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    Summary

    You hate him. You miss him. Despite every cell in your body blaring a red alarm, you plaster your lips to his and kiss him full on the mouth. A heavy exhale is expelled as his hands flex to remain still, to keep himself for reaching for you, and that perfect, plastic veneer cracks like desiccated earth splitting open in apocalypse.

    He surges against you, cold fingers threading through your hair as he kisses you back.

    Tears prick the corner of your eyes. Whatever damage you meant to inflict on him is returned tenfold, because even though the fabric softener used to launder his uniform is different from the one he used to share with you, he still smells like Caleb.

    the destination is always her.

    (or: what if canon but slightly worse.)

    Series
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