What if's with Caleb

What if he is a Knight?

Before you could say anything more, Caleb reached forward, plucked the flask from the table, and, without hesitation, tipped it back and drank it all.

Your heart stopped. "Caleb!"

The moment Caleb finished the last drop of the potion, your mind went blank with shock. You stared at him, wide-eyed, as the reality of what he had just done sank in.

"Caleb, no!" you gasped, panic rising in your chest.

"What have you done?"

You scrambled to your feet, the room suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. Your hands shook as you rifled through the nearby shelves for a reversal spell, any antidote that could undo the effects of the potion before it was too late.

What if he confessed to the Saintess? What if he caused a scene in front of Zayne? The last thing you wanted was to create unnecessary drama between the three of them, especially now, when things had seemed peaceful enough. You couldn't bear to see Caleb in such an awkward, painful situation.

But before you could find anything, you felt a sudden pressure on your shoulders. Caleb had moved swiftly, pinning you against the desk. His grip was gentle, yet firm enough that you couldn't escape.

You froze, your breath caught in your throat, utterly confused by his actions. What was he doing? The words you had prepared to shout died on your lips as your eyes met his, searching for any sign of what was happening.

"Caleb...?" you whispered, your voice betraying the confusion swirling in your chest.

He sighed, looking at you with something between exasperation and amusement. "You still don't get it."

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was. His grip was firm, warm, and unyielding as he pulled you just slightly closer.

"You keep bringing her up," he muttered, his voice low, the usual teasing edge replaced with something steadier, something serious. "The Saintess."

Your breath caught.

"You always ask me how I feel about her." His eyes flickered with something unreadable, something deep. "Even when I've told you I moved on, Princess. It's been years."

You scoffed, trying to ignore the strange heat curling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you. "Forgive me for not believing you, considering you spent half your life staring at her like she hung the stars in the sky."

Caleb exhaled sharply, his grip tightening just slightly. "You're so damn stubborn."

"And you're so damn reckless!" You shot back. "You just drank something you don't even understand! What if it makes you lose control? What if—"

"What if what, Princess?" His voice dipped lower, smoother. His free hand rose, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, and you hated how easily the touch made your breath hitch.

"You don't listen," he murmured. "Not when I tell you I moved on. Not when I tell you to take care of yourself. You push yourself too hard. You work until late. You forget to eat. Do you think I don't notice?"

You looked away, heat creeping up your neck. "It's not your job to—"

"It may not be my job," he interrupted. "But someone needs to look after you when you refuse to do it yourself."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, but before you could form a response, he continued.

"And you know what else I don't like?" His thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist absentmindedly, sending shivers down your spine.