Work Text:
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Caleb stared out the train window, expression dark as he silently repeated the mantra that consumed his every waking thought. It was exhausting, excruciating, even, yet he felt as if his lungs would collapse if he didn’t remind himself. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t suited for this world; had been reborn as a human when he was adapted to the void of space. But there was no one to ask. His earliest memories were of pain and cold, sterile walls.
And her. Always her. Tiny yet so brave. Arms warm as she hugged him close. Yet so cold, so pale and still as he cried over her lifeless body.
His lungs spasmed and he held his palm to his chest. Not here. He couldn’t suffocate here. Not when he was almost home.
A gasp. A whimper. He hid his suffering behind a carefully maintained mask.
The train slowed, the buildings that were flashing by coming into view. Familiar homes, streets, gardens, children’s playsets. One step closer, he reminded himself. Caleb stood, a passenger amongst many who were collecting their bags. His was a simple duffle with a DAA emblem that he slung over his shoulder. Someone glanced at him, then blushed red and looked away, but he ignored them.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The crowd neatly departed the train, and Caleb felt the sun beat down on the back of his neck as he stepped onto the platform. It was busy with students coming home for the summer break. He waded through the crowd, tall stature making people naturally give him space. Someone giggled as he passed. He ignored them too. Then there was a sound, like the chirp of a bird, and he stopped short.
There she was, awkwardly racing through the crowd, a few strands of hair stuck to her damp brow. His sky. His air. His home. Caleb dropped the duffle, not caring if it got dirty, and held his arms out. She barreled into his chest and he picked her up and spun them around. Relief flooded his lungs; pure, clear breaths, tension easing, mind clearing.
“Hey, pipsqueak.” He murmured into her hair, a smile breaking over his face. “Did you miss me?”
***
She was excited about something, as usual. He smiled like an idiot as she pulled him along towards their childhood home. She’d insisted on carrying the duffle bag and looked so cute, small and delicate as she hefted it on her shoulder. He flicked his fingers, using his evol to make it lighter. Just a bit, so she didn’t notice. She was a prideful thing, for certain. And she had reason to be. She was smart, pretty, kind; all the things he’d never be. She was too good for him. Too pure. Too radiant. But that was alright. He’d be the darker side, the side that got stained and tainted while she shone like the brightest dawn.
She pouted at him over her shoulder, noticing his distraction. “You’re not listening…”
“I am.” He said, throwing her a boyish smile. “But maybe you’re just talkin’ too fast for anyone to keep up.”
“Oh shut up.” She tugged his hand, pulling it to her side, and started marching as if upset. But he knew she wasn’t. She could barely hide the smile on her face, much less disguise how she kept squeezing his hand as if to confirm that he was really there, in the flesh. He squeezed her hand back and felt a euphoria wash over him when her cheeks flushed. It was agony to not pull her into his arms and nuzzle the apple red as she whined that he was like a puppy slobbering all over her. They weren’t kids anymore, he reminded himself of that. So he made due with imagining it, even if he also knew it would hurt him later. She chattered on until they were in front of their childhood home. And he listened, made note, remembered. Just as he was the one to take on all of the darkness in her stead, he needed to be her memory. Because, for as strong as she was, she was also fragile, like the wings of a bird who could climb higher than anyone but also suffer the greatest falls.
She stopped short before the door, turning to him, then averting her eyes. “Um…”
He cocked his head to the side, waiting, and grinned when she finally met his gaze. “Do you wanna wish for something?”
“How did you know?”
“I know everything about you, pipsqueak.” He chuckled, “I know every tic and tell, like when you-”
“Hug me.” She bit her lip, eyes oddly sad. So she knew. She knew that he’d set up more walls and boundaries around Gran. And she wanted a real hug; the type of hug they shared long ago. His heart twisted so painfully that he worried it’d show on his face. Of course he wanted it too, but it was agony to know that she was asking when she didn’t remember. It was some visceral desire that had remained between them no matter how many times she went away. So he couldn't help but gave her exactly what she wanted, adding his entirety to that wish, and swooped her up in a tight hug. Her fingers dug into him, claiming, and he buried his face in her neck. It was an embrace that bridged a childish innocence and a desperation that could split the sky.
And they had, once. They’d brought down hell itself just to save each other. So he pulled away just at the right time, just before the innocence broke and very real desires manifested. He patted her head as she pouted.
“Keep frownin’ like that and you’ll get wrinkles.”
“Will not.” she poked his cheek, playing coy, then rolled up on her tiptoes. Caleb’s jaw dropped as she placed a kiss on his cheek. Her touch lingered even as she pulled back and gave him a shit-eating grin. “I didn’t miss you.” She said, “I really, really missed you. There’s a difference.”
“Is there now…” He hid the agony in his heart behind a smile. “Well then maybe I missed you too.”
***
The cicadas were loud as Caleb leaned back against the head of his bed. Gran had opened all of the windows to air out the house, so the summer heat and smells of the outside had permeated his bedroom. The scent of drying grass and sunbaked stone were as comforting as they were familiar. As was the click of his door and a whispered voice.
“Can I come in? My AC died.”
It was a lie, but a lie he willingly participated in, so Caleb looked over and smiled at the girl peeking into his room. “Sure, pip. Don’t want you meltin’ into a puddle.”
She darted in, closing the door behind her and skipping over to his air conditioning unit and turning it on. The cool air made goosebumps form over his skin. In truth, he didn’t mind the heat. It was a comforting blanket when his memories dragged him somewhere clinical and cold. But she was already jumping onto his bed, reaching out for the book in his hands, rolling so close that her warmth was seeping into his skin.
“What’s this?” She said, holding the book up and pointing to a diagram.
“That’s a pipsqueak.”
“As if.”
“It is.” He said, “It’s a radio navigation transmitter. It helps fix the position of the aircraft and was also used to identify friendly aircraft.”
She furrowed her brow and reread the section. “So I’m either named after some antiquated transmitter or something tiny… I don’t know what’s worse.”
“It’s not either of those, pip.” He hesitated, but lost to impulse and reached over to stroke her hair. “The first gift you gave me was an apple pip.”
“That’s a terrible gift!”
“It was the best gift.” He said, a nostalgic smile passing over his face. “You put part of your heart in it, after all.”
“You’re so sappy.” She reached up to poke his cheek, and he caught her hand.
“Thought you’d have figured that out by now.” He closed his eyes and tapped his forehead against her fingers. “Or maybe I’m just this way around you.”
They remained in silence, her gently gliding her fingers over his brow, and him keeping his eyes closed. It was a game they’d played since they were children. Not to close, not too far, and if it wasn’t seen then it never happened. But she pushed the line, slid her fingers down his nose, across his cheeks, and gently tapped them to his lips. He ached to kiss her fingertips, to gently nibble and suck, then take her wrist and drag her into his lap before-
No.
No. No. No.
He reset, regained control, pushed her hand away. Her tiny whine, confused and pleading, had him caught between raw desire and all-consuming guilt. Even she didn’t know what she wanted. She’d been broken and patched together so many times that her mind and body spoke two different languages. And so he would never betray a consent she could never truly provide. She needed him, that much was clear, but he’d never give her that one piece of him. That dark, brutal side that felt as if it could shatter planets, devour worlds. Devour her.
But she didn’t know any of this and continued to pull at his heart like vines around a tree. Her hair draped like silk as she rested her head on his thigh.
“Tell me a story.” She murmured.
“I thought you didn’t like my stories.”
“Because they all have sad endings…”
He swallowed, gut twisting. It was true. All of his stories wandered to dark places. They were a mirror of the blackened husks that were his mind and thoughts. So he tried, did his best, and wove her a tale.
“Myths talk of titans and gods.” He said, “There was once a titan who had everything except for the one thing he wanted. But he could never admit what he wanted, because it was the Goddess of Dawn, and she was paired with his brother. Not only that, but the titan's name meant destruction, while her name meant aurora. So he destroyed everything that could harm her, he killed her enemies and spoke her beautiful name to mortals so that they would worship her.”
“But he was miserable…”
“Not all the time.” He said, “He’d fly to the highest point every morning, just before the Sun God woke, and watched her fly across the sky with golden wings, heralding dawn into being. He was happy, then.” Caleb averted his eyes when she reached up to trail her fingers over his cheek. But he couldn't avoid the pained whisper in her voice.
“Even destruction deserves to have his love returned.”
***
The chirp of cicadas, a sheen of sweat, Caleb gasped down air as the nightmare kept him between wakefulness and sleep. Everything around him was crumbling, the sky, the earth. The air became poison and all light faded into black. His lungs seized and constricted. He was going to die here, in this dark, in this world of his own making.
But something soft slid over his lips, gently prying them apart, breathing clear, pure air into his lungs. His body relaxed as light bloomed over the horizon. Relief was so sweet, like the delicate flesh of an apple, yet decadent as it claimed him. The golden of dawn spoke, reverent and shy.
“I’ll be your breath, and you can be mine.”