#considermeafriend

-Squinting into the darkness, he peered ahead and made out another, and another, heading up the mountain towards a small cluster of coniferous trees up ahead. Ah, shit. More walking.

-Before he could take a single step, a low, rumbling growl came from behind him. The Freeshooter turned, slowly, to face the biggest fucking Heartless he'd ever seen in his life.

-Glistening fangs, beady yellow eyes, twisted horns and inky black scales covered the thing. If he had to guess, Xigbar figured the thing was at least twelve feet tall and built like a tank.

-As he discovered, it was fast, too- even its eyes, glowing bright in the darkness, were impossible to track as the thing closed the distance between the two. It swiped at him with claws like kitchen knives and put him on the defensive immediately. No doubt, the beast had his number; at every point he warped to, it was waiting with jaws wide open, ready to crunch down. It batted him around, tossing him in the air and catching him in its jaws once it had its fun.

-Between the cold and the brutal sneak-attack, Xigbar found his energy fading fast. He raised his only free hand and squeezed his eye shut, focusing the last of his energy on getting somewhere, anywhere, safe.

-......

-....................

-Look, all you were trying to do was keep your head down and out of trouble. There were a lot of vibrant characters in San Fransisco, but all you cared about was doing well at your job and enjoying your ground floor studio apartment. Affordable housing of any kind was a rare luxury in the city, and you'd struck gold with a landlady who just wanted a good, responsible, quiet tenant. For her, you checked all the boxes.

-You certainly weren't looking to get involved with anyone else. Not platonically, not romantically, not even as roommates.

-And yet, here was this man leaned against your trashcan in the alley, bleeding everywhere and groaning. Despite the summer heat, he was dressed way up in a long black trenchcoat (torn to tatters though it was), trousers, knee length boots, and gloves.

-What was his deal?

-You'd never seen a dying person before. OK, so maybe he wasn’t dying. But as it was, if anyone else were to witness him in the alley, in front of your place, bleeding out with only you around, they might assume it was you who did it. Your brain short-circuited and, unable to fully think through the situation, you dragged the man inside your apartment and slid the patio door closed.

-So there you were, panicking inside your studio with an unconscious dying dude bleeding out on the floor. What would your landlord say? Would you ever get your deposit back for damaging the green shag carpet?

-At the very least, you figured you could ask him some questions when he woke up and help him contact the cops, in case he'd lost his phone. In the meantime, you put on a pot of coffee and watched the man sleep, contemplating his features. He was handsome, with nicely tanned skin and long, dark hair shot through with streaks of brown. A deep scar ran the length of one cheek, and the opposite eye was covered with an eyepatch. He sort of looked like an anime convention escapee, you thought, but then again, folks in the city proper were often just like this.

-”Ugghhh....” the man stirred gently, and you jumped. The single remaining eye fluttered open, and you were struck by the color: bright yellow, like your little Volkswagen Beetle parked outside. He glanced around slowly at first before sitting bolt-upright and grimacing. Perhaps he forgot about his injuries.

-”Uh... are you okay?” you asked dumbly. His head whipped around to meet you, and the intensity of his glare instantly made you feel... small.

-”Yeah, definitely, just dandy,” he grunted and waved flippantly in your direction. Steadying himself against the wall, he tried and failed to rise to his feet. The man raised a mangled hand into the air in front of him, ever so briefly, then sighed and let it drop to his side. “Can you... can you maybe tell me where exactly I am?”

-”Uh, I mean- it's, uh. My apartment. San Fransisco? California? Planet Earth?”   You licked your lips and sighed. “I found you in the alley. Did you get hit by a car?”

-”Car? What are you talking about? I don’t know what any of that means. I need to get home. I need to get out of here and report back- OWWWW!” Xigbar yelped as his second failed attempt at standing brought him closer to the ground.

-”No. I don't think so, Mister. You might have a concussion.”At that point, you'd already folded the spare futon down from its hiding spot in the wall and tossed down some spare pillows and blankets.

-“That means lots of rest. I thought they were worse, but your cuts don't actually look horrible. Let's get you cleaned up and laying down, then maybe we can get you an urgent care appointment to look at your head.”

-”No. No doctors.”

-”You religious, or scared or something?”

-”Er- yeah. Somethin' like that.”

-.............

-Xigbar really knew he should have RTC'd as soon as he was able to stand. He should have reported back a week ago. Yet here he was, truly a stranger in a strange land, crashing on this good Samaritan's couch, eating good food, and- for the first time in a really long time- relaxing.

-For him, some peroxide, butterfly bandages and ibuprofen were the trifecta- his wounds cleaned up nicely and the pain was definitely more bearable.

-You called out of work for the week shortly after he woke up, feeding them a line about your brother-in-law dying or some shit; you didn't have one, of course, but nobody had to know that. He told you his name was Xigbar, and that's really all you knew. The dude was tight-lipped to say the least.

-Xigbar went with you on every trip you took. At first, he was pretty wary of your little yellow Bug, but he warmed up to it pretty quickly- at least, until you dumped the clutch and stalled on a hill for the first time. He jumped like he thought the thing was trying to kill him, and you couldn't help but laugh.

-He went with you on trips to the grocery store. You showed him your favorite restaurant (and taught him how to talk to the server like a person rather than a barmaid). He sat next to you on the sofa as you pointed angrily at the TV and complained about some goings-on in your world. He helped you uncork a cheap bottle of Trader Joe's wine, then another, and another, and you ended up talking shit about your coworkers. For you, it was the guy who followed you all over the office and wouldn't leave you alone for anything. Xigbar offered to punch him as a show of gratitude, but you assured him that no, it was really okay, the guy was just a little weird.

-On the other hand, Xigbar's work stories were different. You surmised that his office was comprised entirely of... er, vibrant characters. Like, for instance, the one that ditched work every single day by hanging out in the break room right next to his manager. There was also the “gambling addict in denial”- according to Xigbar-  who had, just a few weeks ago, literally swindled the pants off of a man in a bar. And there was the one who could, and would, electrocute and stab anyone and everyone for the slightest of infractions.

-”Uh, dude. Have you talked to HR?”

-”...What's an 'HR'?”

-”Human Resources, duh!” you sighed dramatically.

-The loud, barking laugh that followed told you that he had not, in fact, talked to HR.

-.........................

-Six days had passed since you'd found Xigbar bleeding all over everything in your alley. Since then he'd improved dramatically, and when you could tell he was feeling well enough to stand on his feet, you decided that his seventh day with you would be devoted to seeing as many tourist attractions as possible together. The guy didn't have any memories, he told you, so you wanted to help him “start fresh” with as many happy ones as possible.

-This was, of course, a total lie: Xigbar remembered everything in his life, he liked to think, with the exception of how he got here. He was totally content to live the lie and continue following you around.

-In just a few days, something about you had grown on him. He couldn't quite place it, but it was something about your smile, your ripostes after his witty comments, the way your hair fell over your face when you slept, your tendency to rant and rave and scream at the endless city traffic... he didn't know what to do. For the first time in a long time, he was at a loss.

-You took him absolutely everywhere you could think of: a boat tour of the bay, a cable car ride up Telegraph Hill, a brief stop for brunch at a local bistro, gift store browsing, and finally a walk across the Golden Gate Bridge to watch the sun set. The roads were more peaceful than they normally were, even for a Sunday evening. Perfect, you thought.

-If Xigbar had a heart it would have been racing: being near him made his mind do backflips and twist itself into knots. He enjoyed being there, but more than he liked the sight of the setting sun, he loved the wind in your hair and the glimmer of joy in your eyes. Those beautiful eyes.... God dammit.

-”Hey, let's take a picture!”

-”Huh??”

-Before he could stop you, you'd produced your phone from your pocket and turned on the camera.

-You held the phone in front of the two of you, snapping a seies of pictures, and drew it close to examine. In all of them, Xigbar smiled even wider than you had- genuinely, not his usual, wolfish grin.

-He has such a nice smile, you thought.

-He peeked over your shoulder at the picture, too, and felt his chest tighten in a way he'd nearly forgotten.

-.......

-After that, Xigbar knew it was time for him to head back. Xemnas would surely drill him about his whereabouts. Xigbar thought it odd that he hadn't seen so much as a single Shadow in his time here. Even if the world was really as bad as you said it was, he supposed that a world yet untouched by darkness must have some kind of hope.

-The minute you got home, you printed out two copies of the picture of the two of you on glossy photo paper, each picture small enough to fit inside a wallet. He took it gratefully from you and turned it over in his hands, the tightness in his chest creeping back.

-”This has been a really great time. Thanks for takin' such great care of me. You really got a knack for it,” he started. Suddenly your chest, too, felt heavy. “But I really oughta get back to my life. Boss Man's gotta be wonderin' about me by now, ya know? Same with yours.”

-”Yeah... I guess so,” you sighed. It had been nice having him around, despite the rocky beginning. Your eyes swept over his lithe figure and settled on his face- angular, ruggedly handsome, and watching you intently for a follow-up to your response.

-”I'm actually going to miss you,” you admitted.  “Who's gonna sass me for running stop signs and stalling on hills? Or talk shit about my coworkers with me? I hope I get to see you again. Please don't be a stranger.”

-He reached forward, fingertips brushing over your face, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn't brush him off when he laced his fingers through your hair, and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you grabbed his coat and pulled him in as close as you could.

-He drew away sooner than you would have liked. Than you would have both liked, really.

-”I'll make a point to stop back by, 'kay?” he assured you. With a sad smile, he lifted a hand and was surrounded by wisps of inky black and purple smoke. Just like that, he was gone.

-”W-what?” Wide-eyed, heart racing, you glanced around your apartment and resisted the urge to scream.

-”What the FUCK was that?!”

-.................

-As soon as Xigbar was back within the walls of the castle, he realized he'd fucked up.

-”Aww, shit!” There was no way she hadn’t seen the corridor of darkness, and there wasn’t really a good way to explain it, either.

-”You know, actually,” he cut the good Samaritan off quickly, “I think I've broken my ankle. Perhaps I could use some assistance after all... if you are willing?”

-The man was tall- very tall- but you had no trouble helping him off the ground once you had a good hold on him. His long, blonde hair was tangled, green eyes weary, but he wouldn't allow himself to lean too heavily on you despite the obvious pain he was in. You carefully guided him up onto the boardwalk, steadying him when his legs wobbled, then across the street to the cafe your parents owned. It was a small place, normally bustling during “beach season”, but it was getting late in the afternoon, and most seemed to opt for ice cream instead. You deposited him at a booth and ran into the kitchen to grab him some water. In all likelihood, he was dehydrated.

-Vexen took the ice water from you gratefully, and when you sat down across from him, he didn't protest. After a few minutes of silence, he finally asked, “Why did you stop to help me?”

-This question gave you pause. “If somebody drowned right across from our shop, it might negatively impact business?” You shrugged weakly; it hadn't been entirely untrue, but you also didn't really know why you stopped. Call it a random act of kindness.

-”Sound logic,” the man sighed, finishing the water in his glass. “Well, thank you, kind stranger.”

-You smiled. “Please, call me Y/N. Now... do you need to see a doctor, sir?”

-”Nonononono. NO doctors,” he practically screeched before collecting himself. That was the last thing he needed, and the Superior would surely have his head. “Just... oh, goodness that hurts- just something to immobilize it and an ice pack, please, Y/N. And... my name is Vexen. Apologies for not introducing myself sooner.”

-Behind the cafe's storefront, through the kitchen, was the master's suite where your family lived. It was small, with a cramped living room, two tiny bathrooms, and two bedrooms: one for you and one for your parents. Luckily for Vexen, there wasn't much walking to be done to get to anything in the house. He made himself at home in your room, studying the contents of the bookshelves that lined the walls. There were some children's books mixed in with more advanced novels, and a few textbooks from your time at university.

-”Have you lived here your whole life?” he asked, trying as hard as he could to be pleasant. He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of here and get back to the Castle before Saix demanded his head on a pike, but for now, it was wise to play nice.

-”Perceptive,” you replied with a nod. “Yep- Born and raised here. Went to college ten minutes away, but came back home after because my parents are getting older and need some help running the place. I wanted to be a marine biologist, but...” Vexen thought of little Ienzo, then, always his little helper, and he felt his chest tighten.

-“But maybe that can happen later. I still have big dreams,” you finished quietly.

-”Ah. So you studied Biology,” he mused, “it is always nice to make the acquaintance of a fellow academic. So, in this area...”

-The two of you went on and on for hours about the local wildlife, your misadventures in education, the swarm of idiots that seemed to flock to the Jersey shore in the summer. You reminisced about the semester you'd been a Teacher's Assistant giving lectures and grading assignments, and you remembered the one student in the last section of the day that wrote every assignment in crayon. Vexen assured you, with a quiet chuckle, that he had a colleague exactly like that.

-Just past midnight, you finally passed out, and Vexen took it as a prime opportunity to down the last potion he had left. The throbbing pain in his ankles subsided within the minute, and much to his relief, he found that he could once again put weight on it. If you asked in the morning, he'd tell you he just sprained it.

-Yet, there was a part of him, deep down, that wanted to tell you the truth. After all, you had helped him. Even after knowing you for such a short amount of time, he couldn't deny that he felt some kind of a connection with you. You could keep up with him in conversation, unlike the troglodytes he called colleagues, and you were interested in what he had to say. Without going into too much detail, he told you a bit about the work he did before... before the Organization. You'd shown genuine interest, and if he had a heart, it would have fluttered.

-Vexen, no. Think of the mission. You have to go back, he thought to himself. But... maybe one more day here couldn't hurt.

-So when he awoke the next morning and strode into the living room to find your family gathered there, his blood practically turned to ice in his veins. Your parents sat on the couch, eyeing the strange man warily; your father reached for something behind the couch and Vexen panicked inwardly.

-”Mom, Dad, he's fine,” you called from the kitchen, and they relaxed somewhat. He nodded awkwardly and made his way into the kitchen, nearly hitting his head on the doorframe as he entered.

-Vexen was surprised to see you waiting with breakfast ready. He gratefully accepted the food, the two of you discussed plans for the day. You inquired about his ankle, and he fed you the pre-rehearsed line; when you didn't push the issue, he sighed in relief. You wanted to make sure he was alright with a bit of a walk; a tour of the town would be the perfect thing to do, since he didn't know where he was or how he got here, and it might help him regain his bearings.

-Vexen, on the other hand, was thankful for a much-needed vacation day with someone whose company he actually enjoyed.

-Wait, did he just think that?

-Vexen strolled along the boardwalk with you, enjoying the breeze in his hair. He made sure to take smaller steps than normal so that you could keep up without jogging after him. He breathed in the scent of brine, watched the gulls drift lazily through the sky, and smiled, ever so slightly.  Even the crowd seemed not to bother him- normally, a boardwalk bustling with rowdy beachgoers, dogs, and children would have been far too much for him, but for today, the presence of others was inconsequential.

-You pointed out various historical landmarks as you walked: an old inn that had been running for two hundred years, the original lighthouse that had fallen out of use in favor of a newer one that wasn't crumbling, the childhood home of an influential musician and, of course, the university you went to. He took it all in, but more and more, he found himself noting the smallest details about you.

-There were the little things, like the way your nose crinkled when you laughed or the way you stubbornly sipped at your coffee even though you knew it was too hot to drink. The breeze in your hair, the way you said his name, the quiet remarks you made about passersby that only he would pick up on...

-He came back down to earth when you took his hand and led him into an antique shop. The oldest one for a hundred miles, you told him, and his focus shifted to the densely packed display booths. Nearly all of them were chock full of furniture and various artifacts of eras long gone, like soldiers' uniforrms, milk cans, and record players. His eyes landed on a tall bookshelf packed with all sorts of volumes, and he immediately reached for a tattered hardback with yellow pages. The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe.

-Zexion will love this, he thought.

-That book was the only purchase the two of you made, and by the time you decided to leave, the sun had already begun to set. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but Vexen had to tell you goodbye sooner or later.

-”Y/N, thank you for spending such a lovely day with me,” he began slowly. You knew exactly where this was going. “But I really must get back to-”

-Vexen's face went bright red as your lips collided with his, stopping him mid-sentence. It was a quick kiss, but in that moment, he wished he could have stopped time and made it last longer. You pulled away quickly, face flushed, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously. “I- I'm sorry. You have to go back to work. I know. Well... Don't forget about me, okay? Come visit again sometime. Maybe without a sprained ankle, though.”

Still beet red, he stammered and scrambled for some kind of dignified response. “Uh, I- Well, yes. Yes, I will be back to visit. I promise you. Cafe at the Shore. I would not dare forget.” he turned to leave, but stopped abruptly. “...Thank you, Y/N. Really. I will see you again, sooner rather than later.”

-He turned away and walked further down the boardwalk, ears still visibly red from the encounter. As you watched him leave, you couldn't help but feel a little sad. He would be back, though. You knew it.

-It was a large pack, larger than he'd ever seen. Normally, dealing with them would be a cakewalk. In terms of firepower, Xaldin was certainly at an advantage with several lances and power over wind. But these wolves were different. He hadn't seen it at first, but after impaling one  of the beasts, it occurred to him that these were, in fact, Heartless. They hadn't immediately seemed like it, but as the first few burst into clouds of shadow, he was certain that these weren't actually run-of-the-mill timberwolves. Three more of them charged him head-on while the rest of the pack closed in on him. As soon as he dealt with those three, another two leapt at him from behind. Every time he dealt with one, it seemed two more were there to take its place.

-It was more than he could keep up with; the swarm of Heartless was faster and stronger than he'd anticipated, and they were starting to chip away at him. They lunged as soon as he turned his back, gnashing teeth and razor claws tearing at his cloak and ripping  through his flesh. 

-At this point, tired and hungry with nothing to heal himself, Xaldin knew he had to find a way out. With a shout and a strong gust of wind, he propelled himself over the ring of Heartless and towards, what he hoped, was safety. He had hardly any energy to use his powers, though, and barely any energy left to run. And where would he go, he wondered? He had gotten soft. This would have been nothing for him to deal with before.

-Exhausted, hungry, and resigned to failure, the Whirlwind Lancer raised his right hand and summoned a corridor of  darkness to take him home. Something heavy crashed into him from behind; the set of jaws clamping down on his forearm and the Heartless sending him tumbling through the corridor were the last things he remembered.

-At least, from that world, anyway. He could tell right away that something was off. This was, decidedly, not The World That Never Was, because he'd never seen a damn cornfield anywhere in that world. There was also no moon in the sky, whereas back home, the faintest beginnings of a heart-shaped moon hung low in the sky. Something had gone wrong. He knew another corridor just wasn't possible right now, and he briefly wondered what he could do.

-The opportunity to grab a bite to eat had presented itself, though, and he plucked an ear of corn from a stalk before peeling it and biting down. He spit it out immediately- raw corn was tough to chew and, frankly, disgusting.

-He could hear the occasional roaring, whooshing sound not far from him, though, and an acrid smell hung in the air like something had been burning. But it was something, and anything was better than standing around this field with who knows what kind of Heartless. He pushed his way through the stalks as he marched towards the sounds, lifting his boots high to keep them from getting stuck in the loamy soil. It couldn't have been a strawberry patch, oh no. It just had to be fucking corn.

-And suddenly, as he shoved aside the last few cornstalks, he was out in the open. Back on a paved road, just like the roads in the World That Never Was. There was that rumbling noise again--

-A truck horn blared at him and he jumped out of the way just in time as the massive thing went barreling past. Up close, he felt the roar of its engine in his chest, and as it passed, he counted his blessings he hadn't ended up plastered onto the front of it. He watched the eighteen-wheeler thunder down the road and disappear into the night. Apart from the near-death experience, the place didn’t seem too bad. The stars were very visible here, unlike the World That Never Was, and it seemed... peaceful. If he squinted, Xaldin could make out a cluster of lights shimmering in the distance. City lights.

-He looked down the road to see another pair of lights coming, this time from the opposite direction, and he summoned what energy he had left to wave vigorously at the oncoming car.

-You hadn't expected any surprises on your trip back to college. That morning, you'd said a tearful goodbye to your family several hundred miles away, and now you were on the home stretch- five more miles of corn and alfalfa, over the bridge, and back to business. So when a tall man in a torn black coat jumped in front of your Jeep and began flailing wildly, to say you were a little offput would be putting it mildly. As you slammed on your brakes and brought your car to a screeching halt, the man collapsed, falling face first onto the asphalt.

-You were dead tired and not in the mood to deal with any of this, if you were perfectly honest, but what were you going to do- leave him to be vulture fodder? He was still breathing, that much you could see, but you'd want someone to help if you were in his position. You flicked on your hazards and got out, examining the man carefully, one hand on a small pocketknife just in case.

-...............

-How you managed to smuggle him into your apartment without your roommates asking questions was a goddamn miracle. It was also fortunate that you had the unit right next to your elevator, so loading him onto one of the move-in day dollies and getting him up to the fifth floor was a cakewalk.

-In no time, you'd laid out some towels and dumped him unceremoniously onto the couch. He was covered in large gashes, bruises, scrapes, and dirt. You were able to get a closer look at him now: he was tall and broad-chested, with muscles that visibly strained the fabric of his coat. He had long, black hair twisted into braids and prominent sideburns. He looked like some kind of... warrior. While you gathered some supplies to at least clean and dress the wounds you could see, you wondered briefly if he was an actor or something.

-So what had left him this badly hurt? Whoever did this could, and hopefully would, catch a battery and assault charge at the very lightest for what they'd done. 

-The second you touched his arm with a cloth wet with peroxide, his eyes flew open and he looked around wildly. They were an intense violet- mesmerizing, totally unique, like tanzanite.

-”What are you doing? Stop that.”

-You certainly hadn't expected him to be so rude. “Excuse me? I'm trying to help you!”

-”You don't know what you're doing, lass,” he growled, taking the cloth from your hands and undoing the zipper of his coat. The black undershirt he wore was also in tatters, making it even easier for you to see the definition of his abs. It occurred to you, then, that this guy was fucking ripped, and it might not be a great idea to piss him off. “Why did you stop to help me?”

-”Couldn't just leave you. So... do you remember what happened to you? Can you tell me your name?”

-”...Xaldin.”

-”Come again?”

-”My name is Xaldin.”

-”Ah.” The two of you sat in silence for a while. He continued cleaning and dressing his wounds, and you contemplated the whole scenario. Either he remembered everything and wasn't talking, or he remembered perfectly and didn't want to say. Whatever the case, you decided not to press the issue. 

-After a long pause, you finally spoke. “I'm Y/N. I forgot to ask, do you want some water? Something to eat?”

-He looked up, eyebrows raised. “Tea would be lovely if you have any, lass. And anything to eat, really. Very hospitable of you.” He was gruff, straight to the point, yet... something about the way he held himself betrayed that rough exterior. And he hadn't tried to murder you or steal any of your things, which he would have had no trouble doing. That thought made you feel a bit better.

-It dawned on you, though, that there was no food in the apartment because you'd been gone for three months, so you carefully helped him down to the car and drove across town in search of a drive thru open at two in the morning. Finally, you settled on a local burger joint, and as you pulled in front of the menu, you began rattling off recommendations. He wasn't clueless, though- he'd seen these things before, once.

-Those went out the window, though, because Xaldin leaned past you, out the car window, and started ordering. “I'd like two large Number Fives with extra bacon, curly fries with both, and two chicken sandwiches with a side order of chicken tenders. And-”

-You cut him off furiously. “Xaldin! I don't have that much money!” you hissed. He shrugged lightly.

-”I do,” he replied, producing a heaping handful of little yellow... somethings. They were sparkly, sure, but you doubted very much that they would let you pay with what resembled a handful of D&D dice.

-”$48.20, please pull forward.”

-”Shit!” You cried. “Dude, what the hell?”

-”Don't worry about it,” Xaldin said as you pulled forward to the cashier.

-Of course, when Xaldin said “don't worry about it”, what he really meant was, “I'm going to intimidate the cashier into giving us that food”. The young man took one look at Xaldin and decided it wasn't worth the trouble; you sped off towards your apartment with two massive bags of food. Maybe picking this guy up was a mistake?

-But over the next few days, you became accustomed to each other. He stayed in the apartment, for the most part, resting and reading the books on your shelves. You watched him glance through Romeo and Juliet before bitterly flinging it to the side. In your conversations, you were quick to note that Xaldin was a pretty angry guy. Or, at least, it seemed that way. Other times, he was almost eerily placid, like he wasn't quite aware that he should be feeling or acting a certain way. He mentioned heartbreak and a past lover offhandedly once, and it made you wonder just how much this poor man had been through.

-He talked a bit about work, too, and how exhausting it had been. After a surprise termination at his old job, with no severance package or anything, the new job had worked him to the bone from day one. He worked with most of the same coworkers, which was both a positive and a negative according to him. Xaldin noted that this was his first proper “weekend” off in years, and of course it would be spent covered in lacerations.

-At this point, you produced a tall glass and a bottle of red wine from your wine rack. You  uncorked it for him and filled his glass about halfway.

-”Drink up,” you offered. “Sounds like you need it.”

-You spent more time together than you intended to, ditching syllabus week in favor of taking care of Xaldin. There was just something about him that drew you to him. It could have been his voice, the way he worded things, watching his walls come down bit by bit... 

-And just as you enjoyed being with him, you were starting to grow on him, too. He dared not smile in front of you, goodness no, but he showed his growing affection in different ways. When he picked up a package of sausages in Target and tore it open right then and there to get to the good stuff, you panicked and told him that it needed to be paid for first. He listened.

-He picked up on the hints of sadness in your voice when you talked about home, about the family you'd left behind, about all of the pressure on you to strive for greatness when, really, you just wanted to find happiness. Xaldin understood, and for the first time in a long time, he was genuinely sympathetic.

-It was at precisely that point that alarm bells started going off in his head and he knew he had to RTC. 

-He didn't plan on telling you he was leaving. He'd already caused enough turmoil in the past week. But whatever it was about you that he found so comforting, so relaxing- it was so easy to drop the warrior act and just be himself--

-That night, the two of you were mixing drinks and watching The Bachelor, thoroughly enjoying tearing the contestants apart. Even that part of you, he liked- you could be just as vicious as he was and he didn't have to pull punches or mind his manners. You could keep up with him. He hadn't had a connection like that since--

-Since--

-Xaldin's brain short-circuited and the next thing you knew, the man had turned to face you, gripping both of your arms gently yet firmly in either hand, gazing at you with those gorgeous tanzanite eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized what was happening.

-His eyes snapped shut as your lips collided with his. You pulled yourself into his lap and grabbed a fistful of hair as he deepened the kiss. He wasn't as rough as you imagined he would be; on the contrary, he moved slowly, precisely, enjoying every moment with you. When he nibbled at your lower lip, you obliged, and his tongue swept inside your mouth to explore.

-Five minutes turned into fifteen. Fifteen minutes turned into an hour. It wasn't until the doorknob on the front door rattled that the two of you scrambled off of the couch and darted to your room for a little more privacy.

-..............

-It killed Xaldin to leave the note. It really did. But there were too many liabilities, including his growing affections for you, and he needed to get back to the Castle. With a dull ache in his chest, one that he had long since forgotten, he placed the note on your nightstand and opened a corridor to take him home.

-You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore, with thoughts of cooking a big breakfast for the man. Your heart sank, however, when you noticed the empty spot next to you where Xaldin had been only the night before. Part of you expected this to happen, but it didn't make the hurt any less real: there was no way he was in the bathroom or something, he was just gone.

-A folded piece of notebook paper rested on your nightstand. You knew exactly what it was the moment you spotted it. Slowly, tears welling in your eyes, you unfolded it tenderly and read the neat cursive handwriting:

Y/N,

Sincerest apologies for leaving unannounced, my dear. It was the easiest way for us both. Thank you for showing me kindness, hospitality and warmth; thank you for offering me reprieve from an unforgiving world, however short; and thank you for being a ray of light in a sea of darkness. Until our next meeting.

Yours,