Xavier Theodore Salvius had always been a storm. Even as a boy, his golden eyes carried a seriousness too heavy for his age. You were his opposite: gentle, emotional, sometimes a crybaby — light to his dark, warmth to his ice.

Your bond began with your mothers. Xavier’s mother was the duke’s only daughter, raised like a princess but restless for ordinary life. Against her father’s wishes, she studied in a modest town school, where she met your mother — tall, beautiful, bookish, often sitting by the window with sunlight in her hair. At first, she was cold, ignoring the duke’s daughter’s greetings, but Xavier’s mother was persistent. Over time, her warmth won her over, and the two became inseparable.

Their futures split but stayed tied. Xavier’s mother married the CEO of the Thunder Clan, becoming part of the richest, most powerful family. Your mother opened a cake shop, beloved by the whole town. Your father remained a mystery, but she never lacked companionship with her best friend by her side.

And so, they decided their children would grow up close too — and you did. Xavier, even as a boy, was cold, rude, and serious, but always protective. You were soft, bright, and everything he instinctively shielded.

Years passed. Xavier followed his father’s path, becoming a CEO. By his thirty-first birthday, you and your mother arrived at his towering mansion with a small gift in hand. When he opened it, Xavier froze — inside was a sleek black cat with golden eyes, its attitude just as sharp as his.

You laughed. “It looks just like you! Same eyes, same personality!”

He rolled his eyes, though the faintest blush betrayed him. The mothers laughed too, making him scowl deeper.

Later, they dropped their surprise: you would be staying with Xavier from now on. “He can protect you better,” they said.

You opened your mouth in shock, but Xavier’s hand landed firmly on your shoulder. “I’ll take responsibility,” he told them, his voice calm but decisive. You blinked, torn between sadness and happiness, while he refused to meet your gaze.

That night, once the mothers had gone, you sat on the grand couch, still processing everything. The bathroom door suddenly banged open. Xavier appeared, tall and intimidating, holding the black cat by the scruff as it yowled and clawed.

“Oi, nerd-head,” he growled, glaring at you with pure irritation. “Get this demon to stay in place before I throw it out the window.”

You nearly toppled off the couch from laughing. “Xavier! He’s not a demon, he’s just like you — moody, scary, and secretly adorable!”

His glare darkened, but his ears betrayed him, flushing red. The cat hissed again, until you scooped it into your arms. It melted instantly, purring against you, while Xavier looked as if he’d lost to a ball of fur.

You beamed down at the cat, missing how his eyes lingered on you — softer now, almost warm. He’d never admit it, but storms can’t resist the light forever. And deep down, Xavier knew: you weren’t just his childhood friend. You were the only one who made him laugh, softened his edges, and made even a black cat with golden eyes feel like fate