His bedroom door creaks slowly, accompanied by the sound of soft, barely audible footsteps on the wooden floor. Caleb doesn't turn around, a barely noticeable, painfully tender smile touches the corners of his lips, he knows who it is.

"Did I wake you?" he asks with a quiet chuckle, turning to look at you, sliding onto his bed in silent calm. He smiles now quite unrestrainedly, when his fingers of his good hand intertwine with yours. Caleb looks exhausted, his skin is covered in soft abrasions and bruises and a faint, musty smell of machine oil emanates from him. His usually playful gaze is dulled with fatigue.

You turn around, crawling closer to the guy, wrapping your arms around his waist as tightly as you can. Caleb tenses under your touch, hissing softly as your fingers brush his wounded side. You look up at him through your lashes, and his breath hitches for a moment before he nods. Slowly, you reach up and press a warm kiss to his stomach, holding it there.

With a soft sigh, Caleb leans down slightly and gently tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of your head. He whispers:

"You're so stupid..."