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The sunlight poured through the towering, reinforced glass walls of the Linkon Exhibition Center, casting long, blade-sharp shadows across the polished marble floor. Outside, Linkon's residents gazed up at a skyline that shone with the icy, unforgiving radiance of chrome and glass. The smell of expensive leather permeated the interior, accompanied by the steady, low buzz of the crowd.
The "Linkon Wings and Wheels" exhibit may have been a masterclass in aviation history, but for Caleb, the afternoon itself was a victory lap. The gruelling, fourteen-day anomaly of the Polar Night, a period of intense magnetic disruptions that wreaked havoc on his sensitive body, had finally broken, although in actuality it was an excuse to cover up what he had been experiencing night after night.
By the time dawn arrived, the feverish heat that had plagued his body had vanished. Even then, as he strolled beside her, the steady pulse of fire in his veins lingered like a souvenir. It was no longer a symptom of the weather, but a biological reaction to her presence.
Standing at an imposing six-foot-two, Caleb stuck out among the sharply dressed socialites. He had traded his usual café apron for a dark denim jacket with sharp white contrast stitching. Beneath the heavy denim, a sleek white compression turtleneck hugged his athletic frame. The high collar was a tactical necessity. In the previous night, they had finally dismantled the "older brother" dynamic that had constrained them for a decade and moved on to the next level.
She had stayed backstage with him in the suffocating heat of their growing awareness. When he had pulled her back to acknowledge how much he wanted her, she had reciprocated by leaving marks on his clavicle and wrists that were far too vivid for the public’s gaze.
Caleb recalls how she had not just been a passive participant, as she gracefully sashayed into his space and straddled him while challenging his futile restraint until he finally broke. He had used makeup glitter to trace patterns over her skin. It was a silent, shimmering claim to test the waters before pulling her back into a kiss that demanded total surrender. It was a mutual "forbidden taste" they had both been craving.
Thinking back, Caleb suspected with a smile that she had planned the encounter just as much as he had. She had insisted on guarding him backstage to ease his pre-performance nerves. That was the excuse. She wanted to be in his space, staking a claim so that no one else could sneak in as a groupie and seduce him. Of course, things always worked differently when she was around, and Caleb was all too happy to bear the consequences of her spontaneity.
"Honestly, Pipsqueak," Caleb murmured, his light violet eyes dropping from the ceiling to look at her, crinkling warmly at the corners. "I feel like I am dressed for a retro fast-fashion shoot. Are you sure I do not look like I am trying too hard to look young? It feels like I am pretending to be seventeen again."
She laughed, stepping closer to adjust the silver chain resting against his collarbone. Her fingers lingered intentionally against the warm fabric of the turtleneck, feeling the accelerated thumping of his pulse. He drew in a sharp, quiet breath at the contact.
"You look perfect, Caleb," she assured him, tilting her head. "Actually, you look less like a cafe owner and more like a brooding, mysterious tech CEO. It is a good look for you."
Caleb chuckled, the tension leaving his broad shoulders.
"A tech CEO? In my world, success would mean brewing enough caffeinated drinks to compete with Cloud Cafe and break even within the first quarter. But," he added, his voice dropping into a warm, intimate rumble, "if you want me to be an overbearing CEO just to fulfil your personal fantasy, I will take the promotion."
Their flirting was briefly interrupted when a child, clutching a triple-scoop ice cream cone, accidentally collided with them. A glob of vanilla smudged against her sleeve. The boy looked ready to burst into tears, but Caleb knelt with practiced ease, soothing him with a gentle word about being careful next time.
After the apologetic parents ushered the child away, Caleb reached into his pocket. He pulled out a leopard-print handkerchief, a relic from her collection of trinkets he always kept close. With deliberate tenderness, he applied a quick spray of pre-treatment and began to lift the stain from her sleeve.
"Funny," she teased, watching his focus. "I thought you would use your finger to scoop up the cream and lick it off." Caleb paused, his eyes flicking up to hers.
"My silly girl, were you expecting something? Goodness, is that why you always call me a sly dog? I am just trying to treat the stain like an honest citizen of Linkon City"
"You know that is not what I am talking about," she huffed, her cheeks puffing out.
"Right, right. Wouldn’t want my Pipsqueak’s favourite blouse to go missing in the next round of laundry," Caleb replied, wiping away the stain while maintaining eye contact. "Just like everything else that happens to be within my reach."
It was a quiet, public acknowledgment of their shared history.
The transition to the Grand Universum Hotel was seamless, led by a glass sky-bridge into a ballroom of white linen and cascading crystal. Right before the T-93 airplane display was the exclusive afternoon dessert buffet that she had invited Caleb to. And just when she was gleefully taking photos of the Wanderer-shaped cupcakes, she caught Caleb staring at a massive chocolate fondue fountain with a focused gaze, one that mirrored Zayne when he was caught by something that piqued his interest.
"Are you pulling a Zayne, Caleb?" she asked with a melodic chuckle, bumping her hip against his. "It is never too late to admit that you have a sweet tooth too."
He cleared his throat, a faint pink touching his cheeks. "It is professional appreciation," he defended, though his eyes darted to the apple tarts. "I own a cafe. I am simply observing the latest dessert trends."
She laughed and grabbed a Snoozer fondant cookie and teased him, “If that’s the case, I should have brought Zayne along, and the three of us can have a short reunion…” Before she could take a bite of the cookie, it floated out of her hands and went straight into Caleb’s mouth, much to her indignation.
“Sorry, what was that Pipsqueak?” Caleb asked innocently, but his eyes stared at hers directly as if he was daring her to bring up the subject again.
"Right, pretend that you didn’t hear that," she hummed, plucking an apple tart from the tray and holding it to his lips. "Well then, Mr. Cafe Owner. Care to test the glaze of this apple tart?"
Caleb’s eyes darkened, the playfulness fading into intensity. He leaned in, but before he could take a bite, a mocking laugh echoed through the lobby. "Ahh, who do we have here? It is the former Fleet Colonel, strutting around like a stray mongrel who had just been given his favourite treat."
Caleb froze. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by the lethal precision of a soldier. He moved to shield her, but she stood firmly at his side, her hand gripping the fabric of his jacket to stop him from reacting to Viper’s provocation. Standing atop the T-93 airplane was Viper, someone Caleb and she were familiar with, especially with the recent events where he had taken Kevi under the guise of helping him realise his true potential. He made a sharp adjustment to his obsidian cuffs, looking down at them through narrowed, haughty eyes.
"And here I thought you would resent the Fleet for imposing forced retirement on you, especially after giving you a so-called generous payout for the 'inconvenience' they made you endure. But no, instead of feeling humiliated, here you are playing house with her. An aviation exhibit? I have seen more romantic dates in a kindergarten." Viper scoffed at Caleb’s outfit.
"As if the overwhelming 'big brother' energy you are radiating is not embarrassing enough, you had to put on an outfit that makes you look like a startup owner pitching a doomed app. You need to pop some tags, really… "
Caleb rolled his eyes at Viper’s monologue, but his Pipsqueak had other ideas. She bit her cheek to keep from laughing. Viper was blind to the truth: the turtleneck Caleb wore was to cover the marks of Caleb’s willing surrender to her.
"Viper," Caleb said, his voice a dangerous growl. "You have five seconds to get your boots off that jet before I make sure your next flight is through a reinforced glass window."
"Hear me out okay?! I am in a foul mood," Viper waved a hand. "Like I went to Contrail Cafe on my day off and the sign said it was closed indefinitely. I wanted your specialty apple crostatas, and here you have the gall to go on a date on a weekend. Do you know how hard it is to find a decent pastry while scouting for gifted kids!?"
"Trafficking, you mean. It is a miracle you are still not on the Hunter Association’s wanted list," she retorted, recalling the child who had recently vanished from her care after Viper’s last appearance.
"Next time, make a reservation," Caleb countered. "I will personally ensure that your pastry includes a very special, prescription-grade laxative so you can spend some quality time in the washroom instead of committing crimes like a low-grade mob."
That remark irritated Viper but just before he could make his opening move, Caleb watched as she stepped in front of him to engage with the villain herself while munching a lemon-crusted meringue like a totally unbothered queen.
"Actually, Viper," she interrupted while licking the meringue crumbs off her fingers. "It was a great date until you crashed it. It makes me wonder. Do you have a crush on Caleb? You keep appearing everywhere he goes, even after he retired from the Fleet. The way I see it, this looks like a desperate cry for attention."
"No!" both men barked in perfect, horrified unison.
"I have standards!" Viper gagged. “Caleb is strictly family, but not family like the way you and he are!”
"I would rather eat raw cilantro," Caleb added, looking at her with a look of betrayal. "Please tell me you are joking."
"Then get rid of him so we can continue with our date," she countered. “Anyone who is watching this heated exchange might think that both of you actually have something going on.”
“I TOLD YOU IT’S ALREADY NOT LIKE THAT”
"Anyway, you lovebirds are getting in the way!" Viper snapped his fingers. "Since I did not get my crostata, I will take the T-93 instead and reduce it to metal scrap."
With a flick of a remote, the T-93’s engines roared to life. The massive jet began to hover, its nose-cannons glowing blue. Panic erupted as guests scrambled for cover. A henchman disguised as a waiter lunged at Caleb with an electrified baton, taking advantage of the fact that he is unarmed. Caleb scoffed at the henchman as he simply sidestepped him and watched as the clumsy attacker lunged headfirst into the chocolate fountain.
"I am genuinely trying to be a civilian today," Caleb muttered. His eyes flared with violet light.
Utilizing his Gravity Manipulation Evol, he flicked his wrist, and silver serving trays rose into the air, creating a rotating barrier that deflected a spray of submachine gun bullets from Viper’s goons. But the T-93’s engines were overwhelming. Caleb’s jaw locked as he fought to stabilize the aircraft with his mind.
His Pipsqueak did not wait to be asked as she confidently moved next to him and weaved her fingers through his so that they could resonate. Her Resonance Evol flared to life. A rush of golden warmth flowed into his palm as her power acted as a guide, transforming his raw gravity into something sharper. The violet in Caleb’s eyes mixed with her gold until the lobby glowed.
"Permission to act?" she asked.
"Permission granted," Caleb breathed, a smirk returning to his face.
Amplified by her Resonance, Caleb inverted the gravitational vector on the T-93’s landing gear. The jet’s computer system faltered, confused by the opposing forces. The distortion ripped the weapons from Viper’s hands and pinned them to the ceiling. With a final surge of their combined energy, the T-93 slammed back onto its pedestal with a room-shaking thud.
Viper was flattened against his seat by the pressure, while the downdraft decorated his flamboyant suit in layers of crushed apple strudel from a nearby tray.
As the sirens of Linkon City approached, Caleb let out a long breath. He turned to her, the colonel gone and the man remaining. She stepped closer, her fingers finding the collar of his turtleneck. Her eyes traveled down to the sleek white fabric, noticing a stray smudge of cream from the explosion of the buffet.
"Is it too much to ask for an uneventful date now? I cannot believe Viper had to ruin it all just because of crostatas. And look, you are now covered in cream too. I wonder if my personal insurance covers this."
Caleb looked down at the messy streak across his chest, then back at her, a challenge sparking in his gaze.
"Rather than finding ways to compensate for our failed date, how about this? Since you were so disappointed about the way I handled that stain on your blouse… why don’t you return the favour? Try licking the cream here."
The boldness of his question made her heart skip. She looked at the ruined lobby and the approaching sirens. "Rather than doing that here," she said, her voice dropping to a private, knowing level, "we might as well just head home and clean up. Together."
The suggestion hung in the air, heavy with a different kind of gravity. Caleb’s hand tightened slightly at the nape of her neck.
"An excellent suggestion," he agreed softly. "I just made some lemon bath bombs that would go perfectly with your plan."
"Just stop flirting already, you stupid lovebirds!" Viper groaned as the authorities began to apprehend him. She laughed and teased Viper for being a wet blanket, while Caleb used his gravity to tilt a jug of water and soak Viper’s hair, much to his annoyance.
"Don’t think this is over! When I get out, I am going to review bomb your cafe with one-star reviews!" Viper’s voice echoed indignantly. "It is your fault that I am all sticky and wet now! I swear on the next heist, I am gatecrashing your next date with a tank!"
Caleb finally spared him a glance, his eyes cold once more. "Do it, Viper," he said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm register. "Do it if you do not value your life. I have plenty of space in the city's scrap heap for a flattened tank and a loud-mouthed relative."
Viper went silent for a beat before he began grumbling about how Caleb was the worst thing that Professor Lucius had invested in. Caleb did not wait for another outburst. Using a precise anti-gravity pocket, he plucked a single, pristine apple tart from the wreckage and offered it to her.
He wrapped his arm securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. He kept his eyes entirely locked on hers as she took a bite of the tart from his hand.
"Let him talk," Caleb murmured as they began to walk toward the exit. "He is going to jail covered in cream and nursing a bruised ego, while I am going home with exactly what I want." The chaos of the shattered lobby was already fading into the background.
As they stepped out into the cooling air of dusk, it felt as though the world had finally narrowed down to just the two of them, together and forever.