"You had a crush on me?" He teased, trying to keep the focus on them and not on one of his past conquests. Sad part was that he couldn't even be sure of who Alice Mae was talking about. He'd just about fooled around with all the varsity cheerleaders that he found hot and even some who were only decent looking but easy to get naked. He got bored of them fast and most high school relationships weren't built to last, he was just saving them all from wasting time. Now that he had Alice Mae, that was all different. They were meant to be one of those high school sweetheart romance stories.

Caleb's eyebrow perked up once he noticed Alice Mae moving her way down. The moment her hands began caressing his junk, Caleb's eyes tried rolling into the back of his head, he was tired but he figured he could go one more round and his slowly rising erection agreed. Wishing that he'd gone to clean up when she did (he'd originally planned on showering first thing in the morning), he figured that if she didn't care, neither should he, plus this time he had a more readily available condom. Letting her continue to satisfy him for a little bit before he finally stopped her, "Wait. I want you on top, just give me a moment."

This whole night had been foreplay in his opinion, he was ready to fuck her and pass out. Reaching into the back of her bedside table drawer, he pulled out a condom wrapper, opened it up, and rolled it down his shaft. Enjoying the view as she climbed back on top of him, his smiled up at her as she knelt above him. "You're so fucking sexy." He stated as his hands worked up her thighs before landing on her hips while she positioned him at her entrance. He could feel the heat between her legs and he did his best not to thrust despite desperately wanting her now. Caleb knew it would feel better to let her take control first, she really had a way with her hips when she rode him.

“Yes. Who doesn't have a crush on you?” She rolled her eyes and playfully slapped him across the chest.

It didn't bother her that Caleb hadn't cleaned up beforehand. They were only their juices, anyway. Alice Mae deep-throated him, causing herself to gag and create more salvia. Her tongue swirled around the head of his penis before he stopped her. She pulled her mouth off and frowned before Caleb instructed he wanted her on top. Alice Mae got on her knees while he reached for a condom in the side table drawer.

Once he got the condom on, Alice Mae positioned herself on top of her boyfriend. She shivered as his hands grazed her bare skin before grabbing her hips. Alice Mae stayed silent but smiled at him in response to his compliment before reaching between her legs and guiding Caleb inside. Alice Mae hated being on top because she didn't feel like she was good enough, but whatever she did, Caleb seemed to love it. When he penetrated her, it wasn't as sensational as it had been the first time tonight. Nonetheless, it still made her head fall back and caused her to moan.

Alice Mae started solidly, thrusting her hips back and forth, enjoying all the sounds from her boyfriend. She leaned down, kissing him deeply, using her hands to prop her up. Alice Mae broke the kiss and seductively sucked on his bottom lip, all while keeping her pace. Alice Mae whined against his lips when his penis hit a sensitive spot inside her. Still, without hesitation, she continued—sliding one of her arms underneath his neck, she placed her other hand on the side of his face and rested her forehead against his.

Caleb's eyes closed as she wrapped around his cock and let out a moan. The sex was always better without a condom, but he'd also rather finish high school first before having a kid. Being a teen parent was more of a Shadysider thing. His hands remained on her hips, moving with her hips as she rocked back and forth, still doing his best to let her do her thing uninterrupted. When she leaned down and began toying with him though, he couldn't control himself any longer. His hands repositioned toward her ass, his fingertips pressing harder into her skin as he thrust himself deeper inside of her trying to hit her sweet spot.

His hands remained on her ass for a while before one of them wandered up her back. Caleb tried to remain in rhythm with her but eventually got too wrapped up in how amazing it felt that he fell out of sync. Only for a moment before using his hands and another deep thrust to temporarily stop all movement. Caleb let out a groan before passionately kissing her and picking up the thrusting again. The hand on her back worked its way up around to one of her breasts, his thumb making small circular motions on her nipple as he continued to lift his hips to meet hers.

Caleb certainly didn't have it in him to last much longer and luckily neither did she because it wasn't long before he heard and felt her reaching her climax. Once he was certain she was there, he stopped fighting his own orgasm and he let it all go with one last thrust.

Once they finished, Alice Mae immediately got off Caleb and rested next to him. She was usually one to go to the bathroom after sex to prevent infections, but she couldn’t be bothered tonight. After Caleb pulled off the condom and cleaned himself up with a towel he found on the floor, Alice Mae snuggled up to him. A few hours ago, she didn’t know how she would fall asleep, now she couldn’t keep her eyes open. “Thank you,” she mumbled tiredly before falling asleep in Caleb’s arms.

It was quieter than usual on her street.

The kind of quiet that felt padded, like the whole world was walking on tiptoe. Alice Mae sat on the rusted porch swing, one leg tucked under her, the other bare foot pushing softly against the wood planks to keep herself swaying. The air smelled like cut grass and rain that never came. Her hair was still damp from a shower, half-twisted back with an old clip. No makeup. No armor.

She liked it better this way.

Didn’t have to pretend.

Didn’t have to explain the tight feeling in her chest or the way she hadn’t really exhaled in two days.

The porch light buzzed behind her. Inside, her mom was probably asleep in front of the TV again. The volume turned too low to hear, too loud to ignore.

Alice let the swing creak, slow and steady, as her eyes traced the cracks in the pavement—counting them like a spell. Like maybe if she hit the right number, everything would line back up.

She didn’t hear his footsteps. Just felt them.

That shift in the air. That pull in her chest that only ever meant him.

Caleb stood at the bottom of the steps, hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched—not like he was cold, but like he didn’t want to take up too much space. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask what he came here to ask.

Alice didn’t say anything. Not right away.

She just looked at him.

Really looked.

He’d been in the mess with her. Not from the outside. With her. Elbow-deep in the curse, the blood, the fear. And still—he showed up. Still—he looked at her like she was worth showing up for.

She pushed gently off the swing and stood, the boards creaking beneath her. Walked down the steps until there was just enough space between them to breathe—but not enough to hide.

Then she nodded once. Small. Certain.

Like a signal flare in the dark.

Yeah. She was glad he came.

Even if they didn’t say anything at all.

Caleb didn’t move at first.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t trust his voice not to crack open the fragile quiet between them, that soft bubble of stillness that felt more honest than words ever could.

Because she looked like how he felt.

Bare. Worn down at the edges. Holding it together with sheer will and a tired kind of grace. And God, he didn’t know how to fix any of it. But he didn’t come to fix. He came to stay.

So he nodded back.

A mirror to hers.

Then he stepped forward—slow, careful—until the space between them folded in like the last page of a letter. Not touching, not yet. Just close enough for her to know he would if she needed.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, finally, voice low and quiet like the street was listening. “Not with everything the way it is.”

But he knew she needed the air. Knew she’d take silence over sympathy, the swing over a therapist’s couch. He got it. Maybe too much.

He looked down at her bare feet. At the smudge of dirt on her heel. At the tension in her shoulders that hadn’t eased in days.

“I brought the flashlight,” he added, softer now. A little smile at the corner of his mouth. “Just in case.”

Because sometimes monsters were real.

And sometimes the only thing you could do was bring a damn light.

He waited then. Gave her the choice. To turn back toward the porch. To reach for his hand. To tell him to sit and stay awhile or keep walking.

Whatever she needed—he’d be that.

He just hoped he was still something she could need.

Alice Mae didn’t move at first either.

Didn’t rush to fill the space his voice had left. She just let it sit there between them—tender, careful, real.

Her eyes flicked toward the street. Quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made her itch under her skin, like the silence was hiding something.

“This is Sunnyvale,” she said finally, voice dry with something that wasn’t quite sarcasm but wasn’t far off. “Bad things don’t happen on this side of town, remember?”

She said it like a joke.

But it wasn’t.

They both knew better now.

Her gaze dropped to his hand, fingers still curled loose at his side. He hadn’t tried to touch her. Hadn’t pushed. Just waited.

That mattered more than he probably realized.

She turned, heading back toward the porch with slow, deliberate steps. The swing creaked as she settled into it again, tugging one knee up, letting her heel rest against the seat. She glanced back at him, then patted the space beside her.

“Come on,” she said softly, with a hint of tired warmth. “Might as well sit before one of my neighbors thinks you’re here to rob the place.”

The joke landed better this time—lighter, a flicker of something like peace tugging at the corner of her mouth.

She didn’t look at him as he stepped up, but she felt the shift when he lowered himself beside her.

Close.

Still not touching.

But close enough to remind her she wasn’t alone in this. Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

The swing creaked beneath their weight, settling into a slow, lazy sway. The kind that didn’t ask anything of them. Just moved. Just was.

Alice Mae stared out at the street. At the glow of porch lights and the way the breeze pushed a soda can across the curb like even it didn’t know where to go.

She pulled the sleeves of his t-shirt down over her hands, twisting the fabric once, then again. Her voice came quiet—almost cautious, like she wasn’t sure if the question would land right.

“How are you doing?”

She didn’t look at him.

Not yet.

“Like—actually.”

The words felt strange, almost out of place in the dark. Too normal. Too soft. But that was the thing about surviving—when it wasn’t life or death, sometimes you forgot how to just talk.

“We’ve been running for so long,” she added, “I don’t even know when the last real conversation was. Like, one that didn’t involve maps or blood or someone screaming in the distance.”

She glanced at him then, the porch light catching the edges of her cheekbone, the faint purple under her eyes.

“I miss that,” she admitted. “Normal. You and me, just… talking. No curses. No countdowns.”

Her foot nudged the porch gently, pushing the swing back into rhythm.

“I’m not saying we go back to pretending,” she said. “I just wanna know if you’re still in there. If you’re still you.”

A pause.

Then, with a wry little smile:

“Even if ‘you’ is still scared of my mom and refuses to sit on the good couch.”

Caleb let out a quiet breath that might’ve been a laugh.

Might’ve been relief.

God, she had no idea what it did to him—hearing her talk like that. Not like she was about to break, or bite someone’s head off, or bolt into the woods with nothing but a flashlight and pure rage. But like Alice. His Alice. The girl who made fun of his music taste, who knew exactly how to beat him at cards, who used to throw popcorn at his head during horror movies and call him dramatic.

He missed her, too.

And maybe that was what wrecked him the most.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together like he was bracing himself for something heavy. His eyes stayed fixed on the sidewalk—on that dented soda can skittering across the street like even it was lost.

Then he shrugged.

“I’m still here,” he said. “Mostly.”

He glanced over, and there was a softness in his expression she rarely got to see unless everything else had gone quiet. A kind of honesty that stripped away all the bravado and left just… Caleb.

“But yeah,” he added, voice lower now. “I think about that a lot. How fast everything flipped. One second we’re fighting over who gets aux in my car, next second I’m scraping blood off your boots in the back of a gas station.”

His mouth tugged into a crooked, rueful grin.

“I miss it too. Being normal. You giving me shit for being scared of your mom.” He leaned a little closer, just enough for his shoulder to brush hers. Just for a second. “Still am, by the way. That woman could take down a demon with a spatula and a disapproving glare.”

He paused, letting the swing carry them a few inches forward and back.

Then, quieter:
“I think I’m scared I won’t get it back. That I already lost the version of me who wasn’t... this.” He gestured vaguely—at the dark, the street, the ghosts. “And I don’t know what I’m supposed to be now. I mean, I’m still into sports, still make the same dumb jokes, still listen to that one song you hate just to piss you off—but it all feels… heavier. Like I’ve gotta carry it different now.”

He looked at her then, really looked.

“And I guess I’m just hoping… if I am different, I’m still somebody you’d want to sit next to.”

His voice didn’t crack, but it got close.

And if his hand slipped just a little closer on the swing’s worn wooden slats, he didn’t call attention to it. Didn’t push.

Just waited.

Because even now—especially now—he knew the only way through this was together. And he’d rather sit in the dark with her than pretend to be okay anywhere else.

Alice Mae let the silence stretch for a second after he finished. Not because she didn’t know what to say—but because it felt sacred, somehow. Like interrupting too quickly would cheapen it.

So she just watched him.

The way his shoulders curled forward like the weight he was carrying didn’t quite know where to land. The way he looked at her like maybe she was the last piece of something solid in a world that wouldn’t stop shifting under his feet.

She reached for his hand without thinking.

No drama. No hesitation. Just there.

Her fingers slid into his, sure and steady, and she held on like it was a promise.

“I’m not the same either,” she said, her voice soft but not small. “And honestly? I don’t think I want to be.”

Her thumb brushed across his knuckles once, slow.

“I used to think if I could just survive all of this, I could go back. But I don’t think there is a going back. Not really. Not for you. Not for me.”

She looked out at the street, at the same dented can he’d been staring at—now motionless against the curb. Like it had finally given up trying to roll.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep going forward. With you.”

She turned back to him then, expression open, eyes clearer than they’d been in days.

“You’re still you, Caleb. Maybe a little more cracked around the edges. But so am I. That’s what makes this real.”

A pause, her hand tightening just slightly in his.

“And yeah. I still wanna sit next to you.”

Her smile ghosted into something a little wry. A little familiar.

“Especially if it means I get to keep reminding you how terrible your taste in music is.”

The porch swing creaked gently beneath them, but she didn’t let go. Didn’t shift away.

She just leaned in—shoulder to shoulder now—and let the weight be shared.

Caleb didn’t say anything right away.

He didn’t need to.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel like he had to hold his breath.

He turned his hand in hers, lacing their fingers tighter, grounding himself in the warmth of her grip. Letting it tether him to the moment. To her. To now.

His head tilted just enough to brush her temple with his shoulder, a breath of contact that said I’m here. I heard you. Me too.

Then—because she’d expect it, and because maybe he needed to say it more than she needed to hear it—he murmured:

“You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise I’d be offended.”

The smile that pulled across his mouth was small, tired, but real. He let his head fall back against the swing, gaze tilted toward the night sky that peeked out between the porch beams. A few stars, barely visible through the haze of Sunnyvale’s polished glow. The air smelled like distant rain and jasmine, like the kind of summer night that lulled you into thinking everything was fine.

“I don’t know what happens next,” he said, voice low, almost more for himself than her. “But if I’m walking into it cracked and cursed and half-shattered… I’d rather do it with you.”

And then?

He didn’t say another word.

Because that was when the air changed.

Not in a poetic way. Not in a metaphor.

Really changed.

The wind stilled.

The porch light flickered.

And somewhere, just past the curb where that soda can had stopped rolling—

A figure stood.

Tall.

Still.

Wrong.

The shadows warped around them like the night itself didn’t want to touch them. A flash of red glinted from the blade at their side. The mask caught the porch light just long enough for Alice Mae to see it—the crude, jagged edge of something that was never meant to look human.

Her hand clenched tighter in Caleb’s.

And he froze.

No sound. No breath. No motion.

Like if he didn’t move, maybe it wouldn’t be real.

But it was.

The Nightwing killer had found them.

And Caleb—still cracked, still himself—didn’t say a thing.

He just stood when she did.

Ready.