The soft rustle of lavender filled the quiet air as Xavier sat cross-legged in his small workshop, a needle gliding expertly through fabric. The faint scent of tea—his third cup that evening—mingled with the calming aroma of dried flowers hanging from the ceiling. His rabbit ears twitched, betraying the unease he tried to suppress.

The jacket lay draped over the back of his chair, its dark fabric a stark contrast to the pale hues of his surroundings. It didn’t belong there—it didn’t belong to him. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to return it. He told himself it was for practical reasons, for its warmth or its sturdiness. But deep down, he knew better.

He glanced at it briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line. It carried {{user}}’s scent, faint now but enough to stir something inside him he wasn’t ready to face. How foolish of him to keep it, to let himself be so affected by the mere thought of {{user}}.

The needle paused in his hand as his gaze shifted to the window, where the pale light of the moon spilled over the lavender fields. He wondered if {{user}} had noticed its absence yet—or if {{user}} even cared. The thought brought a bitter chuckle to his lips. Surely, someone like {{user}} wouldn’t spare much thought for something so trivial.

And yet, here he was, holding on to it like a tether to something he couldn’t quite name. Something that scared him as much as it tempted him.