her scent -+- miguel ohara -+- ~~~~Complete

20 🕸️The Ruined Canon🕸️

Callisto lay quietly in the early morning light, eyes open but unfocused, tracing the pale cracks in the ceiling above. The room was still, the soft hum of the city barely stirring the air. She felt the weight of last night's tension settling like a fog in her chest — the closeness, the bite, the way Miguel's control slipped whenever she was near.

Slow footsteps broke the silence. Miguel stirred beside her, blinking against the sun filtering through the curtains. His dark eyes slowly found her gaze, a mixture of something fierce and fragile swimming within them.

"You're awake," he murmured, voice rough with sleep and something unspoken.

Callisto shifted, still wary but curious. "You didn't sleep much."

He shrugged, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. "Too much on my mind."

A pause stretched between them, filled with the quiet thrum of heartbeats and unsaid words.

Finally, Miguel sat up, running a hand through his dark hair as if trying to gather his scattered thoughts. "There's something I need to tell you," he said, voice low, almost hesitant.

Callisto's breath caught. "What is it?"

He looked away, jaw clenched. "You think you ruined some big event. Some sacred, unchangeable canon that we're all supposed to protect."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, confusion and guilt mingling inside her. "I did... didn't I?"

"No," Miguel said, shaking his head slowly, then meeting her eyes again with a sharp intensity. "It wasn't the timeline. It wasn't some moment in history that you shattered."

He paused, the weight of his words pressing between them. "You ruined me."

Callisto's heart skipped. "What do you mean?"

Miguel's gaze darkened, filled with vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. "You broke my control — the control I fought so hard to keep over my body, over my instincts. The part of me I always kept hidden, because I thought showing weakness would cost me everything."

Her eyes searched his face, softening.

"The scent you carry," he continued, voice dropping to a near whisper, "it's not just a trick. It disorients me, makes me lose my focus. Every time I'm near you, it's like I'm falling into a storm I never wanted to face."

He swallowed hard, pain and longing tangled in his expression. "And the truth is, I don't want to stop falling."

Callisto's breath hitched as he reached for her hand, fingers brushing her skin with a tenderness that made her pulse race.

"I'm broken in ways I didn't think were possible," Miguel said, voice thick with emotion. "But maybe that's not such a bad thing — because you're the one who broke me."

She blinked back a sudden tear, the enormity of his confession washing over her.

"For the first time, I don't want to be whole without you."

The room felt smaller, charged with the electricity of their shared vulnerability.

Callisto leaned in, whispering against his lips, "Then we'll be broken together."

Miguel smiled, a slow, genuine curve of his mouth, before capturing her lips in a kiss that was fierce and tender all at once — a promise that the canon they'd rewrite would be written in their own terms.

Callisto stared at him, feeling her chest ache at the rawness in his voice. The edges of her guarded heart softened, her hand rising to cup his cheek, thumb brushing along his sharp jawline.

"Miguel," she whispered, voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her, "it's alright."

His eyes flickered, uncertainty still clinging to the edges.

"I'm not leaving you," she promised, leaning in closer until their foreheads nearly touched. "Not when you're finally letting me see you. Not when you need someone to stay."

She let her fingers trace the side of his neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his skin. "I don't care how broken you think you are. I'm not going anywhere."

Miguel's throat worked as he swallowed hard, the tension in his shoulders easing like a tightly wound cord finally unraveling. His hand closed over hers, holding it against his face as if anchoring himself to the moment.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured, the words barely audible.

"Tough," she breathed against his lips, her gaze steady and fierce. "You've got me anyway."

And then their mouths met — not desperate this time, but deep, slow, and certain. A quiet vow neither of them had the courage to speak aloud, but both would hold onto like a lifeline.

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