*callum needs more love callum needs more love callum needs more love callum needs mor

*i just realized this is like the first callum centric story i've written where i don't torture him. huh

*i read something like this on instagram with ariel, this isn't the same thing at all (like they don't follow the same structure or story or anything) but it's the same kind of concept i guess?

*also HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALLUM! this isn't a birthday prompt cuz i have no ideas but it's still callum centric! he's my favorite character osiahqhshah i love him

*title comes from say no / put it straight - (g)i-dle (translated to english)

Love is a strange thing, Callum thinks.

His mom describes it as knowing. It's a longing in your heart, butterflies in your stomach, a kiss on your cheek. It's a deep need in your veins, an excitement in your chest, something that completes you. She says it's something that if it were taken away, you would feel a void in your heart. You need it, she says.

He doesn't understand exactly what she means, because he knows he loves her but he doesn't experience any of the things she's said, so he thinks she must be talking about something else. Something he doesn't know yet, something he'll find later.

They move in to the castle and the King is his dad now, even though he doesn't always feel like it, maybe that's his fault, maybe it's not. He does love him, maybe not as much as he loves his mom just because they're not as close, but King Harrow steps into the room and kneels down and says in life there are changes he isn't ready for, and he's the only parent he has left. There's a rift between them, a barrier of sorts, and Callum wishes he could break it down and he knows King Harrow does too, but they don't. Callum loves him, he really does, but his mom's explanation doesn't fit and he thinks he has to keep searching.

Ezran is born, and Callum is too young to really understand the concept of birth, but he holds the tiny baby in his arms and he wraps his itty bitty hand in his and Callum knows he loves him. He cares about him and would do anything for him; he doesn't think twice about giving himself up for him when the assassin comes to the castle. He always feels an overwhelming urge to protect him but it still doesn't fit his mother's description and he keeps searching.

He meets Claudia and he thinks maybe that's love. He's shy around her, can't speak in coherent sentences, and he thinks she's pretty and smart and unique and he likes her, he really does like her, but her betrayal burns holes in his heart and whatever he felt for her dies off.

And maybe it's with Rayla. It could be, he thinks; she makes him feel confident and safe and like he needs to be better, she makes him want to be better, and she's beautiful and amazing and brave, and they're close, they are, and he thinks that maybe he could grow to love her. Maybe whatever feelings he has for her could bloom into a flower as beautiful as her.

But he still doesn't understand his mother's words. There's no deep rooted assurance, he's not sure at all, and there's no need in his veins or longing in his heart. There's no excitement in his chest or something that completes him. There's no love.

And it hurts. Love hurts, he realizes. He's seen Sarai and King Harrow's relationship, and he knows what they have is so beautiful and he wants something like that too, he wants to know what his mom's explanation feels like. But no matter how much he would chase after Claudia or how many times Rayla touches his shoulder, he still doesn't understand her words.

And he thinks maybe he's been looking in the wrong place.

He thinks back on his mother's words, her description of a longing in his heart, butterflies in his stomach, a kiss on his cheek, a deep need in his veins, an excitement in his chest, something that completes him, something that fills a void. He's always tried to put them with someone; when his mother died, there was a void in his heart and a longing for someone he couldn't have, but she never gave him butterflies. He feels a deep need in his veins to protect Ezran, but he doesn't complete him. Claudia used to give him butterflies in his stomach, but there's no void in his heart when she's gone. Rayla will kiss his cheek sometimes and she's practically his other half, but he doesn't long for her presence.

He thinks about it one day in the rain as the drops fall and sink through his clothes and the wind rips at his hair and thunder booms and lightning strikes, and there's metal in his mouth and crackling in his ears, and he looks out at the deep blue sky, and a smile tugs at his lips as contentment sinks into his chest and lights up his heart.

He tries the breath spell for the first time, and he's certain it's going to go wrong somehow because everything he's ever done has gone wrong somehow, but the stone feels cool in his hands and he can feel the air in his lungs, really feel the air in his lungs, and he pushes it out into a whirlwind that blows away both the wolves and himself. It feels right, and when Rayla calls him a mage it feels so right, like he belongs, like it's his purpose, and he can't wait to explore it more. He can't wait to test the limits of this newfound magic. His chest swells with excitement.

Rayla gives him the word to the lightning spell and he's itching with the need to use it, and he gets his chance when the leech comes back for another round. The glass of the stone makes his skin crawl in a good way, and he pulls the electricity from it into his hand and it crackles along his fingertips and he bounces with the need to release it, and he does. It leaves him feeling energetic, electrified, and butterflies of excitement flutter in his stomach.

It doesn't last because of course it doesn't; he never expected it to, but he didn't think it would end the way it did. But he looks at Ezran and Rayla hugging in tears and Ellis's sympathetic gaze and Lujanne's downcast expression and he comes to his conclusion, and he doesn't want to let go. He wants to chase the feeling of excitement in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach and the magic, his magic, but he knows deep down that hatching the egg is more important.

So he picks up the stone, holds it in his hand, feels its cold glass and subtle shock of electricity and he whispers a goodbye, and he throws it down onto the ground. The storm does hatch the egg, and when the baby dragon opens his brilliant blue eyes, Callum thinks it was worth it, though there is a void he feels in his heart that wasn't there before now that the stone is gone.

He knows it's pointless to hold on to the hope that Lujanne can help him, but he does anyways because he misses the electricity in his hand and the itch to cast a spell, so he asks her for her help. She blatantly tells him he's never going to feel that again; he's just a human, right? It breaks whatever pieces he had left of his heart, and he feels more dejected than ever when he walks away. He misses magic so much, misses the sky so much, misses the air whooshing by and the shock of lightning, and he finds himself longing for something he can't have.

How that leads him to a storm, he's not sure, and he used to enjoy sitting out in the rain and splashing in puddles and doodling under an umbrella, but the wind rips through his clothes and the rain chills him to the bone, and the one thing that used to calm him only adds to his frustration. There's lightning and thunder and rain and the sky all around him and yet he still can't touch it, no matter how high he climbs or how much he tries to focus. Holding the lightning rod doesn't replace the feeling of holding electricity, and he leaves feeling worse than when he started and an even stronger need in his veins.

And there's a storm in his dream, his storm, and he drowns, he can't breathe, and that's all he has to do, breathe, and he realizes it with a start. There's no magic solution, no answer he can find to his problems. There's nothing out there that will bring his magic back.

He's been looking for someone to guide him, something to assure him, when he should have been looking at himself. The key to magic isn't something he can find, he has to search for it in himself. He just has to breathe.

And he does. He doesn't know exactly how, maybe it's his mom tracing circles on his back, maybe it's Rayla calling out for him, maybe it's his own discovery, but he shoots awake and scrambles to explain his thoughts before he lose them. He stands by the edge of the cliff, feels the wind rush by, and the butterflies and excitement and longing and need return in a second, and he channels the need to breathe into his hand and he draws a familiar rune and utters a familiar incantation.

The wind builds in the back of his throat and he breathes it in and savors it, just for a moment, the magic, his magic, and he pushes it out into a whirlwind of his breath and the air and happiness flutters in his chest and the magic fills the void it had left, and he feels so complete.

He sits out in the rain one day as lightning strikes and thunder rumbles and rain swirls around him in icy drops that if he stares at for long enough, they almost look like crystals, and he tilts his head up to the sky and allows his thoughts to slip and his worries to drift away because the storm surrounds him, and that's all he needs. The rain drips down and kisses his cheek.

This is love. This is the longing in his heart, butterflies in his stomach, kiss on his cheek, deep need in his veins, excitement in his chest, something that completes him, something that fills a void. He needs it, he thinks.

This is the assurance that he's on the right path, this is the thing that he carries with him in his heart, this is the thing he can think of and light up, this is the feeling of being on top of the world. He's spent so long wondering and chasing after a feeling he could never place, and he thinks, this is it.

He's found her description of love.

Maybe it's not traditional. He knows people are supposed to fall in love with people, not a concept, and now that he's older, he's realized his mom was talking about romantic love, not this. But her description fits all the same, and it's not the same type of love, he knows that, but he thinks that it's still love.

Love doesn't have to be textbook. He doesn't have to wake up every morning with someone by his side for him to appreciate life. He doesn't have to kiss someone to know what it's like to feel safe. He doesn't have to have his heart stolen by someone to learn to love.

Love isn't some fairytale with two characters who fall for each other's quirks and are two halves that make a whole and they depend on one another and are each other's reason for living. Sometimes, love is sitting out in a storm while the rain falls down and electricity crackles in the air and thunder shakes the earth and looking up at the sky with a gentle smile.

This is love. His love.

Callum doesn't fall in love with a person. Callum falls in love with the sky.

*did i have an idea when i started this? no lol

*still don't have an idea of what this is

*that made no sense

*i'm tired

*happy birthday to best boy we stan