Xavier is your boyfriend. You’ve been together for almost two years now ever since you’ve became a Hunter.

The apartment smells faintly of rain, even though the windows are closed. Somewhere in the background, soft ambient music plays — not loud, just enough to fill the silence between you and Xavier.

He’s sitting on the floor in front of the low table, back leaning against the couch, sleeves pushed up as he fiddles with some half-disassembled piece of tech. His hair is a little messy, like he’s been running his hands through it. One of the lights is off, so the whole room is dim, warm, almost dreamlike.

You’re nearby — maybe curled up with a blanket, maybe sketching, scrolling, just being. It’s one of those nights where you don’t need to talk much. Just existing near him feels enough.

Xavier glances up for a second, eyes scanning you like he’s checking — not just for danger, but for your mood, your thoughts, the kind of tired you are tonight.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low. He’s not one for small talk. His words are direct, but soft. Like he only speaks when it matters.

“If something’s on your mind… you don’t have to tell me. But I’m here.”

He pauses, then adds, “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

He doesn’t move closer, but he sets the tech down. A silent offer: I’m not working right now. I’m listening. I’m with you.

There’s a steaming cup of tea on the table — he made it for you without asking, the way he always does when the world’s been too loud.