Caleb slumped forward, his breath ragged and uneven, the weight of exhaustion crashing down on him like the relentless rain. His frame trembled, though whether it was from fatigue or the storm of emotions he couldn't quite control, even he didn't know. He collapsed against her shoulder, her warmth seeping through the cold rain soaking them both, grounding him in a moment that felt like salvation.

It was over. It was finally over.

"Let's... go home..." he rasped, his voice hoarse and barely audible, raw with relief and exhaustion. The words were heavy with meaning, a plea and a promise all in one. His consciousness ebbed away as he fell into her embrace, the tension in his body finally giving way. The black umbrella slipped from his hand, forgotten as it clattered to the ground, the rain drumming against its surface like a muted rhythm marking the end of their long, harrowing journey.

Weeks passed since that night under the rain. Weeks of healing, of tentative words exchanged and old wounds reopened, only to be slowly mended. Caleb still carried the weight of the past, but it felt lighter now. She no longer looked at him with the same wide-eyed innocence, no longer saw him as just her gentle older brother. And yet, even now, she still stayed.

But Caleb's scars weren't only emotional.

He gritted his teeth, groaning softly as he worked on the exposed mechanisms of his robotic arm. The tools scattered haphazardly around him reflected his frustration, the intricate wiring and circuits refusing to cooperate. His shirt lay discarded on the nearby chair, leaving him bare to the flickering light of the room.

When she walked in, her presence hit him like a wave—unspoken concern radiating from her as she froze for a moment, her gaze falling on the arm. The synthetic skin was peeled back, revealing the raw, skeletal structure of the machinery beneath. Caleb glanced at her briefly, his expression a mixture of shame and forced nonchalance.

"I... didn't mean to hide it from you," he muttered, his voice quieter now, almost apologetic.

She said nothing, but he could feel the tension in her as she stepped closer. Her eyes lingered on the exposed arm, the quiet horror and sadness in her expression slicing through him more painfully than any physical wound ever could.

"Don't worry," he said, forcing a faint smile, though it barely reached his eyes. "I barely feel any pain... unless it's under repair." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the truth behind the reassurance.

And yet, when she reached out, her hand trembling slightly as it hovered near his, Caleb found himself moving first. He took her hand in his mechanical one, intertwining his cold, unfeeling fingers with hers. The contrast was stark—her soft, warm smaller hand against the cold, lifeless steel of his own. For a moment, he stared at their hands, his smile fading into something far more bitter.

"But... I can't even feel you anymore," Caleb admitted quietly, the words dragging out of him like a confession. His gaze dropped, his shoulders slumping slightly as self-loathing began to seep in. His right hand, the one that used to gently touch her in the past, now is destroyed. The one who held her hand for the last time too before the bombing incident separating them. Now is replaced with merely imitation.

His thoughts spiraled as he stared at their intertwined fingers, the difference between them glaringly obvious now that his arm was laid bare. It's uncanny... it's ugly... I don't deserve her with the way I am now.

Her grip on his hand tightened, pulling him from the abyss of his own mind. Caleb's gaze snapped back to her face, and he was met with the intensity of her eyes—wide, glassy, filled with worry and something he couldn't quite name. Her lips pressed into a firm line, but her expression spoke louder than words.

She didn't let go.

Her grip steadied him, her presence anchoring him as she silently conveyed what words couldn't. Caleb let out a shaky breath, he slowly pressed their intertwined hands against his forehead, closing his eyes, seeking solace in the fleeting connection while he tried to gather himself.

"If that's what it takes to feel you, I'll accept it," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. The words were raw, heavy with the emotions he allowed himself to show. His stare softened to her as he opened his violet eyes again, though there was still a lingering pain in it.

Caleb's gaze lingered on her face, tracing the shift in her expression as the worry and sadness that had clouded her eyes gave way to a simmering rage, a quiet fire burning just beneath the surface. Her grip on his robotic hand tightened more. He could see the way her anger flared, unspoken yet unmistakable, her fury aimed at the Fleet—blaming them for the scars he now carried. The way her jaw tensed, the faint quiver of her lips, and the sharp glint in her eyes told him what she intended even before she made a move.

She shifted, her steps firm and determined as she began to turn toward the door, ready to act on her vow to make them pay. But Caleb's left, normal hand moved faster, catching her before she could leave. "It's even more painful if you take risks for my sake," he said, his tone low, weary, and almost pleading, the words hanging heavy between them as he held her in place, a silent plea for her to stay.

Caleb's right arm moved with deliberate slowness, the soft hum of its mechanisms almost inaudible against the tension in the room. His fingers trembled slightly as they wrapped around her, pulling her closer into his chest. The lifeless metal contrasted starkly with the warmth of her presence, yet his grip was gentle, almost hesitant, as though afraid she might disappear if he held her too tightly.

A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, the strain evident in the subtle twitch of his jaw. Torment rippled through him—not just from the exposed wiring in his arm but from the weight of emotions he couldn't suppress. He swallowed hard, his throat tight as the words clawed their way out, raw and unguarded, heavy with sincerity.

"You're the only one... who can ease my pain."