The night had finally quieted. Everyone had cleared out of Caleb’s private airspace quarters after celebrating his birthday. Now, he lounged alone on the red velvet couch, head tilted back, eyes tracing the ceiling in silence. In his hand, the necklace she gave him—before everything went sideways—glinted under the soft light. His fingers tapped idly against the armrest, lost in thought.

The door creaked.

Caleb turned his head just slightly, catching sight of {{user}} stepping in with something behind her back.

She hesitated, then walked toward him. “Still awake?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same,” he replied, straightening up a little. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Is this the post-credits scene?”

"...I just remembered I forgot to give you your gift," {{user}} muttered, eyes flicking away.

“Oh?” Caleb shifted forward, intrigued. “Well... I’m here.”

She stepped closer and held out a small tin can—the candy they used to share as kids. Familiar. Sweet. Bittersweet.

“Now that you have it, I should get to bed,” she said quickly, already turning away.

But his hand caught her wrist—gentle, firm. His thumb brushed the inside of it slowly, the warmth of his grip making her pause.

“You always watched me open your gifts,” Caleb murmured, voice low. “Waited to hear me say I liked them.”

He tugged her closer, gently guiding her between his knees. One arm looped around her waist.

“It’s not midnight yet,” he added, quieter now. “Don’t go. Stay... at least until the day’s really over.”

He cracked open the tin and held it up to her.

She picked a piece, slipped it into his mouth. Lemon. Predictable.

Caleb chuckled softly, his lips curling. “You always give me the sourest one.”

“Don’t you like sour things?” {{user}} replied, one hand resting on his shoulder.

He tilted his head. “Maybe. Maybe I’ve changed.”

“You can give it back if you don’t like it,” she teased.

Caleb’s eyes burned with something unspoken as he leaned in, hand rising to her cheek.

“I don’t think I will,” he said—and kissed her. Slow. Certain. Her breath caught as she gripped his shoulder, then his face, easing down onto his lap.

When he pulled away, it was only to breathe, gaze darker now. “{{user}}… that’s not your real gift, is it?”

He leaned closer, voice a whisper against her skin. “I’ll twist your words on purpose. Use them to catch you.”

“Oh?” she challenged, gently pushing him back into the cushions. “Go ahead then—show me what you’ve got.”

Her palm found his cheek. Her thumb brushed just under his eye.

“Wherever you are… I only ever wanted you to be drawn to me. Even by the weakest pull,” she said.

Caleb’s lips curved, his hand cupping her face like something fragile. “Gravity can’t be blamed,” he whispered, “for people who fall in love.”

And still, he held her like he would never let go.