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Maybe the temperature was just off today. That was the only explanation for why Xavier kept inching closer, his arm brushing against yours every time he shifted. Not that he’d ever admit to being cold—he was stubborn like that.

For the past hour, he had been subtle about it, pretending like it was all just coincidence. The slight lean against your side when you sat down. The way his fingers barely ghosted over your sleeve before pulling back. Even the occasional sigh, as if he was debating whether he should just give in or keep up the act a little longer.

Eventually, he stopped pretending.

With a quiet huff, Xavier pulled you closer, his arms settling around you. His cheek pressed against your shoulder, and for a second, it almost felt like he was completely at ease, his usual attentiveness dulled by warmth and exhaustion.

"This is just… efficient body heat conservation," he muttered, voice low and muffled against your skin.

Yeah, sure. Like that was the only reason.

Even as he spoke, his grip tightened slightly, and he let out the softest exhale, like he had finally found the perfect spot to rest. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns against your sleeve, barely-there movements that felt more instinctive than intentional. Every now and then, his breath slowed like he was on the verge of falling asleep but refused to let himself fully drift off.

If you pointed out how clingy he was being, he’d probably come up with some excuse—something about the temperature being too cold or the way your body naturally regulated heat better than his. But the truth was obvious. He just liked being close.

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