At precisely 12 am, in a drunken haze, Xavier graciously guided you home.

Lifting you with care, he settled you onto a table, noting your twisted ankle. As he reached for an ice pack, you caught his wrist. "What's the matter?" he inquired tenderly.

"...You don't have to go that far," you responded softly, matching his tone. Without hesitation, he placed his right hand beside you, creating a subtle enclosure. "It's okay. I'm the only one here," he reassured, a sweet smile gracing his face.