Monday — Love, Candles, and Confessions
The apartment wasn't big, but it was glowing.
There were balloons—mostly pink because Sam insisted—and flowers in thrifted vases. A cake that was definitely store-bought but personalized in sparkling frosting: Happy Birthday, Mom! And scattered throughout the room were the quiet signs of love: handmade cards, Caleb's old framed photos, a dinner table set for five.
His mother stood near the stove, radiant in her new silk robe, freshly wrapped gifts resting at her feet. The scent of herbs and sizzling oil filled the room.
"I still don't understand where all this came from," she laughed, holding up the quartz roller set. "Is this a fancy ice pop?"
"It's for your lymphatic drainage, Mom," Caleb said, cheeks pink. "It's a skincare thing."
"Oh," she said, amused. "You're too good to me."
"Not just me," Caleb mumbled.
But before she could ask, the doorbell rang.
Sam answered it with a flourish. "Our princes have arrived!"
Hayden stepped in first, a box of desserts in one hand, the other holding a sleepy-looking orchid for the birthday girl. Dev followed, tall and easy, eyes searching for Caleb instantly—and when they found him, he smiled like he was already home.
Caleb's mother greeted them warmly, charmed by Hayden's bashful bow and delighted by Dev's easy, practiced charm.
It was only when the food was on the table—plates full, candles lit, glasses clinking softly—that Caleb cleared his throat.
"Hey," he said, louder than he meant to. "I wanna say something."
All eyes turned to him.
Dev raised an eyebrow, curious. Caleb's mother tilted her head.
"I, um… I just wanted to say thank you. To everyone. For helping me pull this off. Especially Dev."
Dev blinked. "I—"
Caleb cut him off gently. "And also because… I really like him. A lot. And I just wanted to say it. Out loud."
Silence.
Then: his mom's hand, reaching across the table, squeezing his.
"Sweetheart," she said, tears already starting. "You finding love is the best birthday present I've ever gotten."
Sam made a soft awww noise, and Hayden smiled into his glass. Dev was frozen for a moment, eyes wide—before slowly, softly, his smile deepened. Like the words had landed somewhere deep.
Caleb turned to him, cheeks still pink. "Just thought you should know."
"I do now," Dev said, voice low. "And I'm not letting go of it."
---
Later That Night — Vacation Dreams and Plans in Motion
After cake and long hugs goodbye, the four of them lingered at the curb, the sky dark and glittering above them. Sam leaned back against Hayden's chest, Dev's hand brushed against Caleb's, fingers finally lacing.
"So," Sam said, already excited, "we're going to celebrate. Properly."
Hayden raised an eyebrow. "Celebrate what?"
"You and your project being chosen to headline the innovation showcase next semester," Sam beamed, "and Caleb being brave enough to confess in front of his mom, and Dev for spending a thousand dollars without blinking—"
"Fifteen hundred," Caleb mumbled.
Sam waved it off. "Anyway. I vote: resort trip."
"Ocean or mountain?" Hayden asked.
"Why not both?" Dev said, smirking. "I know a place."
Caleb looked up. "Of course you do."
"Weekend away," Sam said, eyes already glittering with ideas. "No labs. No clubs. Just sun, stupid drinks, and love."
Hayden leaned down to press a kiss to Sam's cheek. Dev squeezed Caleb's hand.
And just like that, it was decided.
Plans were in motion, love was declared, and four hearts beat just a little louder under the stars.
Resort Day — Salt, Sun, and Silly Drinks
The resort was a dream.
Nestled between a crescent beach and emerald cliffs, the place was all white stucco and gentle breezes, with hammocks on every balcony and ocean air thick with sunscreen and citrus.
They spent the day barefoot and carefree.
Sam wore a floppy straw hat the size of a satellite dish, pretending to read while Hayden built him a sandcastle moat around his lounge chair. Caleb swam laps and occasionally let Dev pull him underwater just to "rescue" him again. Dev never quite let go of Caleb's hand after that, except to hand him drinks—blue and red and fizzy and utterly ridiculous.
The sun dipped low. The sky turned honey.
And after a long, lazy dinner under string lights and a few rounds of dangerously sweet cocktails, they all wobbled back toward their villa—laughing, wind-tousled, sun-kissed.
Then came the soft parting: Hayden tugging Sam inside with a sleepy, affectionate kiss. Sam giggled something about bubble baths and aloe gel.
That left Dev and Caleb under the stars, the ocean whispering just beyond the palm trees.
---
Later — A Quiet Room, A Revealed Past
Their shared room was cool, dimly lit, with gauzy curtains swaying from the open window. Caleb flopped onto the bed, limbs loose, cheeks pink from both the sun and the rum. Dev wandered in after, slower. He didn't say much at first.
Caleb noticed.
"You okay?"
Dev turned. He smiled, but it was crooked—looser than usual. The alcohol had softened his edges.
"I was just thinking," he said, sitting at the edge of the bed, back to Caleb. "Your mom's amazing."
Caleb laughed. "She's the best."
"She reminds me of…" Dev trailed off. "Well. She reminds me of something I forgot I missed."
Caleb sat up slowly. "Dev?"
Dev looked at him. Really looked.
"I haven't told many people," he began, voice quieter now. "My parents—both of them—died when I was seventeen. Accidental electrocution. Wiring in the old place. It happened while I was at school. I came home and…"
He didn't finish.
The silence swelled around it.
Caleb moved without thinking, crawling closer until his hands were on Dev's shoulders.
"I don't talk about it," Dev continued. "Not because I don't think about them—I do. Every day. But because when I do talk about it, it feels like it happened again. Like I'm seventeen and helpless all over."
Caleb pressed his forehead to Dev's back.
"And when Sam got shocked," Dev said, voice thinner now, "I didn't even think. I just… I had to make sure it didn't happen again. To someone. To anyone."
Caleb wrapped his arms around him, pressing his chest against Dev's spine. "You're not helpless now," he murmured. "You're here. With me."
Dev turned then, slow and uncertain.
His eyes were glossy, but he wasn't crying. Not exactly. Just open.
And Caleb kissed him.
Not rough. Not hungry. But deep—like an anchor, like I've got you, like something they both needed more than either had admitted.
Dev sank into it. Into him.
Hands on hips. Mouths pressed close. The kind of kiss that made the air go still around them.
When they pulled apart, foreheads touching, Dev let out a breath that felt like release.
"I love your mom," he whispered.
"I love you," Caleb answered, voice hoarse.
And in that moment, Dev believed it.
Not just the words—but that someone could love him, even with the ghosts still lingering.
They curled into bed, warm limbs tangled under the blankets, ocean wind slipping through the curtains like a lullaby.
And the night held them gently, like it already knew this story had only just begun.
It's strange, isn't it? How everything can change in just seven days.
One week ago, Sam and Hayden were strangers—two university students with clashing projects and a spectacular accident involving water, wires, and one very dramatic shock. That moment, chaotic and unplanned, sparked a bond neither of them expected. Over study hall disasters, stargazing walks, late-night confessions, and a perfectly placed forehead kiss, they rebuilt more than just their projects. They rebuilt trust. They found wonder in each other.
And in the background, another story bloomed.
Caleb and Dev—opposites on paper, but electric in person—met under the cold lights of the study hall, where Dev made the first move with a flirtation too bold to be missed. Caleb, to his own surprise, didn't just catch it—he threw it right back. In just seven days, there were shared rides, stolen glances, nightclub breaks, a million-dollar sunrise, and secrets whispered between heartbeats.
And now? Here they are.
On a balcony at a beachside resort, two couples tangled in the kind of love that doesn't ask permission. Seven days. Four hearts. One messy, beautiful story.
And maybe—just maybe—the beginning of something even bigger.