Chapter Text
You were seated across from Caleb in a dimly lit corner booth of your favourite restaurant, and it had been a lovely night so far. The two of you had spent the evening trading stories, poking fun at each other, and stealing bites from each other’s plates in a painfully familiar way. The city glittered just outside the window, but your little booth felt cocooned from it all.
Then, from the booth adjacent to yours, a high-pitched wail rang out. A little boy, no older than three, had scraped his knee after slipping off the bench. His tiny face was scrunched up with distress, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His mother quickly swept him into her arms, whispering apologies while she blew on the scratch and rocked him back and forth. Meanwhile, the father leaned over the table, performing dramatic animal impressions, trying to make him laugh.
Their efforts were both sincere and embarrassed, but they didn’t stop until the wailing eventually turned into sniffles, then a hiccup, and then finally, a delighted babble.
You smiled at the young parents, waving off their repeated apologies for the disruption, but when you turned back to Caleb, you found him not watching you, but the family. His gaze was oddly wistful, and there was something raw in the way he was watching them, like he was tucking away each detail. The way the mother pressed her nose to her son’s temple. The way the father ruffled his hair with practiced affection. The way the child reached out to both of them at once, utterly trusting.
He offered you his usual boyish grin when he noticed your concern, but said nothing on the matter. But the image stayed with you.
Back home, Caleb noticed your unusual behaviour the moment you walked through the door.
“Well,” he announced, shrugging off his coat. “You’re being suspiciously quiet. You didn’t even insult my parallel parking. Should I be worried?”
You gave a noncommittal hum in response, and he frowned.
“Alright. No jokes, then.” He stepped closer and touched your elbow. “What’s wrong?”
You’d always promised each other to be transparent with your feelings, and you didn’t want to do him the disservice of lying to him, so you lifted your chin and asked plainly, “Is that something you want?”
“Wait, what?”
“Kids,” you clarified. “Is that something you want?”
Caleb raised a brow, a playful grin tugging his lips upward. “Were you thinking mischievous thoughts again, pipsqueak? Because I did say we’d save dessert for home.”
You shook your head solemnly. “No, I mean… today, at the restaurant. You looked like you wanted them. And I know we’re not at that stage yet, but I thought… I should be honest. Get it out in the open before it festers.”
“What brought this on?”
You swallowed nervously. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but I just didn’t know how to bring it up. Then I saw you watching them, and I thought, what if I’ve been leading you on? What if you do want that someday, and you’re wasting your time on me?”
Caleb looked heartbroken. “Oh, pips,” he muttered, lifting your knuckles to his lips. “How long have you been carrying this? Suffering all alone with such a heavy thing?”
You looked away.
“I never want you to feel like you can’t tell me anything,” he stated firmly. “We’ve always shared everything, haven’t we? Why should this be different? I want to be the one you can trust without restraint.”
“I know.”
He hesitated before asking, “Can I ask why?”
You tensed, bracing for judgment. “I don’t want to bring children into a world that hurts them. In a world where wanderers exist. Where kids like us grew up with shadows trailing behind us. I know I wouldn’t be able to protect them from everything, and that scares me.”
“Oh…”
“And I still have so much grief. I don’t think I’ve even fully recovered from losing you. Thinking that you were…"
Caleb pulled you into his arms immediately. "Words cannot describe how sorry I am to have put you through that, but I was trying to protect you. You know that, don’t you?”
You untangled yourself from his almost desperate grip, meeting his gaze with your steady one. “I know. That’s something we should probably discuss in more detail in the future, but it’s not what I’m trying to talk to you about right now. The truth is, there are a lot of things I’m working through, and I don’t think I’m mentally prepared to give a child the version of me they’d deserve. I want to heal my own inner child before I even think about raising one.”
Caleb listened intently.
“Maybe things will get better, or maybe they won’t, but I’m not going to gamble a child’s life on a maybe. I know I’ll probably never be in that place where I feel whole enough to try. So, please don’t tell me you’ll wait for me to change my mind. I’ve heard it enough from other people.”
Without hesitation, he reached forward and flicked your forehead with a mock scowl. “Pips, I’m not other people.”
“I know. I didn’t mean—”
“I’ve known you forever,” he continued without pause. “I know better than to say something idiotic like ‘you’ll change your mind' when you’re already certain about something. I know you don’t say things lightly, and neither do I.”
He looked away, then back at you with a thoughtful expression. “A part of me… yeah. I won’t lie. I used to think about it. How I’d try to do it right, if I ever had a family. How I’d be a better father than the one we never had. But maybe this life isn’t about fixing the past by repeating it differently. Maybe this life is for us to heal. To rest. To be whole again, in ways we never got to be. We deserve that too, don’t we?”
To say that you were surprised by his words would have been an understatement. The two of you had talked about many things, but this particular topic had never come up.
His voice cracked just slightly. “All I know is, whatever you decide, wherever your journey takes you, I will be by your side. No matter what future you choose, I will support you and love you endlessly. And if there’s anything I can do to help you heal, I’ll do it. No hesitation.”
You allowed yourself a small smile, despite your initial trepidation. “We’ll heal together then.”
“Yes. We’ll heal together.” Caleb shifted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “And since you trusted me enough to share that with me, I’ll share a part of me, too.”
His thumb was tracing idle circles against your palm, but you could see the subtle tension in his shoulders. “That look you saw on my face back at the restaurant, the one you thought was longing for kids?” He chuckled sheepishly. “It wasn’t that.”
“Then what was it?”
“I wasn’t envious of the parents for having a child,” he admitted. “I was envious of the kid…Is that stupid?”
You didn’t hesitate. “No, it’s not stupid.”
You didn’t ask for anything more, because you already knew. You understood him in that unspoken, wordless way the two of you had always shared. It hit you then, with the weight of a thousand unspoken memories. While you had always been shielded by his strength and wrapped up in his protection, he had always borne the brunt of his pain alone. From scraped knees to heartbreaks to grief, he let you lean on him, but he never let himself lean on anyone.
Who pressed kisses to his scabbed knees? Who brushed cool cloths to his fevered brow, or sang lullabies through the ache? Who made little flying planes with spoons and wiped stray sauce from his cheek? Definitely not Grandma.
He had played the part of your protector so fiercely, and with such relentless tenderness, you sometimes forgot he’d been a child too. A child who had needed what he freely gave to you.
Your eyes burned, and you threaded your arms around his waist to pull him close. Pressing your forehead into his shoulder, you let your unspoken sorrow anchor the gesture.
“I know,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”
You didn’t have anything else to offer—no fixes or do-overs. Just your arms, and your heart, and the promise of being the person who would stay with him now, as he began to open up more. As he let the cracks in his armour show, and allowed you to kiss every wound he once believed he had to bear alone.
Caleb’s arms wrapped around you in return, and he nuzzled your head affectionately. “You did nothing to be sorry for.”
“I know. But I still am.”
“And here I thought I’d have to share you with someone else someday. Guess I get to keep you all to myself, huh?”
“Caleb!” You smacked his chest, even as you were pressed up against it, and he winced.
“And you know…” he added in the half-teasing, half-serious tone he’d perfected over the years. “Even if we never have kids, that doesn’t mean our lives will be empty. There are plenty of memories to make. Joy that’s still waiting for us, just around the corner. I’ll find new dreams with you, ones we choose together.”