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“So, when’s your mission with Xavier?” Tara’s whispered voice lingers around your head, infiltrating your thoughts as you stare at someone standing next to Xavier’s desk. It’s a constant thumping of your heart in your chest when you look at him, and as he casually chats with the man bending over to point at something on your partner’s computer, you feel an itch.
“Uhm… Next month.” The office’s silence is accompanied by the ticking clock, a time bomb for the end of the day, in which many of your colleagues will explode into the streets. Others stay later, waiting for missions on their watch, but those with authority are given the go-ahead to head home. “Almost exactly a month.”
The blinking cursor of your mouse taunts you, the last report of the day almost done if it weren’t for Tara’s head poking out from behind the wall separating your desks. It’s a nice cubicle, and one that you don’t need often except during the days that paperwork plagues your entire day. You just want to go home, so you buckle down, your fingers running like lightning across the keyboard as Tara continues talking.
“Knowing you guys, it’ll be a quick mission.” Her nonchalant tone sets your skin ablaze. Both of you are the best Hunters in the Association, and the fact that you’re partners, heading into danger by each other’s side… It only makes you both more dangerous. As long as you have each other, that’s all you’ll ever need.
The map of the No-Hunt Zone you’ll be visiting for the infiltration sits tacked into the corner, and you hum. “Maybe.” A light shrug comes, and you look down at your fingertips hovering over a word. “There are a lot of variables that could surprise us.”
“Like being lost in each other’s embrace.” A giggle from her makes your cheeks burn, the beating of your heart overpowering your mind for a split second.
“Oh, shut up.” But the flush gives you away, as she’s already poking your cheek with her finger. “Come on, I don’t have feelings for him.”
Your coworker and friend isn’t giving up that easily. Her smirk turns into a smile, cheek squishing into her palm. She’s always trying to play matchmaker, and with the emergence of the Hanahaki disease, she's determined to ensure her friends’ crushes are fulfilled.
“You say that, but your cheeks are a darker red than my nails.” Despite being a Hunter, her short nails are painted a rich red, holding them out in front of you in a demonstration as if she hadn’t shown you the minute she got them done. “I can always give him a little push in the right direction.”
Shaking your head, you try to focus on the report. “No… I just…” For a split second, you take in the tousled silver locks as Xavier rubs the back of his neck. It’s evident that the people around his desk are making him uncomfortable; you’ve known him long enough to figure that out. “I don’t want to force him into anything. And I don’t have feelings for him.”
“You basically just confirmed it.”
Another poke to your arm, and your eyes roll into the back of your skull. But you have no way to deny her when your heart is going to beat out of your chest as you look at your colleague.
Then, an itch in your throat bubbles its way up. From your chest to the tip of your tongue, you cover your mouth to rid yourself of the discomfort. No… It’s not what you think it is. It can’t be that the root of your desires has embedded itself in your lungs. It just can’t be .
“Are you okay?” Tara’s hand hovers over your shoulder, almost as if it would be contagious. “It’s not…”
“No.” Your harsh word cuts off her concerned question, shaking your head as you stare down at your keyboard. “It’s—not.” The last part of the report is nearly finished, and you manage to finish up and send it off before the next itch comes sneaking up on you.
Her eyes flicker from your face to your shaking hands, knowing what it could mean but not wanting to believe it just yet. Not her friend. Not her coworker. Besides, Xavier is only ever lively with you… Did he really not feel the same?
Another tickle. You have no choice but to dip your head and cough into your hand.
Bright red blood sits in your palm..
Your eyes dip down, and you close your hand in hopes Tara doesn’t see. Your skin suddenly feels feverish. It’s all too much, and you grab a tissue to clutch in your palm.
“I think I’ll just pack up for the day.” Another cough follows the rush of words, and on instinct, you bring the tissue up to your mouth.
People are glancing over, but no one is close enough to see the blood staining the once white tissue. No one but Tara. Her eyes widen, but knowing that many other eyes are on you, she steeles her expression. Especially when she glances up to see Xavier’s wandering eyes find your face.
“Uhm…” Your eyes meet Tara’s, a hint of sadness in them, but also a pleading look that says, 'Don't say anything.' “I’ll uh… see you tomorrow?”
She nods, not wanting to say anything else because if she opened her mouth, tears might follow in their wake. The somber silence between the two of you is the start of a secret that she swears to keep but mourns the reality.
To your chagrin, the moment you toss the tissue in the trash and gather your things to go home, Xavier stands as well. His tall frame towers over the desks, so you have no choice but to meet his eye and smile through the realization. Roots tickle at your diaphragm, and you clear your throat as he wordlessly follows beside you into the elevator.
“It’s disappointing we had no missions today.” The start of the conversation is innocent, and Xavier steals a glance over at you while adjusting his jacket. It’s the same white one he wears often. “A day of all reports feels like a day wasted.”
Despite his lackadaisical nature, he does like going on missions. More often than not, when he’s faced with a day at the desk, he falls asleep and is awoken by Captain Jenna’s stern eyebrow raise and a clipped sentence to get him back to work.
“Yesterday we were on back to back to back missions.” The tease is brought with a brush of your fingers as you both hit the bottom floor button. “Sometimes we need a day of relaxation.”
His laugh comes as a breathy chuckle, a low hum behind it. “I just get so tired sitting at that desk.” The blue oceans of his eyes skim along your features, like he’s admiring a painting. However, you don’t notice it, too preoccupied by the pain in your chest and the emerging realization of what’s happening.
“Yeah, I know.” The atmosphere turns a bit lighter as you let yourself relax. “Captain Jenna has woken you up multiple times this last month… You’re lucky you don’t drool.”
Humor is the best medicine; once the elevator opens, he lets you step out first. In the hectic crowd, you’re stopped just before the door to the office. With Xavier right behind you, his warmth radiates out, and you feel the telltale tickle in your throat once more.
“Are you okay?” Leaning down, he hovers a hand over your shoulder, unsure whether or not he can touch you.
“Yeah… Yeah.” The words come out quickly, and the crowd clears for you to take a breath of fresh air. It’s overwhelming, the impending cough in your throat, and forcing yourself to swallow it down, but the air filling your lungs stops the incessant itch whenever you try to speak.
It’s a short walk to your shared apartment building, the sun coming down in a slow elevator-style descent. Not kissing the horizon yet, but the distance between the two is agonizing.
“Careful,” too lost in thought, you don’t notice the bicycle that’s barreling down the sidewalk. Xavier’s hand presses into your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and away from the other pedestrian. Heat erupts where his hand touches, and you keep your eyes focused on the ground instead of Xavier’s eyes scanning you to make sure you’re okay. “You’re distracted.”
“Just thinking about those reports.” The excuse doesn’t do much to convince him, but Xavier chooses not to comment on it. He’s observant, but also stupidly oblivious at times. The coughing… The tissue… He has an idea what’s happening, but decides not to say anything.
“I had way too many today.” He jokes, letting you move to walk beside him again. “I didn’t think I did that many missions this past week.”
“You’re the best Hunter in the Association, of course, you’re gonna rack up paperwork to do.” With a laugh, you look over at him, finding his eyes already on you. “Blame Captain Jenna, who makes us do our own reports for our missions.”
“No thanks.” He’s the strongest person you’ve seen, and yet he’s afraid of criticizing the captain of your team. “I’ll stay silent on that matter.”
The banter between you is light, like friends catching up after work, because that’s what you are . The thumping in your heart and the sharp pangs in your lungs don’t go unnoticed by you. Each step is another poke, like a garden taking root, and when you’ve read up on the disease, you’ve seen that it varies in the intensity and speed with which it grows.
“So,” Xavier holds open the door to your apartment building, “are you ready for the mission next month?”
The mention of the big mission you’ve both been assigned to has your shoulders jumping. “It isn’t anything we haven’t done before.” Your nonchalant tone carries into the elevator. “We’ll be fine. I have faith in us.”
“Yeah, we’ll be fine.” Xavier adjusts the vest of his uniform. “Because I have the best partner in the Association.”
Why is he saying that?
Your thoughts run rampant, a smile tugging at your lips as you see the slender fingers smooth out along his uniform. Many times you’ve daydreamed about his hands, and the heat in your cheeks subsides when you take a slow breath to stop the itch in your throat.
“I think it’s the other way around, but I appreciate the sentiment.” As soon as the elevator dings for your floor, you go to step off and turn to say goodbye, only to realize he’s walking you to your door.
Leaning against the wall, he stops right beside your front door. “I guess we’re just both the best Hunters, then?” Another laugh, watching you type in the code to your apartment.
“I guess so.” Once your door is open, you turn to face him. There’s a moment of tension between you, eyes following along your features before you snap out of it. “Uhm… I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”
“Yeah, we can walk together like normal.” Xavier nods, smiling at you. “See you tomorrow.”
The moment you walk into your apartment, you lean against the door, a sigh escaping your lips and the faint taste of copper lingering on your tongue.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The only thing that takes the edge off the taste of blood is mouthwash, and in four weeks, you’ve got a small bottle in your purse at all times. The realization of what’s happening gets worse when you’re doubled over the toilet at work, coughing up small petals of forget-me-nots that seem to glow in a soft blue around the bright red of blood.
The worst part is going back to your desk and trying to forget the pain every time you look up at Xavier, or meeting Tara’s eye over the wall. She knows. She knows it all too well from other friends with the same disease. The sympathetic smile she gives you when you slink back to your desk fills you with even more dread.
Walks back to your apartment building are silent, and each brush of your hand with Xavier’s is more painful than the last. It’s a tie around your wrist, binding you to him in the most morbid way.
Not to mention going on short missions, fighting Wanderers, seeing him in such a different light that you can’t help but fall even more for him. He’s so strong , and his gentle voice is such a contrast to the furrow in his brow or the shining light from his blade that your stomach flutters and your lungs clench.
He notices. At least, you think he notices.
More often, he asks if you’re okay, watching you come from restaurant bathrooms between fights and take swigs of mouthwash or water just to rid yourself of the taste. Like a mouthful of pennies, you wince each time you clear your throat. The heaviness of the situation weighs on your chest.
For a moment, you think that the intense block on your chest when you lie down at night might kill you. Maybe it’s the best way to go, because knowing that a garden of flowers will take up all the space in your lungs sends you into a spiral of despair and helplessness. There are only two options, since it doesn’t seem like the third - the reciprocation of feelings - is possible.
When the big mission comes around, you’re ready as you’ll ever be.
The walk out to the No-Hunt Zone isn’t long, but it feels like miles that you’re fighting the gasps of breath you can take in between coughs. It’s a routine at this point, getting used to swallowing what comes up or even using a sneaky tissue to hide the petals that stick to the tip of your tongue.
“Okay, so we’ll have to search the whole thing to find where the files are.” Xavier taps something on his watch, his blade secure on his side and glowing with the thousands of missions before this one.
He’s cut down too many Wanderers to count, and this is almost nothing to him. “But I’ll guess somewhere toward the top of the structure. They tend to keep important files farthest from the entrance.”
“Got it.” The large building comes into view, and you count the stories. “So the fourth or fifth floor then?”
“Yeah, but I’m not getting any indications on my watch.” He sounds puzzled, his eyebrow raising as he surveys the outside of the office building. It’s one similar to the Hunter’s office, but much more dilapidated and rundown looking. “According to this, there’s no Wanderers nearby.”
Humming, you open the door for Xavier to slip through, the silence ringing in your ears. “That’s odd.” The receptionist's desk appears barren, with no hint of paper or files of any sort, and the computer there has a shattered screen, with glass scattered throughout the chair and on the floor.
“Careful.” Once again, he pulls you close to him, noticing a puddle with a snapped wire lying in it.
Your eyes meet his, cheeks flushing as his fingers stay wrapped around your wrist. He doesn’t make any effort to move, your face inches away from his chest, and your body itching to get even closer .
“It’s…” You pause, taking note of the wire and the sun as the only source of light in the large building. “It’s not a live wire…”
The leather-gloved hand that was holding onto your wrist drops, and the urge to reach out again is stopped by a cough racking your chest. The petal starts to come up, and you cover your mouth with your hand in an attempt to keep it in. Just stop . You will yourself, the thorns tearing at your throat, and it’s forced back down.
“Come on.” The words manage to slip out in a hoarse whisper, turning away from the thumping of your heart and the pain that accompanies it. It also means turning your back on Xavier, your legs crouching as you peek into another room.
Empty.
“It’s so empty.” Your voice travels through the building, and as you search through the desks on the lower floor, you catch glimpses of past lives.
Like a library of souls, every person’s desk holds a piece of them. Frozen in time with no way to be set free. Picture frames with smiling children, bobbleheads of sports teams, even a charm bracelet with multiple little trinkets and the letter ‘X’ on it.
Funny … You think, staring at the letter as if it were a sign from a higher power.
But all you get is another petal scratching behind your teeth, wanting to come out.
“It’s like these people just got up and left.” Xavier wouldn’t hear the whisper if he weren’t following behind. His sharp eyes follow every movement, scanning the surroundings to make sure you’re safe, his hand hovering over the desks as if touching it would disturb an ancient grave. “It’s eerie.”
“Yeah…” He trails off, seeing the bracelet but saying nothing. “When Wanderers took over this place, I don’t think many people made it out.”
A tense silence washes over you, a blanket of sober energy following like a rain cloud over your head. It’s still early morning, and you brought gear to set up a secure shelter somewhere in the halls, but the urgency has long gone from your system.
Instead, you want to honor these souls because they likely didn’t get closure in their last moments.
Something glittering catches your eye. “Look,” in another sick or twisted sign from a possible higher power, a glass forget-me-not sits perfectly still in a vase. “Maybe some offering by a secret admirer.”
Even though you aren’t looking at him, you feel Xavier’s warmth against your back. A soft wheeze comes from the back of your throat, fighting the urge to turn and meet his eye. No , it could cause more petals, and the progression of the disease is already too dire.
A decision would have to be made soon. The flowers will cover every inch of your lungs until you can’t breathe. You’ll die.
But the idea of going through with the surgery… Of forfeiting your feelings for Xavier… It’s more painful than your inevitable end.
“They obviously cared about it a lot if they displayed it like this.” Xavier’s thumb brushes across the smooth glass, a reverent touch that reminds you of just how gentle he is. “Makes you think where that admirer is… Did they make it out?”
“Is it more romantic if they died together?”
The question hangs in the air. Suddenly, you’re well aware of your proximity and each breath that Xavier takes. He’s close enough to brush his nose along the top of your head, smelling your shampoo and letting it fill his senses.
Xavier takes a moment to think about it. “I think…” Pausing, it’s like someone reached into your chest and is holding both of your lungs hostage. “I think that watching the one you love die and living a life without them is more painful than going together.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his eyes searching your features, and you hide behind the turning of your head. “At least if you go together, you can hope that reincarnation exists. You’ll always be able to find them in another life.”
Another life . It’s comforting, if only for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, he’ll love you in another life.
After gazing upon the still blue flower, you turn to walk up the stairs. “I guess you’re right.” You whisper to fate, hoping that if those lovers found each other in another life, you’ll find Xavier in the next.
The next floor is the same, with dusty desks of ordinary office workers and the occasional knick-knacks to represent a part of them that they look to when the day gets long. “What do you look at when you get stressed?” The question slips before you can stop it, and now that you’re on the third floor, you sense you’re close to the answers you seek. You can’t help asking…
This time, Xavier is on the other side of the room, staring down at something on a desk. He thinks for a moment, and then when his eyes meet yours, you’re thrown into another lung-clenching fit that digs at your insides.
“I tend to look around me rather than down at my desk.” He’s being vague, but the intensity in his eyes is full to the brim with worry when you double over and cough a few tiny petals into a tissue. The remnants of your despair stay hidden, as you pop right back up before he can make his way over to you.
“I’m… fine.” Hoarseness scratches at your raw throat, warm blood swallowed into your stomach as you take a shaky breath. “Just… the dust.”
Xavier doesn’t se em to believe you, but he doesn’t press the matter.
“Let’s get the file and get out of here.” He suggests, pointing toward the stairwell leading to the fourth and fifth stories and eventually the roof. “The walk back to the city will take us the night.”
“You can’t just teleport us when we’re done?” A hint of a smirk edges into your words, and Xavier’s eyes follow your hand as you adjust the gun on your hip.
A real laugh tumbles out, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles back. “So I’m your personal transportation now?” When you nod, he crosses his arms over his broad chest. His ability to teleport drains him of his energy even more than using his Evol, but the twinkle in your eyes is impossible to deny. “I guess for you, I’ll allow it.”
The statement burns at your cheeks like a red-hot iron. “Technically, it’s for work-related purposes, not personal.” Pointing it out is the only thing you can do before your face betrays your feelings. “But, noted.”
As you pass into the stairwell, you look down at the desk he was in front of.
It’s a picture of a smiling couple.
You don’t think he knows them, but the woman has nearly the same hair. She has all your features, a small resemblance blinking in your eyes when you scan along the photos.
The guy has blond hair and blue eyes, just like Xavier, but other than the hair and eyes, he bears no resemblance to him.
Though you know they don’t need to look exactly the same… And the same ache in your chest comes back when you try to forget .
Forgetting isn’t that easy.
The fourth floor is another area of cubicles and chaos, with overturned chairs and shattered computers. With there being no electricity, each intact computer is just a blank screen you can use as a mirror.
The disease makes it so that you get winded more easily, so as you step onto the fifth floor, you lean against the wall. “Sorry.” You wheeze, pressing a hand to your chest. The tissue with the petals was discarded on the third floor in a wastebin under a desk, but it’s hard to be inconspicuous when Xavier is resting the back of his hand on your forehead to check your temperature. “Let me catch my breath.”
Nodding, he walks to a nearby desk, rummaging through it.
There are many fewer desks on this floor, and a small room off in the corner is marked for the most important person in the office, the CEO.
According to the Association, the CEO of this office building died in the Wanderer attack long ago. Still, his research on topics such as Protocores and their energy seemed vital enough for them to send you and Xavier to get them.
The walk to the CEO’s office is slow and tortuous, your feet dragging until you’re right in front of the door. Words fail you, so you give Xavier a simple nod for him to enter first.
Once again, no Wanderers…
With just the sun streaming in, an eerie shadow is cast in the corner of the office. The room is small compared to the ample space for the majority of employees, but still spacious enough for the importance of a CEO.
Xavier opens the file cabinet, his fingers flicking quickly through the manila envelopes and employee documents. All different lives, different people, different souls. The majority of them are dead, and the ones that escaped are never the same after what they witnessed when the Wanderers took over.
Coughs rack your chest, and you turn away from Xavier with a hand clutched over your mouth. There’s no way to stop the spew of blood that coats your fingers, and your other hand reaches for a tissue to cover yourself from Xavier’s worried eyes.
The once-white cloth is stained crimson, the petals that scratch your throat growing bigger and filling the tissue. It’s hard to contain it, but after wiping your hand and balling up the sturdy tissue, you toss it in the trash in the corner. Xavier would never snoop like that, so you’re confident he won’t go looking too hard.
“Got it.”
Despite the worry still in his eyes, he holds up the file with the specialty marking. It’s not easily readable, but the logo that the Association told you to look for is right there in the corner. But is it really that simple? How did others fail at missions like this?
A nod is the one thing you can manage, a small smile coming as he tucks the file in the bag he brought. It isn’t until your hand is on the handle of the door that you hear it.
Snarls.
“A Wanderer.” You whisper, cracking open the door to see a seven-foot-tall Wanderer drifting through the room. Its head brushes the ceiling, blocking the entrance to the stairwell below.
“Our two options are fight or run up to the roof and find a way down from there.” Xavier’s chest is inches away from your back, but you’re too hopped up on adrenaline to register how nice his presence feels.
Turning to meet his eyes, you shrug. “It’s just one, I think—”
Your watch flashes words across the screen, but before you can read them, another Wanderer - this one smaller but made of what looks like solid rock - bounds up the steps. It’s almost as if they can smell you, knowing something living is here and wanting to find it immediately.
“Who knows how many are in the stairwell right now...” Blinking slowly, you clear your throat inaudibly. The coppery taste still lingers, and a snarl from the room outside the door jerks you back to reality.
“Roof it is then,” Xavier concludes, standing right beside the crack in the door. “Cover my back and follow me to the roof, okay?”
All your emotions fly out the window in the face of danger, your heart racing from fear and the rush of fighting instead of the unrequited feelings you’ve harbored in the garden of your lungs. “Yeah, I got you.”
“I know you do.”
Xavier bursts out of the door, his blade glowing with energy as he swings with practiced ease. It’s no wonder he’s killed so many Wanderers in his career as a Hunter - and probably more before he came to this job. His strength shines, but more so his stealth in finding a way through the room without putting you in too much danger.
However, you’re no slouch.
The claymore strapped to your back sweeps through the air in one fell swoop, slicing an icy deer in half and sending shards around you. Your prowess in fighting is nothing compared to Xavier's, but in a tier-list of the office, Xavier is at the top, and you’re nipping at his heels.
Disease be damned, you find the strength deep in you to stand by Xavier’s side and rid the floor of any Wanderer that manifest. Piles of debris and remnants of the monsters that were once human linger on the floor, but when you get a moment to find your partner’s gaze, you hear it.
Thudding on the stairwell.
“We need to go.” You rush out, your fingers wrapping around Xavier’s wrist to tug him in the direction of the roof. As soon as you’re breaking out into the open air, a half-filled lung of flowers gets its first fresh breath of air in the hours you’ve been exploring. Maybe it hasn’t even been hours, since time seems to slow down in abandoned places, the memories of the past shifting time and space itself.
A calm smile finds you when your chest tightens into a moment of near agony. “Take my hand, I’ll teleport us to—”
A loud screech threatens to burst your eardrums, both of you covering your ears and crouching as a large shadow passes overhead. It blinks out the hanging sun in the sky, a wingspan double the size of the roof you’re standing on.
When it lands, your jaw nearly drops.
A large bird, its eyes glowing with the power of an ancient Wanderer that you’ve only read about in the Hunter’s manuals. Even being in its presence is like a throbbing that starts in your head and vibrates the very marrow of your bones. The only thing you can think about is how massive it is, and the energy that radiates off of it in waves.
Instead of feathers, plates of rock that glow faintly fill out its body and wings. There are cracks, but this thing moves with a speed you haven’t seen from monsters as large as this one.
There’s a moment, the long neck of the pterodactyl-like bird craning to look down at the two tasty snacks standing there and waiting to be devoured.
You have to do something.
So you launch yourself at the beast.
You’re fast, the steps of your feet almost walking on air as you dodge the pecks of its beak that struggle to impale you into the ground. The rush of air nearly knocks you off your feet, but you’re stronger than people give you credit for, so you plant your heels and push through the intensity of this Wanderer’s attempts to render you helpless.
The muscles in your arms strain to swing the claymore, striking down the wing of the bird that washes over your head. A sharp shriek rumbles the mere ground it walks on at the attack, going in for another hit but being brought down once more by your strength.
Xavier, on the other hand, races to the side, eliminating all the smaller monsters that try to filter in through the staircase to the roof. At the very least, he’s giving you a better chance at taking this thing down without having to worry about other Wanderers attacking.
That’s how well you work together. Making decisions on a whim, saving the other in circumstances just based on instinct, and the slight idea that something might be wrong. More often than not, both of you are right, and the mission ends successfully.
But this is different.
This Wanderer is much different than the ones before. This thing thrums with an energy that almost renders Xavier helpless to use his Evol to eradicate every Wanderer in the building besides the one on the roof. This one is much, much more powerful. His Evol is almost useless against a creature like this, which sends a shiver of fear down your spine.
“Xavier!” You shout, once more dodging its strikes while hacking at its long legs with your dual knives. In the sun, it shimmers with a beautiful light, but the darkness that surrounds you seems endless when you look over to see Xavier in the light.
The border between the two worlds is stark, and even as the beast pecks at Xavier with its beak, you’re left in the dark, unable to do much except stab at the cracks of its rock-hard skin. It resonates with energy, a whirlwind that twirls around you and almost disorients you to the point of incoherence.
“You’ll be okay!” He yells, and it’s one of the only times you’ve heard him raise his voice. The usually so gentle and soft-spoken man frantically watches you fight for your life while he tries to decapitate the thing with his lightblade.
But you don’t think you’ll be okay.
Time seems to slow down as you both work at different ends of the Wanderer, its health not draining as you thought it would. It screeches with each stab or slice, but overall, it isn’t getting weaker, and you’re close to running.
It’s not in your nature to run, but when faced with a being like this, it’s hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe it’s the right choice, even if it means letting this thing back into the wild. You can come back with more Hunters and eliminate this thing for good.
A wing swipes by you, and you crack one of your knives into the harsh skin of this thing, listening to yet another wail in pain that rustles the trees like a hurricane barreling across a forest.
With the fight edging into hopelessness, you implant your knife into its leg, seeing the hilt buried in the monster’s leg. It picks up its talon, the three sharp claws threatening to stomp on you and crush you to a pulp, but you roll and dodge, now one knife down as it’s still stuck in the Wanderer’s leg.
“We might—” you pause, your head spinning. Oh no, not now. A cough rumbles in your chest, and you fight through the blood that bubbles up your throat. “Have to teleport out of h—”
Doubled over in pain, you collapse to your knees, hands catching your fall on the sandy floor of the roof. The darkness surrounds you, and you cough. One time, two times, three times in succession as a few petals work their way up.
But the pain is too much, and you don’t have the chance to catch the light blue petals that erupt from your lips and onto the ground. Blood coats them, but the sliver of color shines in the haze of tears that builds up in your eyes. Blinking, the water droplets merge with the crimson red and baby blue, creating a crude mix of colors that becomes indistinguishable.
The noises from the Wanderer fade into the background as you just can’t stop coughing, the flowers in your lungs finally blooming into something uncontrollable. The thorns scratch at your lungs with each shaky breath you suck in, unable to fill your body with enough oxygen to sustain your muscles to fight .
The fight is gone from your body, and not of your own volition.
Meanwhile, the man that is the center of your desires stands nearly still, his eyes wide and lips parted in a way that he wants to scream out for you, but can’t. He can’t force the words to come out, stuck in his throat just like the whole flower blossoms are stuck in yours. Xavier knows now what’s happening, each gargled cough bringing up another petal, and suddenly, a small flower joins the mix.
The Wanderer rears its head, and Xavier’s eyes glow with an intensity that would shatter the ground if you weren’t kneeling there completely helpless. He usually doesn’t let the extent of his power out like this, but seeing you like this is breaking his heart into two. He has to do something, because you’ll either die from the Wanderer or die from the garden in your lungs.
With one slash of his sword - now glowing like a second sun - the monster dissolves into glowing particles that resemble the tail of a shooting star. Streaking across the sky with the intent of a new life, but this beast’s dust sinks to the ground, with no intent but to lie there defeated.
A hand on your back is the only thing you register before another round of coughs comes. Xavier’s voice wraps around you, and as your vision darkens, you feel warmth around you, the bright lights flashing in front of your closed eyelids. Two short sentences are spoken against your temple, your mind going blank as you pass out in his arms.
“I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” He whispers, his body weakening as he teleports you to the nearest hospital. When he steps foot through the front door, he collapses, his eyes focused on you as nurses crowd around you both.
“Help her first. Please.”
Everything goes black.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The slow hum of various things echoes around you.
Voices, machines, and the TV in the hospital room have been playing the same channel for the past week. It all sounds the same as you lie there in a state of half-consciousness and half-haze that feels like death.
The thing you do remember from the week in bed is his voice.
The first day, you didn’t hear from him. It was just the nurses and doctors who came in, what seemed like every half hour, to check on you. Some nurses were kind enough to explain the basis of what happened, even to your unconscious body. They knew you could hear them.
You collapsed on the roof of the office, the petals forming into full flowers and blocking your airway for a short time. It was enough to force a blackout, and if Xavier hadn’t been there, you would be dead. Left alone on the roof during a mission to suffocate on your own feelings.
But Xavier saved you.
He teleported your unconscious form to the hospital, and while his Evol drained the energy from his body, he made sure you were the first to be attended to. They assured you he was okay, just resting with fluids. But the beating of your heart didn’t subside in its rapid pace until his soothing voice echoed in the darkness behind your eyes.
“I’m glad you're okay.” It was the first thing he said to you, and between the pain medication lulling you into sleep and the pure exhaustion in your muscles, you didn’t register much else.
When you finally do open your eyes, you’re met with Xavier’s soft gaze staring at you. The realization that he doesn’t feel the same, that it is the cause of your disease and your eventual death, has tears welling in your eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay.” His hand squeezes your arm, and the bags under his eyes are subtle but screaming at you. He never misses sleep, so the sight of them flutters like butterflies in your stomach. “Shhhh. You’re okay.”
His shushing does the trick, and you relax back into the bed. The small tube connecting your nose provides you with sufficient oxygen, but it’s still labored as you try to stop from hyperventilating.
All your feelings sit on the tip of your tongue, the sparkle in your eyes dimmed by the itching and scratching at your lungs with each breath you force. Each thing given to you is supposed to make you feel better, but a sense of dread opens in your chest at the sight of Xavier’s sweatshirt and sweatpants. He’s not wearing his uniform, even if it’s the middle of the day, and surely he has a mission to be on.
Why is he not at work? What’s going on?
Tension pulls like a rubber band as you both look at each other, his thumb massaging your arm as tears slowly drip from the corners of your eyes. It takes a second for you to gather your voice, the confession you’ve practiced so many times lingering right there, waiting to be said…
A knock at the door interrupts what you’re about to say. And maybe it’s a good thing, because behind the haze over your irises, you want to reveal everything. The circumstance isn’t the best, though, so the repercussions would be worse with nowhere to hide when it all comes crashing down.
“Ah, you’re awake!” An older man walks in. A white coat is draped over his shoulders, and files are clasped in his hand. He’s too chipper to be walking in like this, especially so early in the morning. The sun looks like it’s just risen, and as you lie there, you’re ready to just close your eyes and pretend you’re asleep once more.
“Alright…” The doctor looks down, scanning things with his finger before looking back up at you with a solemn expression. The skill it takes to change faces just like that… It’s something that needs to be studied because your annoyance at his loud voice turns into a frown and a heavy feeling in your chest. “Well, it looks like we’ve got another one.”
Xavier wants to say something, to ask what it is and confirm his suspicions, but a part of him doesn’t want the realization to hit him so quickly. He’s spent days by your side, refusing to go to work until you’ve woken up. Now that you’re coherent, he doesn’t want to shatter that.
“Hanahaki Disease, my dear.” When you nod, his eyebrow raises. “Oh, you know you have it, then?”
You don’t meet Xavier’s wide eyes, your cheeks flushing, and your head turning in the direction of the doctor. “Yes, I know.”
“So, I’ve come in to discuss your options.” Two pamphlets are set in your lap, and you trace your eyes around the letters on the paper, your heart sinking. “Of course, I’m sure you know what I’m about to say, but it’s my job to make sure you’re informed.”
A short, curt nod prompts the doctor to keep talking, his hands moving frantically as he points to all the different graphics in the very fancy pamphlets.
“Due to the severity of the disease, especially in your case, the only two things we can do for you are a surgery that would remove the flowers from your lungs, or nothing.” His voice drops slightly, as if he’s telling a secret. “We took a scan of your body… It’s a lot. You’ve lost about seventy percent of your lung capacity due to the large blooms along the walls of the organ.”
A few tears slip, your head falling to the side. It’s bad. You knew it in the back of your mind, lying awake on the bathroom floor while the painful reminder of the unrequited love still sat in your toilet bowl, staining it a deep red. You knew it, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“What does the surgery entail?” Your voice is hoarse and weak, both from the thorns embedded in your trachea and the lack of use in the past week.
“It’s a simple procedure. One I’ve done many times before.” Your eyes flicker over the words, telling you that it will be a ‘ breath of fresh air ’ and a relief to breathe again. “But the removal of the flowers means the removal of your feelings for said person. Though I don’t know why you would want to sacrifice yourself for someone who doesn’t feel the same.”
A breath of sadness escapes, eyes closing as Xavier’s gaze burns into your skin. It’s all you can do not to explode, your heart a ticking time bomb, and your lungs the garden for your death.
He’s right. Why would you die for Xavier when he doesn’t feel the same?
But it’s not so simple.
It’s the comfort he brings, even in the despair. It’s knowing that all the memories you hold deep in your heart that connect to your feelings for him will be erased. You’ll still remember , but will it ever be the same?
“Or?”
“Or…” The doctor points to the other pamphlet, a choice for a sedation that would lead you to death without feeling as much pain as being awake. “We could sedate you and let you pass with pain killers and in a comfortable hospital bed.”
You’re so intent on ignoring Xavier that you don’t hear his gasp. The idea of you dying, of never seeing you again… It hits hard, and his hand on your arm moves to your wrist.
“You can’t…” He whispers, his eyes wide as they meet your drooping ones.
“Can I have time to decide?” You ask, ignoring Xavier’s words, and the doctor nods. “Then, let me be discharged…” Xavier bows his head, and you ask the one question you don’t think you want to know the answer to, but you might need it. “How much time do I have left?”
A moment of silence.
The honest answer has your stomach churning and chest tightening, and a cough forces you to fight back. “I would say two to three weeks. A month at most. At some point, it’s going to be too late to operate. So if you want to decide, I would give you a week.”
Another nod, and you look up at the doctor. If this were the last two weeks of your life, you would enjoy it.
“Give me the discharge papers, please.”
Xavier is silent by your side, his head bowed, staring at the ground as you walk back to your shared apartment building. Thoughts rush through his head, but he can’t put them into words when the mere idea of living without you is something he can barely fathom.
“Can we go to the amusement park tomorrow?” You ask quietly, stealing a glance over at him. “Since I’ll be off work next week… But I know you didn’t work at all while I was asleep, so I get it if you can’t—”
“Of course we can.” It’s short and straightforward, the words clipped with something more, but you don’t push. Wasting the last weeks of your life arguing with the target of your affections is not how you want to go. “Whatever you want, we’ll do it.”
His heart aches, but he hides it behind a hint of a smile.
“Whatever?” A small smirk, but it’s quelled by his own face showing no hint of happiness. “That’s a dangerous ask, but I guess I deserve it for my last week.”
A somber silence settles over you when you say that, and Xavier swallows the lump in his throat. “How does it feel?”
“What?”
“The flowers… How does it feel?”
“Oh…” Your voice stops, but you keep walking. At such an early time of the day, there aren’t many people out, so you have almost the entire street to yourselves. “At first, it was an itch in my throat.” You start, seeing the tall building of your apartment in the distance. “I thought I was just getting sick…” You were. You are. “But then the blood started, and the petals. In the last week, it’s escalated to full bloom.”
“It feels like someone is dragging a knife on the inside of my trachea.” You whisper, your voice scratchy. “Like I can’t hold a breath in and when I try to suck in more air, it’s like a balloon in my chest.”
He hums, but the pain you describe only twists the knife further in his chest. How dare someone do this to you? How could they not reciprocate your feelings?
Though something does seem off…
Xavier has had suspicions, especially when he saw your symptoms, but it’s as much of a mystery for him as it is for you.
When you step into the elevator, Xavier looks over at you. The lights above shine just right on your face. At times, he thinks he can tell what you’re thinking by looking into your eyes, but he can’t because of how blinding the elevator lights are.
“Are you going to go through with the surgery?” It hangs over your head, the break in his voice that rises in question.
You don’t meet his eyes. “I don’t think so.” Maybe you’ve made a decision, this reality pressing on your shoulders. Maybe you’re hanging onto the hope that in the next life, you’ll find him just as you did sleeping against that building so long ago. Maybe, just maybe, when you see him again in a different body, you’ll be able to live the life you wanted to live in this incarnation. “I think I’ll just enjoy my last few weeks.”
As the door opens to your floor, you make yourself look up at Xavier, who has been silent since your admission of not going through with the surgery. For someone with such a gentle facade, it’s impossible to read his thoughts.
“Why?” His voice would be inaudible if you weren’t walking so close to him, your hands brushing as you get closer and closer to your apartment. “You’ll die if you don’t go through with the surgery.”
“Yeah—”
“No.” It’s the first time he’s interrupted you so fiercely, like his own life depends on it. “You can’t just let yourself die… Please.”
You can cut the tension with a knife, your eyes meeting when you stop in front of your front door. It feels weird, not being there in a week, but you want nothing more than to plan out the rest of your days.
“Xavier—”
“No—” He tries to interrupt you again, convince you to go through with the surgery, but you get the last word, your eyes closed and lips moving too fast for him to interject.
“If I go through with it, my feelings for you will disappear.” Birds chirp outside, speaking to each other like they’re sharing breakfast; they laugh in sharp tones, flying away to find food for their children. But inside the building, your chest prickles with the pecking of invisible birds, searching the flowers in your lungs for their next meal.
He doesn’t speak, his palms breaking out into a sweat and his jaw nearly on the floor as he takes in your wide eyes and parted lips. “I…” Nothing will come out. But he can’t not say anything, so he forces the fear down, the hint of your feelings lingering in the back of his mind. Now that it’s confirmed… He can’t hold back.
“What if I don’t want you to lose those feelings?” He says, and your wide eyes meet his.
“What?” Your breath comes more easily. “What do you mean?”
Xavier steps closer, his palm coming up to cup your jaw. Being this close, he can see the flecks of light dancing in your eyes. “I don’t want you to lose those feelings.” He repeats, your face chilly to the touch. “Not when I feel the same way.”
The breath is stolen from your lungs, but when you suck in another, it feels clearer. How … Are the flowers disappearing? Your thoughts are a wildfire, burning everything down and leaving nothing in its path. “How… But how?” You whisper, your eyebrows furrowed, and your hand hesitantly hovering over Xavier’s hip. “I wouldn’t have the disease if…”
“I guess I’m good at hiding it, and you’re not.” Leaning down, the tip of his nose brushes yours. You share a breathy chuckle, still not believing that this is happening. “Because I didn’t get the disease.”
“That’s so weird.” Astonishment lights up your words, and you find yourself getting lost in the sea blue of his eyes. “I thought… I just thought…”
Xavier’s hand slides from your jaw to the back of your head, fingers cupping your neck and holding you in place. “Maybe don’t think about it. Just let yourself feel.” His tone soothes you like it always does, but when his eyes flicker to your lips, you find the sudden urge to taste him.
“What should I feel?” The teasing question has him smiling, his other hand settling on the sharp curve of your hip. Your own hands finally find purchase on his shoulders, holding on for dear life and praying this isn’t some sick dream.
“This.”
His lips are soft. Warm. They tell the stories of his restless nights thinking of you. They whisper the secrets of the nights he would stay up, staring out his window and hoping you were looking at the same night sky. They assure you that this is real. He is real.
It’s so natural kissing him, like sliding your shoes off at your doorstep, greeted with a warm dinner, and wrapped up in his arms after a long day. Like taking clippers to all the flowers that filled space in your chest, making room for the space that Xavier wants to build there. Like breathing your first breath of fresh air in over a month and wanting to dive right back into his breathless lips.
“Wow.” Both of your eyes are closed when you part reluctantly. One of your hands has found its way to the side of his neck, the other holding onto the side of his hoodie like he’ll disappear in a flash of light.
“Yeah.” He’s just as breathless, like he had the garden of flowers threatening him. “Wow.”
“Can I… Can we do that again? Or you can come inside.” The words tumble out before you can stop them, but the intense darkness that shadows his eyes turns you on. A switch is flipped, and he simply nods, ready to follow you into the apartment he knows like the back of his hand.
Part of it is the fact that it has the same layout as his, but with the mementos that make up who you are. Another part is how many times he’s lounged on your couch, his friendship with you lasting into the night with hotpot and movies.
His feelings for you came on slowly.
It started with noticing the small things. The way you laughed with Tara and his coworkers. The way your eyes can narrow and widen into near slits or near saucers. The differences in your makeup, whether you are on desk duty or active duty, vary drastically.
But you were always beautiful in his eyes.
Then came the fantasies.
Domestic dates at the movies or cuddling up to a movie in his bed. Coming back to your apartment after work, able to embrace you without question, and kissing your face until you’re giggling and pushing at his chest.
And the more passionate ones.
The first time he had a wet dream about you, he felt guilty waking up to a hard-on and finding no satisfaction except imagining you beneath him while he stroked himself. It didn’t happen often, but he still found himself slipping into that desire, and very quickly did he realize that nothing would satisfy him except you.
Once the door to your apartment is shut, his lips find yours again. It feels like puzzle pieces finally fitting together after they’ve been left apart for so long. Like the garden in your lungs has moved to your heart, blossoming into a garden of love that isn’t going to go away easily.
The tip of his tongue traces your bottom lip, and you enthusiastically permit him, a hum coming from both of you when your tongues intertwine. It’s a bit messy and uncoordinated, though the slow movement makes way for an exploration of your bodies.
His large hands encompass your waist, bringing you flush against his chest and pressing you against the closed door. Your own hands tangle in his hair, holding him right where he needs to be.
“Xav—ier,” you gasp, head falling back against the door as he begins to trail kisses down the front of your neck. Like swallowing the prickly petals with a million thorns, his lips are warm like honey, comforting the pain you’ve been in for more than a month because of him .
“Say my name again, darling.” The command comes as more of a plea, his lips kissing every inch of your skin he can reach. “I need to hear it from those pretty lips again.” It’s shameless, yes. It’s desperate, yes. But after the rollercoaster of tension and misunderstanding, of almost losing you… His greed is never-ending.
So you repeat it. “Xavier.” A combination of a whimper and a moan slipping from your lips. “Xavier, please.”
“You’re so beautiful.” He’s not paying attention, focused on letting spill all of the things he’s thought of as his heart has found its way to you. “The most kind, caring, selfless woman I have ever seen.” His compliments wash over you, making you even more desperate for more of him.
It doesn’t matter that this revelation of feelings is barely ten minutes old; you need him. “Xavier.” You repeat his name, fingers tugging at his hair to get his attention. “I need you.”
“You need me?” He’s taken aback, but he can’t deny the throbbing of his length in his sweatpants as your lidded eyes meet his. “What do you need, darling?”
The nickname sends a wave of desire through you, like a hot tub in your abdomen bubbling with suppressed desire and the fantasies that have flickered across your own mind. “I just need you… If you’re okay with that.”
His lips ghost the shell of your ear, hands anchored on your hips like he doesn’t want to part from you for even a second. “I’m more than okay with it… I need you, too. You don’t know how much I need you.”
The light press of his fingers on the backs of your thighs sends a shock through your nerves. “Up.” He whispers against your lips, kissing you even messier than before. When you jump, he wraps your legs around his waist, and you can feel the prominent bulge of his arousal press into the seat of your own sweatpants. “Good girl.”
A muted whine comes at the praise, your fingers tightening in his hair as he carries you to your bedroom. He’s careful when he sets you down on the bed, his eyes scanning your body like he’s trying to asses your health. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“Yes, god yes .” You tug at his hoodie, and in a flash, all of your clothes are discarded onto the floor. The fervor that you reach for each other with is months upon months of pent-up tension spilling out in kisses and petting along your body.
His fingers brush through your folds, your head resting against your pillow as he hovers over you. It’s everything he’s imagined and more, the thought of actually having you doing nothing to help his stamina. The moment he sinks inside you, a part of him worries he won’t be enough, but the haze of pleasure dripping like dark ink behind your eyes tells him he doesn’t have to worry about that.
“You’re so perfect.” The praise is whispered against your neck, the words cut off with grunts and groans as Xavier tries so hard to keep it together. “So good for me.”
“Fu— fuck…” Your hips buck into his hand, thighs clenching around his hips that keep you open for him when he draws circles into your clit. “Your fingers… Xav—ier.”
The light of the mid-morning sun casts a beautiful yellow glow on your skin, while he kisses every inch of your upper half. “I want to worship you like you deserve, darling.” He’s rushed in his speaking, wanting to get the words out before his body shuts down. “But I need you.”
“I need you, too.” Then, his middle finger slips into your pussy, thumb finding your clit and drawing you closer to a supernova star exploding in your vision. “I’m— Xav— fu— close…”
The fantasies of having him between your thighs are nothing compared to the real thing. He’s good, curling his finger and beckoning you into overstimulation as your orgasm washes over your already heated skin. It’s impossible to be quiet, your moans edging into sharp screams and whimpers when he keeps going. It takes your hand wrapping around his wrist, an inaudible plea of words he can’t understand, for him to finally stop.
“Can you— fuck, darling…” The glistening of your slick on his finger almost makes him come, just the sight of your orgasmic flush and heaving chest is enough to send him over the edge, but he keeps himself in check. “Can you handle one more?”
You nod, unable to get words out when your orgasm is still surprising you with small jerks of your hips and shockwaves that prickle at your naked body and sit like static in your brain. An old TV that is trying so hard to be needed, your brain goes into overdrive, the white noise almost swallowing you whole.
Pulling his wrist from your grasp, he holds the back of your hand. Kisses start at the inside of your elbow, going up the sensitive skin, brushing over your wrist - and you swear he can hear your heartbeat - and landing a soft peck to your palm. The warmth of his cheek nuzzles into your hand, and when you meet eyes again, it’s the stars aligning.
“I want you.” Xavier rasps, his knees holding your legs open as he strokes his cock. Precum sears into your skin, the physical manifestation of his pure desire for you showing and adding to the drenched slick of your pussy. Light slaps of his length between your folds causes his tip to flick your clit.
In the aftermath of your orgasm, you whine in overstimulation. But you need him. You want him. “I want you too.”
“No.” He shakes his head, his body covering yours as his other hand intertwines your fingers and presses your hand into the mattress. “I don’t just want you tonight.” The sharp press digs into you, filling you with a heat that ebbs and flows into a pleasurable pain. “I want you tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day.”
“Xavier.” The tender whisper of his name comes when his hips are flush against yours, the pulsing of your heat around Xavier nearly being his undoing. Slow breaths are the only thing that help him, his eyes locked with yours as you share the moment of intimacy in the throes of your sexual desire for each other.
“I want to wake up next to you.” A slow drag back, the veins of his length dragging along your walls and pulling a whine from your spit-slicked lips. “I want to take you on dates.” The thrust is so deep that you’re almost pushed up the bed, but Xavier gathers your arms above your head, his large hand encapsulating your wrists so you stay anchored in place.
After a few slow and calculated thrusts of his hips, he brings his other hand down to find your bundle of nerves. It throbs with the previous orgasm, screaming at you to calm down and stop , but you don’t want to. You want it all, and the slight twitching of your hips is stopped with Xavier’s other fingers pressing on your stomach.
“I want to make you breakfast in the morning, and order takeout for our date nights while we cuddle on the couch.” His confessions fan out across your face, and with your hair mused, lips red and eyes half-lidded, Xavier doesn’t think you’ve looked more beautiful .
Because it’s all for him.
“I want you to be mine.” The subtle slaps of his balls on your ass echo in the silence of the room, his lips inches from yours as he watches what his hips can do to you. “I want you, all the time and in every circumstance.”
The pace of his thrusts speeds up slightly, his thumb drawing circles against your clit and edging you closer to your second orgasm of the night. When you’ve touched yourself, you haven't even been able to finish twice in such quick succession like this, but the curve of Xavier’s cock presses perfectly against you, drawing whimpers and whines of his name as your legs lock around his waist.
“I want to be yours.” He finally says, his heart racing as he tries so fucking hard not to come. Everything about your expressions is beautiful, and he wants to see them over and over again. “Please.”
“Be mine, Xavier.” Arching your back, your ankles cross behind him. “I want you.”
His index finger and thumb lightly roll your bud, the different sensation crashing down on you just as your orgasm throbs at your walls. You can’t control it, clenching him so tightly that his jaw falls open and sighs of absolute pleasure escape as your orgasms trigger at almost the exact same time.
“Xavier— Xavier— fu— Xa—” your throat that once was full of thorns is now full of the name of the man that almost put you to death. It wasn’t his fault, but now that the pain of the disease clears, you can’t help the cacophony of pitched whimpers and low moans that spill out between your lips.
Seconds.
Minutes.
Maybe an hour…
Well, maybe not that long, but time slows and speeds up at the same time, your bodies intertwined and warmth building into sweat on your forehead, but neither of you cares. All that you care about is the satisfied smile Xavier gives when he lifts his head from your collarbone.
“I’m sorry I put you through all that pain.” He mumbles, the hand holding your wrists now cupping your cheek. “If I had just said something earlier…”
“Don’t worry about it.” Clearing your throat, you rest your hands on his shoulders, the action so natural. “I’m okay now, it seems. That’s all that matters. The flowers are gone.”
They’re gone. You can breathe normally, and the copper taste is no longer on your tongue. Now, it’s Xavier.
“Good.” Noticing you’re still connected in the most intimate way possible, his own cheeks blush a subtle pink. He turns, maneuvering you until he’s lying on the bed and you’re lying on his chest. His length is still nestled inside you, and as you listen to his heartbeat, it’s suddenly your favorite song.
A satisfied hum comes from both of you. “How about we take a nap?” Xavier suggests, his fingers tracing up and down your spine. “You went through a lot.” His lips ghost over your forehead in a featherlight kiss. “When we wake up, we can have some lunch or dinner. Whatever you want.”
Right now, as sleep tugs at your eyelids, you smile when he flips a blanket over your bodies. Your cheek is squished against his chest, listening to your favorite melody before you speak again. “I just want you.”
“You’ve got me, darling.” He reassures you, keeping watch while you drift into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in months. When he knows you can’t hear him, he kisses the top of your head before closing his own eyes.
“Until the end of time.”