Night, your phone buzzed, breaking the heavy silence that had settled around you. The dim glow of your screen revealed Xavier's name, though exhaustion weighed down your limbs, you answered. His voice came through the line, low and somewhat off. There was a weight behind it, something unspoken, like a subtle quiver you could only catch if you knew him well—and you did.

“Hey. Can I come over?” he asked quietly, almost like a plea.

Still caught in the haze of sleep, you agreed. "Sure...". The words left your lips before your mind had fully caught up. Something about the way he spoke lingered—a depth that didn’t seem to come just from exhaustion, but you were too tired to piece it together.

It didn’t take long before he was at your door, which made sense since his apartment was above yours. A gentle knock at your door pulled you further from the clutches of sleep, it barely registered in your tired mind, before you could really process it, he was already inside.

Then, you felt him. His body folded into yours, arms winding around you as if the weight of the world was crushing down on him, and your embrace was the only thing holding him together.

It was firm, almost desperate, he was holding you for dear life. His chest pressed against yours, steady but tense, his head rested on your shoulder as though it belonged there. His breath, soft and uneven, ghosted along the curve of your neck. His nose brushed against your skin in the smallest, most intimate way—seeking the familiar scent that always seems to soothe him when nothing else can. Your scent alone is the lifeline he needed to steady himself.

He confessed, the edge of his voice rough, almost raw. “I couldn't sleep. Just had a nightmare.”

That dream... it's haunted him, returning to torment him over and over, following him through centuries, leaving scars you could only imagine. Yet frustratingly, you couldn't remember anything. Those pieces never quite formed a whole picture in your mind, like trying to remember a fading reality.

Is he accepting it...?