Chapter Text
For as long as you could remember, Caleb and Zayne had been an inextricable part of your life. Your first memory was one that you shared with the two of them— of building flower crowns. You remembered how the three of you sat in the grass, your fingers deft and quick to work as you twisted vines, spun around the stems and branches, and threaded flowers through the little loops you created for them. You remembered feeling the prick of a rose thorn, which immediately drew blood, and the tears that pricked your eyes as you looked at Caleb. Your dearest brother was quick to act, grasping your fingers and shoving them into his mouth, his saliva coating the wound as you wailed. "It huuurts!!" you had cried, almost inconsolable despite Zayne patting your knee in an attempt to reassure you. He ended up smacking Caleb— who himself was on the verge of tears— and withdrew your fingers from Caleb's mouth, wrapping his handkerchief around the wound so it would bleed no further. The last thing you remembered was the two of them coddling you, braiding your hair and sticking flowers in them, calling you their 'princess' and referring to themselves as your knights. Your finger didn't hurt anymore and you were never really upset in the first place. Thinking back, you were certain that even your juvenile self just wanted to be pampered by them. They were everything to you, the center of your universe, and so you wanted to be everything to them as well. You wanted them all to yourself.
It was a childish fantasy that somehow haunted you to adulthood. The three of you were always together— you grew up as neighbours, went to the same school, and now even the same university. It was inevitable that you would eventually have to part ways and build your own lives, whether that be as a career or family. And you hated the thought of that. It was always striking whenever that feeling crept upon you. It would slither into your belly, curling up there and filling you with an imminent sense of dread. Whenever that happened, you would always imagine them walking away, and what scared you the most was their fixated gaze and the way they refused to look at you. You despised it, knowing that they no longer cherished you, that they now had priorities that were set apart from you. You often berated yourself for housing such a disgusting feeling. It was selfish and cruel, not to mention downright fucked up. You could not begin to assign a meaning to it either. After all, the three of you had grown up together. Wasn't this just merely a childish attachment— one that you had failed to outgrow? Maybe this meant that you needed to broaden your horizons and meet other men. But that was also something you hated. The thought of engaging intimately with other men made your skin crawl. How could it not, when all you ever craved were the affectionate gazes of Caleb and Zayne? How could anything ever even compare when-
"Hey, pipsqueak."
You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of Caleb stirring next to you. You turned to find him peeking at you, the violet irises of one eye glinting under the rays of the sun, while the other remained obscured by his mussed up hair. You had crept into his bed the previous night when those dreadful feelings arose, seeking comfort in his warm presence. He had wordlessly lifted his sheets and allowed you to tuck yourself into his side, wrapping his arms around your shoulders protectively as he mumbled sleepily to ask if you were okay. You had not answered him. You didn't need to, as being by his side was enough to chase away the guilt that had frozen you moments earlier.
"Mhmm," you hummed, smoothing his hair out and feeling appeased by the affectionate smile that took over his lips. He leaned into your touch absently, nudging his nose against the palm of your hand. You briefly thought about tracing the sun spots scattered across his cheeks, but your hand didn't budge; almost as if it wanted to prolong the casual intimacy of this moment. You were acutely aware that he was shirtless underneath the sheets, and you felt mildly disappointed that he was no longer holding you.
"We need to tidy up a bit. Zayne's coming over today, remember?" he said, his voice still husky from sleep, as he trapped your hand in his and held it to his cheek.
Oh yeah, you thought. That was why you had found yourself victim to that ugly feeling that had you spiralling for the past day. Zayne had departed to Akso Hospital for an internship nearly two weeks ago. It was the first time you had been apart for so long. You had exclaimed excitedly when he had first told you about it, acting giddy for him because you knew that he would otherwise humble himself a little too much. You knew that it would be a wonderful opportunity for him and you never failed to emphasize how proud you were, unaware of just how much you would end up missing him. In a way, this was one of those events that finalized the prospect of their inevitable absence, and you found it difficult to console yourself. After all, you always ran to either Caleb or Zayne in times of trouble. So if they were gone, who would you go to now?
Caleb let go of your hand and moved out from under the sheets, letting out a yawn as he stood up. Your eyes instinctively followed his movement— watching his broad shoulders convulse as he stretched, the muscles rippling across the expanse of skin covering his chest. He was only clad in his shorts, which had dropped low enough that you could see the band of his underwear poking out. He scratched his stomach languidly, and you bit the inside of your cheek as you traced the path of a drop of sweat that ambled down his torso. His toned abdomen glowed in the early sunlight, and you couldn't help attending to the sharp indents of his hipbones. You only looked away when Caleb caught your eye, shooting you a sweet smile as he traipsed into the bathroom. You wanted to bash your head against a wall. Sometimes you hated yourself for looking at your brother this way; with a corrupted gaze that seemed to emerge from nowhere. But what you hated even more was the heat that pooled at the bottom of your stomach, setting your insides ablaze and leaving you short of breath. You liked to blame it on him, saying that his genes were too good for his own benefit. You knew it was inherently wrong, but you also couldn't help it. Caleb was nice to look at. People were always looking at him. So what did one more pair of eyes matter?
The two of you tidied the house to the best of your abilities. Of course, Caleb always liked to keep the house clean so it was not a big task, but Zayne had an eye for perfection that the two of you lacked, and you definitely did not want him to nag you on the day of his return. You were busy handling the laundry when Caleb called out for you. "Pips, look who's here!" He sounded excited, and you felt your heart leap within your chest.
Your feet carried you over before you could think. You rushed to a stop in the living room, feeling warmth spread all over you as you watched Zayne unload his bags, a fond smile on his lips. "Hello, my dear." He grinned, opening his arms and inviting you in for a hug. Before you could stop yourself, you rushed towards him, jumping into his arms and clinging onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He made a sound in surprise, but nevertheless adjusted his grip around you and held you close.
"Zayne…" you breathed, burying your nose in his neck. You wanted to tell him that you missed him, but the words stopped dead in your throat, forming a lump there and refusing to come out. Wouldn't it be a little silly to say something so dramatic when it had only been two weeks? Was it really your place to demand his unchanging presence? A part of you refused to let that vulnerability show— you felt like you didn't deserve that liberty. And so you just held him tighter, inhaling his scent, committing it to your memory after weeks of being apart. He smelled the same; like clean linen and the remnants of coffee— and something else too—jasmines?
"Did you miss me that much?" he asked with a chuckle, caressing the back of your head and letting his slender fingers comb through your hair.
"Absolutely not," you mumbled, loosening your grip on him and letting him lower you to the ground. You had forgotten to get a good look at him in your excitement, and so you trained your eyes on him as he stepped away. He looked the same— dark, tousled locks of hair that hung over his eyes, an angular nose, a gentle smile on his lips that accentuated his cupid's bow in a lovely manner. The only difference were his eyes— the usual, glittering hazel gems were replaced by a dim green instead, the bags evident under his red pupils. You frowned, realizing that the internship was probably more taxing than he had let on in all his texts and calls.
"You're not fooling anyone, silly. Who was clinging to him like a koala just now?" Caleb laughed, regarding the two of you warmly. He had probably noticed the same unwelcome differences that you had, because his eyebrows knit together in concern. "You feelin' a little tired, Zaynie?"
Zayne's nose scrunched up at the nickname (he seemed to dislike when Caleb called him that, but allowed it with a roll of his eyes whenever you did), and waved his hand dismissively. "Things are always difficult at a hospital. I had to help the professor with his research, so I was busier than previously anticipated." He saw the forlorn expressions on your faces and grinned, patting you both on the head. "Nothing you two need to concern yourselves with. I'm perfectly capable of handling this much."
You and Caleb shared a look. Zayne spoke with such finality that the two of you knew better than to press on. But you were also aware that Zayne had a habit of writing off his struggles. It was evident in every manner— his shoulders sagged, his glasses lay lopsided over the bridge of his nose, and his pupils seemed to glaze over despite his little smiles— he was absolutely exhausted. And while you and Caleb knew there was no point talking about it and bothering his psyche further, what you could do was attempt to make it better. A simple nod of the head was enough for the two of you to understand what needed to be done next.
"How about some pancakes for breakfast?" Caleb exclaimed, clapping Zayne on the shoulders and massaging them softly as he led him to the kitchen.
Zayne hummed in approval, perking up slightly. "Sounds good." He started rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and turned to look at you. "Unpack my suitcase for me while we get things ready. I brought some souvenirs for you."
You sputtered in protest. "You should take some time to unwind. I know you're probably tired after travelling so," you traipsed over to Caleb and picked up a spatula, "We can handle it."
"Nonsense. A princess should not concern herself with such work," Zayne scoffed right back, wrestling the spatula out of your hands.
You felt your cheeks heat up at the mention of the childhood nickname. It was so banal and silly, and whenever you thought they'd finally forgotten it, they'd bring it up at the most random moments. It was a reminder of your cringey childish self, who was the least bit subtle when it came to demanding their attention. But at the same time, you couldn't help the pride that flared through you whenever you heard it. It reminded you that you were still, at least for now, something precious to them.
You nearly attempted to grab the spatula right back from his hands, but the strict smile that took over his lips made you relent, realizing that he meant business.
"Alright, alright." You sighed, hands up in defeat as you stepped away.
"Good," Zayne smiled, all warm and sweet again, but it soon faded as he regarded you more closely. "Wait, are you wearing Caleb's shirt?"
You shrugged dismissively as you turned on your heel, heading back to the living room to gather Zayne's suitcase. "Oh, I just grabbed the first clean thing I found."
As you walked away, you missed the smirk that tugged at Caleb's lips, and also the mischievous wink that he shot at Zayne.
Zayne simply rolled his eyes, smacking Caleb's arm as he took his place next to him at the stove.
You watched the two men working away in the kitchen, their backs turned to you as they tussled with the batter, laughing and bumping into each other playfully while they stood watchfully over the pan. You liked when things were like this— just the three of you in your own little bubble, going through the motions of life together. You could be doing the most ordinary thing in the world, like making breakfast together, and it would bring you the greatest comfort knowing that you still had their unwavering presence. You felt a familiar warmth blaze through your chest as you watched their tall forms hunched together, heads barely bumping as they sliced fruit. You liked watching them like this; just existing, observing how they walked, how their fingers moved, how their feet shuffled back and forth with every step, how their jaws opened and their tongues flicked as they spoke. You liked learning every little, inconsequential thing about them and etching it into your memory.
For example, Zayne was more of a cuddler than he let on, and Caleb was touchier than usual when it was just the three of you. Zayne had rested his hand comfortably on Caleb's shoulder as they peered at the stove, letting his fingers occasionally sift through the hair at the nape of Caleb's neck. Caleb would bump Zayne's hip with his own when he felt too ticklish, and the dark-haired man would laugh affably. You knew Caleb could be protective (a virtue that you liked more than you would care to admit), and this extended to Zayne as well. He would steer him away from the pan whenever the bacon crackled in the oil, and he would deftly swipe the knife from Zayne's hands whenever he attempted to slice any fruit. It was ironic, given that Zayne was studying to become a surgeon who would have to be well acquainted with sharp objects, but Caleb was adamant that the two of you would steer clear of potentially dangerous situations in his midst. Given that they were both determined to be providers, they would sometimes clash over this. They were similar in that regard— stubborn to a fault, refusing to withdraw when it came to their personal ideals. One thing that they could agree on, though, was you. When it came to you, they would abandon everything just to be by your side. At least, that was what you believed.
The warmth in you slowly started to burn as you watched them, twisting into that jilted possessiveness that you wished you could run away from. You were pulled into a memory about a conversation you had shared with Tara.
"Okay but like, who would you choose?" she had asked, her eyes sparkling. "If you had to choose between Caleb or Zayne, who would you choose?"
You had scoffed in reply, turning away to stare outside the cafe window. "Why would I ever have to choose? I have the both of them, don't I?"
Tara laughed, an astonished little sound that made you look at her again. "Oh honey, you can't be THAT greedy! As much as you hate to admit it, we all know you have a little crush on them."
You blushed in spite of yourself. It was almost involuntary, the way your cheeks immediately flushed despite your mind vehemently protesting against such an idea.
Tara's smile widened as she went on—"You can't be with both of them. That would be cruel. How do you think that would make them feel?"
You had pursed your lips, tugging them between your teeth. Your hands suddenly felt clammy.
"So, who would it be? Who would you choose?"
That innocuous question echoed in your mind as the three of you sat together, eating breakfast. It was something that you never had the liberty of thinking about. As a child, you automatically assumed that they would stay by your side forever. As you grew up and explored your feelings, you had never allowed yourself to think of them as something more. It felt dirty and unfathomable— they were your closest companions, your brother and your dearest friend. What if any wanton feelings that you harboured for them ended up soiling the peaceful warmth of this relationship? Nothing would hurt worse than their absence. And yet—sometimes your eyes would linger a little too long, and you'd find yourself fixated on the most infinitesimal details. Like the low, weighty thump of Caleb's footsteps, or the way his ears reddened after a workout; the upturned slope of Zayne's eyes and the melodic hum that left his throat when he felt pleased. And even worse— sometimes you'd find yourself in their rooms, running your fingers over their belongings as if to possess any remnants of them. You would spray their perfume on your wrist and hold it to your nose throughout the day, savouring the part of them that you carried around. Sometimes, when Zayne stayed over, you'd creep into the hallway at night and sit in the junction between Caleb's room and the guest bedroom. You'd curl up on the floor, listening to the sounds of them breathe as they slept, feeling your heart quicken with every inhale and exhale. You nearly always felt guilty afterwards, and you would lay awake feeling sick to your stomach. You could delude yourself into thinking it was mere admiration when you were a child, but even your vehement denial of your darkest feelings could not entirely protect you from reality. That maybe, just maybe, they meant something more than just 'family' to you.
"What's got your head in the clouds, Pipsqueak?"
Your spiralling thoughts were interrupted by Caleb's voice, his curious eyes scanning your face to find the source of your unease. Your eyes flittered to Zayne who bore a similar expression. The last thing you wanted was to worry them unnecessarily, especially when Zayne was still exhausted from his trip. So you raised your fork to your mouth and stuffed a large strawberry inside, chewing hurriedly and mustering a smile.
"Mhm— just thinking about what we should do tonight," you mumbled, turning your gaze to your plate.
Caleb chuckled, dragging your plate away from your grasp. He started slicing the pancakes into bite-sized pieces. "Alright, alright. Maybe slow down a little. Can't have your train of thought leavin' you choking."
Zayne smiled fondly at you, raising his hand to wipe away a bit of whipped cream at the corner of your lips. "How about some wine and dine? It's been a while since we drank together, hasn't it?" He lifted his finger to his mouth and licked it clean. He did it like it was the most natural thing in the world, as he had done numerous times before. You felt your stomach clench, and something deep within your heart twisted.
"Hey, that sounds fun!" Caleb's eyes lit up. He pierced a piece of pancake with his fork and held it up to your mouth, prompting you to eat. "What do you think, Pips? We don't have class tomorrow so we can have a late morning."
You nodded, opening your mouth to take a bite. The two started discussing what snacks to arrange, and as you sat between them savouring the exchange of their voices, the answer to Tara's question slowly creeped into your mind. A horrible, almost sickening conclusion; but one that you were helpless to object to, for it made perfect sense to you.
I want them both. I wouldn't have it any other way. Things are so perfect just the way they are— how could Tara expect me to exist without one of them?
The night had been pleasant so far— you had tidied up the house while Caleb and Zayne went out to buy drinks and snacks. You sucked on the chocolate that Zayne had got you— ones from the mountains always tasted different, probably an altitude thing?— as you folded his coat and put it away. A devious part of you wished to hold it close to your face, bury your nose in it so you could engrave his scent onto your senses, but you quickly banished the thought as you recalled the guilt you would feel later. It was a sense of shame that you felt often whenever you crept into Caleb's bed while he was away at the DAA, wrapping yourself in his sheets simply so that you could be enshrouded in his scent. Sometimes you couldn't bear to look at him afterwards, hating yourself for being the way you were, and you would avoid him until he started bothering you in his usual, annoyingly sweet way. "Hey, Pips! I could juggle three muffins and catch them in my mouth. C'mon, I need you as my audience!" He'd follow you around the house, poking your cheek and pulling all sorts of antics until you finally mustered a smile.
When the boys returned, you decided to watch a movie together. It was cozy— sitting tucked in between the two of them, your head resting against Zayne's shoulder while your hand rested in Caleb's lap. He liked hugging your arm, tugging it occasionally when something interesting happened, or fiddling with your knuckles aimlessly when he was engrossed in a particular scene. It was pleasant feeling Zayne's cheek rest against your head, and equally rewarding every time his body reverberated as he laughed. You had never felt more at home. When a particularly suggestive scene played, you felt the two of them stiffen next to you. Your cheeks warmed, feeling awkward yourself, but none of you moved— determined to push through the anguish to display just how mature you were. It had been like this ever since you were kids, and now that you were all adults that knew perfectly well what happened behind bedroom doors, you had to teeter around this line of ignorance.
You fiddled with your fingers, praying the scene would get over quickly, when a troublesome thought emerged in your mind. Wouldn't Caleb and Zayne have engaged in such acts before? It was a conversation you had never had before because, well, it never really came up. What kind of guy talked to his female friend about all the sex he was having? It was an idea that you sometimes grappled with but refused to confront, until now, that is. You were well aware that they were incredibly popular. Caleb was the DAA's golden boy, a prodigy that was the center of attention, his radiant smile and affable personality captivating people wherever he went. Meanwhile, Zayne was held in high regard at the medical department, often praised for his dutiful resilience and kind demeanour, and was a fan favourite amongst professors and patients alike. You were used to hearing your friends begging you to introduce them to the two. It wouldn't be such a ridiculous idea if they had any sexual experience. So why did it fill you with such unease? All you had ever wanted was for them to remain by your side— whether they had other people they were equally fond of didn't matter to you. Right? Isn't that what you had believed for so long? When did this perturbing feeling emerge? How long had it been since it had sunk its teeth into your spine? You felt frozen, dreadful, downright selfish.
You felt Caleb's grip on your hand tighten, and you turned your head to find his eyes on you. He squeezed your hand once again, inquisitive violet eyes peering at you. "All okay?" —he seemed to be asking. You nodded, turning your eyes to look back at the TV. You let out an exhale you were unaware you were holding when you felt him look away.
Stupid Caleb. How can I not have such thoughts when you keep treating me like this?
The drinks started rolling out a few hours later. Zayne poured you a cocktail— "An appetizer," he had winked playfully— that you downed dutifully. You felt your spine tingle as the acidic drink trickled down your throat. It felt good, a welcome distraction from the mess that had been made of your mind. You savoured the way it freed your wanton thoughts, replacing them with a blissful state of catatonia that had you solely concerned with enjoying the presence of the two men you adored most. You giggled as Zayne grabbed your hand, twirling you around and shuffling back and forth with your back against his chest, a tender smile on his lips. "You look happy," he said, and you shivered when his breath tickled your ear.
"I like being with you guys like this," you said, twisting yourself out of his grasp to grab Caleb's hand instead. He fluttered along the room with you, your palm warm in his as he guided you to the rhythm of the music.
"You look lovely," Caleb breathed, close enough that only you could hear, and you rolled your eyes despite the heat on your cheeks. I'm literally just wearing your shirt and lounge pants, you thought to yourself. You laughed as Caleb bumped into Zayne, playfully wiggling his eyebrows and enticing Zayne to join his jive. Zayne made a futile attempt to escape his ministrations but was ultimately manhandled to submit, and ended up caught between you and Caleb, who grabbed his hands as you jumped in excitement, loudly mouthing the lyrics to the song.
You poured yourself seconds and thirds, eventually switching to wine. You relished the sweet aftertaste it left, dulling your senses enough that everything around you seemed like a hazy dream. Caleb and Zayne didn't seem to stop you like they usually would have, instead choosing to regard you with an amused smile every time you stumbled over your words and giggled uncontrollably. Then again, they were probably just as drunk as you were, pouring themselves refills as they talked animatedly— the politics between the professors at Akso Hospital, the herculean task of completing flight manuals on time, night spent on organising poorly made hospital reports, the drama of the shared rivalry between the pilots. You nursed your own drink from your place on the couch, taking little sips as you watched their lips move. You were far gone by now— the world looked bleary, your cheeks were flushed, and you knew that attempting to stand would be unwise. But you felt so, so blissful. You felt like you were floating, and all your previous worries felt like they originated from some alternate reality. You had no cause for concern here. All you had to do was enjoy this moment, hold this view close to your heart and infuse it into your senses. Things like choice and shame had no place here— because weren't the two of them here with you?
"I remember you used to follow us around when we were kids," Caleb laughed. "You'd get bothered if me and Zayne ever did anything without you."
The topic had eventually shifted to your shared childhood memories, as expected. The three of you sat on the floor of the living room, faces all flushed and warm, drunk giggles permeating the air.
"Yeah, I remember that," Zayne chuckled airily. His cheeks were tinged a lovely pink, his glasses already discarded as they kept fogging up. "I kind of miss that. Why don't you do that anymore? It would be nice to have you at the hospital."
"I get you, Zaynie," Caleb nodded. "We could use a cute co-pilot at the DAA. You'd sound great over the interphone."
"Ugh, you guys are so ridiculous!" you exclaimed, hiding your face in your hands at their relentless teasing. Their giddy laughs resounded through the room. You emptied the few sips of wine left in your glass and fixed the two of them with a steely look. Your vision was blurry, but you could still make out the delighted grins on their faces. "You guys were just as nosy, if not worse."
"There's no way we were worse than you," Zayne remarked, taking a sip from his own glass.
"You guys absolutely were. You think I didn't know about you two following me everywhere and monitoring who I was with?"
You would have normally never said this. They were probably unaware that you even knew, but how could you not? You could always sense a second and third pair of footsteps behind your own. You were well aware of all the bullies and wayward admirers they had dealt with when you were younger, and you'd often turn a deaf ear when your friends confessed they felt like they were being 'watched' sometimes. You knew that you were supposed to feel betrayed at such an invasion of privacy, but it didn't exactly bother you. Feeling their tall figures lingering in the corner of the room, their watchful eyes assessing every person you talked to— it had filled you with so much elation. It was a reminder that, despite having their own priorities, their concern for you trumped their busy schedules. You had told yourself that you would never reveal this, that you would keep it to yourself lest they cease it at the prospect of your discomfort, but common sense did not exactly work well in your drunken stupor.
They visibly stiffened, and a satisfied smile made its way to your lips.
"T-that…that was just- it was out of concern," Zayne sputtered, his eyes darting to Caleb's. "We were just looking out for you. There are all kinds of degenerates in this world."
"Yeah," Caleb continued, taking a nervous sip from his glass. "It's our duty to protect you always, make sure you were safe. We didn't know that you—"
"—Yeah, yeah, you guys sure took your duty seriously," you interrupted. Your words were starting to slur, and your mouth was beginning to betray your thoughts. "It's understandable if I was still a kid, but now that I'm in college, you're seriously going to keep it up? Seriously? All the guys steer clear of me because of you two. They don't want to talk to me unless it's for a project, and even then they look scared, like- like they're doing something wrong. No one wants to look at me, or…or flirt with me. A girl would like a little attention sometimes, you know? I've never been in a relationship, shit, I haven't even been kissed yet. And it's all your faults."
You were rambling. You didn't mean any of it. You had never cared for any other men, and you were relieved that they steered clear of you. You were aimlessly blabbering, attempting to sound pitiful so that they would coddle you again, pat you on the head and reassure you that you would always have them if not anybody else. You flopped back against the leg of the sofa, failing to notice the brief silence that had taken over the room. Caleb and Zayne were looking at each other, their eyes locked in wordless conversation. They got up, inching closer to you so that you were now huddled in a circle before you.
"Why would you say that, pipsqueak?" Caleb asked. His voice sounded light and casual, but his eyes betrayed no emotion. "Is there…do you like…someone?"
You giggled at such a ridiculous idea, and gazed at the two men before you. "Maybe, maybe not." Everything looked fuzzy, but you could clearly make out their intense eyes. A deep, nebulous violet; a scintillating, verdant green. You didn't understand why they looked so uneasy. You wanted to reach out and smooth the wrinkles between their brows, feel it melt underneath your fingertips. But you were also past caring, simply concerned with perpetuating the pleasance that bubbled up within your chest. You raised your empty glass to your mouth, craving another taste of the sweet wine.
"Come on, tell us…,"Zayne urged softly, lifting his hand up to still your own. "You used to tell us everything. We didn't know that you wanted to do…such things."
"What, kiss?" Of course I want to kiss!" You laughed drunkenly, twirling your glass in your hand as you mused out loud. "You know, I've always wondered if I'd be good at it. Doesn't everyone think about that sometimes? Don't you guys think about it? Hey, wait- are you guys good at kissing?"
Their eyes widened and they looked at each other again. They looked guilty for some reason. You felt your heart twist. Your blissful illusion was briefly shattered. You reached over their figures- ignoring their exclaims of protest- and grabbed the partially empty wine bottle, lifting it to your lips and finishing its contents in two quick gulps.
"Well, that doesn't matter. We're talking about me, not you guys. Me, and my lack of kisses. Because of you," you rambled before they could say anything. The wine burned as it flowed down, leaving a fiery trail at the back of your neck. You shuddered, before continuing,"—In fact, you guys…you should take responsibility. Yeah, that makes sense. It's your fault so you should do something about it."
You couldn't ignore the silence this time. It stretched out for a little too long, and you sat in almost painful anticipation as you looked at the men before you. No looks were exchanged between them— they kept their eyes on you, their cheeks tinged pink, a sheen of sweat beading their necks.
"And how do you suppose we should take responsibility?" Zayne asked, his voice low. Something about the way he said it— curt, restrained, his eyes glinting in the dim light— it made you shiver a little.
"I-I don't know," you sputtered, averting your eyes from the intensity of their gazes. "I just…I guess I'm just scared of it. I don't know how it works. What if I just suck? I know I'm being stupid but…"
"Hey, you're not being stupid," Caleb said softly. His hand flew to your head, gently caressing it as he spoke. "We…we had no idea you were so…so concerned about these things."
What are we talking about again? You thought to yourself. You were absolutely frazzled and had no concept of what was going on. All you knew was that a part of your heart still ached as you recalled the flash of guilt on their faces. But this—this was good. They were looking at you with concern again, like you were precious to them once more. All you had to do was keep talking.
"Yeah, there's a lot you don't know. Because you're mean. Meanies. The worst," you drawled. You punched them both in the arm, and felt the burden on your heart lighten when they finally cracked a smile. "I guess…I wish there was a less embarrassing way to learn, you know?"
Caleb continued caressing your head, letting his fingers comb through the ends of your hair. "I think I understand what you mean. You just wish you had someone to teach you, isn't that right?"
You hummed, leaning slightly into his touch. You let your eyes fall shut, feeling the warmth of his breath against your cheek.
"We could help you."
Your eyes flew open. Caleb smiled softly, and his hand trailed down to your chin. His touch was feather-light, and you shivered as his finger traced the curve of your cheek. Zayne watched silently, his lips pursed as if he was hesitant, but his eyes probed yours, appearing almost expectant.
"Wha- what do you mean?" You could feel the blood rushing in your head. You had never felt more confused. What was Caleb talking about? Help? Help with what? With kissing? Was he joking? He certainly looked like he was joking— his lips had curved up in that same mischievous smile that he donned whenever he tripped you in the hallway or hid your snacks. But there was something different about them. They had an almost devious edge to them, one that made you sure he was serious.
"We could show you." Caleb's eyes were dark, his pupils blown back. His face looked flushed and red, obscuring the freckles on his cheeks that you adored so much. You would have revelled in this sight, a side of him that you had never seen before, if it wasn't for the words coming out of his mouth.
You felt your stomach twist. Your heart was beating so loudly, you were sure he could feel it through the tips of his fingers that rested against your cheek. You could feel the shame slithering up your spine again, taking its place inside your ribcage, preventing you from breathing. Whatever he was suggesting; it was unfathomable, absolutely scandalous, beyond the question. So why did you feel this odd sense of ardour blended with your panic?
"Y-you mean—" your eyes flittered between their looming figures,"—you both are going to demonstrate?"
There was a brief pause, and then Caleb's lips stretched into a smirk. He looked over at Zayne, whose eyes appeared almost hazy. They seemed to have some sort of silent exchange, before Caleb looked back at you. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "If that's what you want."
You felt frozen in place. What was going on? Was this some kind of twisted dream? Were you going to wake up if you ever so much as moved? Your face was so hot, and you felt like you had been set on fire. And yet anticipation burned in your bones, so much so that you felt your hands tremble. You were scared to move, expectancy and trepidation boiling within you, but you nodded your head. Slowly, almost imperceptibly.
Caleb retracted his hand from your face. Him and Zayne shifted so that they were sitting cross-legged directly in front of you, their faces inches away from each other. They kept their eyes on you as they leaned in—lips parted, their heads tilted to the side— and kissed. You held your breath as you watched Zayne inhale raggedly and caress Caleb's lips with his own, kissing the top lip first and then the bottom. Caleb sighed as their noses touched, his lips moving against Zayne's in a lazy yet fervent rhythm. You felt heat pool in your stomach when they pulled away, their faces still touching as they looked at you, their eyes black with want.
Zayne licked his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. "So…what do you think?"
You swallowed, unable to think or focus on anything other than their pink lips resting against one another. Your heart was thudding so loud that you couldn't think straight. Everything was spinning, and it almost seemed like the roof of the room would collapse on you. You felt like you had to run, and yet the sight of your closest friends panting in front of you held you frozen in place. It wasn't enough. You wanted to know more, you wanted to see more.
"It's not like how it is in the movies," you blurted out.
They glanced at each other, and then Zayne snickered, shaking his head. He reached up to undo the first few buttons of his shirt, wiping the sweat off his neck as he adjusted the collar.
"Is that right?" he drawled, his voice dangerously low. "Hear that, Caleb? She's disappointed. No more kiddie games."
Caleb chuckled, a breathy sound that made your insides tingle. "Maybe we should do it like we always do, Zaynie."
He grabbed the collar of Zayne's shirt and yanked it forward so that their faces were inches apart. You squirmed in your seat, anticipation surpassing any sense that you had left in you. His eyes remained on you as his mouth parted and his tongue emerged to swipe over Zayne's cupid's bow. Caleb licked along the dip of his philtrum, tracing its curve with the tip of his tongue. He pulled away and the two of them looked at you— their faces flushed, heat emanating from your bodies, your breaths ragged by the tension permeating the air. Caleb's hands sidled over Zayne's shoulders, taking rest at the sides of his face. His thumb flittered over Zayne's cheekbones, and you shivered when Zayne let out a grunt as Caleb's fingers stretched over the nape of his neck. A part of you wondered what it felt like— to touch Zayne like that, to be touched by Caleb.
Caleb's purple irises burned into yours as he leaned towards Zayne, so close that they were sharing the same breath. "Open your mouth for me," he whispered, practically crooning. "Let's do this properly."
You watched, transfixed, as Zayne parted his lips. Caleb's tongue slid into his mouth, brushing against Zayne's enticingly as they kissed. Their tongues tangled with a feverish zeal as their lips moved in tandem, a delectable rhythm that had you holding your breath. Zayne licked into Caleb's mouth dutifully, tilting his head for a better angle as he caressed Caleb's tongue with his own. His hands ghosted over Caleb's neck and slid into his hair, and Caleb let out a desperate little whimper when Zayne tugged the ends softly. It was so unimaginably different from the previous kiss, if it could even be called that. They were devouring each other. Caleb met Zayne's efforts with equal vigour. His hand rested against Zayne's throat, and he would occasionally tighten his grip as he rubbed the underside of his tongue against Zayne's before claiming his lips once more. Zayne let out a low groan at Caleb's ministrations, pulling him closer, squeezing his arm, getting lost in the addictive movement of his lips. Caleb would pull away when it got too intense, placing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss on Zayne's lips, before sliding his tongue back into his mouth. Zayne would hum appreciatively at the sensation, and responded by sucking Caleb's tongue slowly before letting his own softly brush against Caleb's. His fingers rested against Caleb's chin, firmly holding his mouth open as his tongue delved into his mouth, exploring every corner. The room was entirely silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing and the salacious, wet sounds left by their intertwined lips.
You felt remarkably dizzy. You found yourself leaning forward, propelled by a primal desire to become a part of their warmth. Your heartbeat thrummed in your arteries, directing all the heat to your center that pulsated fervidly. Something strange had been ignited within you as you watched your closest companions kiss passionately; your friends and protectors, reduced to a panting mess of hands, spit, and desperate whines. It had replaced your shame with something selfish. Your heart constricted within your chest, set ablaze with every obscene sound that emanated from the pair, the fiery heat spreading down to your toes that curled with anticipation. You let out an inadvertent moan as Caleb sucked on Zayne's lower lip, tugging it between his teeth and nibbling softly before running his tongue over it and pulling him back in for a kiss. You felt so overwhelmed, you thought you were going to be sick— your head buzzed with all the new sensations that washed over you. Your own hand rose to your slackened mouth, your fingers running over your lips as you wondered what it must have felt like. The two of them looked almost tortured— their eyebrows twisted in concentration, struggling for breath, eyelids falling shut as they licked into each others' mouths. You couldn't control the throbbing sensation in your abdomen, and you writhed in your seat as your pulse roared in your ears.
They pulled apart, a rosy blush dusting their cheeks and their eyes glazed over. Your eyes fell on a string of saliva that stretched between their lips. You found yourself briefly wondering whose it could be— and then you wished you could lick it up, savour the taste on your tongue and figure it out for yourself. What would greet your tongue? Would it be the sweet aftertaste of the wine that you had drank hours earlier? Would it be the sour traces of the chocolate that they ate while engrossed in conversation? Or would they just taste like each other, already amalgamated into something entirely new? They regarded you carefully, desire dormant in their gazes, the both of them panting as they separated to sit directly in front of you. They looked desperate, almost repentant, and you felt your throat constrict at such a look.
"Do you feel satisfied now?" Caleb's voice quivered as he asked this. His eyes glimmered in the dim light, and the saliva coating his chin shone in the evening glow as he spoke. You thought he looked beautiful like this— reverent, forlorn, like he was perfect to be tainted. "Is this…what you wished to see?"
"I-" You started to speak, but no sound came out. Your head swum, and you struggled to look at them properly through your bleary vision. Your stomach churned restlessly, and you felt a familiar chill scuttle down your spine. The room, that had been spinning for a good while now, was suddenly plunged into chaos. You had confused this feeling for your omnipresent anxiety, but it was something far worse. There was a reason you had felt so sick earlier.
You felt the bile rapidly build up in throat. Your eyes widened and you heaved—once, twice, your throat unimaginably dry. The panic spread through your chest like a wildfire, and there was one emotion that you remembered with striking clarity—horror. You could not even begin to escape before the vomit spilled out, tainting the floor and Caleb's shirt that you had donned throughout the night. You doubled over, falling to your knees as you emptied out the various contents you had drunk. Zayne held you through it all, rubbing comforting circles onto your back and whispering reassuringly as you babbled snot-filled apologies. Caleb wiped your face, a gentle smile on his lips as he smoothed away the hair from your clammy forehead. You wished you could take a look at their faces, just one look, just to know what they felt, just to give this twisted dream even an ounce of reality. But black spots danced before your eyes and your eyelids felt impossibly heavy, so you had no choice but to relent, hoping that you could wake up with some remnant of this sick fantasy.
When he woke up, the first thing Caleb saw was you.
You were curled into his side, the way you typically did while you slept, and your hair splayed about your head messily. He propped himself up on his elbow to get a better look at you. You looked absolutely serene in the morning light— your lips parted slightly, the veins dancing over your closed eyelids, your chest rising and falling gently with every breath you took. He was used to watching you this way, and somehow he never grew tired of it. He revelled in this little ritual, carefully tracing the path of your face with his eyes, his heart squeezing at every curve of your features, and he'd delight in every new detail he found. He would count your breaths, tapping his wrist with every inhale and exhale, and sometimes he'd even time his own breaths so they would fall in tune with yours. It was proof that you were still here, taking over his space, safely residing within his reach. He reached his hand out to caress your forehead, but quickly retracted it when you shifted in your sleep. His fingers twitched as you sighed sleepily, pulling the sheets closer to your chest.
Caleb had felt immensely guilty after you threw up the previous night. He blamed himself entirely. Stupid, stupid stupid. Absolutely worthless. How could you let her drink so much?— was what he thought to himself while he held your hair back as you vomited into the toilet bowl. There was no denying that he himself was senselessly drunk; how else could the events of the night have transpired in this exact manner? But he was still supposed to be the responsible one, the guardian that could save you from any kind of peril. How could he have let himself falter so carelessly? His heart twisted in misery as he watched you clutch your stomach and groan in pain. You curled up on the floor and blubbered incoherently, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. Caleb would have sat there in broken agony if it wasn't for Zayne stepping in. Zayne had helped you sit up and made you drink a glass of water, whispering encouragingly at every sip you took. The sight of your dazed eyes slowly opening made Caleb snap out of his dejected state. He helped Zayne carry you to the bed, which proved to be quite the task given that you refused to move from your warm place on the floor. He was alarmed at your protestant cries, and nearly resolved to accompany on the floor for the rest of the night, until Zayne swept you off the floor in a single motion and hauled your limp body to the bed. Caleb wanted to change your contaminated shirt for you— in fact, he wanted to give you a bath, strip your clothes and wipe away the icky remains of the event so that you would barely remember it— but he knew that you would be mortified the next morning when you found yourself clad in fresh clothes and underwear. Besides, he couldn't do that to you. Now that you were all adults, such things couldn't remain innocent. He didn't know what he would do with himself if you ever looked at him in betrayal. And so, instead, he pulled your shirt off and wrapped a towel around you, refusing to open his eyes the whole time. He wouldn't allow himself to sin further by letting his eyes linger on your uncovered skin.
Caleb and Zayne spent the rest of the night cleaning up the regurgitated remains left on the floor. They worked in silence as they cleared up the empty glasses and bottles. Caleb internally berated himself a few more times as he discarded the empty bottle. Afterwards, they collapsed on the living room floor, absolutely exhausted. The same place where, hours earlier, they had tasted each other. They didn't have to say anything for their emotions to carry across, for it was evident in the tension that hung heavily in the air.
Guilt.
Caleb lay in a wordless anguish, feeling his insides twist and rearrange themselves as a paralysing shame rendered him senseless. He couldn't believe what he had done. It was supposed to be just another peaceful night— a heartfelt reunion, a sweet escape from their daily strains. And where had it ended up? After years of keeping up his perfect facade of a 'loving brother,' after struggling to protect you from his unacceptable feelings and degeneracy, this had been the catalyst that finally made him break? What made him loathe himself even more was not his guilt at showing you such a hateful side of himself; it was the despair that wracked through him when you suggested that you were interested in someone else. It had plunged him to the depths of hell, hearing you giggle and muse about kissing, all while thinking of another man. He had never felt such excruciating pain before, and yet he couldn't dare to say anything in opposition or surprise. After all, wasn't this bound to happen? A part of Caleb knew that you would never be his. He was your brother; his role had been solidified long before you were ever brought home with Grandma Josephine. Throughout your life, you had looked to him for company and guidance. He was the only family you had left. And therefore, how could you ever make space for him in your heart as a lover?
And yet, despite having this belief poke into his neck like an unsheathed dagger, Caleb sometimes let his heart waver. He would get lost in your smile, in your uninhibited laugh, in the delicate sparkle that twinkled behind your eyes, and the elegant movement of your hands as you spoke. He adored every aspect of you. He could not let go of the thoughts of you. Like a dog that always finds its home, Caleb's heart always drifted to your doorstep even if it lay there, claimless and withered.
These new insights from you had alarmed him to his core. Aside from the way his heart constricted violently, he had been possessed by a new sensation, something black and sickening. Just who was this man, and how did you know him? Caleb thought he knew everyone you were acquainted with, so how did this man escape his notice? An inescapable wrath slithered into his chest, sinking its teeth into his neck, crawling down his spine and threatening to settle in his stomach. He shuddered, chasing it back to the dark corners of his mind. He had no right to feel this way anymore. As much as he wanted to, he could not lock you up forever. He had to let you go eventually, even if it was into the arms of another man.
Caleb had glanced at Zayne to find him staring back at him. A simple look into his tormented eyes was enough to know that he was grappling with similar emotions.
Afterwards, in the early hours of the dawn, they had crawled into bed with you. They lay on either side of you, their arms outstretched over your small figure. Zayne's fingers tapped against Caleb's, and Caleb opened his hand so that Zayne could intertwine his fingers in his. Caleb had fallen asleep like that, comforted by the feeling of Zayne's warm palm, his nose buried in your hair as he drifted off to the sounds of collective breathing.
As Caleb observed your sleeping figure the next morning, he felt a dull ache settle in his heart. He was used to tip-toeing around you and keeping certain aspects of himself hidden. He didn't know what to do now that he had revealed such an immoral side of himself. A part of him would have liked to come clean— spill every corrupted thought that had crossed his mind, tell you about all the times he ached for you, and how he was sometimes filled with a blinding resentment whenever you introduced him as your 'brother' to others— and then beg you to continue to stay by his side. But he knew he was being unreasonable. Doing that would mean prioritizing his own selfish desires over your feelings, and the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel like you had no one to rely on.
Caleb sighed deeply and got up, manoeuvring himself slowly off the bed so as to not wake you. He would deal with the situation as it occurred. First, he'd have to prepare tea and a hot meal in case you felt hungover.
He heard the soft thudding of feet as he steeped the tea, and he turned to find Zayne lingering by the kitchen door. It seemed like he had just woken up—his reddened eyes were barely open and his dark hair lay in wavy clumps over his forehead, like he couldn't be bothered to even give it a brush, almost like he had hurried over as soon as he woke up. Caleb lifted an eyebrow when he noticed that Zayne was wearing one of his old shirts along with his sweatpants.
"Good morning," he greeted, turning his attention back to the task at hand.
Zayne hummed in response, walking past him into the kitchen. "Smells good."
"Yeah, I just threw together some porridge. Does your head hurt?"
"No, I'm doing fine." Zayne paused, and then remarked, "She probably won't feel so good, though."
"Well, it's great that we have a doctor back here. Guess you'll be on home duty today, Zaynie."
"I'm not a doctor," Zayne huffed. He unfolded his glasses and placed them on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with his index finger as he looked at Caleb.
"Yet," Caleb retorted in return. His eyes briefly darted to Zayne's lips, recalling the events of the previous night, before finding his green eyes again.
The two of them worked in silence for a while. Caleb washed the utensils he had just used to cook and handed them to Zayne, who then wiped them down with a cloth and put them off to the side to dry. Once they were done, they simply stood in the kitchen, their backs against the counter as they watched the dishes dry. There was something oddly peaceful about the moment— simply listening to the birds chirp, their figures washed in sunlight as they quietly observed the water droplets sliding down.
"Are we going to talk about last night?" Zayne finally asked, and Caleb could sense him turning to face him. "Because what the hell was that?"
"I-I don't know," Caleb sighed, feeling the weight of his charade finally lighten and crash over him. "I was drunk, and so, so incredibly stupid."
"And? I was just as drunk," Zayne scoffed. "You didn't hear me making such questionable suggestions."
Caleb felt irritation flash through him at Zayne's derision. He turned to look at him, a demeaning smirk on his face. "Oh, yeah? You sure seemed to enjoy it though. You think I didn't feel your raging boner pressing into my stomach while you sucked the life out of my lips? I thought I was going to wake up without them."
Zayne's eyes widened and his face flushed a fiery red. He sputtered, momentarily stunned by Caleb's remark. He opened his mouth and shut it again, his eyes blazing in embarrassment. Caleb had almost let himself feel victorious until Zayne's flustered state was replaced with one of anger. He stepped towards Caleb, his features twisted into an icy glare, and jabbed a finger into Caleb's chest.
"You fucked up, Caleb," he spat. "You shouldn't have done that. What if things can never be the same again? What if she's disgusted by whatever the fuck you did, and she never wants to be around us again?" He sounded aggravated and dejected at the same time. It was then that Caleb realised just how much Zayne shared the depth of his despair. He was equally scared to taint the tranquil abode that the three of you had created through the years you spent together.
If there was one person in the world that Caleb could confide in, that would be Zayne. He could see through whatever performance Caleb put up, down to his deepest, darkest, most immoral intentions, and the same stood true ever since their childhood. While they were aware that they shared similar feelings for you, they held no misgivings towards each other, choosing to work in tandem instead. Whether it be through sin or vice, Caleb sometimes felt oddly reassured that he had someone to share in his burden, that he wouldn't have to shoulder the crushing weight of his emotions alone. He couldn't have had anyone other than Zayne as his companion; Zayne who was practical, more calm and restrained, and good at settling Caleb when he spun out of control. While they shared the same objectives, they also shared the same fear— the inevitable departure of their beloved. It was why they always operated in private, encroaching your space and following you around in a wordless pact, all so that they never had to give you any unforeseen reasons to leave. But now that fear had become a conclusive possibility, and they didn't know how far the lines to interfere went.
Caleb's face crumpled at the thought. His hands flew to the sides of his face, pressing into his temples, as if he could crush his skull if he tried hard enough. "I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking. It's just- when I heard her mention someone else…I just- I snapped."
Zayne stilled. He exhaled heavily and retracted his finger. His eyes looked hard as he spoke. "I know. I didn't expect it at all. Why didn't she tell us? I thought we were close enough to talk about these things."
"So did I," Caleb sighed, feeling his heart squeeze. "She probably felt awkward talkin' about it. Either ways, they seem close. Close enough that she's thinking about relationships and…"
"Yeah…"
The two of them locked eyes, and the message exchanged was evident— How did this escape our notice? How did we allow something like this to develop to such an extent that it caught us completely by surprise? Who is that man? How must we deal with him?
Zayne gripped the counter, absently scratching a chink in the material as he stared into the distance thoughtfully. "Maybe we should just…maybe we should tell her how we feel? If we were sincere enough, then-"
"We can't do that," Caleb blurted, clutching the table in panic. He swallowed and tightened his grip. "I- I can't do that. It wouldn't be fair. I don't deserve to steal her happiness and make her home a place of anxiety."
Zayne nodded slowly. Although Caleb didn't mention it, his unspoken question hung in the air—who would she choose? They had discussed the idea only once before, although they already inherently knew the stance they had taken. Caleb sometimes thought about that evening. It had a mystical energy to it, and sometimes he imagined that it never even happened, that it was just a figment of his dreams. They had silently agreed to never bring it up again, and so they never did. Between Caleb and Zayne, a lot of their conversations were held in this manner.
"You're right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." Zayne sighed wearily, running his hand though his hair. "We should worry about the situation at hand. Like, what are we going to tell her after she wakes up and asks us to explain ourselves?"
"I gave this some thought yesterday. We could just say we were completely wasted and didn't know what we were doing."
"And you think that sounds convincing enough?" Zayne sounded peeved again, and he looked at Caleb like he would a child.
"Sure. A lot of crazy shit happens at college parties. We've definitely seen worse. This was just a typical frat party act. We could say we were giving her a taste of the things she would have to witness."
"Right." Zayne raised an eyebrow. He still looked irritated, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Just bro's being bro's?"
Caleb felt his resolve crack a little when he heard Zayne utter words that were so alien to his usual vocabulary. He felt a smile emerge and stifled it by biting his lip. "Exactly. I'm glad we see eye to eye, Zayne."
Zayne huffed resolutely, narrowing his eyes at Caleb. "You know, you are so utterly hopeless sometimes."
A chuckle erupted from Caleb's chest, and he savoured the comfortable rumble that lightened the tension spreading through his body. Zayne returned his smile, shaking his head like he was at a loss for words. Caleb was momentarily glad that he could reveal himself to Zayne this way; if things remained like this, he would never have to worry about his apprehensions consuming him whole. He could retain his identity as your brother and protector, while also concealing the feelings that burned within his heart.
He glanced at their hands laying inches apart on the counter. He nudged Zayne's fingers with his own, which caused the older man to look at him. "Hey, I'm glad you're here." Caleb averted his gaze, feeling almost bashful as he spoke. "I-I missed having you around."
Zayne's smile softened. His eyes crinkled tenderly as he nodded in understanding. His hand edged closer to Caleb's and ran over his knuckles. Caleb shivered as Zayne lightly traced the indents of the joints, gently dancing over each bony finger. Zayne had just begun to weave his fingers between Caleb's when they stiffened at the sound of footsteps pattering over.
They separated, their ears burning, as you walked into the kitchen. You rubbed your eyes sleepily, blinking to focus on the two men before you. You smelled like you were fresh out of the shower, and this was confirmed by the damp ends of your hair. Caleb noticed that you were wearing your own clothes, and something flashed through him— was it relief? Or was it regret? He couldn't tell. His heart thudded loudly in his ear as you took a seat at the counter, resting your head against the counter.
"I'm in agony," you spoke, your voice grim. "When did I pass out last night? What even happened?"
Caleb and Zayne tried not to show it, but an audible exhale left their lips as their shoulders sagged. It seemed you did not recall the events of the night, which was a relief. There was no telling when it would all come back to you, but for now, this was good enough.
Zayne walked over to you, resting his hand on the top of your head and patting it slowly. "You had a bit too much to drink. I don't know if you remember but you threw up."
You let out a groan, wriggling in your seat in horror. "Shit! No wonder my throat hurts. I'm so sorry, guys."
Zayne chuckled. "It's alright, my love. Nothing we can't handle. How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay. My head hurts a little, and I still feel kind of dizzy." You rubbed your fingers against your temple, your face crumpling in embarrassment. "I'm really so, so sorry. You had to clean everything up by yourselves, and it was probably disgusting and-"
"Hey pipsqueak, you don't need to worry about any of that," Caleb remarked. His tone was low and stern, as if to say 'let the subject go.' He handed you a cup of tea as he walked over. "Here, drink this."
You sat in silence for a few moments as you tended to the cup, blowing over the hot liquid and taking little sips. The two men watched you closely, trying to figure out if you were hiding anything from them. But you just blinked back at them innocently, embarrassment being the only emotion that flared within your eyes.
"Still," you started, biting your lip in unease. "I feel bad. I want to make it up to you."
"You can make it up to us by eating this whole bowl of delicious porridge," Caleb retorted. "You can't say no, and asking for second servings is duly welcomed."
You huffed in response, and Caleb smiled, feeling victorious. He was well aware of your tendency to eat breakfast like a bird, and was glad that he could tend to you in this manner at the very least.
"Fine. But I want to prepare lunch for you guys, and no, you cannot help out," you declared, sitting up straight in your seat as you glared at the two men. "It's the least I can do after being such a hot mess yesterday. Just go do whatever, make yourselves busy somehow. Just not in the kitchen."
The two men looked at each other, then at you, and grinned.
"Sure, dear. We'll look forward to it," Zayne chuckled. He ushered Caleb to sit, serving the both of them before he took his own seat next to you.
And just like that, the morning settled into a peaceful tranquility, the events of the previous night long forgotten, buried deep under the floorboards of the living room.