⭐Every version of me belongs to you ⭐

You saw it in the news. First, the funeral of the former Zenin clan head, who died of old age. And then the killings. Half of the Zenin clan was wiped out. In the official news, it was called an attack between rivaling clans, and they said that the police didn't have any suspects yet.

The rumors you heard, though, clearly state two names: Maki Zenin and Megumi Fushiguro. Both are Zenins by blood but were never bound to the clan by honor. Blood traitors, who worked for another family. But that still doesn't change the fact that Megumi Fushiguro is the highest-ranking male Zenin now.

You don't know exactly why Megumi's father left the Zenins all those years ago, but what you know is that the Zenin clan has a bad reputation. While the other clans were interested in making business contracts and mostly kept the peace, the Zenins were the ones who were to blame for most of the violence that put this city into fear.

Until the Zenin Killings happened and the clan got a new leader.

And now he is walking into this bar, in his tailored black suit, with an aloof expression on his pretty face, and his cold, dark blue eyes glaring at everyone as if he hates nothing more than being here.

Before today, you knew him as the bodyguard of The Young Tiger, Sukuna's younger brother, who was sometimes sent here to attend meetings in the name of the Itadori clan. And Megumi Fushiguro was the silent shadow following Yuuji Itadori, tagging along behind him, blue eyes stern and attentive to their surroundings. Only sometimes risking a small smile or soft laugh when Yuuji said something to him.

Tonight, the man who walks into this bar is another person. This isn't Megumi Fushiguro, the loyal bodyguard who only exists to protect someone else with his life. This man in front of you is Megumi Zenin, the youngest Yakuza boss this city has had in years. He is now one of the most powerful men in this country. One of the most dangerous. And he is clearly not happy about being here.

He is towering over you, tall and intimidating, his fine black suit not able to hide how fit he is beneath it. His face is a clear giveaway that he has the Zenin genes. Beautiful, elegant features, framed by unruly black hair and dark blue eyes, which stare you down coldly.

The woman behind him steps forward, Maki Zenin, you realize, his cousin, or first cousin once removed, if you remember correctly, who also used to work for the Itadori clan, and now apparently functions as Megumi Zenin's bodyguard. She gives a curt nod,

"Megumi Zenin, for the meeting, please."

"I don't need you to state my business, Maki."

He grounds out through clenched teeth. His voice is low, sounding just as cold as he looks. You feel goosebumps on your arms, but stay professional and bow deeply, greeting both of them with a polite smile,

"Of course. Welcome back to our establishment. We are very pleased to serve you tonight. Please follow me."

You escort him to the private backroom, where the meeting is held, and show him to his seat at the large table. He thanks you when you place the menu before him, and you can't help but notice that he smells good before you straighten up again and put your professional smile back on your face, and ask for his drink order.

He is surprisingly polite now, placing his order in a calm voice, thanking you again, and even handing the menu back to you so you don't have to collect it. You think that maybe his earlier bad mood came from disliking those kinds of business meetings, or maybe he is someone who, in general, isn't very fond of being around other people.

You give him a more genuine smile,

"Thank you, Mr. Zenin. I will be right back."

You notice how his jaw clenches when you say his name. You quickly bow again and leave to get the drinks, trying to ignore the nervous flutter of your pulse.

You return a few minutes later, balancing a large tray on one hand, serving the guests silently. You know that in here, you have to be discreet when the powerful men talk. Practically invisible.

That is as long as one of the men doesn't decide to flirt with you. Then you are expected to play along, smile and giggle a bit, and endure it even when you hate the way his hands trail over your body.

One of those old guys does exactly that right now, when you place his wine in front of him. His voice drawls sugary-sweet,

"Ah, thank you, sweetheart. Have I told you how lovely you look again tonight? Always such a sight for my old, sore eyes."

He leers at you, his eyes wandering greedily over your body. You put on a fake smile, laughing softly, and thanking him for the compliment. You force yourself not to pull away when he reaches out to pat your ass and then lets his large hand rest there. Your job forbids you to tell him to stop, and so all you can do is smile and wait until an acceptable amount of time has passed so you can leave without affronting him.

But it is someone else who speaks up. A low, cold voice, dripping with contempt,

"Stop wasting my time with molesting the poor waitress and just start with what we came here for. I don't have all night."

Megumi Zenin. Your gaze flickers to him, and you give him a small grateful smile, quickly stepping away from the other guy. You leave before the following discussion can start, letting out a long breath as the door softly slides shut behind you.

You spend the next hour serving tables in the front area of the bar, knowing that no one is allowed to enter the private rooms as long as the occupants don't explicitly demand a waitress.

You enter the kitchen, pushing the swing door open with your hip as you balance two arms full of plates. Your favorite coworker waves at you, looking stressed,

"Hey, I am so sorry, but can you please take the trash out for me? My mom isn't feeling well. I have to leave early."

"Sure, no problem. Go home and say hello to your mom."

You smile reassuringly as she walks past you and gives your shoulder a grateful squeeze. You put the dirty dishes away and grab the two large trash bags before exiting the kitchen through the back door.

Cold night air hits you as you step into the dimly lit back alley behind the bar. You throw the trash bags into the large dumpster and are about to head back in when you catch a movement in the corner of your eyes.

You jump, breath getting caught in your throat, when you see a tall, dark figure leaning against the brick wall. The figure moves and steps into the dim light of the street lamp. Your pulse flutters. It's him again. Megumi Zenin.

He locks the screen of his phone and shoves it back into the pocket of his suit jacket while walking towards you with large steps.

You feel frozen in your spot, somehow unable to move. You have no idea what it is about him that makes you so flustered. You stare at him, not even caring how rude this is. He raises an elegant eyebrow, blue eyes scanning your face with an unreadable expression. And then he stops next to you, murmuring to you in his low voice as if he is sharing a secret with you,

"Don't you hate it? Acting like everything is fine when those sick assholes sit in there, thinking they can do whatever they want, and bend this world to their will? How can you put on that polite smile while those disgusting old creeps put their dirty hands on you?"

Your eyes widen as you stare straight ahead at the door, your heart beating to your throat, intimidated by his presence. He is so close that you can smell his fresh, masculine cologne again, and you imagine you can feel the warmth emanating from his tall, strong body.

You make a helpless little noise and shrug,

"It's my job."

For a moment, there is only silence, only the distant muffled sounds of the nightly city reaching your ear as if through a glass wall. Then he huffs softly,

"Yeah, I guess. The disgusting things we have to do to be allowed to live."

His voice is hard, his posture rigid and almost threatening, but you can't help but think you hear a hint of sadness in his tone. Maybe that is why you lift your head and look up at his beautiful face, half hidden in the shadows, and say softly,

"I can imagine that your job must be very tough, Zenin-san."

His dark blue eyes narrow,

"Don't call me that. I hate that name."

"I'm sorry... um Fushiguro-san, then?"

He stares at you for a moment, jaw clenched, and something flickers over his blue eyes, something akin to sadness once again, as if, in his mind, he is looking at a fond memory that slipped through his fingers. The moment is gone quickly, though, and his eyes are the same cold pools again.

"That's not who I am anymore either."

You feel strangely trapped here in his gaze, unable to step away even though he doesn't even touch you or stand in your way. You open your mouth, about to ask how you are supposed to address him, when the heavy metal door of the building across the alleyway gets kicked open with a loud bang.

And then hell breaks loose in the narrow back alley.

Two men in black suits step into the street. Everything happens too fast for you, but you realize that they both carry a katana. And they aren't here by accident. Before you can react, you get pushed to the side. You scream as you stumble and then fall onto your knees.

You look up and see Megumi Zenin, or Fushiguro, or whatever he wants to be called nowadays. He pushed you out of the way and is putting himself between you and the attackers, pulling out a knife of his own.

You watch everything in front of you unfold as if in slow motion, frozen in fear, unable to move and run or scream for help or anything.

The two armed guys attack the Zenin heir simultaneously. But he counters the attacks with efficient, elegant moves. The movements of someone who has been in a situation like this countless times before. A former bodyguard, trained to react fast and smart.

You watch in a daze as Megumi kicks one of the guys in the stomach, making him tumble back a few steps. But his colleague instantly takes his place and lashes out with his sword, his blade meeting Megumi's.

He calls out to the other guy,

"I got this! Go after his woman! Kill her too!"

His words barely register in your brain when the second guy already turns to you. You stare up at him. And finally, the adrenaline in your veins wins, and you can move again. You jump to your feet, backing away from the armed man, who is approaching you with a low, cruel laugh, as if he enjoys the thought of killing a woman.

Your instincts kick in, and you start running. But you don't get far. A strong hand grabs your arm and pulls you back, and then you get slammed into the wall. Your back hits the brickstone hard, knocking the breath out of you.

Your eyes widen in panic as you look at the man in front of you with the deadly glint in his eyes. You struggle against his grip, fighting for your life, but he is too strong. You watch in horror as he lifts his katana and brings it closer to your throat, letting the blade slowly trail down your neck and over your breasts, resting it against your ribcage, where your heart is beating frantically.

You feel tears run down your cheeks, and your body is shaking violently as the hopeless conviction fills your mind that you will die now.

But suddenly your attacker's eyes widen, and he stumbles backwards. Through a curtain of tears, you see your savior: Megumi Zenin is standing behind the man, one hand brutally grabbing the guy's hair to pull him off you.

His other arm goes around the attacker's throat, holding him in a chokehold, while the blade of Megumi's knife presses against the guy's throat. Megumi's teeth are gritted, making him look savage.

The man in Megumi's chokehold is breathing heavily, but his eyes are filled with hatred, and he hisses,

"Let go, pretty boy. As if you are man enough to end it."

And then Megumi Zenin starts laughing. It's a scary sound. Cruel, sadistic, insane. His face is a grimace, beautiful but deadly. Blue eyes filled with a mad glint, his lips lifted in that insane smirk, and he says in a smooth, almost seductive voice,

"What? You think I haven't done this before? You think I have any qualms killing trash like you? Wanna know what I hate even more than spineless worms killing for some made-up power structures? Scum, like you, who enjoys killing innocent people. She has nothing to do with any of this. It's you who deserves to die, not her."

Megumi's gaze snaps to your terrified and shaking form, where you are slumped bonelessly against the brick wall. His dark blue eyes are hard when he says in that scary, calm voice,

"Cover your eyes."

You are too shaken up to react, and when your brain finally catches up with what Megumi is about to do, you already see him dragging his blade across your attacker's throat with a sure, precise movement.

You gasp, quickly pressing your hands over your eyes, but it doesn't prevent you from feeling the disgusting, warm and wet sensation of blood spraying over your face and hands. Your breath is coming out in short, panicked huffs as you feel your legs give away, and you slide down the wall.

You hear a dull, heavy thud. The body of your attacker is getting dumped onto the asphalt.

You sob silently into your hand, shoulders shaking. A soft touch against your arm makes you flinch. You pull your hands off your face, your wide, terrified eyes looking up at Megumi Zenin.

Megumi Zenin, who just killed a man in front of you without any remorse. He looks scary with the bright red splatters of fresh blood on his beautiful face and white dress shirt. "But he saved your life", you think, and maybe that's why you don't try to run when he crouches down in front of you.

His dark blue eyes are filled with worry that catches you by surprise. He lets his gaze trail over your face and body, and you realize that he is checking on you.

His low voice is soothing,

"It's ok. You are safe now. He can't hurt you anymore. Are you ok? Do you have any injuries that I can't see?"

You manage to shake your head,

"N... no... I don't have any injuries. Wh.. where is the other one?"

You look around frantically, feeling panic threatening to drown you again, when your gaze lands on the dead body lying in a gradually growing pool of dark red blood.

A strong but elegant hand cups your cheek, making you turn your face back to focus on Megumi's face in front of you.

"Don't look. The other one ran. It's safe for now. But let's get you away from here."

You barely register how he pulls you to your feet. Any other time, you would be embarrassed by how weak you feel and how you fall against him, legs too shaky to stand. But right now, you aren't in any state to care about something like that.

And Megumi doesn't comment on it either. You feel his strong arm wrap around your waist, steadying you, making sure you don't fall. You lean against him, instinctively searching the safety of his tall, firm body.

You can feel his firm muscles through his clothes, can feel his deadly strength. You know that the hand that is currently cupping your cheek and soothingly trailing a thumb over your blood-stained skin is the hand that only a few minutes ago killed a man. But you can't help but feel safe here in Megumi's arms.

The same thought is repeating in your mind over and over again. "He saved your life. Megumi Zenin killed a man to protect you."

Tears spill over your eyes again, and you press your face against Megumi's chest, feeling slightly guilty for ruining his white dress shirt even more, but not able to hold yourself back. He feels safe and warm, the only good thing in this dark, violent night. You mumble a weak,

"Thank you. Thank you for saving me...."

He cradles the back of your head, just standing there in the dimly lit back alley with you for a long moment, holding you, letting you bury your face in his chest and desperately inhaling the fresh scent of his cologne to chase away the smell of blood.

His long fingers brush over your hair, and then he pulls away, but only to lift you up into his arms, apparently deciding that you are not in any shape to walk on your own at the moment. You are grateful for it, slinging your arms around his neck and letting him carry you back into the kitchen of the Black Dragon bar.

He sets you down on a chair next to the fridge, wordlessly handing you a wet towel to clean the blood off you, before he methodically starts to rid himself of the blood on his skin, too. But you are still too dazed, too shocked to do anything, and just let the towel dangle limply from your hand as you watch Megumi.

He is standing at the sink. His suit jacket abandoned on the counter, the sleeves of his white dress shirt pushed back, revealing a pretty pattern of black and blue tattoos as he washes the blood off his hands. His gaze lands on you again, and he sees the towel uselessly hanging in your hand. He sighs softly and steps closer, taking the towel out of your hand.

"I'll do it for you."

He sounds detached, but his hands are surprisingly gentle when he dabs the wet cloth on your face and wipes the blood off your skin.

The kitchen door gets pushed open at that moment, and Maki bursts in, holding her phone in one hand, glaring at her boss,

"Megumi, what the fuck? Are you ok?"

You half-heartedly listen to the two of them talking. Your mind registers vaguely that they assume the attackers were sent by Naoya Zenin, who managed to escape the Zenin Killings and is now trying to claim the position of the clan head for himself.

It's just background noise in your tired mind. You smile gratefully at Maki when she hands you a glass of cold water, and feel embarrassment wash over you when you try to take a gulp from it but spill half of it over your blouse.

It's Megumi once again who takes the glass from you and cups your chin with his other hand, helping you drink. He brings the glass carefully to your lips, holding you in place with a gentle but firm hand, making you drink the whole glass, before he sets it down beside you and straightens up again. His dark blue gaze wanders over you searchingly.

"Go home and get some rest. I'll call you a taxi so you don't have to drive yourself. And you should quit your job here and look for something new. Not a Yakuza bar, preferably."

His face has that stoic expression again, his words business-like. You nod and thank him again, but he doesn't acknowledge it, his broad shoulders tense as he turns away and asks Maki to help him get rid of the body behind the bar.

You stay in your chair a few minutes longer, staring unseeingly at the wall, before you manage to leave, muttering an excuse about not feeling well, as you walk past your coworker in the reception area.

The taxi is already waiting for you, and you get in, stating your address, and then stare out the car window. But the blinking neon signs and glittering streetlights get drowned out by the pictures in your mind. Fancy black dress shoes standing in a pool of dark red blood. Dark blue eyes filled with worry. Small rivulets of blood and water running down tattooed forearms. Strong arms carrying you. Elegant long fingers gently wiping the blood off your face.

When you exit the taxi and cross the street to your apartment, you stop for a moment, breathing in the night air deeply and tilting your head to look up at the night sky illuminated by a full moon. It looks pretty. Midnight blue, like Megumi Zenin's eyes.

OMGGG THIS WAS THE FIRST CHAPTER!!

If you have followed me for a while, you probably know that I love writing Yakuza AUs and that my first big fanfic was a Sukuna x Reader Yakuza AU. This is where Yakuza Megumi's story started, too. He was Yuuji's bodyguard, and that's the background story he has in "So it goes" too. But "So it goes" is an alternate path for Megumi's Yakuza life. In the original story, I imagine that he and Yuuji are endgame. But I wanted to write a version with Megumi x Reader, and that's what brought us here ;)

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I am so invested in this story, and I hope you will all fall in love with Yakuza Boss Megumi, too 🖤

Reblogs and comments would be super sweet. Or send me and ask. I would love to hear your thoughts!!

Finally, he sees that smile, genuine and sweet.  

“You’re really unfair…” You whine to him bashfully, fall against him, and hide your whispers of affection against his chest. “You’re easy to love, Xavier.”

It’s two months after that night when he truly begins to understand what you meant as he watches your lips wrapping around the tip of your green plastic straw. Sitting together on this bench, watching the people of the city shop around Azure Square, and listening to you happily hum and kick your feet as you drink your milk tea with a cutely satisfied look on your face brings a kind of serenity he’s only managed to capture a handful of times in his extensive life.

When your eyes finally trail to the corner of your sight to meet with his, you grin at him; the little pockets of skin at the edge of your eyes crease with the rise of your cheeks and flash of your teeth. As always, without words, you make his heart race.

It’s a flowered leash that you’ve had on his heart for centuries, since the first time your cautious hands slid up his back and fumbled to grasp the knitted fabric of his sweater as you allowed him to pull your body into his, and long before he walked under the moonlight with you on his back. So easily, despite his efforts, it came rushing back the moment he saw you in that forest on your first mission.

It hasn’t been easy; his ship crashing on Earth; the knowledge that he lost his home and you a second time; and the struggle to find a reason to not sleep his life away. In the end, Xavier doesn’t think he’s ever been happier with the path he chose to walk since the day you called his name and reached out for his hand, granting him the freedom that you didn’t even have for yourself. 

Having the person he loves next to him was worth it.

“Do you want some?” you ask him, breaking his concentration as you tilt your cup his way. It slowly dawns on him that you thought he was looking at your drink, and he’s not one to offend when offered food, so he leans closer, only for you to snatch the drink away with a sideways grin. “Too slow!”

“Really?” Xavier says with mock offense and decides to beat you at your own game. It happens in a second; he closes you in, chomps down on your straw, and slurps.

“You don’t even like that flavor!”

Xavier smirks around the plastic. “It tastes better when it’s yours,” he mumbles out between sips, and you fuss at his shabby excuse until a whirring in the sky interrupts.

OTTO breezes above the two of you, announcing the news for the day. It ranges from a variety of things such as the new laws passed by the council, the degree of wanderer threat, which is as common as the weather report, then finally his last announcement captures your undivided attention.

This weekend, the EROS Meteor Shower will be visible. A once-in-a-century event, the meteor shower last appeared 25 years ago. The best times to view are between—

Looking at Xavier inquisitively, you ask, “How can a 100-year meteor shower come twice?”

“The comet that produces it only comes around once every 100 years, but the planet can pass through its remnants many times. Even accounting for that, in my experience, the EROS Meteor Shower rarely reoccurs without its comet,” he explains.

“That means we’re lucky,” you cheer and almost bounce out of your seat. A beat passes, and it doesn’t take much for him to notice how your smile falters before you stifle that emotion back under the surface. “Oh, I guess you must have seen it many times already, huh?”

“Yes,” he answers. He’s seen this particular meteor shower many times in his life. The memories carried on the tail of that shooting star were beautiful and also painful. Nearly three decades ago, he didn’t foresee another chance to witness it, but that was before, well, meeting you again was his saving grace.

Thus, for Xavier, it’s as if the stars were making a special visit to see the two of you together again. That alone makes it worth another view.

“Do you want to watch it together?”

The smile on your face is instant just like the flutter of his heart. When he takes another sip, the drink tastes a little sweeter even when you fuss at him not to drink it all.

When the weekend rolls around, still bringing the promise of the impending meteor shower, Xavier returns to the apartment to find you in the waning minutes before the event buzzing in search of the last of your items.

“Drinks. Blanket,” you recite, stacking the items near the door. “Jacket!” You snap your fingers, disappear to the other side of the house, and return with a jacket to pull over your dress. The dress hangs loosely off your frame, save for the fitted bust that was woven with intricate white designs. The color of the fabric makes him feel lucky. It’ll match perfectly.

He taps your shoulder.  “You forgot something.”

You turn to him, prepared to speak, to ask what you could have possibly left but your mouth hangs open at the sight of flowers. Each little flower has five petals, delicate blue, surrounding the starlike yellow center.

“Shouldn’t you take these?” he encourages. The bundle of flowers sits perfectly against your chest as if you’re holding a bush of them while the white wrapping paper and lavender bow crinkle in your arms.

“Do the flowers need to see the meteor shower too?” Xavier knows better than to think your question means more than teasing as you happily inhale the fragrance of forget-me-nots.

“When it’s a special one like this,” he reasons.

“Don’t tell me flowers are why you’ve been out all day?"

“Not entirely. I had some important things to take care of as well.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, a little cocky and suspiciously, but say nothing else. It’s a good thing you didn’t press further. He didn’t want anything to spoil tonight.

Xavier tucks the rolled-up blanket under his arm, reaches down to grab the small bag of drinks, then turns to you. “Where to?”

“I know the best super-secret special spot to view the shower,” you reassure him. Xavier nods and lets you lead the way to the train station, his calm growing when you slip your fingers between his own and tuck your nose into the bundle of flowers.

You arrive at your super-secret special spot without issue. However, Xavier’s fears come true when he discovers that everyone else has also arrived at your little spot in the park. The disappointment building in the air is palpable, the rate of couples and families bobbing around rising and the available green space quickly dwindling until none remains.

“Your super-secret special spot certainly has a lot of people,” Xavier comments, barely able to hear himself above the crowd or the little groan that echoes in your throat.

“I guess everyone else read the same article,” you admit sheepishly and dot your fingers together. Hastily, you grab his wrist and drag him. “Come on. Let’s try another place.”

It’s with a deep sigh that you kick at the patch of dirt under your feet when you realize that every place you can remember has been overtaken by people eager to see the stars.

Fortunately, Xavier has one more place in mind, one that’s sure to be empty. 

It’s never his first intention to take you there; but in this situation, with your fingers picking at the seams of your dress and your muttering of apologies under your breath, he figures it’s the most suitable solution.

“It’s okay. I happen to know another super-secret special spot,” Xavier says in your ear.

He holds an arm out to you, propositioning you to hold on tight. The moment your hands meet, you teleport leagues away from the park to a place Xavier could never forget, one that was buried under the soft daydreams of the present.

The little clearing where the two of you first saw shooting stars fall doesn’t align perfectly with his memory. Those verdant trees of the future didn’t stand nearly so straight and tall, stretching towards the heavens. The young salt flat before him is still waxing with the passage of time, fighting to rid itself of the last patches of moss and handfuls of murky water that give reason for the little pier that extends above the plates of dried mineral to exist. It’ll be another 200 years before those last puddles completely settle and crystal white salt and mineral fully take their rightful place under the moonlight. It still smells the same as the day you first brought him here to look at the stars, a thought he never expected to bring him comfort. Now, he can return here with you.

Xavier turns to you and notices the gloss in your eyes shimmering in the moonlight like the minerals reflecting light back to the sky. “Are you okay?”

"Something about this place is familiar,” you begin, slowly scanning your environment. Your eyes follow the glittering golden flecks of the fireflies that dance around before turning towards the sky.  “Have we…been here before?”

“This is where we went on our first date,” he confesses.

After all, you already know the circumstances of your birth and the core that rests in your heart. So, he feels that he should be truthful about everything that has happened between the two of you when asked.

Still, he is aware that dreams aren’t exactly the same as holding that time yourself, ever clear by the way you press your hand to your heart. You could sense it, deep inside, roaming in your soul, but it was difficult to grasp dreams you hadn’t experienced, and the guilt you hold breaks through in the stretch of your lips and flutter of your eyes.

“You don’t have to force yourself, starlight,” he says, the old nickname rolling off his tongue, “all that matters is we’re together.”

He’s simply happy to be in this life with you now. The situation, how it happened, and the time period, none of that matters as long as you’re here. The knowledge of knowing you’re safe and free to live your life the way you wish is more than he could ask of this world. He’d happily build the rest with you again, fresh and new. 

“Besides, I like our first date skating together just as much.”

“…You fell,” you breathe out.

“True, but I landed on the softest cushion when I did.” Your head rises, and he sees the smallest bit of vulnerability escaping from your stance as you teeter your weight between your feet. “She made a face I’ll never forget, one full of embarrassment and also very shy. Then, she got pouty and stomped around like an angry little bunny because I couldn’t help but give her a kiss instead of getting up.”

“Why you—”

“A lot like that,” he adds on and hides his amusement behind the back of his palm, “I kept thinking how cute it was that she was flustered over a kiss when we did much more than that before we left home.”

The prince doesn’t stop laughing when you scoff at him and shove his shoulder. “Dummy,” you say but there’s a smile on your face that makes the sting of the word no sharper than a petal brushing his cheek.

“If you want, we still have time to find another place.”

You shake your head. “I want to stay.” This time when your hand rests against your chest, it’s with fondness for this place and the fireflies that lazily cross your line of vision.  “Really, being here makes me feel happy.”

The old pier is just wide enough for your blanket to spread out over the top of it. When you’re all settled, flowers in your lap, drinks in your hand, and nothing but the company of each other, you cast your view upwards.

“It’s almost time,” you announce, searching eagerly for the first shooting star of the night but it’s hard to see through the thin wisps of white clouds and mist that scatter over the sky. “The clouds are in the way.”

“They’ll part for us,” is all Xavier can say, because he has to believe in it, too.

“You think?"

“Maybe if you ask them really nicely.”

When you clasp your hands together and close your eyes in full concentration, Xavier can’t help but stare, something that has always been a habit he can’t and isn’t willing to break. You look so beautiful in the misty air; ethereal under the pale glow of the moon as it settles over the crown of your head and catches the silver of the little starry earrings dangling from your ears; golden as fireflies land in your hair and glow in the tresses like a twinkling crown. Tranquil as prayers carry from your lips.

“Please part for us.”

Seconding that request, he shifts his gaze to the lingering clouds, wishing for them to fade. Xavier only needed a little while, long enough for the stars to witness the two of you. He wants to show them that he was able to keep the promise he made to you under them so many centuries ago.

Alas, they don’t break, so he gathers light in his palm and says, “It worked.”

“It did?” The excitement drains from your face as you pucker your lips at him. “You’re such a faker.”

“Don’t say that. You’ll hurt this star’s feelings.” Xavier chuckles softly. “Why don’t you try making a wish?”

“I’m sorry for being rude earlier, little star,” you say and gently pull his palm towards your face. The glow from his EVOL chases away the shadows from your features and births a blush on his face as you lean close. “Would you please part the way for your friends?”

Like magic, the sky opens up at your request, pale streaks begin to descend against the backdrop of the black sky, highlighting it in shades of fluorescent whites and blues as one by one the meteors start to fall.

“Xavier, look!” Your mouth parts in awe as majestic lights continue to stream in the reflection of your irises. Your hands shiver before you bring them back into a prayer; but before the words come out, you pause to look at him. “What are you doing? Quick! Make a wish,” you tell him.

He knows that this is the moment, his best chance to ask you for the very thing that’s been yearning in his soul for millennia. “My wish can’t be granted by stars.”

No star could grant the last wish he has in this world, only one person still held that power.  

“Only the person with me can grant it,” he says, and it’s enough to gain your attention away from the celestial bodies above to the one next to you. A deep breath is needed to calm the last of his nerves as he reaches into his pocket; his voice wavers like the time it did when he first asked to hug you, and he feared your answer just the same as back then.

Then, there it is.

A silver ring with an elegant bursting star carved into the band and a shiny diamond to fill its center. Smaller connected stars each holding their own small gems circle the ring like an orbit of planets.

“Will you marry me?”

When he finally asks you the words he’s been waiting to ask you for centuries, your eyes soften and your breath fans out in a quiet exhale of cold white air. 

“Xavier, I…” your hesitation is a reminder that makes him flinch, but he still holds his ground even as your pupils retreat to the bottom of your eyes, away from him. “Are…you sure?”

“I’ve been sure for a long time,” he confesses. “Do you not want to?”

“No. I do, I do,” you reassure him pitifully; there’s little comfort in those words as it appears another wave of sorrow is going to wash over you. It’s with a painful clenching of his heart that you still refuse to look at him. “But…what happens when I forget again?”

Xavier slips his finger under your chin, his thumb skimming under your lip to gently lift your head. Placing down the ring, your hand feels so small when he picks it up to settle your palm on his chest. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll keep our memories safe until you can claim them for yourself. Even if you can’t, we’ll make new ones we can protect together.”

“What if you don’t like me by then?" you ask. “Are you okay with being tied to me like this? A lot could change between now and the future.”

Xavier shakes his head. “I’ve been tied to you since the day we met.” He moves that hand from your jaw to your cheek and brushes away the tears resting on your lashes so that you can clearly see the sincerity on his face in the form of the light red hue that dusts over the bridge of his nose. “One day, the flowers in your lap will wilt, the remainder of this pond will fade, and these fireflies will pass on and a new generation will take their place, but this is the one thing that won’t change no matter how time passes. I’ll still like you 100 or 1000 years from now.”

The pressure of his forehead resting against yours is so heavy that you can’t open your eyes. It didn’t matter. The weight of your tears is burning so much that you doubt you’d be able to see clearly, so you breathe the scent of him in instead and whisper against his lips, “Even if we’re both someone else by then?”

“Yes,” he answers so easily and assuredly, and the hesitation in your voice slowly wanes. “When I think of us, I think of a stage play and having a favorite actor. Every night is a little different than the last. Maybe she forgets a note or doesn’t say her line quite the same as the last time. Maybe she stumbles walking on the set, or her hair is different. To him, it’s still all part of her. And every time that curtain rises, she’s the one he’s waiting to see, and when the curtain falls, he can’t wait to learn what he’ll discover about her next. The same goes for me. Even if there comes a time when I no longer know you, the story will be the same. I’ll fall in love with you again.”

You open your mouth to speak but he silences you with the ghost of his lips pressing to yours in a kiss so light you almost couldn’t feel it. Xavier slides his thumb over your cheek once more before dropping his hand to rest above your breast, counting the lively thumping underneath.

“Because this heart and its owner are easy to love no matter which side of herself she decides to show. So, even if you forget, even if you change, even if there comes a time you no longer wish for it, this ring will always belong to you and only you,” he promises you, gently settles that silver ring in your hand, and folds your fingers over that band of metal and jewels until he’s holding his palm fully over yours. “Please.”

One last time, you look for guidance, softer than before, “…Does that mean we will watch the meteor shower together in the next 100 years?” 

“We can watch it as many times as you want. I promise.” The words barely have time to leave his lips before you’re chasing his kiss again. Your face is wet, your lips salty with tears, but the way your tongue slides against his makes it easy to ignore everything else. You pull him down, and he has to be careful not to crush the forget-me-nots between you as your back hits the wooden boards and his hands fall to your sides. When he pulls away and hovers above you, you’re both flushed and out of breath.

“So, is that a yes?” he breathes out.

A little shy, you nod and laugh.

“Yeah.”

Already your eyes are watering up again, and it takes only a blink for them to spill over in a way that has you rubbing at your cheeks in a weak attempt to stimmy the flow.

“You’re crying again.”

“I’m okay,” you assure him in a whisper because you’re afraid to let your voice go much higher out of fear it’d break. “I just feel…so happy. It won’t stop. It’s like…something I’ve been waiting for a long time finally came true. Is that weird?”

It isn’t the first time Xavier has seen you being overtaken by emotions that you didn’t understand. This time it reminds him that not all tears are bad ones, and your tears numbs the ache in his chest he always has when he sees a star fall.

“Not at all.”

You sniff, rub your nose on your sleeve, and lean up to bury your face against his chest. His hand pets the back of your head to comfort you. Your shoulders shake with your chuckle, your breath thick from the wobbling of your voice.

“Xavier…” you whine against his chest, “you’re glowing really bright. It kind of hurts.”

“I can’t help it,” he throws back and rests his lips against your hairline. “Something I’ve been waiting for a long time finally came true.”

After the meteor shower starts coming to an end and the redness in your eyes fades, you pack up and decide to take the long way back home. Xavier offers to carry you back the rest of the way; you drape the blanket over your back as your arms hang loosely over his shoulders, the bundle of flowers lax in your hold. The silver band of your ring glints whenever the moonlight breaks through the canopies above.

“Xavier, do you remember what I wished for the last time we saw the meteor shower together?” you ask. He doesn’t know why you would bring that up, fears that maybe you’re still thinking more about the past than the now. “It’s okay. I want to know.”

“That we’d meet again,” he answers, and he can hear the glow of your face in your laugh.

“In that case,” you begin, tilting your head up to the sky to catch the last streaks of light between the leaves, “do you think my new wish has a good chance of coming true? It’s a bit of a selfish one."

“What did you wish for?” he asks.

“That we’ll meet and fall in love every lifetime,” you answer joyfully, and he doesn’t miss how you squeeze onto him tighter, the way his ears burn hot, and his body feels lighter than air. There’s no sorrow in your voice, only hopefulness and affection when you ask, “Is it too much to ask them, to always wait for me?” 

“I don’t think they’ll mind,” he responds, watching with adoration at the way the fireflies light the path in front of him, becoming a guiding light back home. As long as the stars shine in the sky, he knows you’ll always find your way back to one another until the day you return to the cosmos together and join the stars. “After all, the stars have become very good at granting our wishes.” 

Your fingers curled around the device like it could ground you, but the storm inside your chest only worsened.

You weren't the jealous type. At least, you never thought you were. But lately, your thoughts had become poisoned by doubt, each unanswered text and broken plan feeling like another crack in your already fragile peace.

You remembered when things were different. When Xavier's voice was the first thing you heard in the morning. When he'd show up at your door, hair tousled from wind or battle, and kiss your forehead like it was the only place he belonged.

Now, he was always with her. With MC.

It wasn't just about the time. It was the way he talked about her. His partner on missions, someone who ''gets it'' someone he ''clicks with''. Someone who wasn't you.

And the worst part?

You understood. MC was exceptional. Smart, brave, capable. She challenged Xavier in ways maybe you couldn't. They had chemistry in battle, a synchronicity you never quite shared. And deep down, your mind whispered cruel things. That he might have realized she was the one for him.

And you? You were just…a detour.

The thought made your stomach twist. The ache swelled in your chest, and before you knew it, you were typing.

Hey, are you free later? Can we talk?

You stared at the message for a long while before pressing send.

The reply didn't come until dusk.

Of course. On my way now.

He arrived barely twenty minutes later, dressed in that familiar light jacket, blond hair slightly damp from the rain. His eyes softened when he saw you, but you didn't miss the tension beneath the calm exterior. He always saw too much.

''You okay?'' he asked, stepping inside.

You nodded. Then shook your head. ''Not really.''

His gaze narrowed, concern flashing across his face. ''What's wrong?''

You took a breath, trying to steady the tremor in your voice.

''Are you…seeing her?''

His brows furrowed. ''What?''

''MC,'' you said, biting your lower lip. ''Are you cheating on me with her?''

The words sounded awful out loud. Raw and brittle. But there was no taking them back now.

Silence.

He stared at you like you'd just slapped him. His expression was unreadable, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.

''No,'' he said, voice low and deliberate. ''I'm not.''

You looked away, swallowing hard. ''You're always with her. You spend more time with her than with me. You cancel plans, go silent for days. I get it. Missions come first. But it feels like I'm always second.''

His jaw tightened. ''You think I'm cheating on you because I'm doing my job?''

You flinched. ''It's not just that. It's how you talk about her. Like she's… important. Like she gets you in a way I don't.''

The silence after that was the kind that threatened to break both of you.

He took a step closer, and something in his voice cracked. ''She's my mission partner. That's it.''

''Is it?'' you whispered, eyes shimmering. ''Because it feels like I'm just…here. Like you don't even see me anymore.''

Xavier exhaled, long and slow, before sitting down on the couch.

''I didn't know you felt this way,'' he said, his voice quieter now. ''Why didn't you tell me sooner?''

''I didn't want to seem clingy,'' you admitted. ''I didn't want to be that person. But it started eating at me, and every time I tried to bring it up, you were already gone again.''

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped.

''I didn't mean to make you feel this way,'' he said. ''But I won't lie. I've been…avoiding things. Not you. Just everything else. The pressure. The fear. The part of me that knows I can lose you if I screw this up.''

Your eyes widened. ''What?''

He looked up at you, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes hit you like a wave.

''You think I'm pulling away because I don't care,'' he said. ''But the truth is, I've been terrified. I've seen too many people I care about get hurt. MC…she's been through hell. Working with her remind me what's at stake. I thought…maybe if I kept my distance a little, I could protect you from all of that.''

Your chest ached at his words. ''So you were pushing me away to protect me?''

He gave a short bitter laugh. ''Yeah. Stupid, right?''

''No,'' you whispered. ''Just…heartbreaking.''

You moved to sit beside him, slowly, cautiously. He didn't move away.

''I miss you,'' you said softly. ''Not just physically. I miss us.''

His eyes closed, lashes trembling.

''I miss you too,'' he murmured. ''More than you know.''

The silence that followed was heavy. But it felt different now. Like something had shifted.

When he spoke again, it was with a gentleness that made your throat tighten.

''I never cheated on you. I never even thought about it. You are the person I come home to in my mind. Even when I'm not physically here. But I should've shown you more. I should've been here with you.''

You nodded, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. 'I just wanted to be part of your world. Not shut out of it.''

''I'll do better,'' he promised, reaching for your hand. ''No more shutting you out. You deserve all of me. Not just the pieces I think are safe.''

You held his hand tightly, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, the pulse of something real and fragile between you.

''Just don't go quiet on me,'' you said, voice shaking. ''Even if it's hard. I'd rather fight with you than wonder if I'm losing you.''

He smiled faintly, brushing a thumb against your cheek. ''Then let's fight together. For us.''

“I’m more worried about you than me,” he mouths off. “You always look like a statue when I tell you scary stories.”

“Fake movies and stories based on real places are different!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he agrees on the surface. You’re not sure how you only make friends with people who love to tease you, but you make no mention of it as the movie finally reaches its opening sequence. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize this movie’s fear factor was greatly over exaggerated. There were monsters, sure, but also one too many jump scares and dark scenes that made it hard to tell what was happening. Fighting wanderers for a living did leave you a bit desensitized as well, you guess. 

As you reach to fill in your boredom with more chips, you can’t help but notice how Xavier looks like he’s about to give out any second. His eyes are drooping and his head bobbing to the side. You lose count of how many times he forces his limp body straight and strains to watch the movie playing on the screen, one agonizingly slow blink at a time.

“I’m fine,” he says before you can bring up how tired he looks.

“It’s not a big deal, Xavier. This movie is pretty boring, so if you wanna call it a night, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.” You don’t want him to leave yet but you don't want to keep him up either. Sighing, you’re frustrated the movie isn’t as exciting as you thought it would be, and it’s difficult to fight the disappointment from showing on your face. 

And, well, Xavier…

“It’s alright. It’s honestly not bad, so—”

Xavier doesn’t even finish his sentence before his head hangs over. In hindsight, you start to realize that you must have woken him up earlier, explaining his prior passiveness.

You always wondered what he did on the days he wasn’t working. It should’ve been apparent to you that he spends most of his free time sleeping. No wonder his apartment was always so quiet during the day. You’re thankful he wasn’t actually annoyed at you earlier but guilty for interrupting his rest and decide to grab him a blanket.

You don’t notice him tilting to the side before you have the chance to get up. It’s quick after that. Without warning, he falls into you, his head brushing the side of your shoulder before he collapses on top of your lap.

The situation takes you by surprise, and the world churns to a slow stop. The sounds from the television fade into the background in favor of your heartbeat becoming the thing you’re most aware of when it registers that Xavier, a man you recently can call a friend, has fallen asleep in your lap. You have no idea what to do in a situation like this. It isn’t on purpose, so there’s no need to blow up, but you can’t allow this to continue.

So, you choose to wake him up.

“Xavier,” you call and rock his shoulder. You call his name again, a third time, and finally give up when he doesn’t budge by the fourth. “Would it be too mean to roll him off?” you wonder, grimacing as you imagine him hitting the floor. It would definitely be too mean.

Sighing, you gaze at his face nuzzled too comfortably against your thighs. Xavier looks so incredibly soft like this, bundled in an oversized Blanchi hoodie. It isn’t anything you’re not used to seeing him in. However, this is different. With his hair strewn across his temple and his face so at ease, it reminds you of a big fluffy bunny flopped over for an evening nap. Just like a cuddly bunny, you can’t resist petting him, brushing your fingers across his bangs to fix them. Your heart flutters as you confirm his hair is incredibly soft and his pale eyelashes longer than you ever noticed.

Not able to restrain yourself, you gently poke his cheek, marveling when it’s much chubbier than you imagined. It causes him to moan, his eyes twitching from the intrusion.

“Mm…what?” he groans out.

Swiftly, you pull your hand away, frightened he might have caught you.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” you stammer out, not the best of excuses; but in your defense, he caught you off-guard by waking up from something so small. When he doesn’t respond again, you quickly realize he’s still asleep. “Oh, he sleep talks!”

A mischievous wave washes over you from the new piece of information you acquired. Teasingly, you poke his cheek again, giggling when he shifts to hide his eyes from the light.

“Xavier, I have a question to ask you.” You slide your fingertips along his bangs once more. “Be honest. Are you Lumiere?”

Patiently, you wait for a response. However, nothing comes after several seconds. Just when you’re about to give up hope, you hear him muttering. You lean your head closer, hoping to hear him better.

“Red…” he mumbles.

You repeat after him. “Red?”

“Red…extra spicy.”

You blink at him, knitting your brows. “Extra spicy?”

Oh. The hot pot restaurant.

“Dreaming about food? That tracks.” You shrug. It was worth a shot. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

Choosing to leave him be, you’re about to sit back and continue the movie except you are interrupted by him mumbling again. This time, he whispers your name quietly under his breath causing your undivided attention to fall on him.

“Yes?” you ask.

Xavier sighs softly, peacefully.

“Come home…with me…”

There must be a world record for how fast someone can heat up, and you must have broken it. It’s like someone threw you directly into boiling oil and left you to burn in it. There’s no way you heard him correctly.

Did Xavier really ask you to come home…with him? Is he dreaming about you? If so, in what kind of dream? And why?

These are the questions stumping you. Sure, you consider him your friend, but when did he start to see you as someone close to him?

The more important question is why aren’t you doing anything about it? You aren’t angry about him whispering your name in his sleep nor offended, and it didn’t feel out of place to be close to him, like this, with his head resting in your lap and your hand in his hair. The moment becomes nicer and nicer—treasured—the more times you run it through your head, familiar even, like déjà vu.

There are too many variables for your brain to piece it all together in such a short amount of time. Praying for the tempest battering your emotional insides to reside, you resign yourself to your fate, allowing him to have his peace while your mind completely focuses on the words slipping from his dreams.

When Xavier begins to stir hours later, your movie is long finished, credits rolling as some dramatic music plays in the background. His eyes tighten then relax before he finally opens them, greeting you with hazy blue. He lifts himself into a stretch then rubs his eyes with his wrist. When he finally adjusts to his surroundings, he looks at you with an apologetic sulk.

“Did I…fall asleep on you?” he asks, grogginess still riding his voice.

“Literally or figuratively?” you ask as a joke, but it doesn’t seem to comfort him. Shaking your head, you try to ease the tension—the one known by him and the tension inside of yourself—by laughing. “It was both.”

Xavier blinks a few times, turns his head to the screen to see the credits rolling, and snaps his eyes back on you questioningly. “And you let me for two hours?”

“You looked really tired,” you explain, ignoring how hot your cheeks start to get. You couldn’t tell him you got distracted by his cute face. “I didn’t want to move and wake you.”

“I don’t wake that easily,” he states, proudly even. You almost tell him how well everyone knows he can sleep through a typhoon, but it’s drowned underneath the softness of his smile. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

The look he gives you is so tender, like looking at a fond memory. It brings back the fluttering knots in your stomach from before as you imagine what could be the true reason behind that gaze. What could he possibly be thinking in his waking moments that would make him dream about you?

“Xavier, do you know you talk in your sleep?” The confused and panicked, deer caught in headlights expression, he gives causes you to fidget with your fingers and drop your gaze to your lap where they lay.

His face tinges slightly. “Nothing too embarrassing I hope.”

You bite your bottom lip as his face reddens. He looks so sweetly shy for once, and you’re starting to question if you’re overreacting by confronting him about something as silly as a dream, one that probably didn’t mean much.

“You tried to order food in your sleep!” you tell him with a small laugh, and his shyness melts away.

“I did? What did I get?”

“Red sauce. Extra Spicy.”

“Then, I guess that’s what I’ll get for dinner tonight,” he remarks. He doesn’t laugh but you can see the amusement reflected in blue eyes, which makes you return his happiness. Yet, the calm moment is short-lived as your mind becomes overwhelmed again by questions you were too nervous to ask; and a small piece of you, too afraid to know the answer.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, drawing you out of your rampant, clashing thoughts. “You look sick.”

“I do?”

He nods, his expression softening.

”Are you still thinking about everything?" he pauses, his worry becoming more visible as he looks at you. "It must be difficult.” Your head blanks at his words. You weren’t aware Xavier gave you enough attention to notice your mood was different. You thought you did okay coming to terms with everything at least while at work to where he wouldn’t notice. 

“It’s been a pretty rough week, weeks, actually. I haven’t been sleeping well either,” you agree, struggling to keep your mind anywhere else but there. You’re sure you must look exhausted though. Your under eyes have been darker, the days you could convince Jenna you didn’t need any more leave a bit sluggish, and even Zayne warned you not to lose yourself in grief. It’s easier said than done.

What you don’t expect is for Xavier to grab your wrist and pull you closer.

Xavier normally isn’t the one to draw you, or others for that matter, to him. You’re the one who's been taking the steps to get to know more about him. Offering to help him get his plushie, bargaining with him into becoming your partner, asking him to watch movies with you, while he always seems to keep you a little at arms length, not opening up as much as you wish when sharing stories even when sometimes he looks like he desperately wants to before deciding against it.

Your eyes widen when your nose hits the side of his chest. It's strange to have him be the one pulling, failing to keep his boundaries and also testing them. You don’t want to push him away though. You liked this. Maybe because he was handsome. You hear pretty people can get away with anything, but it feels like more than that. Tara might have been right. Maybe you do have a crush on him but you didn’t care the reason right now when it’s so comforting. You can feel his muscles underneath the thick, warm fabric of his hoodie, and the clothing smells so nice. You can’t help thinking he definitely feels like a bunny too.

“Sleeping is much better with someone.” 

“How do you know?” you mumble against him.

“Well, I just had the best sleep I’ve had in days thanks to you. So, allow me to return the favor. I’ll be your pillow this time,” he offers; and surprisingly, your eyes do feel oddly heavy when his soothing voice reaches you. “Relax. I promise not to move for at least two hours, but you can take more if you like.”

”How kind,” you say with a smile, and it feels genuine.

Once again, you get the same familiar sensation from before, that same odd suspicion this has happened once before—or rather it’s supposed to happen? You’re too tired to think about it. You close your eyes to the most blissful dreams you’ve had in weeks.

When you wake up again, it’s not by choice. Xavier is looking down at you, his arm gently wrapped around your shoulders as your head lays on his chest. Your mind is still trapped halfway between being awake and asleep when he begins to talk.

“Welcome back. Did you sleep well?”

You nod. “Real well actually."

Xavier says something else but your tired mind misses the majority of it aside from the fact it’s getting late.

“You can spend the night if you want,” you tell him, allowing sleep to win back over as you try to close your eyes again, but he lifts you away from him, your head swaying with the motion until you find a place to prop your forehead on his shoulder. Your mind echoes with the thought of how soft his hoodie is and how you need one like it as you try to drift back off. Xavier is right. Sleeping with someone else is better, and this closeness you’ve been missing since you lost your family makes you needy. 

“It probably wouldn’t be appropriate.”

For some reason, it hurts to think he's back to pushing you away. Even though, it shouldn't.

“But you didn’t get a chance to watch the movie,” you reply, looking for an excuse for him not to leave. “It’s a 48-hour rental, so we can try again.”

Xavier shakes his head, gently poking at your forehead to force your head back. “I’m sure it’ll be twice as boring for you the second time.”

“If we watch it together…”

He meets your foggy gaze apologetically. “I don’t think we’d get very far.” 

“We won’t know until we try,” you argue drowsily. 

“You don’t look like you’d make it another ten minutes. You belong in bed.”

“I can,” you whimper as the too-bright lights of the overhead fan hit you. 

“Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result,” he murmurs softly, almost teasingly until his tone takes on a seriousness you’re too lethargic to grasp, “Isn’t that insanity?”

“I like to call it determination. Who knows? Maybe this will be the time it works,” you joke. Instead of the smile you expected the look on his face is pensive and a little sad, like you touched a delicate spot. The sudden remorse wakes you up almost immediately. “Xavier?”

When he realizes you’re watching him, the longing in his gaze melts into something you can’t describe, other than the fact it makes your heart climb in your throat. 

“Alright,” he agrees, much to your surprise and relief. “Let’s try again…but tomorrow.”

Frowning, you avert your gaze, which makes him pet your head. 

“Don’t pout. Tonight, I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

Maybe your grandma wouldn’t have liked you getting so close to a man you didn’t know much about so quickly. Caleb would at least have a few questions, but your intuition tells you that you’re making the right choice when his arm goes back around you. As you start to drift off, you can swear you hear Xavier laughing at you under his breath. “You’re as impossible to say no to as always.”

You’re not entirely sure what time Xavier went back to his apartment that night, but the next morning you wake in your bed, looking forward to seeing him again. You only hope the sweet and confusing fact that you’re in love with him, of the parts he shows you when you’re alone, stays in your dreams the next night and the many nights following that you share with him.

Over the months, as your relationship with Xavier grows stronger, you find it common to share many things with each other. You play online games, house sit for one another, grow strawberries, and usually go home together after your deepspace trials. Most interestingly, you two take naps together on your days off sometimes, nothing sexual about it despite what Tara and her Tarot cards believe. Sure, there might have been questionable situations, but it was all innocent in the end. It's often a short nap in the afternoon after running errands or having lunch together. It's one of those days that you finally build the courage to bring up what's been on your mind for a while now. 

It's late when it happens.

The skyscraper lights begin to glow through your balcony door, blinking out the gentle shimmering of distant stars that managed to cut through the trickling rain earlier in the evening. It’s a little disappointing to lose sight of the stars. They’d become a comfort for you in the time you’ve spent with your friend. You'd never given them much thought before then.

The downpour of rain splattering against the glass panels of the balcony makes the city lights milkier to your sight and the steady dripping of water returns some form of calmness when paired with your neighbor’s breathing next to you.

It’s deep and warm, ushering you towards the world of dreams. Everything about Xavier is like a white noise or a desperately needed hug, which is why you’re curled up at his side in this bed that’s too small for the both of you. You didn’t care, and you suspected Xavier didn’t either.

He didn’t mention the smallness of the bed when you offered to take a nap together nor when your head found the bulge of his bicep to use as your pillow. You didn’t give him time to respond when one of your hands slid across his lean chest, reaching for his always subtle pulse. You find the lazy pattering easy to count while the heat in the sheets become much more apparent when you feel the weight of his touch cradle that very same hand to his chest as if promising every beat to you.

Everything about the situation causes your eyes to flutter with tiredness, but you want to savor this moment a little longer. In case this is all an elaborate dream. You hope to death it’s not. So, you force your eyes to remain open, releasing a soft sigh instead as you cuddle into his arm.

Too soon, you feel Xavier slipping further away from you.

You don’t want him to go yet. More than ever, a force inside you needs him to stay tonight, and you lock your grip on the white knit shirt he wears. You tug him back over to you to close this unbearable distance he made. The few little inches he moved were more than enough to cause your heart to yearn.

“Not yet,” you want to plead but make it a soft demand. “I just found the perfect spot.” You muffle the neediness of your requests into his skin, though your head is afraid that somehow he’ll feel it.

“You always use that excuse.”

“And it’s always true. So, no moving,” you order.

Xavier gives in so wonderfully quickly. Your heart is rapidly firing when the corners of his lips turn into his usual waif-like smile. You fail at hiding your satisfaction at his surrender, pressing more of your weight against him, in a sure sign to him that you have no intention of letting him escape any time soon.

“I take this to mean you’re finally admitting it’s your fault we didn’t do our errands today?”

“I never said that,” you disagree half-heartedly. “And don't pretend like you weren't the one who kept saying he didn't feel like getting up earlier.”

“And now that I do, you won’t let me up. Am I right? Why’s that?”

There’s a beat skipping in your chest when he asks. His tone is light and open, easy to treat as a teasing joke but also firm enough to be taken seriously. That was always your trouble with him. You could never quite tell what he was thinking and when he was serious. Xavier is hard to understand sometimes, sometimes vague and sometimes very straightforward in his words; and lately, you think he’s consistently more hot than cold towards you ever since the first time you've slept together.

You like to think this development is a good thing. People who knew you always said you worked a little too hard, a little too observant, overly energetic despite your fragile heart; but with Xavier, you could relax. Moments like these: when his arm was around you and when his breath was at the side of your neck, the soft words he speaks in his sleep dancing in your mind, were the moments when patrolling for wanderers and every loss in your life from your family to your problematic heart dissipated into the back of your mind for a few hours.

It isn’t an exaggeration to believe his influence must have been the cause, at least when it comes to this. But your influence is seeping into him as well. Given his loner habits when you first met and his frequent disappearing acts, you never pictured him as one to be so sweet and considerate and adorably charming in a way.

However, you can’t tell him that you enjoy…sleeping with him. You have a strong feeling he already knows how much you like him. Or, you’d like to think he does with the way he constantly seems to hint at it. He can make you flustered with a few words and easily leave you guessing if you’re reading too much into his actions or if he’s really that good at baiting you. It could also be a little of column A and a little of column B, which somehow makes you more antsy around him. Like how you feel now when his eyes meet yours.

“It’s supposed to be cold tonight,” you whisper. It’s a poor excuse but the only one you can use to defend yourself. “They say the best way to fend off the chill is body heat. Who better for that task than you, dear partner?”

“Many things, I assume, a portable heater comes to mind,” he says, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s slyly teasing you behind that naive tone.

“Right, right, those things,” you grumble causing him to laugh as you hide your bashful face against him. “So loud, you know?”

“Are they? Alright, then five more minutes should be doable,” he says in the same low voice that makes your insides boil before his arm lowers to curl around your back. “Although, you’re too comfortable.”

His ears tinge in a lovely rose-colored blush, and you shudder when he finally fails to maintain eye contact and quickly scans your body. It’s slow enough for you to catch though. It makes your chest tight as you watch his quiet inhale and the murky flash of want dye his eyes shades darker before they fade back into clear pools of blue, big and pleading as he studies your face. 

“I might end up falling asleep here.”

It’s a warning, to make you think about the meaning of your actions, you think. However, this isn’t the first time this has happened nor the first time you spent a rainy day inside with each other; the kitchen counter lined with empty take-out trays, with his body heat radiating into you while a long-forgotten movie plays in the background.

It’ll continue like that until one of you is finally coherent enough after drowsy naps to try to piece together who fell asleep on whom first or who is making the other too hot. Neither of you wants to accept the fault without a lot of bickering; that’s if Xavier doesn’t fall back asleep mid-debate.

Even this time, you’re not sure who managed to drift off to sleep first earlier but neither of you tried to get up, let alone leave the house, until now. Ah, but it was your idea to use the bed this time, wasn’t it?

But it was his choice to agree.

Even now, he looks very peaceful nestled with you, and he still whispers your name in his sleep sometimes, which reminds you of the first time you slept together and he dreamt about wanting you to come home with him.

When you’re like this, you want the same thing. You want him to come home…with you.

“Xavier?” you ask quietly. You wonder if he’s fallen asleep already like he said. Carefully, you free your hand from his hold, slide it up his chest, and begin to draw smooth circles with your pointer finger once you reach his cheek. There’s a soft response from him, barely a moan but it’s enough to know he’s not out of it yet, at least not completely. “I’ve been thinking.”

The air is suddenly stifling when he engulfs the top of your hand with his own, holding it tighter as if he’s upset that you moved it out of his grasp in the first place, but it’s not the case as he affectionately seals your palm against his cheek.

“About what?”

The look he gives you makes it hard not to stumble over your thoughts like a schoolgirl despite being very much an adult.

“Wouldn’t…” You pause to steady your voice; you have to force yourself to not avoid his gaze, but each small movement makes your throat tighten. There’s no doubt you have his full attention now, at least what little remains of it. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we…move in together?”

You’re not sure where the courage to ask him a question like that comes from when you’re too unsure to even confess or to ask what the two of you even are but you didn’t have this fear of rejection until now.

“How would it be easier?”

“Well,” you start, unsure why you’re surprised that he’d want a reason. “We’re always visiting one another, and you made me your representative at the tenant meetings, so everyone already treats us like we’re a combined unit. It would also save me trips on watering your plants when you’re away or when you want to come over to eat. We could save money. Money that could be spent at the arcade or on more hot pot.”

There’s a quiet atmosphere that makes you too uneasy. The thrumming of rain grows louder in it along with the beating in your chest that’s telling you that this was stupid. Is it possible to be drunk on endorphins? Perhaps that’s what gave you the idea to ask something so foolish; you’d have to get Zayne to examine your empty head and tell you.

But then, Xavier smiles.

“Those are good reasons especially more hot pot, and I’m sure all the plushies would feel better if they shared a home again.”

Your anxiety lessens and you share in his smile. Luckily, you managed not to ruin everything it looks like.

“But.” Slowly, the inklings of self-doubt begin to return. A but. There’s always one of those. You should’ve expected as much. “If we move in together then we wouldn’t really be “neighbors” anymore.”

“Oh, um—” You become staggered by his observation, even more so when he interlocks your fingers. It’s another time when you’re not entirely sure if he’s being serious or not. His innocent puppy-eyed expression doesn’t help you differentiate either. It always makes your mind wander to more inappropriate topics—like the fact Xavier told you he didn’t believe that other neighbors acted like you two. The memory nearly makes you squirm. In this position, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but that delicate foundation cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt.

“Do roommates sleep together too?”

There’s a shine of amusement that makes his face glow and heat claw higher up your neck. You know the question should be taken literally but when he words it like that…with that warm implicative inflection to his voice, you’re unable to think properly, and you realize that maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt this time.

“I’m sure some do,” you answer with some courage, “I’d imagine at least once a week.”

“I believe we’re up to twice a week now. So, if we become roommates, I think we have to do it at least that many times, otherwise I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your offer.”

“Two times?” you repeat, silently begging the flapping of butterflies in your stomach to calm down at the suggestion, at the implication that he enjoys sleeping with you just as much as you do with him. It makes this strong emotion in your chest blossom even further. “I can manage that.”

“Additional proposal,” he interrupts suddenly. “Perhaps, three times? I can even throw in a pair of those fuzzy socks that I can never manage to find after you visit,” he adds coyly.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re around your apartment somewhere,” you quickly respond before releasing the buildup of nervous air in your lungs. You smile. “Proposal accepted. Shared naps three times a week minimum.”

“In that case,” he breathes in softly, and he slips his hand down releasing all your fingers except for your pinky that he wraps into his own. “I think I would like to be your roommate.”

Inside, there’s unadulterated joy beginning to flood you. You know that this agreement will require a more in-depth discussion that Xavier will probably try to gloss over but this is enough for you right now.

“We should take tonight to practice for our move.”

Confused, you raise your eyebrows. “Practice?”

He nods.

“Sleeping together overnight. We did a few times before, well, only twice in the same bed, once in yours and once in mine,” he explains. You definitely have the clearest memory of that time, of bandaging his wounds, of cluelessly pinning him down shirtless on his bed before he turned the tables on you, and then—you remind yourself to resist going over the details, not with him this close to you. Somehow, Xavier is the one who looks the most insecure between the two of you. Finally, he whispers, “I haven’t forgotten even if it was a long time ago.”

His eyes are half-lidded, cloudy with thought. Something about him looks restrained and longing but it disappears when you finally swallow your swelling emotions and call out his name. There’s a twinkle of adoration that blows away whatever doubt there as he focuses on you again.

“I think about it when I have a hard time sleeping on overnight missions.” Xavier turns and slides his arm from under your head, choosing to lay on his side to face you. “It makes it a lot easier to rest in the hunting zones when you have good memories like that. So, it's nice to have a chance to make more."

“I don’t think I could fall asleep at all if I thought of something like that,” you admit, as close to an admission of your love for him as you could muster without mountains of alcohol. “I’d just think about how much I’d rather be home with them.”

“And now? Are you having trouble sleeping?” he asks huskily, and you have to fight not to keep staring at his lips and the dire need to kiss them as you breathe each other in. You reach out, touching his bare collar then instinctively searching for his slow pulse, counting it to calm yourself from the rush of adrenaline building in you.

You’re not even sure when you breathed out the “yes” that echoes softly from your mouth. His lips are so close to yours that you’re sure he could catch it in his breath if he wanted.

“How about I tell you a story to help you fall asleep?” He sees your hesitation and laughs under his breath. “I promise it’ll be much better than the last one.”

Accepting his offer, you agree to listen to him.

Xavier nods and gently swoops the back of his hand against your forehead and then your cheek before cupping it. There’s a gentle squeeze, and you think you understand why he likes it so much when you do it.

“Once, there was a beautiful queen and a knight,” he begins. “They lived together in a palace far away.”

“And they fall in love and live happily ever after?” you question, too busy in the full and fuzzy sensations filling your being to hold back.

“No, they were separated from each other for a long time,” Xavier corrects but his expression softens at the trickling concern building on your face. “Don’t worry. They meet again and become neighbors.”

“And then?”

“They become roommates,” he states matter-of-factly, which causes you to chuckle at him. You can’t even be bothered to care that he’s poking fun at you.

“Then, happily ever after?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answers, causing you to frown and your face to wrinkle with a sullen expression. His head tilts further into the plush of the pillow. “But you can help me figure out the ending.”

Feeling exhausted from the cathartic flow of emotions from him to you, you wiggle into him and throw your arm across his waist. “There’d probably be a lot of naps and stargazing involved,” you mumble before a tiny yawn.

“Sounds like a happy ending to me. It's good to finally see it,” he agrees, and you sigh when you feel a strong squeeze around your waist. “Although, you forgot to mention the part where the queen promises to not get out of bed without waking him this time.”

You giggle. “She promises not to get up without her knight.”

Content, he hums. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"I think so after a story like that," you confess, reaching out to brush his hair back so you can see his eyes more clearly. "Then again, I always sleep good with you."

"You’ll sleep best when we're close, right?"

You gasp when he shifts on top of you. His lips briefly brush your forehead, by accident or not, you can’t tell as he pins you between himself and the bed. With a stutter, you call out his name yet he pays no heed as he nuzzles his head into your hair.

“Good night, roommate.”

“Xav-!” You pout when he instantly slumps against you. There’s no point trying to wake him up now that his five minutes of alertness have long expired.

Settling your chin against the top of his shoulder, you hook your arms under his to hug him against your chest. Your forearms settle at his mid-back as you hold him close so you can gently brush the ends of his hair.

When you ultimately decide to give in minutes after him, it’s to the warmth of his weight on top of you, the tickle of his hair against your forehead, and the increased pulsing of his heart. Xavier was right, this is too comfortable. Letting your eyes fall close, you wonder if three times a week would really be enough to satisfy this strangely familiar craving. You only wish that the two of you could meet in your dreams like he says, but it's enough knowing you'll have each other in the morning and then on.

“…Good night, Xavier. Sweet dreams,” you whisper before you too give into sleep’s spell.