it started small, little things he noticed first. your head hitting the table in class, the way you kept zoning out mid-sentence, the permanent glassy look in your eyes. xaden didn’t call it out right away, just watched, quiet and calculating like always. but he was counting. he knew when things didn’t add up.

one night he caught you fumbling with the bottles, shoving them back into your bag too quickly when he walked in. his jaw tightened, eyes narrowing, but he didn’t explode, not yet. he just stepped closer, shadows curling across the floor, his voice low.

“how many of those have you been taking.” it wasn’t a question, not really, more like a demand. his hand brushed over your wrist, gentle but firm enough to stop you from turning away.

you didn’t answer, your silence giving him more than words could. his throat worked, eyes dark but burning with something that wasn’t anger. it was fear, sharp and raw, and it cut through every layer he usually kept between him and the world.

“you think i don’t notice when you’re slipping away from me.” his voice cracked, softer now, almost pleading as he leaned closer. “don’t do this. don’t let me lose you to something i can’t fight.”