CHIP

What was his name again?

“Valko,” he answers, like he’d just read your mind. He leans back against a tree, defenseless and bloodied, although if the Hunter’s Association hadn’t tasked you to take care of him, you would’ve been fooled by his appearance.

“Valko,” you repeat. “And what are you doing out of confinement?”

“Seeing you.”

Goodness, his mouth is something else.

Your grip on the gun tightens. How foolish of you to bring one of the Association’s flimsy weapons instead of the one Sylus had offered to you. 

“Funny, but this isn’t a great first date option. Running away from me isn’t so…”

“Romantic?” he finishes. “And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

You don’t, but playing cats and dogs to keep him disarmed is nice. Taking a careful step forward, the end of your gun brushes against his chest, but you don’t shoot. You don’t do anything except freeze when his hand touches your hair, when his gaze burns you from head to toe.

The moonlight knows just how to soften even the wildest of men, huh?

“Would I have chased you here if I didn’t like you?”

“Would you have kept me confined if you did?”

You huff. “You’re not answering my question.”

But he only smiles, those fangs of his settling on his lip for a mere second. Blood drops from his hair to his chin, and he pants like there isn’t air between you both.

In a world where you aren’t completely hypnotized by the sight, the end of your gun would have been in his mouth.

“Speechless?” Valko teases. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I didn’t think I could corner you, but here we are.”

His little pout does nothing to ease your nerves, or the butterflies that flutter carelessly in your body. If he wasn’t the Association’s target or EVER’s associate, you would think he was endearing.

“Arrest me then, Miss Hunter.” He makes a show of placing his arms in front of you. “Since you’re being so good.”

Good? Is there anything good about the way you’re hesitating?

“Go on. You can do it.”

You scoff, reaching for the cuffs that hang onto the belt loops of your pants. Or, at least, they’re supposed to be there. Panic wells up in your chest when you realize your handcuffs aren’t where they’re supposed to be.

“You! Give me back my cuffs!”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t take them.”

“Where else would they have gone?” With one hand on your gun, your other does a hasty inspection on him. Your hand brushes his face, his arms, his legs…

“Goodness, Miss Hunter. Do you caress your lovers on your first dates?”

“Do you ever shut your mouth?” you remark, standing back up with no cuffs in hand. “Ugh. I must’ve dropped them while chasing you.”

“How convenient,” Valko murmurs dryly. “I didn’t make that patdown worthy for you.”

With how much of him you’ve seen just by doing so, your newfound intrigue certainly makes it worth it. But even in this world where you are hypnotized, you know when to bite your tongue.

When the other hunters come to find him, the sight they are to see is the fury in your eyes and the softness of his smile. Nobody would expect Valko to soften, but the only woman who could make him do so is in front of him, falling in love. 

a/n: ugh, i wish we got more of his personality in the teaser. if he does end up being as flirty as i've portrayed here, he'll take away my ability to breathe (as if he hasn't already lmfao)

thank you for reading! any form of interaction is appreciated. take care :)

The first thing you do after waking up — besides blinking away the memories from the night before — is check your phone. Big mistake, because as soon as the bright screen burns your eyes open, you see a text from a friend that you had forgotten to respond to. Would they still accept an answer after days of receiving none, or is leaving the message unread the safer option?

“Let him love you,” the message says. There’s no context, no explanation as to who they could be referring to, but you know exactly what they’re talking about. There is only one man you’ve repeatedly discussed with your friends, and he’s the only one with the courage to love somebody as broken as you.

He’s the only one who would catch you in the midst of an errand to help you without asking. The only one who’d be comfortable enough to hug you from behind as you slowly fall deeper into your despair. The only one who’d love you amidst it all.

Pesky memories. You shake your head to get rid of them, but they’re as stubborn as Xavier is.

Finally finding the courage to stand up, you don’t make it two steps from your bed when you notice an envelope beneath your feet dated with a day you don’t remember. You pick it up to discard it, only to find that it’s addressed with your name, in your handwriting, with a smiley face drawn with shaking hands.

“What-”

But before you can open the thing, the smell of smoke permeates your apartment. You run outside of your bedroom to find Xavier, still in the clothes he wore the night before, fanning a burnt-up meal. With how dark the food is, you can’t even begin to guess what he was trying to make.

“Xavier!” you exclaim with worry. “Is everything okay?”

“The eggs,” he coughs out. Those were eggs? “There’s something wrong with them.”

The eggs from the store? You check the carton that’s on the counter next to the stove, and sure enough, there wasn’t a label that said Flammable. Keep away from the stove. However, now you know who to keep away from your stove and maybe even your heart.

You take the spatula from Xavier’s grasp. “Let me handle the cooking from now on.” 

A routine begins to form from there. As you beat the eggs and prepare a new pan, Xavier heats up some water to make you both some tea. He watches as the eggs begin to take form in your pan, something like amazement seeping into those blue eyes you always lost yourself in. Luckily your focus is all on the pan, not on your heart that’s stupidly bleeding itself dry or the man standing next to you.

Xavier doesn’t leave before breakfast is served.

You tell yourself, as he sits down in front of you at your dinner table, that it’s his way of getting free breakfast. Nobody would resist free food, especially not your star. It’s an easy conclusion to accept, so it’s what you repeat in your head as even as he-

“Xavier,” you scold, “What are you doing?”

He shrugs. “Placing food on your plate.”

The answer is not as simple as he makes it sound. When was the last time somebody cared about if you ate or not? “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to. I wanna make sure you eat so you can be big and strong."

“You make me sound like a kid,” you retort, even as you eat a combination of rice and eggs. Food had never tasted so… tasty. Was there always so much flavor in food?

Xavier says nothing, simply taking his own spoonful of rice and eggs. Breakfast is quiet, save for the birds that fly outside your window and the clinks of cutlery against plates, but it’s a quiet that isn’t caused by your failed attempts at expressing how you feel. It’s a quiet that’s caused by two souls co-existing in peace.

Peace with Xavier. What a lovely possibility.

Let him love you.

Your food remains almost untouched compared to how Xavier’s plate slowly empties. He makes a comment or two about how lovely the food is and how your company is the best he can ever have in this vast universe, but you’re spaced out. Tuned only to the paper in your pocket, the letter you don’t remember having but now that you do, it’s the only thing on your mind. 

Besides Xavier, of course, but he’s basically a tenant there so it doesn’t count.

“I’ll be heading out,” he abruptly says, and just as suddenly, you ask, “To where?”

You don’t miss the slight smirk that appears on his face at your concern.

“Not sure, but I will come back before you know it.”

What does that mean?

Xavier takes your hand — specifically, the one hovering above your pocket, as if he wants to answer a question you haven’t even asked — and places a little kiss on your knuckles. The movement makes you jolt and swoon at once, your stupidly hopeful heart beating even faster at the gesture. Let him love you. Your heart certainly wants to.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise.” And you resist the urge to mutter, That’s what they all say and never do. 

You watch as he leaves your apartment. A feeling lingers in your chest, your throat, and perhaps your entire body as he does, like his existence is crucial to this place. To your life. 

With his absence, he lets you know that he will stay no matter what.

Rain makes the transition between day and night feel less daunting.

Clouds have turned the blues of the sky into a gray only felt when contemplation struggles to become action. The sun was nowhere to be found for most of the afternoon, so light does not reach you like it usually does. You don’t let it remind you of somebody.

But inevitably it will, because your mind is nothing if Xavier isn’t in it.

Now that night has fallen before you once more, the rain halts and the stars of the sky shine brighter than they did last night. The moon also chimes in by being brighter than the sun has been all day. Together, they watch you with anticipation as you settle into your living room couch, re-reading old texts and the letter in your hands.

Let him love you. The message remains unreplied to on your phone, but your mind has conjured up multiple possible replies to the statement.

Let him love me? Do I want to get hurt?

Let him love me. Pfft, in his dreams.

Let him love me. What would happen if I did?

The last one is your personal favorite simply because it’s the most ridiculous one. To wonder what will happen when the result is so clearly in front of you is the definition of insanity.

But as you glance at the letter, what were you if not insane?

A knock interrupts the oncoming train of thought. You settle more comfortably on your sofa since you plan to ignore it, but the voice — soft and achingly familiar — pulls you to it, making you open the door for somebody willingly. When was the last time you’d let anybody in? When was the last time someone wanted to?

“Hey,” Xavier greets. He looks messier than you’ve ever seen him: his hair spikes out in all directions, the collar of his baby blue button-up is uneven, and his face is a pinkish hue. The flowers in his arm match his shirt. The color on his face matches the blood profusely pumping in your chest, and more than likely, it matches your face too.

He looks… cute?

“Someone was in a rush,” you can’t help but comment, and to your surprise, he lets out a small chuckle. 

“I was, actually. But I kept my promise, didn’t I?”

He did, and no retort comes out of your mouth at the realization that he might actually care.

Let him love you. Your untrusting mind certainly wants to.

Taking the bouquet of flowers from his hands, you stare at the flower petals with incredulity. They’re the perfect shade of blue and purple, and the sparkles that surround them remind you of Linkon City’s stars. The flowers are an ode to joy, an ode to the city you’ve called your home, an ode to your soul that sparkles despite its blues.

“Wavyleaf sea lavender,” Xavier answers a question before you’d even asked it. “Do you like them?”

Do I like you? 

You clutch the bouquet to your chest, mentally planning where you’d put them in your apartment. “I do.”

He beams at that, nearly scintillates with the way his smile reaches his eyes. “May I come in?” he asks, and oh, the way your heart skips a beat as he questions his place in your home. In your life.

“Actually,” You quickly take your phone, your bag, and the letter. “I’d rather go somewhere else.”

And he follows you like he plans to stay by your side for the rest of his life.

Linkon City is home.

That’s what you tell yourself as you walk around its busy streets. Laughter erupts in every corner and voices blend to create a union of life. Everybody has stories to tell, and everybody has stories they have yet to live.

Xavier walks beside you, your bag dancing around on his shoulders. “Do we have a destination in mind?”

You shake your head.

“Good. Then we’ll have all night to explore the city.” Placing a hand on the small of your back — feathery-light, like it asks for permission to exist  — Xavier keeps you in his reach while allowing you to lead the way. He doesn’t say anything about this being your idea or your refusal to meet his gaze; he lingers like a looming force, a man planning to stay.

The message appears in your mind. Let him love you.

The letter appears alongside it like a sister. Your younger self, the author of the sacred document, would echo the same sentiment. Their words of encouragement seep into your skin like a friend’s company. Your soul shivers as a result.

“Xavier,” you call for him when the pedestrian light turns red. The seconds count down like it too awaits your thoughts. The scent of lingering rain decorates the moment. 

He looks at you. “Yes?”

“If…” Courage. Courage. Courage. “If the stars could talk, what do you think they’d tell me?”

Such a stupid question, you tell yourself. But Xavier doesn’t treat it as such — in fact, he eyes the twinkling stars as though he were speaking with them. As though they’d answer such a ridiculous inquiry.

The light turns green, and you two cross the street with silence as your best friend and the sky as a nosy observer.

“I think they’d just hug you,” he says after a long-winding silence. “They sense you already know the words you need to hear, so they’ll give you what you don’t already have.”

Let him love you.

“They would do what you did last night?” you ask.

He merely nods at the question. 

Linkon’s neon hues color the streets. Voices blend to create not only life, but the unity of happiness between various souls. The night seals the day’s exhaustion, making way for something less guarded. Something more… honest.

Let him love you, you tell yourself as you reach for his hand. As you let your guarded heart lead the way to a better future.

All roads lead home, and your star is yours.

Eventually, the little escapade leads you back to your apartment building.

Settling on his balcony, your arms sit on the railing as you eye the sky above you. Linkon City, which surrounded you with its hues only moments ago, now sits below your level. The stars now feel closer and closer to uncovering your thoughts.

Your star, however, simply waters his plants. You can hear his little hums and messages as he does so, and you don’t know how much more your heart can take of this torture.

You take out the letter from your bag. In it are your innermost thoughts, your best attempt at self-empowerment during a time you barely thought of life as a worthy endeavor. Today, they serve as your anchor, your map as your current endeavors become too much to bear. 

“Starlight?” Xavier calls for you. 

“Hm?” you turn around to face him, but his gaze is elsewhere. In this moment, you want him to look at you and you only. 

So, your hand goes to his cheek, and you make sure his eyes are only on you.

“I’m here,” Xavier says with a light chuckle. He’s made that clear enough today, yesterday, and every other day he’s been in your life. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Let him love you. What would happen if I did?

Scintillating stars appear in your periphery when your back leans against the balcony railing, your attention all on him. Your heart is full of nothing but affection, willing to jump into dangerous territory just to reach for the man in front of you. Your mind echoes the same intentions.

“Xavier, I-” Courage. Courage. Courage. “I’m scared.”

“Of?” He doesn’t say anything else, nor is there a hint of laughter in his expression. Instead he holds your hands and toys with your fingertips, a figurative way of carrying everything you leave unsaid. Your fears, your walls, your guarded heart — they are all you, and he loves every part of you.

“I don’t want to get hurt.”

The one sentiment that has allowed people —  and life — to hurt you time and time again has left the confines of your heart. Now out in the open, it stays in the space between you two, and you have just enough courage to look at your star as he takes in your words.

But his eyes are guarded too. You can’t hear the questions he asks himself.

“What are you thinking?”

He shakes his head, but you don’t let him get too far. Using what he’s taught you about holding on, you grip his hands before he can fall into a silence you cannot reach.

“Tell me, Xavier.”

He can’t say no to you now, can he?

And he doesn’t. With a sigh so soft the breeze could’ve covered it had you not been paying attention, Xavier says, “How much have you been hurt that it made you believe shutting yourself out from the world was the best option?”

And you see it. Even as your vision blurs with every tear that forms, the pain in his blue eyes is evident. The army he’s creating in his head, the swords he would use to cut every ounce of whomever — or whatever — has caused your suffering… his eyes fail to hide his willingness to carry your pain for you.

He wants to bear it all.

Let him love you. 

Words, you’ve slowly realized as life began to consume your every being, are never adequate enough to describe… anything, really. No matter if circumstances weighed as light as a feather or as heavy as love, words do not capture the feelings of carrying either one.

But, as you lean closer to Xavier until your lips press against his, you realize that actions have always been perfect.

The stars scintillate brighter as the two souls they’ve been rooting for become one with each other.

The next sun arrives, and it’s one of the first times you were happy about it.

The sound of a pen gliding over a fresh piece of paper fills this morning’s silence, your utmost focus on the message you want to leave your future self. Your friends’ messages come to mind since their words of encouragement ring better than anything you can conjure up at the moment.

As soon as you replied to your friend’s Let him love you with I just did, to say they went crazy was an understatement. The days you were radio silent did not stop them from sending the craziest messages, from being happy for you.

The scent of food permeates through Xavier’s apartment, the takeout you’d requested arriving earlier than expected. You drop the pen in the middle of your sentence with every intention of finishing the story that’s only beginning to unfold.

Dear future me, the star is mine…

a/n: Scintillation is such a beloved story, so writing this chapter made me quite nervous. I would occasionally stop and think about if it is good enough, if I'm doing justice to this pairing. This is the result of days of worrying lol. I hope you, my dear reader, find a love that makes you feel as protected and as safe as Xavier's.

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are so, so appreciated, but if you leave a comment detailing your thoughts on this fic, you'll have a special place in my heart <3

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