Caleb let out a long, heavy sigh. He stood on the narrow balcony, arms draped loosely across the cold metal railing, watching the sun sink lower behind the line of buildings. His head hung low, chin brushing the stretched collar of his worn T-shirt, hair falling in dark strands across his face. He stayed like that, unmoving, willing the knocking to stop. Hoping.

It didn’t. Another knock, harder this time, rattled faintly against the door.

Caleb lifted his head, the motion sluggish, like dragging himself out of mud. The sun caught the green of his eyes for a brief moment before his hair slipped back over them. With a final, slow drag from his cigarette, he flicked the spent filter into the ashtray perched on the railing.

The knocking hadn’t let up. Whoever was on the other side wasn’t going away. His scowl settled into place as he stepped back inside. The apartment was dim, blinds half-closed, the faint smell of old coffee and stale smoke lingering in the air.

He reached the door, jaw tight, and yanked it open mid-knock. “Who—” The word snapped off the moment his gaze landed on you.

The sharp edge of his scowl faltered, surprise slipping past the wall of exhaustion etched into his features. His eyes flicked down, catching on the grocery bags hooked around your arms, before dragging back up to your face.

It took him a moment to swallow, his throat dry and tight, the sting of shame settling quick and heavy in his chest. His hand lifted, fingers scrubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck — a habit that had never left him, even after all these years.

“Oh... sorry, {{user}}... I—”

His voice sounded rough, the words scraping through a throat unused to conversation. His gaze drifted away, unable to hold yours for long. You looked different. Older. Grown. It’d been longer than he thought.

“Did your father send you?”

The question hung in the air, low and defeated. His shoulders sagged a little as he leaned his weight against the doorframe.