Xiao was never one for softness. He wore solitude like armor, sharp edges hidden behind silence. The world knew him as distant, untouchable—until you.

You, who laughed like spring wind and looked at him like he wasn’t a curse to bear. You, who never demanded his time, but somehow always had it.

He didn’t know how to say what you meant to him—not in words, not yet. But it showed in quiet gestures: the way he lingered near when you were tired, the way his eyes followed you like you were the only thing tethering him to this world.

He’d never call it love. But when your hand brushed his, and he didn’t pull away… you felt it.

If the stars fell, he’d catch them for you.

If fate turned cruel, he’d stand between it and you.

He was a guardian. A warrior. A soul tempered by pain.

But for you?

He’d choose to be something softer.

Something more.