments before you're all clean again, all signs of the cone remaining only on the grass-stained denim of your overalls. He checks his phone for the time after giving you one last glance over. He opens the palm of his left hand, wagging his fingers in invitation, which you don't hesitate to grab.
"Are we almost there, yet?" You ask as you both start walking again, turning down a street corner. Caleb smoothly switches sides with you, as well as hands, so that he's now facing the street and you're closer to the grass. Uncaring, you swing your hands back and forth while humming, skipping over a crack in the sidewalk.
"Nearly, the clinic is right down there."
"Mhm. This won't take a long time will it? It's our turn with the DVD player and you promised me we'd watch more Sailor Moon together!" You shoot him a stern look, that's immediately ruined when you nearly faceplant into the concrete when you miss a step. He catches you without batting an eyelash, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder.
"Careful, careful. I don't want to have to tell Ms. Summers that you picked a fight with the ground and lost."
"Shut up, you dummy, I'm fine!" You smack your balled up fist against his arm, but you keep holding his hand, pulling him along when he doesn't move fast enough for you.
"Now let's go! The faster we get there, the faster we can watch Sailor Moon!"
"Yeah, yeah." He easily takes control of the pace again, giving your hand a squeeze. It feels a little...clammy, actually. And a bit cold too. You frown and glance at him from the corner of your eyes. You hoped that acting normal would make his nerves disappear, but no, he's still anxious. Even if he tries to hide it, you can read him just as easily as he can read you. You look down at your feet, eyes staring at your sneakers. This is an especially important moment for Caleb, and for you once you turn sixteen too. His birthday was only a few days ago, but the matron had demanded he get tested as soon as possible. She was particularly weird about designations—maybe it has something to do with her being a Normal, you don't really know. You don't think it's a big deal what Caleb ends up presenting as, he'll still be your gege whether he's a Normal, Dom, Sub or Switch.
But, for some reason he's worried about it. You've got no idea why that is, but you also know that he won't talk about it with you. Not willingly, at least. So you've taken to try and make him forget about said nerves. Obviously, that's not really working now. And you don't have any more time to try again because now you're walking through the clinic doors. Caleb's got that fake grin on his face as he speaks with the receptionist, the one that doesn't light up his eyes, leaves them flat and cold and not like him at all. You squeeze his hand tightly, leaning into his side. You don't know what to say here, so...you hope that he can feel your support. You hope that he knows that you're here for him no matter what his test results are.
He shifts his arm until it falls around your shoulders, looking at you with a real smile. He doesn't speak, but his shoulders don't look so...heavy, once you two sit down in the waiting room. Seizing the chance, you quietly begin to ramble at him about random little things. Like how pretty the blossoming tree outside the window is. Or, how you overheard Ms. Summers and Ms. Kim gossiping about their respective partners and how terrible they are in bed. Or, how next time he takes you to the ice cream shop, you're both gonna find the weirdest flavors there and try them just because. What you're saying doesn't mean much, but it's clear that it's helping because when Caleb gets called in, you see that his smile comes easier.
You send him off with one last hug before you watch his back retreat behind the corner. You're left to sit there for nearly an entire hour before he gets ushered back by the doctor. He gives Caleb a firm pat on the back and hands him a stack of files, sending him off with a smile before he turns and leaves. Caleb just stands at the corner, bangs shading his eyes from you as he grips the papers in one balled fist. Unsure what to make of his silence, you get up and slowly make your way over to him. You cross your arms behind your back and duck a little so you can see his face underneath his hair. His eyes are blank, mouth pressed into a neutral line. You blink. You have no idea what to do with that kinda face...
You glance down at the stack of papers, easily spying the sparkling silver letter 'D' sitting at the top.
"Are you...mad that you're a Dom?" You're curious, was he expecting something else? He blinks rapidly, the light returning to his eyes as he fixes his gaze on your face. The look on his face is…strange as he stares at you.
"Do you?"
"What? No, why would I care?"
He stares at your bewildered face for a beat before laughing. Loudly. You jerk upwards when he reaches for your cheek and pinches it. Yelping, you smack at his fingers but he just laughs again.
"W-what, gege stop it—!"
"Sorry, sorry, your face just then—sorry, I couldn't help myself." He breathes out, laugh still riding on his words as he drops his hand to your shoulder. He spins you around and tucks you underneath his arm in one quick motion, walking you out the waiting room and to the doors without a backward glance. Grumbling, you poke at his ribs, but lean into his hold anyway. Smooshing your cheek against the soft cotton of his hoodie, you glance down at those papers again.
In school, they only cover the basics of Dom/Sub dynamics. The health classes in high school probably have more details about specific dynamics and stuff. But, you know that, as a Dom, Caleb will have to be paired up with someone in the future. A Sub or a Switch; someone compatible with his nature. He'll take care of them, in every sense of the word, for not only their benefit but for his. It comes with having a sub gender, and it's something that you've known was a possibility. Yet, you don't really...like that. The thought of Caleb treating someone else other than you like that makes you incredibly uncomfortable. Because Caleb is your gege, and he always will be. No one can replace your role in his life, no one else deserves to Caleb is yours.
'I should just be gege's Sub then, when we get older. Then, he'll have no choice but to stay with me. He'll be mine forever.' You blink at the thought, your entire face burning once you realize how crazy that sounds inside of your head.
"You alright there, pips?" Caleb cranes his head down to look at you, eyebrow raised at your flushed face and embarrassed expression.
I-I'm fine! Let's just hurry up, Sailor Moon is waiting!" You urge him to go faster, running ahead while keeping a death grip on his arm. You can hear his spluttered gasps, but you ignore it. Just as you ignore the blush that refuses to fade on your cheeks, mortified by the thoughts running through your mind.
~oOoOo~
“Forever, huh.” You say underneath your breath, rubbing your temple when the harsh beat of your headache pounds at your forehead. The memory sits bittersweet on your tongue, and the irony of your situation isn’t at all lost on you.
The fluorescent lights buzz softly above you. White walls look even whiter underneath their glare, the smell of stale coffee and floor cleaner burning your nostrils as you breathe in deeply. You choose to focus on the magazine in your hands rather than the empty waiting room around you, though you know you’re failing when all you do is stare blankly down at the page, not really picking up on any of the words. Quiet murmurs from the outside bleed in faintly from the shut windows, no other sound echoing out except for your soft breathing. It still feels painfully loud to your ears, and you have to bite down on your tongue to keep a miserable sound in. Just another painful reminder of how achingly lonely you are.
You’ve tried your best to carve out a space where you can just be. Three years since moving out and you’ve got a cozy little one bedroom in the heart of Skyhaven to show for it. Working at a local bookstore is enough for you to live comfortably, eating out on occasion and having shelves full of manga and figures that’s growing day by day. You’re content with how your life is, at least, that’s the face you put on for the outside world. For the sparse phone calls you take when your parents call. Though you can lie to them, you can’t lie to yourself.
Despite all of your hard work to keep your peace, your loneliness never fades. You miss that human connection that you remember having all those years ago; the casual touches, inside jokes and easy laughter. The constant knowledge that at least one person in this big wide world knows you as well as you know yourself. With no friends and your parents being so far away, you have no choice but to force yourself to keep moving. Though, you don’t want them to be here right now, anyway.
Not for this doctor’s visit.
“Ms. [✦].” The receptionist calls out, a friendly smile on her face once you snap your eyes up. You gladly close the magazine and place it back on the table.
“Just go down that hallway there and Dr. Park’s office will be on your right.”
“Oh, okay, thank you.” You give her a smile and nod, ignoring the worry in her eyes as you scurry to follow her directions. It’s hard to forget the pity, that terribly small smile as she gazed at you with sadness and a cloying sense of sympathy. Like you’re already as good as dead. The violent urge to spit something rude briefly crosses your mind, but it’s already too late and you’re peeking your head into an open room. Another time, then.
You’re used to swallowing back the anger, nowadays, with your rampant mood swings and sudden urges. So when Dr. Park glances up and greets you with a smile, you easily return it; as if you weren’t ready to bite the head off of her receptionist mere seconds earlier.
“Welcome in, Ms. [✦]. You can go ahead and have a seat here.” She gestures towards the hospital bed in front of her. Breathing out, you quickly stride forward and sit. Nerves settle restlessly within your gut, twisting your insides into knots as she glances over the clipboard in her hands.
“Okay, before we begin, let's just get some preliminary questions out of the way.”
You nod.
“How long have you been on suppressants?”
“About…twelve years, give or take? I was pretty young when I had to start taking them.”
She frowns, glancing at the sheet.
“It says here you’re twenty-six. You were fourteen when you started taking suppressants?”
“...The head matron was insistent I get on suppressants since there were a lot of older Doms that worked at the orphanage. More of a safety precaution than anything.” You grip your wrist tightly, glancing off to the side when Dr. Park still looks troubled. No one outside of them even knew you presented as a Sub so young; the majority of people got their confirmation well into high school. Not even Caleb knew before you left, the head matron demanding that you keep your sub gender hidden even from him.
Thinking of him makes your chest ache, so you quickly brush past that and focus on Dr. Park.
“...Alright, when was the first time you noticed the suppressants’ strength weakening?”
“Two weeks ago. I had taken my normal dosage when a flare up happened, but it took a few hours before the medicine kicked in. And even then, it wasn’t as potent as before, I still wanted to…” You trail off, a flash of embarrassment making your cheeks warm. Everyone knows what a Sub wants when they get needy like that, and while not a prude, you’ve never felt comfortable voicing things like this. Dr. Park hums and glosses over your red face with a professional nod.
“Have you taken any more of your pills?”
“Mhm, just this morning, actually. The effects kicked in only a half hour ago.”
“So they’re even less potent now.”
You watch as she looks over your chart again. There’s a pensive set to her mouth, and when she swings her eyes to meet yours, you already know you aren’t going to like what comes out of her mouth next.
“I’m going to be frank for a moment here, Ms. [✦]. There’s only one safe option for you, right now.”
“T-there has to be a stronger suppressant I can go on, right? My dosage was pretty low to begin with—”
“If the symptoms of your hidden urges aren’t being contained by suppressants by now, then it doesn’t matter if we up the dosage or not. Your body has grown an immunity to them, and nothing else will relieve you now. Nothing but finding a proper Dom.”
You squeeze your wrist again, dread weighing your chest down. This is what you’ve been fearing ever since the pills stopped working.
“It’s not ideal, but this is the safer option for you, Ms. [✦]. I cannot prescribe you anything stronger than your normal dose; not when you’ve been taking them for over a decade. If you need help finding a compatible Dom, we offer plenty of trusted and safe sources for you to consult.”
Each word out of her mouth makes your mouth tremble, and you can feel another fit of emotion begin to cloud your mind. Your nails bite into the thin skin of your wrist as she prattles off all different kinds of agencies that match Doms and Subs; something that does nothing for the rage and fear poisoning your thoughts. You absolutely do not want to refer to these agencies; would rather stew in your own frustration and pain then let another Dom touch you. There’s only one person you want, only one person you’ve ever loved, and only he’s allowed to be close to you. No one else.
Even if you haven’t seen him in almost a decade.
You allow Dr. Park to hand you brochures and information packets. Allow her to recommend methods of soothing your submissive urges, of ways to lessen your aches and fatigue. It goes in one ear and out the other, the replay of your failure to get more meds replaying over and over again in your mind. This is the fifth doctor you’ve been to in the past week, and it’s beginning to dawn on you that there really is no other option. No other way than to find a Dom that’s compatible enough to handle you.
Just the thought of another’s hands on you makes you recoil in disgust.
There has to be something else you can do.
There has to be.
~oOoOo~
There isn’t.
You’ve spent a week going through the internet; visiting obscure research papers into suppressants and bonds posted years ago, random internet forums of people who’ve claimed to have lived long past the point of suppressant sickness without taking a partner, even online services where they train you to ignore your instincts and live a completely independent life.
All of them are bunk. The research papers are riddled with old data and outdated terminology, nothing but a bunch of disproven theories and debunked sciences. The internet forums scream lies when you read through them, just random losers on the internet trying to be famous by being the only Subs to never need a Dom, or vice versa. And the online services are just a scam to trick desperate Subs or Doms into paying up a whole lot of money for a whole lot of nothing in return. All of the avenues that you’ve looked into have gone absolutely nowhere, and you’re starting to realize there really is nothing else to do but find a Dom to satisfy you. Except you know with your entire heart that there’s only one man out there for you. Caleb is the only person you’ve ever let in.
Even your parents don’t know you as well as he did. It’s not their fault, of course. You got off pretty lucky in the parents department the second time around. They were an older couple, gentle and sweet and generally everything you could ever want in guardians. But, technically, they also stole you away from Caleb. Took you away from the one space you always felt safe and happy in. You love your parents, you really, really, really do. You’re also emotionally mature enough to realize that, no matter how amazing they are, you’re still angry about it all, deep down. You’re a deeply selfish and petty person, and the resentment you feel flares up despite you trying to ignore it, as ashamed as you are to admit.
Caleb was such a big part of your life in the orphanage, always there and present in a way that transcended the title of guardian or best friend. That was—is—your gege; always available for any and every little want you had, even after he grew too old to rely on the orphanage’s support. He was there from the beginning. Your beginning; six years old and carrying the aftermath of one of your mother’s drunken rages. He took one look at you—arm in a bright purple cast and sling, bandages wrapped around your elbows and a giant plaster taped to your cheek; bruises yellow-green covering your legs and neck, eyes sunken in and haunted—and decided that you were more than acceptable to befriend.
There was no hesitation in his eyes as he came up to you, eyes bright and smile warm. A certifiable ray of sunshine to your gloomy storm clouds. What else were you supposed to do, then? When the boy with such a bright, dazzling sparkle gave you the time of day? Funny, intelligent, kind and so, so, so patient with you—were you not supposed to immediately love him? How could you not adore the very ground that he walked on when he could take away your pain with a simple smile, ease your darker thoughts with a carefree laugh, make you feel like the most important girl in the world with just his words alone?
You went everywhere together—every waking moment not in school you followed in his shadow, more than content to bask in the sun from your spot in the shade. He treated you like his own flesh and blood, protecting you from the kids who thought you were weird for not wanting to play with them. He helped you braid your hair into pretty styles since the matrons were always too busy and the other girls didn’t like you much. He would hold you close at night when you would get scared of the booming thunder and bright lightning, comforting you with his warm hugs and silly stories.
But that all came to a close a few months after you turned seventeen. You’d met with the couple adopting you a few times, of course. But people came in all the time, meeting with kids and talking with the staff. More often than not nothing came of these meetings, a very low percentage of them ever blossoming into a genuine adoption, especially for older kids like you. Things like that were normal, and getting picked for adoption had never crossed your mind, not until you came back from school with all your things packed and ready to be taken with you as you moved halfway across the prefecture. You didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to your gege before the head matron was pushing you out.
Unfortunately, the week you left you accidentally broke your phone after it slipped out of your fingers and hit the corner of the wall wrong. So even if you wanted to send Caleb a text or call to tell him about everything, you couldn't because you were still waiting on a replacement.
The thought of fighting back hadn’t even crossed your mind at the time either. You were too busy trying to snag whatever you could from Caleb’s room, something real to take with you before you were gone for good. Despite moving out a few years prior, he was still able to visit you from time to time; courtesy of the staff’s general kindness towards the two of you, knowing just how important it was for you both to be near each other. You had just enough time to snag a necklace from his dresser, leaving your own matching necklace on his bed as a final goodbye. It was a silly little thing, silver and carrying two apple charms on it. The dogtag on it had been won in a crane game, the charms coming from a ball machine at the arcade you used to go to all the time. You both had gotten the same necklace from the crane game, though yours had the dogtag in the shape of a heart rather than a regular tag.
It was a precious memory of yours; one that you desperately tried to hold onto as the new hole sitting within the cage of your ribs throbbed in pain. You were crying silent tears the whole time, clutching the one keepsake you’d stolen from him like a lifeline. The feeling inside of your chest grew colder and colder as you watched the orphanage get smaller and smaller. You'd spent eleven years within those red-bricked walls with Caleb, the only one you've ever loved. Even at your young age, you knew he was it for you. Foolish, of course, and incredibly naive. But you knew in your heart then that he was the one. He ruined the concept of anyone else for you. Ruined you for anyone trying to sneak into your heart when he already takes up all of it, even after all these years later.
What’s worse is that you’ve got no idea if he even feels the same. What if you were the only one feeling this way? It’s been so long and people move on from their childhood friends all the time. It’s natural to grow apart with time, so who’s to even say if he remembers you? If he holds those memories as close to his soft and squishy inside as you do?
It’s these thoughts that hold you back from attempting to contact him, from trying to find him. He’d be closer to his late twenties now, if you’re doing your math correctly. He probably has a normal life by now. Married, maybe he with a kid or two, with a nice house, and a pet if you’re really trying to torture yourself. You ignore the sharp stab of pain at the images flashing through your mind; of Caleb with some faceless woman, giggling children tugging at his pants legs with his eyes and hair color.
What does he even look like now? You can’t help but wonder. The memories you have of Caleb are of him as a boy, on the cusp of being a man but not quite. You can kind of picture the shape of his jaw if he grew older, the bulk he probably put on because it was easy for him to build up muscle, the pitch of his voice as it finally settled.
Blinking, you realize that you’ve grabbed the delicate chain hanging from your throat. The screen of your computer glares at you, and you see that you’ve been here for over six hours. Distracted by memories and the fluctuating emotions rolling through you. Hormone imbalances have made your already fragile emotional state even worse, and you’re often losing time just staring into space.
Signs that your symptoms are getting worse by the day.
But you’re stubborn. Dangerously stubborn. Stupidly stubborn, even. Because even as the fevers and tiredness and nausea plague you, you absolutely refuse to look for outside help. You don’t really care that the medicine barely works now, you still take your daily dose at the appropriate times. You absolutely cannot allow someone else to touch you—just imagining it makes you feel sick.
Groaning, you hunch over and clutch your suddenly aching stomach. Cramps are now a daily occurrence for you, and your only option is to ride out the waves of pain. Heated water bottles and pressure does shit all to make it better, but you’d rather have this than let anyone touch you. Only Caleb has been able to touch you freely within your life—your parents knowing better to ask than assume, and other people being wary enough of your resting bitch face to try their luck. You can’t help but laugh when it registers.
You really are screwed here. The one option you have is so far out of your reach that it’s laughable. And only because your own body won’t allow there to be another Dom in your life. Won’t allow anyone else to fill the hole already filled by a boy who probably doesn’t even remember you.
You laugh again, tears sliding down your cheeks as you curl up into a ball in your ergonomic chair. Your nails dig into the fabric of your hoodie, the stiletto points piercing through to scratch at your stomach. Nothing helps, of course, but you’re used to all of your efforts being useless now. So it doesn’t phase you much as you ride out the harsh tides of your agony. You doze off from the pain eventually, tears drying on your cheeks as your dream of happier times; hands linked with sticky and warm fingers, ears filled with that brilliant laughter, eyes drawn into that mesmerizing color. Stardust and galaxies and everything in between sparkling within that gaze.
You miss Caleb. You miss your gege.
You wish you didn’t have to.
~oOoOo~
A week passes without much change to your condition. You’re often lazing around in your bed instead of spending time on your hobbies, too exhausted to do much else. That’s where you are now, buried underneath your various blankets as the early morning traffic blares outside your closed blinds. Beginning to fall back asleep after being randomly woken up, you snuggle deeper into your cool pillows.
The loud and incessant blare of your phone wakes you with a start. Your eyes pop open and you scramble to find it. Half-asleep, you smack your hand along the top of your bed until your nails catch on your case. You blindly pick up the call, bringing the phone to your ear as you bury your face into your pillow.
“...Hello?”
“Good morning, dear. Did I wake you?”
You blink, a little more awake when the amused tone of your mother filters through the speaker.
“Mom? What’s got you calling so—” A sharp spike of pain shoots through your head, and you cut yourself off with a hiss. You bite down on your lower lip, swallowing back a pained groan when another spike pulses in the same spot.
“[✦], are you okay?”
“Y-yeah, m’fine. Just snagged my nose ring on my blanket.” It’s a plausible enough lie, and it predictably gets your mom a little huffy as she lightly scolds you about the piercing yet again. You half-heartedly listen to her go on, trying your best to get your breathing under control as the headache begins to spread from your temples to the backs of your eyes. You tune back in when it seems she’s winding down.
“And I hope that’s the last piece of metal you get put inside of you! I still can’t believe I let your father talk me into letting you go.” She huffs, and you can’t help but smirk. You didn’t stop at just a nose ring, but your mom doesn’t need to know about the other piercings you’ve got underneath your clothes and along the ridge of your ears.
“I know you didn’t call just to argue about my nose ring. What’s up?”
“I can’t just call to check up on my favorite daughter?”
You squint. Why does she sound like that?
“I’m your only daughter, mom.”
“Yes, yes. My only daughter who never reaches out first. It’s been ages since we’ve last talked, [✦]!”
You sigh.
“Mom…” Oh boy, here we go.
“Don’t ‘mom’ me! You barely talk to us anymore. Ever since you moved into that apartment of yours it’s been like pulling teeth to get you to have more than a ten minute conversation! While your father may be patient I am most certainly not! We’re worried about you, dear. You left so quickly after you dropped out that we honestly thought something had happened.” The hurt in her voice cuts you deeply, and tears immediately prick at your eyes as you hold back a sigh.
Shit.
No, you haven’t really reached out to your parents all that much. Actually, you haven’t kept in contact with a lot of people, once you moved to Skyhaven. The only people you see frequently are the baristas at Nova and your coworkers. Which only consist of a handful of people, half of which you only give polite greetings to and nothing more. But…it’s so much easier to be like this. Going through life without your gege changed something within you. What was the point of reaching out when all you could feel was the gaping hole in your chest?
All your life you’ve been forced to bend to the whims of others; taken away from places that have been safe for you, comfortable even. You hadn’t wanted to leave your birth parents, at first. Because while they hurt you, it was a known hurt, one you had just gotten used to dealing with. You hadn’t wanted to leave Caleb when he showed you what true love was like. You hadn’t even wanted to leave your parents either, more than happy to work in the small town they lived in. But, they were adamant that you go to school, go to a local college you had no interest in whatsoever.
So, when presented with the opportunity to leave, to choose for yourself what you wanted to do with your life, you took it. A random listing online you accidentally came across was enough reason for you to uproot your entire life all over again, though this time you were the one in charge of where you were going. As scary as it was actually moving, you’ve never felt any freer. But, of course, that freedom came with a price. The isolation. The loneliness. The increase of your need for a connection with a Dom; the only Dom you’ve ever wanted.
A price that your parents will never know about. They know that you’re a Sub, have too considering they got all of your medical records and such when they officially adopted you. But they’re both Normals, and they're from an older generation that doesn’t really know how to deal with sub genders in people. They relied on doctors and other healthcare professionals to give them direction. And when you were legally old enough to get your own insurance, you made sure the only one who had a say in what you do with your second gender was you and you alone.
“...Nothing happened, mom. I just wanted a fresh start somewhere new. Somewhere I wanted to be at. I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping up, I guess…I guess I just got a little caught up in everything out here.”
There’s a weighted silence that follows your words, and the headache you’ve been dealing with finally recedes into something manageable. Though, the truth of your situation leaves you feeling worse. Makes you feel like the scum of the earth for keeping this away from them, but you just can’t tell them about it. Have no idea how to even explain everything to them in a way that they’d understand.
“Okay, okay, I believe you. Just, don’t be a stranger, okay? We love you so much, [✦]. All we want is for you to be happy.”
“I love you too, mom. The both of you have been so sweet to me, I can’t possibly ask for better parents.” You clear your throat, blinking away the tears beading at the corners of your eyes.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s been happening since we last talked, then? Today is my off day, so I’ve got plenty of time to spare.” You listen as she excitedly begins to talk, letting her voice act as a soothing balm as you lie there in your bed. Your headache is still there, your body aches like crazy and the hole in your chest feels like it’s only getting bigger. But, you’re still alive. You’ve still got people out there who care for you, so you’ll do your best to reciprocate that love.
For as long as you possibly can.
~oOoOo~
The paper clenched in your hand crinkles as you stuff it into your sweater pocket, your other hand desperately toying with the silver necklace resting above your clothes. You needed all the help you can get today, and wearing Caleb’s necklace has always given you an extra rush of courage. Still, nerves twist your stomach into knots as your eyes flick over the innocuous building sitting quietly ahead of you. There’s nothing outwardly alarming about the light grey concrete and wide windows. The lawn in front is neat and clean, the bushes of wildflowers planted along the walkway leading up to the door vibrant as they softly rustle with the wind.
‘Dom/Sub Health Clinic’ is fitted along the metal sign outside the gates.
You can only stand there, feet stuck in place. This is a bad idea, you know that it’s a bad idea. You know that nothing you do here today will work, but…but you have to at least try. Having that call from your mom made you realize just what you’re leaving behind if you don’t find a way to erase your sickness. Just the thought of having to tell your parents you lied to them about your health sends you into the beginnings of a panic attack, and you have to take deep, deep breaths before your heart settles into its normal rhythm.
‘Once. I’ll try this out just once.’ But that doesn’t stifle the fear stirring within your belly. Every single part of you is rebelling against the idea of taking a step forward, of plunging into the unknown like this. But you’ve already set up the appointment; have already called and talked to a consultant about trying out their platonic methods of satisfying dynamics. This is just supposed to be a test, a little experiment to see if you can even be satisfied by platonic commands and Play.
But still. You can’t unglue your feet from the concrete. You just stand there. Unmoving, hardly breathing as the air blows around you. Birds chirp, leaves rustle and the occasional car drives by with the quiet whir of their engine. You zone out, the various ways this test could go wrong swirling through your thoughts. So distracted by your mind, you don’t hear footsteps walk up to you until a voice speaks up next to your ear.
“Are you okay?”
You whirl around with a stilted shout, jumping so far back that you nearly trip.
Hands reach out to steady you, skin on skin as their hands fall onto your bare arms. The touch immediately has you going rigid, a sickening feeling overtaking your mind. You don’t like this, you don’t want this person to be touching you at all. It’s like a million little ants are crawling over your skin, and you don’t hesitate to rip yourself out of the hold. Your back hits the cold gates behind you, but you don’t pay the bite of the metal any mind as you curl in on yourself.
You feel…unclean.
Dirty in a way that makes you want to gag. You don’t like people touching you randomly, it’s why you always are covered by something from head to toe. But, earlier you rolled the sleeves of your sweater up, too hot and panicky to deal with all that fabric on your skin. You were trying to cool off before starting your session, but now you’re severely regretting ever doing that.
You scurry deeper into the gates when you hear the person take a step towards you, and you throw out a hand to stop them.
“D…don’t come any closer!” It comes out more like a wheeze than the yell you were aiming for, but the person in front of you freezes. You blink, rubbing your arms to try and rid the feeling of their hands on your skin. But it’s hard when panic makes your breaths come in short and fast. Even though your eyes are wide open, you can’t see a thing in front of you. Can’t even tell who the person is trying to calm you down. You’re only getting more and more panicked, tears falling down your cheeks as your breaths come out faster, shakier. You hate this, you hate this, you hate this.
‘Unclean, unclean, unclean.’
“Shit. Look lady, I’m not trying to hurt you or anything, okay? It was just an accident, I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t touch me, stay back!” You don’t even hear their words, panic deafening you to everything around you but your racing thoughts.
God, why did you come here again?! Why did you ever think this was going to work out?! How could you think anyone could get close to you when you’re like this? If a casual, accidental touch sets you off now, there’s no way you’d be able to handle commands like this. Not when it feels like you can’t breathe, when panic and fear is all you seem to know. When you feel so dirty being touched. You let out a sob as your legs give out on you, tears blurring your darkening vision as a pounding headache beats wild drums along your temples. The chain you have on bounces as you fall, and the gleaming flash of silver makes you think of him. You feel hot, feverish as memories of Caleb flash before your eyes. You want him—you need him so badly it makes you sick.
“Gege…” Your voice is completely unrecognizable, choked and high-pitched. Black encroaches along your vision, the fever finally knocking you unconscious. The last thing you remember is feeling that cold metal dig into your back, tears wetting your face as you mumble for a Dom who will never hear you.
~oOoOo~
You feel it pretty much everyday, now; the symptoms of not only suppressant sickness, but dynamic neglect.
After the disaster that was your last clinic visit, you haven’t been outside of your apartment in almost two weeks. All you do is come home and go to work. You barely even take care of yourself anymore, in too much emotional and physical pain to do anything else besides lay in bed.
The constant stabs of pain to your sensitive nerves. The headaches and stuffy sinuses. Feverish dreams that haunt you, yearning for just a little bit of freedom from your chronic agony. Sleep comes in short bursts, the deep ache in your bones keeping you from getting more than three hours at a time. A tangible weight sits on your chest, suffocating you with the strong urge to go out and find a Dom. To allow yourself to surrender to those commands that you desperately crave. Sex matters of course, but that’s not the core of what you want. Maybe for others it’s easy to focus more on the sexual aspect of things, but it’s the trust and affection that comes from a Dom/Sub bond that does it for you. Intimacy, the knowledge that you can entrust yourself to your Dom because they’ll always, always be there for you.
You desire to be spoiled endlessly. You want to be used; to be taken care of and treated like nothing more than a doll—a toy to be taken apart and put back together again over and over and over. Until you’re a crying, whiny mess. That kind of want is easy to take advantage of by others; you’re constantly aware how intense your desires are, how consuming they can be if you ever allow yourself to fall. But there’s only ever been one person who’s worthy enough to see you like that, and he’s not here with you.
So you fix your face into something unapproachable; cold and mean, glaring at anyone who comes close. You conceal your wants and needs behind the safe spaces between the shelves of the bookstore you work at. You hide within the cozy and warm atmosphere of your apartment, a sanctuary for you to break down in without shame or fear. You push it all deep, deep down; below the pathetic, sniveling little creature that is your submissive self. You’ve got no other choice. Not when you’re all alone.
‘No other choice.’
The face that stares at you from the mirror is one you don’t recognize. Pale skin riddled with beads of sweat. Dark bruises beneath wide, bloodshot eyes. Greasy and matted hair that you haven’t felt like washing as of late. Exhaustion makes its home within the marrow of your bones, its lines plain to see in the slouch of your shoulders. In each tiny, painful movement as you force yourself through your morning routine. You’ve got a long, boring day of work ahead of you. It's your turn to man the register so you’ll at least be able to sit down.
You finish brushing your teeth, eyes flicking to your makeup bag sitting innocuously on the bathroom sink. Normally, you’d at least pretend like you weren’t dying on the inside by putting on a fresh face, even if it was only a casual look. But you’re so tired now, you don’t feel like not only going through the process of applying, but then also going through the reverse when you come back from work later today.
Bare face it is then.
You slap a bit of moisturizer onto your face as a lazy compromise, signing deeply as you leave the bathroom and shut off the light. After that it’s pure muscle memory that has you dressing for work—thermal tights, leg warmers, a pair of biker shorts and an oversized sweater. Days like this call for maximum comfort, so you slip into a pair of chunky platform sneakers. You hair, well. Your curls lost their definition a while ago, so you quickly run it through with a brush and section it off; by the time you’re finished, you’ve got two pigtails. Water bottle in hand and messenger bag tossed over your shoulder, you’re ready to begin yet another monotonous, pain filled day. Before you leave, however, you make sure to stuff your pill bottle in your bag. You took the proper dosage when you woke up, but you already know you’re gonna have to pop more as the day goes along.
By your last count you’ve got a handful of pills left—enough to last you the week but that’s it. Your original doctor had stopped your prescription after the last time you saw him, so you have nothing left to rely on after this week. Time is slowly running out for you, growing thinner and sicker by the hour, but you refuse to allow yourself to lie with a stranger. The less said about your first and only outing to that previous Dom/Sub clinic the better. You need something deeper, something more intense. You need someone who will love you in every sense of the word. You need someone you love and trust already to be able to help you.
You need your gege.
You press your lips into a pained grimace, a boiling heat building underneath your skin. Anger is a familiar feeling for you lately though you can’t decide what makes you angrier; your own weakness or the illness making you weak. It’s hard to say when your normal consists of your emotions being in a constant state of instability; switching between feeling everything to feeling nothing in the same breath. Ridiculous, all of it. You especially.
Sigh.
One last look around your dark apartment and then you’re off, ready to make the fifteen minute walk to Cloud Book and Co.
~oOoOo~
Clack-clack.
Clack-clack.
Clack-clack.
Your nails drum against the old wood of the counter, eyes watching people pass by outside as your music plays through your earbud.
There’s no one here, of course. No customers at least. Jeremy, the son of the owner of the shop and your boss, is currently squirled away within his office. You don’t know what exactly he’s doing, but you don’t mind being out here by yourself. Prefer it, actually. Since if he was here, you’re sure he’d just worriedly glance at you every few seconds. Your symptoms started flaring up the moment you sat down behind the register, and you instantly knew you’d be getting no relief anytime soon.
Fresh waves of pain assault your senses, and you think you’d be used to it by now. But these things never get any easier. You’re just glad you can be in pain in peace. Cloud Book and Co. is a small shop nestled in between an already closed storefront and a casual diner. You guys don’t get much traffic since the store mostly specializes in second-hand books. New and upcoming releases have their own displays and there’s a pretty sizable amount of inventory that are all freshly ordered. But, most of your sales come from college kids reselling their old textbooks or families looking to get rid of old children’s books.
Often, your days look a lot like this; sitting on your ass for about six to eight hours, doing nothing the entire time. It used to be one of your favorite ways to spend a work day. You could listen to your music and read, or maybe watch a video or movie while you busied yourself with meaningless sorting. But now you can’t even do that, the persistent throb pulsing throughout your entire body. Even the music can’t distract you, but you’ve still got at least another five hours before you have to clock out.
You sigh through your nose and close your eyes.
It was only supposed to be for a moment, nothing longer than a few minutes to try and block everything out. But when you next blink your eyes open, Jeremy is shaking you awake, a concerned furrow to his brow as he quickly scans over you.
“Go home.” He says firmly, not even waiting for your protests as he quietly watches you stand. And honestly? You’re way too tired to even protest. So you just nod a little, sluggishly gathering your things as he busies himself with the register.
“Get some rest and come back when you feel better.”
“But, sir—”
“No buts, [✦]. The store isn’t gonna collapse because it’s only me here, we don’t get that busy anyway. You can take a few days off to get rid of that cold, I know mama won’t mind either.”
The lump in your throat is hard to swallow past, and your eyes water. It’s a nice sentiment, but a common cold isn’t what’s making you look like this. You never disclosed your secondary gender to Jeremy; only his mother knows, and that’s just because the information is a part of your government records. A shiny silver ‘S’ that designates your secondary gender. The reason why you’re currently in hell.
“...Thank you, sir. I’ll let you know when I feel better enough to come in.”
He waves you away with a half smile, the worry on his face feeling less suffocating than usual.
“You good to get home by yourself? I know it’s a short walk, but…”
“It’s alright. I want to stop by Nova and pick up something anyway.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, breathing out steadily when another flare washes over you. You check the time on your phone. It’s nearing three o’clock in the afternoon; slow hours for the cafe only a few minutes from here. Which means you should be able to be in and out without much fuss.
“If you’re sure. You rest up now, young lady! I don’t wanna see you back here unless you’re in perfect health.” He playfully wags his finger at you, and the smile you give him isn’t even forced. The kindness feels like a balm to the live wire that is your entire mood, and with one final goodbye, you walk outside.
Ten minutes later, you’re shouldering your way through the doors. Your breathing is slightly labored as you shuffle inside, sweat beading on your forehead. The dizziness is stronger than ever, and you’re having a tough time trying to keep yourself upright. Your image of the register ahead of you grows distorted, the shapes and colors swimming in and out of focus. You're so distracted by trying to blink the after images out of your eyes that you end up bumping into someone hard. The breath gets knocked out of you in a shocked wheeze. Did you run into a fucking wall?! Oh my god, it feels like you can barely breath as you start to fall back. Quickly, hands reach out to stabilize you, keeping you upright by your shoulders, unintentionally bringing you closer.
You get a nose full of something minty and green; fresh and sweet and oddly soothing the mild headache beating away at your temples. Unconsciously, you take in a bigger breath of that peculiar cologne, masculine for sure but still…different than what you normally come across.
“Woah–! Are you alright?” A concerned voice asks, and you find yourself honestly shaking your head when nausea flares within your gut. The person—a man, you think if you're going by voice alone—sucks in a startled breath before slowly exhaling.
“Sorry…” You force yourself to speak; it was your fault you couldn’t fucking see in front of you. You’re still blinking the spots out of your eyes even now, struggling to see anything when your head feels so heavy.
“Don’t worry about that. Here—let’s get you seated. Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe call someone for you? Do you need to go to the hospital?” He gently leads you away from the counter, keeping his voice level and calm as he talks you through his movements. You shake your head a little, whimpering when a sharp spike of pain stabs behind your eyelids. Obviously a bad idea when your symptoms are flaring up again, but you aren’t thinking clearly now. The man makes a sympathetic noise, lightly rubbing your arms through your hoodie as he helps you sit.
“What about some water, or maybe something light to eat?”
Just the thought of food right now makes your stomach roll uncomfortably, and you shake your head again. You blame the fever beginning to cook the inside of your brain for your next words; there’s no reason you’d ask a stranger that otherwise.
“N-no thank you. Just…stay with me, please?” The sound of your voice is pathetic to your own ears, and an ugly feeling begins to build inside of you. God, why are you so fucking useless? Can’t even handle the consequences of your own actions without dragging this random ass stranger into it. Absolutely pathetic.
He pauses for a moment, obviously taken aback. But he seems to recover quickly, and after a moment of shuffling, you can physically feel him squat in front of you. His knees brush against your legs and his hands drop to your balled fists.
“Yeah, of course. Take as long as you need.” His voice is soft as he speaks to you, his hands gently coaxing your fingers to fall from their curled state. It’s…nice, feeling the callouses on his hands. You’re surprisingly alright with him touching you like this; a sweet kind of casualness that sends a wave of warmth through you. It knocks a breath loose from your lungs, and you can feel his eyes stray to your face when the noise falls out. Embarrassed, you keep your eyes firmly shut. If you were any stronger you’re certain you would have knocked his hands away by now. But you aren’t, and for some reason his touch doesn’t feel like oil slicking across your skin; doesn’t make you feel unclean. You allow his fingers to hold yours, the quiet murmur of the cafe filling the empty space between you two for a few moments.
Then, he begins to talk.
Small things, like how the trees look outside on the side of the street. How good this cafe's cherry danishes are, but how he doesn't get a chance to eat them often because he always gets here too late to snatch 'em before they run out. How his students sometimes sneak him a pastry or two when they're trying to butter him up enough to go easy on them on an upcoming test. Mundane and casual little stories that do a lot to soothe your headache. There's something so familiar in his tone, like you've heard it somewhere before but you just can't put your finger on where.
It bugs you enough that you want to look at his face. Maybe if you see what he looks like, you'll be able to place him. Swallowing back your embarrassment at being so casual with a stranger, you psyche yourself up. Inhaling and exhaling, you slowly squint open your eyes. Blinking a few times, a tear or two escapes down the corners of your eyes as you adjust to the bright light filtering into the cafe. It takes a moment or two until you can force your eyes to work, but eventually your gaze lands onto the man crouched in front of you.
Shaggy brown hair that shines slightly underneath the light tapers into a mullet that curls around his neck. Thin silver frames slide low on the bridge of his nose, covering eyes the color of violets. Black gauges pierce his ears, his shoulders broad and covered by a long-sleeved sweater. His lips are pulled into a warm smile, sweet and achingly familiar. In your mind’s eye that same smile flashes past, missing a front tooth and on a boy instead of the man in front of you. You almost can't believe what you're seeing—can barely comprehend that this man is...he's...
“...Caleb?”
The crack that separates those wonderful syllables fills your eyes with tears. You can’t believe, after all this time, he’s right here in front of you. You’re struck dumb; frozen in your seat as you stare at him through your quickly blurring vision.
“Fancy seeing you here, pipsqueak.” His smile widens, or you think it does as you try and see past the tears. You feel the pointy end of his chin nearly touch your knee as he scoots a little closer, squeezing your fingers tightly. You sniffle, the tears coming down faster as you grip his fingers just as tight. The chuckle he lets out is music to your ears. None of this feels real at all. Are you hallucinating?
“H-how—” You cough a little, the words stuck in your throat as you feel yourself begin to grow upset. Your emotions are completely out of whack, and you’re dangerously close to breaking down into loud sobs. Caleb immediately shushes you with a quiet tone, disentangling one of his hands to wipe your tears away. He sits up on both of his knees, cradling your cheek in one palm while the other gently holds your hand.
“Hey, hey it’s alright. Just breathe with me, okay?”
It’s like you’ve turned back time and you’re suddenly back to age nine. Instead of sitting in a coffee shop in downtown Skyhaven, you’re now back to that sandbox outside of the orphanage. Your knees ache from scrapes, and you’re positively bawling as you lie sprawled on the ground. Caleb is rushing over within seconds, calming you down with his words as he gathers you up in his arms. Just as he took care of you then does he do the same now. The memories fade and your sobs die down into small hiccups, your tears drying up enough that you can get a clear look at him.
He’s everything and nothing like you pictured all at once.
You scan him up and down almost frantically, taking him in like you’ll never get the chance to see him again if you don’t. The boy you grew up with is there, hidden within the playful light in his eyes; the mischievous little quirk of his lip familiar in a way that fills you with a warm kind of joy. But there’s also something about him now that’s different. It puzzles you, this odd feeling around him. Your eyes flick around his expression, trying to gauge what he’s thinking when you accidentally make direct eye contact. A jolt runs through you, sparks flying and a quiet understanding filling your head.
Oh.
Oh.
‘Dom. He’s a..Dom.’
You knew that—you were there when he got his test results! This isn't new information to you, yet you still are absolutely shell-shocked by the force of his presence. The Doms you've encountered never affected you like this before. They've never been this strong to your senses.
“Better?” There's a lowness to his voice that catches you off guard, his eyes piercing you with an intensity that makes you feel naked. Like he's peeling back all your layers with just a look alone. You feel seen in a way that terrifies and excites you in unpredictable turns.
Your heart skips a beat, a flood of heat spreading down from your head to your toes when his eyes rove over you, something almost…wanting in his gaze. That sweet smile of his gains teeth, and with a choked breath, you realize that your entire body is positively vibrating with the need to touch him. To have him touch you. You're flushed from head to toe, you have to be with how hot your skin feels. Dazed, you can barely hear what Caleb says to you, eyes drawn to the shape of his mouth, the sharp bit of canine that peaks out whenever he smiles big enough. The small dimple on the left side of his face, and how it changes with the angle of his moving mouth.
With a start, you realize that he's not talking anymore, eyes dark and intense as they watch you. The longer he stares, the dimmer his smile gets until it’s nothing more than a concerned frown. There’s a little wrinkle in between his brows and you have the sudden urge to smooth it out with your thumb. You know why the atmosphere isn’t as easy as before; there's no mistaking the cause of your weakened state.
Suppressant sickness is well known amongst the Dom/Sub community. Warnings blare left and right about how bad things could get for someone who takes them for too long, and since Caleb is a Dom, then it wouldn’t take very long for him to understand what’s going on. No ignoring it either, judging by the stubborn set to his jaw.
“How long?”
You want to play dumb, are seriously considering it as you glance away because you really don’t think you can have this conversation right now, but his palm holding your cheek tilts your head. Your eyes lock once again and you find yourself folding like wet tissue paper.
“...I think it’s been almost a month since my symptoms have gotten bad. Over two since the suppressants stopped working.” You quietly speak, forced to keep eye contact as he takes your words in. The hurt that enters his expression instantly makes you feel like the shittiest person alive. But you don’t know what you can possibly say here. Not when you could risk losing him all over again.
“...Do you not have a Dom, or someone who can help you with this? If sex isn’t your thing, then there are plenty of services that can accommodate you. I can even give you a card of the one I’m using.”
You tellingly press your lips together, trying to swallow the irrational flare of anger and jealousy at the thought of Caleb with another Sub. Not really the time to focus on that, not when he’s looking at you with a frantic light in his eyes. How are you supposed to explain to him that he’s the only ever Dom you’ve wanted? That nothing else will work for you unless it’s his commands you’re obeying? Sighing, you shake your head.
“Mhm, no, I don’t. I think…I think I’m too difficult to work with the services they offer. Nothing’s ever panned out.” Obviously, you have to hedge around the real reason as to why you’re suffering now. You can’t possibly tell him that you nearly had a legitimate panic attack when someone tried to help you earlier.
“Difficult? What about you is difficult?” He looks offended on your behalf, and while it feels as if your chest is being torn open, you can’t help but laugh at his disgruntled expression. It’s sweet that he’s getting so worked up over this, but it also makes a painful soft of hope bloom within the hole behind your ribcage that you can’t entertain.
“I can’t really do…casual flings. I need to actually know someone deeply before I’m even comfortable enough to Play. And, well. That kind of thing is difficult to accommodate for the services they offer.” He looks at you, really looks at you, and you can see the realization set in. The fact that you really aren’t going to get better, that you don't have anyone to help you do so. It breaks your already broken heart even more as you watch his desperation get even stronger.
“It’s alright, Caleb. I’ve already accepted that…that this is the e—”
“Don’t talk like that. Just don’t. There has to be something I can do for you.”
You shake your head again, but that only seems to make him more determined.
“Look, you’ve tried all the services around here, right? Well, the one I’m using is actually based out of Linkon. It’s a little farther from here, but it works. We can get you into there, find someone for you to get to know. If you’re at least open to meeting others, there’s a chance for you to pull through.”
“No, Caleb, I don’t want to go to another service. That's also not how my emotions work, I can’t just open up to a complete stranger. You know that a Dom\Sub relationship is based on trust, and I can’t recreate that at the drop of a hat.”
“So, what, you’re just telling me to give up? To accept the fact that you’re wasting away because your dynamic isn’t satisfied, because you can’t trust anybody?” You quake on the inside at the look in his eyes, the heat in his tone that’s a devastating mix of anger and desperation. It kills you to make him sound like that, but you know what would happen if you tried. Can vividly remember the feeling of wrongness that still wakes you up in the middle of a night, bathed in a cold sweat.
“I’m sorry, but that’s just how it is for me. I don’t have the time left to try old fashioned dating. There’s no one,” your voice breaks halfway through your sentence, but you forge ahead, regardless of the lies you’re telling him, “no one out there for me, not like I am. There’s no one out there who wants me, not the way I need.”
The pained look on his face gets even deeper, if possible.
“You can’t seriously think that.”
“I don’t think it, I know it.” ‘Because I don’t want anyone but you, and there’s no way you’d ever think of me the way I want you to.’
“...I finally found you, after all this time, and now you’re telling me I have to lose you again? That all I can do is watch as you disappear from my life?” Your lip trembles at the emotion leaking through the cracks of his composure. The hand on your cheek grips you firmly, the one curled around your fingers going tight.
“Caleb…”
“Well I refuse. Just because you’ve given up doesn’t mean I have to.”
“I already told you that there’s no one else, Caleb. You can’t keep harping on this when I already know—”
“What if it’s me.”
You stare at him, your jaw dropped and eyes wide. A firm, resolute glint sparks to life in his eyes and your lower belly flutters at what that look could possibly mean.
“What?”
“What if I act as your Dom?”
He doesn’t even give you a moment to respond.
“You trust me, right? It’s been more than a few years since we’ve last seen each other, and we’ve both gone through some changes. But, you know me just as I know you. This isn't the most...conventional way to go about this situation, but we don’t have much of a choice. I am not allowing you to give up on yourself, not when I can finally be in your life again. Haven’t you missed me, too?”
Something in your gut curdles and you grow cold. 'We don’t have much of a choice.' Does...does he not want this too? Is he only worried for you for purely platonic reasons? Dom/Sub relationships don't have to be inherently romantic, but you don't want that kind of relationship with Caleb. Selfish and stupid of you to dwell on semantics, especially when you're actively getting sicker, but you're adamant on this. You need this thing between you to be exclusive, to be more than just pure platonic affection. You won't settle for anything less than his undivided attention, and if you can't possibly get that...then you don't want anything with him at all. You'd rather die.
“Of course I missed you.” You force yourself to speak past the lump in your throat, implored by the wide, almost begging expression on his face. “But, it’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
You want to throw up our hands in exasperation. You really, really, really are trying not to spill your guts right now, not when you’ll only end up feeling worse after you hear an outright rejection. But he’s so persistent, he’s not letting you get away with being vague. So, fuck it. Might as well rip off the bandaid since he can’t seem to let this go.
“I need…Caleb, I need to be in love with my Dom, and vice versa. I can’t Play with someone unless we’re in a romantic relationship.”
That cold feeling sinks deeper, spreading throughout your body as you watch his eyes grow wide. He swallows audibly, taking in a breath, but no words come out of his parted mouth as he stares at you. And suddenly, you’re angry. You’re angry that you even have to do this—that you have to break yourself all over again because of your dynamic. You have half a mind to rip yourself away from him, but you figure if you never see him again after this, you might as well try to memorize the exact feeling of his callouses, the exact warmth that emanates from his hands.
“I know…I know that you don’t feel the same, and I’m not going to allow both of us to get hurt because you can’t accept reality. Don't feel so obligated to help me out just because we happened to see each other again. I don’t need your pity, nor do I want to hurt myself by doing something we’ll both regret.”
His hand momentarily drops from your cheek to hang by his side uselessly. You’re both sitting in a tense quiet, staring at each other as the ambient noise from the cafe filters in. Caleb's face goes flat and unreadable, a drastic change that has you reeling. You want to cry at that look, but it's what you wanted, right? If you can’t have him the way you want, then you won’t have him at all…right?
Your breath hitches when his face changes. The frantic light slowly dies out, replaced by something like relief. The tense line to his shoulders soften, a quiet breath leaving him as he eyes close briefly. They open again and meet yours, the intensity startling you. He grabs both of your hands, bringing them up to his face. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he raises them to his lips. He places a kiss on each one of your knuckles, soft and measured. There's a definitive purpose to his movements, and every second that passes turns your brain into mush.
“Who says we’ll regret it?”
“What?”
“Who says we’ll regret it? Didn’t you say that you need to be in love with the Dom you choose?” He flicks his eyes down for a moment. “It sounds like we’d enjoy ourselves a lot if we decided to Play together.”
‘What?’ You can’t even force yourself to speak, eyes drawn to the delicate fan of his lashes as they brush against his cheeks. He’s nothing but calm and assured as he continues to place gentle kisses along your skin, moving down to the tips of your fingers back up to your knuckles.
“B-but…you’re not…” You can barely push the words out as you watch him, shivers rolling down the length of your spine as the heat from his fingers seeps past your skin.
“I’m not what?” There’s a dark sort of amusement in his tone as he places more kisses against the backs of your hands, glancing up at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. You swallow and look away from that searching stare. Nothing about any of this situation feels real. You can barely wrap your head around everything when your mind is split in so many different directions.
“Are you trying to say that you’re…that you love me…?”
Nothing to you at this moment feels real.
“Yeah, pips. I’m in love with you, and I have been for a long time.” He lets out a loud breath, chuckling when all you can do is let out an even louder squeak. Your hands begin to shake within his hold, but he easily steadies you, the smile on his face so fragile that it feels like it could break at any second. Honestly, it perfectly describes you now too.
“And now, I can finally take care of you like I always wanted.”
“You aren’t just saying that to try and help me, right? You wouldn’t lie to me like that, right?!” You hate that doubt still lingers within you, that your voice breaks yet again from the force of your emotions, but you just don’t know anymore. You just can’t believe all of your suffering is coming to an end. He doesn’t seem phased by your loud words, the smile on his face growing into something more self indulgent. He uses the grip he has on one of your hands and brings it to his chest.
You can feel how hard his heart is pounding beneath your flattened palm. It perfectly matches the rhythm of your own heart, something you notice because Caleb has his fingers on your own pulse. Like he’s searching for the match too.
“I would never lie about something like this. Can’t you feel that? Can’t you tell how you make me feel?”
You nod, entranced by the heat searing you through his clothes. You’re captivated by the look in his eyes, and that’s when it begins to sink in. Slowly, you understand that this isn’t just a ploy. This isn’t some elaborate joke or dream. This is real, everything he’s saying to you is real.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go. The quicker we can satisfy your needs, the better you’ll feel.” Your face promptly bursts into flames, and the arousal you’d been trying to ignore in the chaos of the entire situation slams into you with great force. The visuals that flash before your eyes have your thighs rubbing against each other, something he obviously notices judging by the way his entire demeanor changes.
“Wait! Y-you haven’t asked me properly yet! I’m not your official Sub until you do.” You rush out, high-pitched and squeaky. You instinctively jut out your chin, trying to hide your embarrassment. ‘Properly yet’. As if you haven’t spent the last decade dreaming of this day; like your precious gege hasn’t been on your mind all these years. Like you haven’t been his this entire time. And of course he sees through you easily, laughing loud enough that you flinch a little, glancing around to see if you’ve gained any attention. You haven’t, of course, and you look back at him when he tugs on your hands a little.
“Sorry, sorry. Let me do this properly, then.” He grins, but there’s an edge to it that makes you grow hot. He gently yanks you forward and you scoot across the seat until your faces are mere inches apart. Caleb is now in between your parted legs, your noses almost touching. There are faint freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, a small detail that distracts you a little.
“Would you grant me the honor of officially becoming my Sub?”
Your heart thumps painfully against your ribcage, entire body frozen on the spot as his words echo inside your mind. Though he says it in a teasing, playful way, the look in his eyes is deadly serious.
“You’re serious.” You whisper, swallowing when he hums.
“Of course I am. It’s always been you, pipsqueak, even when we were kids. Can’t you tell just how compatible we are? How perfect we are for each other?” The callouses on his thumb catch along the back of your hands, and it just reminds you all over again that Caleb is the only Dom that makes you feel safe.
He’s completely right.
While the fever still burns beneath your skin, your headache and body aches are gone. Your mind is a lot clearer, and nothing but relief fills you as you slowly start to come back together again. And all you’ve done so far is talk. He’s touched you, yes. But not intending to Play. They’ve all been casual, acceptable touches when in a public setting. It makes you wonder what it would be like if you really took it further.
If you both were to…Play.
“You mean, you actually want me?” You hate the insecurity that shakes your tone, especially after revealing that you both love each other. But you have to be absolutely sure that this isn’t some kind of fever dream. That your gege is actually here and more than willing to pair up; to be your only Dom.
“Always. I’ve always wanted you. Felt like a part of me was stolen the day they took you from my side. There’s always been this…hole in my chest that I never managed to fill, no matter what I tried to do.” His voice is quiet as he speaks, eyes going half lidded and far away. Your lip trembles as he echoes the same feelings you had, and everything finally clicks into place. The shards of your broken heart come together again, and it’s all because of Caleb. Your shaky hands come up and cup his cheeks, your breathing getting heavier when more of his body heat warms you.
The action immediately snaps his attention back to you, eyes a little wide. This is the first time you’ve initiated touch, and it makes you feel powerful when you see how dilated his eyes grow, this close to him. The ring of violet nearly gets swallowed up by the darkness of his pupil. The flush against his cheeks is faint, spreading across his nose all the way to his ears. He's breathing a little heavier than before too, subtle but noticeable now that you're all up in his space.
“Me too. I never wanted to leave you like that. I had no idea they were separating us…if I’d know I’d—” You cut yourself off, getting emotional all over again just remembering that awful, awful day. His eyes grow soft, wide palms coming up to grip your wrists. He just keeps them there, holding onto you as he leans his forehead against yours.
“Well, I think all that matters now is that we’re here, together.” You nod, brushing your thumbs across the shadows you can see underneath his eyes. It’s not just Subs that deal with withdrawals; that have to tackle their own instincts. Doms have their own set of wants and needs, and you wonder how he’s been holding up all these years. Though the color isn’t as dark as it could be, the exhaustion can still be seen within the lines of his face. You brush against his cheeks again, and his eyes flutter closed as he breathes out a sigh.
Your heart races and it takes all of the strength you possess not to collapse into a puddle on the ground. You need him; there’s no use in ignoring it any longer, not when that uncontrollable heat is coming back. When all you want to do is switch positions; kneel at his feet and do whatever he asks of you.
“The answer’s yes, by the way.” You clear your throat when your voice comes out hoarse. He blinks his eyes open.
“Yeah? You’re agreeing to be my Sub, now?”
You let out a small gasp when you hear the possessiveness in his tone, the bold claim he's making over your relationship. He drops one of his hands to your leg, resting the tips of his fingers along your knee. The heat coming off of him seeps through your tights and into your skin, the feeling traveling towards the building knot forming in your lower belly.
“Y-yeah. We should probably talk before getting into…Playtime.” Your breath hitches when his eyes drop to your lips.
“Talk. Yeah.” He stares at you for another moment before pulling himself away, getting to his feet with a quiet groan. It’s a conscious effort to keep the pathetic sound locked behind your teeth as you feel his heat leave you. Your face must do something, though, because he playfully squishes your nose in between his fingers.
“Don’t look so gloomy, pips. We’re leaving here together, aren’t we?” He offers his hand to you, easily helping you to your feet with a half-smile. You roll your eyes and smack his arm for the teasing, but the effect is ruined by the matching grin on your own face.
“I guess so.” You grumble, giggling when he wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes.
“...This alright?” It takes you a minute to understand what he’s asking. He squeezes your waist again and the back of your neck burns hot. Right.
“Yeah that’s…perfect.” You take full advantage and lean further into his hold, sighing when you get another whiff of his cologne. He snags your bag from the chair edge, sliding it over his shoulder.
“Ready?” He asks, and what else can you do but nod?