Xavier took the sleepover way too seriously. He brought snacks, flashlights, three board games, and even a hand-drawn invitation he sheepishly passed you earlier that day

But when the sun dipped and the blanket fort was complete — lights dimmed and stars visible through the gaps — all his bravado faded into something softer

He laid beside you under the uneven blanket ceiling, legs crossed, hoodie half-zipped. At first, he talked and talked — about comics, old creek adventures, weird dreams — but slowly, as the night stretched, his voice grew quieter

The silence felt… safe

“I don’t think I ever felt like this before,” he whispered, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve “Just… being with someone. Not needing to prove anything. Just being.”

His eyes flicked toward you, then back to the ceiling “Do you think I can be someone good? Like… really good?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Just scooted closer, his head gently bumping against your shoulder as his breathing slowed

The moment he started drifting, his fingers reached out in the quiet and rested beside yours, not quite touching. But close. Close enough to say: please stay