Xavier's POV
"Don't get me out then."
That was what she sent me.
I stared at the screen longer than I should have, like if I blinked the words might disappear or rearrange themselves into something safer — something easier to interpret. But they stayed exactly as they were, glowing softly against the dark screen, steady and undeniable.
I couldn't believe it.
Was she finally warming up to me… or was I just reading too much into it?
My thumb hovered over the keyboard, my mind racing ahead of my ability to respond. I felt a strange mix of excitement and caution tightening in my chest, like stepping onto unfamiliar ground that somehow felt like home.
I texted back.
"Have no plans of doing that, not now, not ever."
I sent it before I could overthink it, before I could second-guess the honesty behind the words.
Almost immediately, she replied.
"Okay….."
Five dots.
Not four. Not three. Five.
I let out a small breath, my lips twitching slightly as I stared at the message. It felt tentative, like she was testing the weight of what we were both stepping into.
The typing indicator appeared again.
Still typing.
My brows furrowed slightly, curiosity mixing with anticipation. I leaned back against the counter, phone in hand, my heart beating just a little faster than usual.
Then another message came through.
"That's what I thought."
Okay… what the hell.
Still typing.
I let out a quiet laugh under my breath, shaking my head slightly. Whatever she was about to say, she was taking her time with it — and that alone told me it mattered.
After a while, her message finally came through.
"Honestly I like as I'm there in your head, your thoughts, how in deep I am in there… yeah it makes it hard for you because not too long ago I told you we should take it slow, that it's wrong… but is it really wrong?…."
Shocked.
That's all I was right now.
My eyes moved slowly across the screen, rereading the words as if I needed to confirm they were real. My chest tightened, not painfully — just enough to remind me how deeply she was starting to settle under my skin.
Then another message came in.
"Because I don't want to let my guard down and end up not having it in full… the affections, the promises, the time, everything… and about the apartment I'll take it, thanks for looking out."
I read it once.
Then again.
And again.
Not what I expected.
But wow… did she shock me.
A slow breath left my lungs as I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process everything she'd just said. There was vulnerability in her words, but also caution — like she was opening a door just enough to see if I'd step through carefully.
I didn't know what to reply back immediately.
My hand held the phone steady while my finger hovered over the keyboard, hesitation settling in. This wasn't something I could answer casually. Not with jokes. Not with half-truths.
I had to mean whatever I said next.
I thought for a moment — longer than I usually allowed myself — and then I started typing.
"I hear you. I understand you, where you're coming from. But if I say I'm not thinking of taking things further, I'd be lying to you. I have decided to give you space to think, to reconsider, to maybe have it in your heart to give me a chance to show you that I can keep those promises you seek — those late nights, dates, talks, little arguments, every single thing. But the way you're in deep, I don't think you could get out… not now, not soon… NEVER. You'd be there and I'll be right there too, beside you."
I read over the message once, my jaw tightening slightly as the weight of my own honesty settled in.
Then I hit send.
Even I was surprised by the reply I gave her.
But it was worth it.
I wouldn't lie — hearing her talk about her thoughts, her fears, the way she admitted being in my head… it stirred something warm and steady inside me.
I chuckled softly to myself, shaking my head as I leaned back against the counter, realizing how far this conversation had gone.
This was just supposed to be me checking if she had dinner.
And now look at us.
I glanced back at my phone when it vibrated lightly in my hand.
She had read it.
And hearted it.
A slow smile spread across my face, something softer than the sly grins I usually wore. The small gesture felt more intimate than any long reply could have been — quiet acknowledgment, quiet acceptance.
Then another message came in.
"Goodnight."
I stared at it for a second, the simplicity of the word settling over the conversation like a gentle close.
I wouldn't lie — that's what we needed.
It was a lot for one dinner.
A lot for one night.
I typed back.
"Goodnight, sweet dreams."
Sent.
I set the phone down on the counter, exhaling slowly as the quiet of the house returned, but it didn't feel as empty as it had earlier. Something had shifted — subtle, but undeniable.
I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms loosely, letting the moment settle.
I know who'll be having those sweet dreams.
Me.
Because for the first time since this whole thing started, it didn't feel like I was chasing something impossible.
It felt like we were standing at the edge of something real — complicated, yes… risky, definitely… but real.
And somehow, that was enough to let the tension in my shoulders finally ease, just a little.
The kitchen lights hummed softly above me as I stood there longer than necessary, replaying her words in my head — the way she admitted being in my thoughts, the way she spoke about wanting everything in full, the way she thanked me for looking out for her.
It wasn't a confession.
Not fully.
But it was close enough to feel like hope.
I finally pushed myself off the counter and turned off the lights, the house settling back into darkness as I headed upstairs. My steps felt lighter, slower, like I wasn't carrying the same weight I had earlier.
When I reached my bedroom, I paused again, looking around the space that had felt so empty just hours ago.
It didn't feel as hollow now.
Maybe nothing had changed physically — the bed still perfectly made, the quiet still deep — but the energy felt different.
Warmer.
I sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand over my face, letting out a quiet breath as a small smile returned.
Tonight didn't solve everything.
There were still boundaries. Still complications. Still conversations waiting to happen.
But something had opened.
And for now… that was enough.
I lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling as sleep slowly crept in, my last thoughts lingering on the sound of her voice in my head — imagined but vivid — and the quiet certainty that whatever this was…
It was only just beginning.