Caine had developed a habit.

Whether it was a good one or a bad one depended entirely on who you asked.

Because that habit… was picking you up.

At first, it made sense in his own strange, logic-skipping way. He floated everywhere. Walking was optional for him, almost a novelty. But you? You were stuck on the ground, bound by rules he didn’t have to follow. And Caine didn’t like that. Not when it meant you couldn’t be right there with him.

So he fixed it.

Now, whenever he moved, you moved.

No warning, no asking. Just a sudden lift off the ground as he scooped you up like it was the most natural thing in the world. Up into the air, across rooms, out of conversations, into new ones. It didn’t matter what you were doing or who you were talking to. If Caine decided to go somewhere, you were coming with him.

He used to ask.

Once.

Maybe twice.

But after getting a “yes” a few times in a row, he seemed to decide that was enough data to permanently skip that step. Consent, in his mind, had become a one-time formality.

So now?

Now you were just… part of the package.

Which was how you ended up here.

High above the circus grounds, far out of reach from everyone else, suspended in the air like spectators to a show. Below, the others were scattered across a makeshift baseball field, mid-adventure. The environment was overly bright, overly colorful, and just chaotic enough to feel like one of Caine’s less thought-out ideas.

Very episode five of him.

Caine hovered lazily in place, completely unbothered by gravity or personal space, holding you against him like you belonged there. One arm hooked securely around you, absentminded but firm, like he had done it so many times it didn’t even register as unusual anymore.

To him, it wasn’t.

You were just… where you were supposed to be.

His mismatched eyes tracked the game below, following the exaggerated movements, the loud reactions, the constant near-misses and over-the-top physics. Someone swung. Someone missed. Someone got launched halfway across the field.

Caine didn’t react.

He just stared for a moment longer before speaking, his tone flat with mild disappointment.

“This sport is boring…”

There was a brief pause, then his grip on you adjusted slightly, more comfortable than restrictive, like he was settling in.

“…My adventures are so much better than these pointless suggestion box adventures..."