|| BXB One-shot Book ||

|| Tiny Dancer ||

|| introducing new son Caleb Howell 💜||
|| also this one ain't too good sorry lmao ||

Caleb woke to the sun shining in his face. Disgruntled, he frowned, rolling over. Caleb looked around at his yellow room, his white desk. He smiled at the small cactus plant there, and (though it was probably foolish), called out to it.

“Good morning, Spike.”

Caleb set his feet on the ground gently, rising from his sheets. He stretched his arms up to the ceiling, back curving as the sleep left the muscles in his slender frame. Caleb ran a hand through his maroon colored locks. He then stood, sighing in satisfaction.

He walked on his wood floors, balanced on the balls of his feet. Caleb began humming to himself what sounded to be a waltz, and he began to dance, holding a partner that wasn’t there.

The kitchen was always his first place to go in the morning, where he made breakfast (eggs, bacon, and toast) and his coffee. Always the same breakfast, same cup of coffee.

He sat at his table, which could seat eight. Three chairs on the sides, one at each end.

But there was no one.

Caleb began to eat in silence, the sound of metal clinking against glass filling the house. Completing breakfast, he took a sip of his coffee, then set it down with a soft thunk.

Caleb washed the dishes. Drank his coffee. Read his book.

Then came his favorite part of the day.

At 8:30, he went outside into his yard (which was rather large mind you), a bluetooth speaker in one hand and his phone in the other. He had changed clothes by now, from his cactus designed onesie to cranberry colored sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

He began to stretch, and at 9 o’clock he started the music.

His body twisted and turned, shuddered and curved, He spun, he jumped, he flipped. Caleb loved to dance. He was one of the best, though he preferred to lay low. Occasionally he would film a morning dance session, then, after editing the video to have only one particular dance, post it on YouTube.

Lindsey Stirling, Billie Eilish, Eden, Halsey, Melanie Martinez. The artists gave him music, gave him life.

His final song came on, which would finish at precisely 11 am; “idon’twannabeyouanymore” by Billie Eilish.

With the music turned up all the way, Caleb got lost in his dance. He let all his emotions pour into this one dance. His loneliness, his self-loathing.

Caleb didn’t always live alone. He’d had someone, a boy named Sam. Sam had been his lover, the reason he danced.

But now Caleb danced to try and speak all he leaves unspoken.

Sam wasn’t the best for Caleb, and they both knew it. Sam was abusive, and Caleb was too kind. He let himself get hurt, get lost in its ocean. He let himself drown, let the dark water fill his lungs.

He had gotten so used to being with someone who didn’t care for him, he forgot how to care for himself.

All Caleb knew was he was going to have an even harder time with communication than ever, as even before Sam, he could never truly say what he wanted to. He had a hard time opening up, and when he did he always got hurt.

He’d never had a good relationship in his life. Not with his mom, nor his dad. He had no friends whatsoever. It was just him and Spike against the world.

The song was playing and playing, and Caleb was dancing and dancing. All he knew how to do right was dance. Because in dance, there was no right or wrong. Not in contemporary dance, anyways.

The song ended with Caleb on his knees, amber eyes staring unseeingly downwards. Caleb saw a drop appear on his sweatpants, leaving a dark spot as it was absorbed into the fabric. Caleb stared at it, the processed it as a tear. His tear.

Caleb then began to sob, his tears flowing ceaselessly down his face. He brought his hands to his face, hiding. He was embarrassed; he was supposed to be strong, supposed to be happy. And here he was, crying, because he knew deep inside that he was

Weak.

Just like Sam said. Like his mother. Like his father. Like every peer or significant other he’d ever had.

They all knew he couldn’t take it. That he wasn’t worth wasting time on. They left because he was

Weak.

He couldn’t tell anyone how he felt. He couldn’t speak his feelings because his feelings made him

Weak.

And our tiny dancer hated himself for it.

|| basically a debut story for son ||