Work Text:
Receipts, post-it notes, menus from cafes you like, cup sleeves.
Printed text messages, photos and polaroids from when they were younger, train tickets, apple hair clips.
Glue bottles stay scattered around his desk table, strips of tape hanging off his lamp, ready for him to use. Caleb felt like he was under-pressure, under a constant ticking time-bomb. Today, his emotions warred too high and the chip wasted no time in weakening him. In front of you. He collapsed in front of you, fell to his knees in the rain and put the responsibility of his safety on your shoulders.
Pathetic. He thinks. What kind of protector does that? Has he learned nothing from the time he's spent taking care of you in those white-tiled rooms? Has he learned nothing from the phrases he'd repeat to her almost all the time.
"I'm Caleb, I'll always be here."
"I won't lose. I have someone I must protect."
He shouldn't be like this, shouldn't be so weak. Not when it comes to you. He knows you. He knows what scares you, knows what irritates you, he's been placed on this Earth to do nothing but to protect you, to keep you safe, to make sure no storm could touch you. But if he's this unstable, constantly teetering over the edges of losing himself to this chip, then what good is he to you? Just how worthy is he of you if he can't even take care of you like he's always promised to do so.
So Caleb decides to plan ahead, that if an incident like today ever happens again, he'll have a way to know you.
He went out and bought as many composition books as he could hold in both arms and brought them home. He spent hours writing endlessly about you. Your name, your birthday, how he likes to call you 'Pip-Squeak'. Your favourite flavours of ice cream, sodas, the colours you like to wear. The flowers you like, the seasons that you're most likely to get sick in, how the both of you met, how important you are to him. Any and every information about you he writes down into this one book.
He writes and writes until the skin between his thumb and index finger is tender and red, aching from how tightly he's gripped his pen. He refuses to stop, even if his skin begins to bleed and his fingers grow numb, he wants to make sure he remembers every single bit of you. He draws sketches of you, different parts of you, your eyes. Your eyes open and close, your eyes in dark and light. Your nose when it's scrunched, your nose when it's tilted up, to the side. Your lips.. He struggles on your lips, finds himself yearning to call you, to talk to you about how scared he is..
But he can't. He won't. You don't need that. Don't need him crying on your shoulder.
And when he can't write anymore, he gets up and leaves to the nearest printing store. Photos, text messages he has favourited in his phone, e-tickets- He prints them all out and takes them right back home before sitting back down on his desk, using his glue and securing it to the paper.
He cuts the excess paper and spends a few seconds holding the paper up in front of him. A bittersweet and nostalgic smile tugs at his lips. A voucher to the claw machine arcade. He remembers all the times you had dragged him to the arcade when he'd come to Linkon. How you'd nudge him and then look around, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Use your Evol." You'd whisper, and he'd roll his eyes and mutter under his breath about your dishonesty. He glues it down into the page and writes a small paragraph about how much you like going to arcades, how you like to win all the plushies and how to cure your sulking mood if you didn't win any.
He then holds up a coupon, buy one get one free boba. He remembers that day too, back when he was still in the DAA, untouched by the darkness that lurked around him. “Come on, Caleb! We both passed our exams, we should get a treat!” You had said, he laughed, nodding and gestured to his back, letting you piggyback on him. Your weight was comforting on him back then, he loved carrying you.
Glue, paste onto the paper.
A polaroid. You took it the day he graduated. You were so worked up on the thought that he had a girlfriend and you didn’t know. The envelope hidden between pages of a book, it had gotten you so worked up that you were moody the entire day. Then when you had finally told him what was bothering you, he had simply laughed. Then the day of his graduation, you had so boldly kissed his cheek, stating that you didn’t want him to have a girlfriend. He wouldn’t have one if you weren’t the girl that’d be his.
Caleb goes on and on until he's filled every page, he's sprayed your perfume all over the pages to make your smell stick, he's smeared the same brand of your chapstick against the pages so he could remember how it felt every single time he held himself back from loving you.
When and if the day comes where he isn't strong enough to protect his memories of you, he swears to himself and to you, that he will learn through these books.
He will learn to love you, over and over again, no matter how many times the chip wipes his memories away.
He will love you and he will introduce himself to you, over and over again.
‘Remember her.’
‘Remember her.’
‘Remember her.’
'I won't lose. I have someone I must protect.'
'I won't lose. I have someone I must protect.'
'I won't lose. I have someone I must protect.'
'I won't lose. I have someone I must protect.'
'I won't lose. I have someone I WILL protect.'