Xavier X Reader - Five Hundred Years of Goodnight Chapter 1 ⁺˚*༓☾
Sypnosis: When your protocore syndrome turns terminal, you decide to break up with him to spare him the pain of seeing you fade. How does he react when you do?
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Xavier did not leave Philos when they banished you. He wanted to. That was the cruelest part.
He wanted to follow the ship before it even disappeared past the atmosphere. Wanted to tear through every council guard, every sealed order, every ancient law that stood between him and you.
But wanting had never been enough. Not against a kingdom. Not against the Core. Not against a throne that had spent centuries teaching him restraint.
So he stayed. For one year. Then another. Not because he forgave them. Not because he accepted what they had done.
Because leaving required planning. Because Earth was far. Because the council had hidden you carefully. Because Philos did not simply sacrifice you.
It erased you. Then exiled the evidence.
The girl Xavier had loved for centuries. The girl who had once known him better than anyone. The girl who had looked up at him after the ritual and asked heartbreakingly.
That question stayed with him. In the palace. In council meetings. In the observatory. In sleep. Especially in sleep.
Sometimes Xavier woke with your voice still in his ears. Soft. Confused. Empty of recognition.
He would sit up in the dark and remain there until morning. No one knew.
Except Jeremiah. Jeremiah always knew.
He found Xavier in the royal observatory the night before they left.
The room was dark. Only the stars lit Xavier’s face. The crown prince of Philos stood before the glass windows, still as a statue, staring at a sky he no longer belonged to.
On the table behind him sat everything he had gathered.
Earth coordinates. False records. Council routes. A classified exile file with your new identity hidden between layers of encrypted data.
Jeremiah looked at the file. Then at Xavier.
Xavier did not turn around.
But Jeremiah heard everything underneath it.
Relief. Fear. Grief. Hope.
The worst one was hope. Hope had always been the thing that hurt Xavier most.
“You know once we leave, there’s no coming back.”
Xavier’s gaze remained on the stars.
“The council will erase your name from succession records.”
“The king may never forgive you.”
“Philos will call it betrayal.”
That finally made Xavier look over. His expression was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came after something inside a person had already died.
“Philos betrayed her first.”
Jeremiah had no answer. There was none.
Because Philos had taken you to the Core against Xavier’s will. Philos caused you to willingly walk straight to your demise in the name of the land he called his home.
Philos had called it duty. Philos had called it survival. Philos had watched the Core consume your memories and still dared to breathe easier afterward.
Then Philos had sent you to Earth. A distant planet. A convenient grave for inconvenient truths.
You had not died. That was the part the kingdom clung to. You were alive. You had survived.
Xavier hated them for using that word. Survived. As if waking up with no memories was survival. As if looking at him like a stranger was mercy. As if the girl he loved had not been killed in every way except the physical one.
The next morning, Crown Prince Xavier disappeared.
No public farewell. No abdication ceremony. No final speech. Only a signet ring left on the royal desk. And a single sentence written in Xavier’s neat, quiet handwriting.
I will not inherit a kingdom built on her silence.
Jeremiah left with him. Not because Xavier asked. Xavier would never ask anyone to follow him into ruin. Jeremiah went because Xavier had a terrible habit of walking into grief alone. And because someone needed to remember the truth with him.
The journey to Earth took longer than Xavier wanted. Everything took longer than he wanted. Every delay felt like punishment. Every star between him and you felt cruel.
He spent most of the voyage reading your file. Again. And again. And again.
Your Earth name. Your new records. Your assigned residence. Your medical scans. Your memory assessment. Stable. Functional.
No evidence of recovered autobiographical memory from Philos.
No evidence. As if your memories were a disease they were relieved had not returned. As if Xavier had not spent every night praying they would.
When they finally reached Earth, Xavier did not go to you immediately. He wanted to. Of course he wanted to.
But wanting had made him reckless once before. Wanting had made him beg the council. Wanting had made him believe love could stand against an ancient machine and win.
So he watched from a distance. At first. Just enough to know you were alive. Just enough to know you were safe. Just enough to know you had built a life.
You became a Hunter. That did not surprise him.
Even without your memories, you still ran toward danger when others ran away from it. Even without Philos, you still carried the same stubborn courage. Even without him, you were still you.
That comforted him. And destroyed him.
Then Jeremiah found the apartment listing. A unit beside yours. One wall away.
He stared at Xavier for a long time after showing it to him.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“You know saying ‘hm’ does not make it less terrible.”
“Fine. But when this hurts, don’t pretend you weren’t warned.”
Xavier did not answer. Because it already hurt. Everything hurt. Being far from you hurt. Being near you would hurt. There was no version of this that did not hurt.
The day they moved in, it rained. Earth rain was different from Philos rain. Heavier. Colder. Less luminous. It soaked into clothes and blurred city lights against the windows.
Xavier stood in the hallway outside his new apartment while Jeremiah unlocked the door.
There were boxes at their feet. A fake lease. New names. New lives.
Xavier had abandoned a crown, a kingdom, and a legacy. And somehow the only thing that frightened him was the door at the end of the hall.
Your door. Apartment 1207. One wall away.
Then the elevator dinged.
Xavier stopped breathing. You stepped out.
Rainwater clung to your jacket. Your hair was damp. Your UNICORNs badge hung crooked near your shoulder. You looked tired. Alive. Real.
For one second, Xavier forgot Earth. Forgot Jeremiah. Forgot the hallway. Forgot every careful plan he had made.
Because you were standing there. Not in a file. Not in a dream. Not in the memory of a ritual chamber.
You looked up. Your gaze met his.
Xavier’s hand tightened around the strap of the box he was holding.
“Hi. You must be the new neighbor.”
New neighbor. Not Xavier. Not Crown Prince. Not the boy from the academy. Not the man who had held you after the Core took everything.
Xavier forced himself to answer.
His voice was soft. Too soft.
Jeremiah stepped in before the silence became unbearable.
“We just moved in. I’m Jeremiah.”
“I’ve seen you at UNICORNs.”
Then you looked back at Xavier.
Xavier stared at you. For a moment, he almost said it. Everything.
His name. The real one. The history. The truth.
I know you. I love you. You forgot me.
Your smile faltered. Only slightly. So slightly anyone else might have missed it.
Xavier did not. Something passed through your eyes. Pain. Recognition. Fear. Gone before he could trust it.
Then another voice came from the elevator.
A man stepped out behind you. Tall. Dark-haired. Composed. A doctor’s coat folded over one arm.
Xavier knew him from your file. Your physician. Your emergency contact. The person listed beside you more often than anyone else. The person UNICORNs staff whispered about as your boyfriend.
Zayne moved to your side with practiced familiarity. Not too close. But close enough. Close enough that Xavier felt something inside him go very still.
Zayne’s eyes moved briefly to your hand. The one you had hidden behind your back. Then to Xavier. Calm. Measuring. Knowing. Too knowing.
“Nice to meet you,” Zayne said.
Xavier nodded. He did not trust himself with more.
You gave him one last polite smile before walking toward your apartment. Zayne followed. The door closed behind you.
One wall. That was all. One wall between Xavier and the woman he had crossed stars to find. One wall between him and the life you had built without him. One wall between the past and whatever cruel thing the future planned next.
Jeremiah stood beside him in silence. For once, he did not say anything immediately. That was how Xavier knew it was bad.
Eventually Jeremiah spoke.
Xavier looked at your closed door. His face remained calm. His voice did too.
Jeremiah said nothing. Because there was nothing kind enough to say.
Xavier picked up the box at his feet and carried it inside. That night, he did not unpack. Neither did Jeremiah.
The apartment stayed full of unopened boxes. A temporary life. A borrowed life.
Xavier sat in the dark near the window while rain tapped against the glass. Through the shared wall, he heard faint movement from your apartment. A cabinet opening. A glass set down. Your footsteps. Then a cough.
Xavier went still. The sound was small. Barely anything. A single cough muffled behind a hand. Then another. Then silence.
Jeremiah looked up from across the room.
Xavier did not answer at first. He stared at the wall. His expression unreadable. But his eyes had changed.
Jeremiah saw it. Fear. Not panic.
Xavier rarely panicked. This was worse. This was the quiet kind of fear. The kind that knew exactly what it was listening for.
Jeremiah’s face softened with concern.
“That could be anything.”
Xavier wanted to believe him. He really did. But he had heard that cough before. On Philos.
Before the diagnosis. Before the ritual. Before you were taken from him the first time.
The silence after it felt too familiar. Too deliberate. Too much like a door beginning to close.
Xavier leaned back against the wall. One wall away from you. One wall away from the woman he loved. One wall away from a secret he was already afraid to learn.
And in the apartment beside his, you sat on your bathroom floor with one hand pressed over your mouth, waiting for the pain in your chest to pass.
Zayne’s message glowed unread on your communicator. A reminder to take your medication as he sat in your living room.
Your hands trembled. Not from the rain. Not from exhaustion. From memory.
Because you remembered Xavier. You had remembered him for almost a year.
The Core had taken your memories, yes. But Earth was far from Philos. Far from the Core’s pull. Far enough that the stolen pieces had slowly returned.
First in dreams. Then in fragments. Then all at once. The academy. The silver sky.
Jeremiah. Xavier. Especially Xavier.
You remembered him before he found you. You remembered everything. You also remembered the last time he watched you die.
That was why you had asked Zayne for help. Not as a boyfriend. Never as a boyfriend. As your doctor. As your friend. As the one person on Earth who knew enough to keep Xavier away.
Because if Xavier showed up, if Xavier came close, he would notice. He always noticed. And if he noticed, he would suffer. Again.
You pressed your hand harder against your chest as another sharp pain spread beneath your ribs.
Your protocore pulsed weakly. Fractured. Unstable. Terminal.
The farther you were from Philos, the more your memories returned. But the farther you were from the Core, the faster your protocore syndrome came back at full force. A cruel trade. A final joke from a kingdom that had already taken too much.
You looked toward the wall. Toward Xavier’s apartment. Toward the man you had loved across lifetimes.
He was one wall away. Alive. Close. Too close. Not close enough.
Tears blurred your vision.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
No one heard you. Except maybe the stars.
And Xavier, sitting awake on the other side of the wall, did not know yet that you remembered everything.
He did not know Zayne was only helping you lie. He did not know you were dying. He only knew one thing.
Fate had brought him back to you.
And for some reason, it already felt like it was preparing to take you away again.
The first month passed quietly. Too quietly.
That was what bothered Xavier. Not your smile. Not Zayne. Not even the memories he thought you didn't have.
The silence. Something felt wrong.
You were alive. You were healthy. You were working. You laughed with coworkers. Completed missions. Paid your rent. Bought groceries. Did everything a normal person was supposed to do.
And yet Xavier couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
The problem was that he knew you. Not Earth you. Not the version from your personnel file.
The real you. The girl he'd spent centuries beside. The woman he'd loved longer than most stars existed.
And the longer he watched, the more certain he became. You were hiding something.
The realization irritated him. Mostly because he had no proof. Just instinct. Just observation. Just the same feeling that had warned him every time something terrible happened.
Jeremiah hated when Xavier got like this. Because Xavier's instincts were almost always correct.
"You've been staring at her mission reports for twenty minutes."
Jeremiah tossed a file onto the kitchen counter.
"You know that's not an actual response."
Xavier finally lifted his gaze. Jeremiah immediately regretted speaking. Because Xavier looked tired. Not physically. Emotionally.
The kind of tired that accumulated over years. The kind Jeremiah had watched grow ever since Philos.
Xavier turned the tablet toward him. Mission data. Combat records. Health metrics. Nothing unusual. At least not at first.
Xavier stared at the report. Long enough that Jeremiah considered giving up. Then finally:
"She always overexerts herself."
Jeremiah slowly realized where this was going.
The apartment grew quiet. Because Jeremiah understood. You weren't being reckless. You weren't pushing yourself. You weren't overworking. You were conserving energy.
The realization made his stomach drop.
Xavier looked away. Toward the apartment wall. Toward you. Always toward you.
And suddenly Jeremiah didn't know what to say. Because Xavier was right. The change was subtle. Tiny. Almost invisible. The sort of thing only someone who had spent centuries memorizing you would notice.
The sort of thing Xavier always noticed.
Across the wall, you sat on your couch trying not to throw up. The mission that morning had been easy. Embarrassingly easy. A low-level Wanderer cleanup. Nothing you hadn't done dozens of times before.
You had nearly collapsed afterward. Not during the mission. After. When nobody was looking. Which was becoming a problem.
Zayne had warned you. Repeatedly.
You rolled your eyes. For the fourth time.
The bluntness startled a laugh out of you. Only Zayne could say something so horrifying in such a clinical tone.
Unfortunately he wasn't wrong.
The latest scans sat on your coffee table. You refused to look at them. Again.
Terminal protocore degradation. Progressive. Irreversible.
The farther you remained from Philos, the more unstable your protocore became.
Your memories returned. Your life ended. An equal exchange. A cruel one.
You hated it. More than that—
You hated what it would do to Xavier. Because Xavier had already lost you once.
You remembered everything now. Every moment. Every year. Every promise. Every argument. Every kiss beneath silver skies.
You remembered the look on his face after the sacrifice.
That expression haunted you. Not because he cried. Because he didn't.
Xavier rarely cried. Instead, he'd looked at you like someone had reached into his chest and removed something essential. Then spent years pretending he could survive without it.
You couldn't do that to him again. Not willingly.
The knock on your door startled you. Immediately. Because you knew who it was.
Nobody else knocked like that. Three soft taps. A pause. Then one more.
Xavier. Of course it was Xavier.
Your heart squeezed painfully. Not from illness. Not this time.
From love. The feeling remained embarrassingly strong. Even after all these years.
Xavier stood there holding a grocery bag. For a moment neither of you spoke.
You stared. The grocery bag was completely full. Xavier looked suspiciously calm. You looked suspiciously unconvinced.
"You live with Jeremiah."
"There is no universe where the two of you accidentally buy too much food."
You laughed. Immediately.
The sound made something soften in his expression. Only slightly. Enough.
The answer made you laugh harder. For one brief moment, everything felt normal. Then the dizziness hit. Hard.
The room tilted. Your vision blurred. The grocery bag slipped from your fingers.
Xavier caught it. And you. Instantly.
One second he stood near the doorway. The next his arm was around your waist. Steadying. Supporting. Holding.
The familiarity nearly broke you.
Because this wasn't Earth Xavier. This was your Xavier. The one who always caught you. The one who always noticed. The one you were desperately trying to protect.
His hand tightened slightly. Concern appeared immediately. Too immediately.
The question sounded casual. It wasn't.
You knew Xavier too well. The tiny shift in his voice. The slight narrowing of his eyes. The way his attention sharpened.
Panic immediately followed. You forced a smile.
A lie. A terrible lie. The kind Xavier hated.
His gaze lingered on your face. Long enough that your pulse accelerated.
Please. Not yet. Please don't notice. Not yet.
Eventually, Xavier nodded.
The answer should have reassured you. Instead it terrified you. Because Xavier only made that sound when he was thinking. And Xavier was very, very good at putting pieces together.
He handed you the groceries. You accepted them. Your fingers brushed briefly. The contact lasted less than a second. It still felt like coming home.
Xavier looked away first. Always careful. Always respectful. Always putting your comfort ahead of his own.
The realization hurt. Because he still believed you belonged to someone else. He still believed Zayne was your boyfriend.
The thought would have been funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking.
Xavier nodded. Then turned toward the hallway.
You watched him go. The same way you'd watched him leave a thousand times before. The same way you'd always wanted him to stay.
Halfway to his apartment, Xavier stopped. Something made him glance back. For one brief second, your eyes met.
Neither of you spoke. Then Xavier disappeared behind his door.
The moment it closed, you slid down against the wall.
The pain returned immediately. Sharp. Burning. Relentless.
Your hand moved instinctively toward your chest. Toward the unstable protocore hidden beneath it.
Tears filled your eyes. Because today Xavier had almost noticed. And tomorrow he might notice more. And one day soon—
You wouldn't be able to hide it anymore.
Across the wall, Xavier stood motionless in the dark. The grocery excuse had worked. Barely.
But the moment he'd caught you, he'd felt it. The weakness. The instability. The way your body had leaned into his support for half a heartbeat too long. The memory followed him immediately.
A hospital room. Silver skies. A diagnosis. A cough. A tremor. A collapse. The same signs. The same pattern. The same fear.
Slowly, Xavier closed his eyes. And for the first time since arriving on Earth, he began hoping he was wrong. Because if he wasn't—
Then fate had found you again.
And this time, Xavier wasn't sure he'd survive it.
Xavier started avoiding you after that. Not because he wanted to. Because he was afraid.
Every time he looked at you, he noticed something new. A pause before standing. A moment of dizziness. The way your hand occasionally drifted toward your chest when you thought nobody was looking.
The signs were beginning to add up. And Xavier hated the answer they were forming.
So he kept his distance. A little. Not enough to disappear. Just enough to stop himself from watching too closely.
The problem was that Xavier had never been particularly good at looking away from you.
Jeremiah noticed almost immediately.
"You've been staring at Apartment 1207's lights for ten minutes."
Xavier looked away from the window.
"You know that's not an actual response."
Xavier returned to his book. Or pretended to.
Jeremiah stared at him. Then at the unopened page Xavier had been reading for nearly twenty minutes. Then back at Xavier.
"You realize she's going to notice eventually."
Jeremiah nearly threw a pillow at him.
"The fact that you're hopeless."
Xavier didn't answer. Because unfortunately, Jeremiah was probably right. The worst part was that you seemed determined to make things harder.
A week later, you knocked on his door. Twice. Then again.
Xavier opened it immediately. Of course he did. You were standing there holding two cups of coffee. His stomach dropped.
The smile nearly killed him. Not because it was beautiful. Though it was. Because it was familiar. The exact same smile you used to give him on Philos. The exact same one. The realization hurt.
You held up one of the cups.
Xavier stared. Slowly. Very slowly. His gaze moved from the coffee. To you. Then back to the coffee.
You looked suspiciously innocent. You were not. You never had been. Even on Philos. Especially on Philos.
You laughed immediately. The sound startled him. Because he had missed it. More than he wanted to admit.
You pushed the second cup toward him.
"I don't want to drink both."
Xavier accepted it. Not because of the coffee. Because you were offering. Because after two years of grief, after crossing galaxies, after convincing himself distance was safer—
You were standing here. Smiling at him. Offering him coffee. And Xavier was weak. Particularly when it came to you. The realization was embarrassing.
Jeremiah found it hilarious. He walked into the kitchen ten minutes later. Stopped. Looked at you. Looked at Xavier. Then slowly backed out of the room.
"I'm not interrupting whatever this is."
Jeremiah pointed at Xavier.
You turned toward Xavier. Xavier immediately stopped smiling. You laughed.
The morning ended with Jeremiah being threatened by both of you. He considered it a success. Unfortunately, the happiness didn't last.
Three days later, you collapsed in the bathroom at UNICORNS headquarters. Not dramatically. Nobody found you unconscious. Nobody called an emergency team.
You simply locked the door. Slid to the floor. And waited for the pain to pass.
Your protocore burned beneath your ribs. Hot. Sharp. Unstable. Every day felt worse. Every day lasted longer. Every day required more effort.
You squeezed your eyes shut. Just a few minutes. That was all. A few minutes. Then you'd get up. Smile. Finish your reports. Pretend everything was fine. The same way you always did.
A notification appeared on your communicator.
You stared at the message. Then laughed weakly. Even dying, apparently you couldn't escape doctors.
Three dots appeared immediately. Then:
The reply arrived instantly.
“You're literally terminal.”
You laughed so hard it almost became a cough. Only Zayne could make terminal illness sound like an inconvenience.
Another message appeared.
The smile vanished. Immediately. You stared at the screen. Then locked it.
No. You weren't doing that. Not yet. Not until you absolutely had to. Because the moment Xavier knew, everything would change.
The moments sitting in his kitchen. The coffee. The quiet conversations. The fragile normalcy. Gone.
You wanted a little more time. Selfish. Maybe. You didn't care. You wanted it anyway.
When you finally left the bathroom, Xavier was standing outside.
Your heart stopped. Not literally. Though it felt close.
His eyes lifted immediately. Finding yours. The concern appeared so quickly it made your chest ache.
"How long have you been here?"
That was a lie. You knew it immediately. Xavier was terrible at lying. Not because he couldn't. Because he didn't like to.
The realization made you smile despite yourself.
"You waited outside a bathroom?"
The answer made you laugh. Again. Which seemed to relax him slightly. Only slightly. Then his gaze sharpened. The way it always did when he was worried.
Your pulse spiked. Dangerous. Very dangerous. You forced a shrug.
His eyes lingered on your face. Long enough that panic began creeping up your spine. Because Xavier wasn't looking at you. He was studying you. Comparing. Remembering. The same way he used to on Philos whenever something was wrong.
You knew that look. And you were running out of ways to escape it.
There it was again. The sound that meant he wasn't convinced. The sound that meant he was thinking. The sound that meant he had noticed something. The problem was that Xavier rarely stopped once he noticed something.
You spent the rest of the day trying not to think about it. Xavier spent the rest of the day doing exactly that.
That night he sat alone in the dark. The city lights reflected through the apartment windows.
Jeremiah was asleep. Or pretending to be.
Xavier stared at the mission report displayed across his screen. Bathroom absence. Nine minutes. Elevated heart rate afterward. Fatigue indicators. Reduced combat output compared to previous months.
Tiny things. Individually meaningless. Together—
His stomach twisted. The pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.
A memory surfaced. Silver skies. A hospital room. A diagnosis. A girl smiling while pretending she wasn't afraid.
Xavier immediately shut the tablet off. The darkness felt safer. Because once he let himself think it—
Once he let himself consider the possibility—
He wasn't sure he'd be able to stop. And somewhere on the other side of the wall, you sat alone on your couch holding a photo from Philos. One of the few things you had managed to keep.
The image was faded. Old. Worn at the edges. It showed three people.
All laughing. All happy. All unaware of what was waiting for you.
Your fingers brushed over Xavier's face. The tears came quietly. Because he was finally here. After everything. After all those years. You had him back. And you were about to lose him all over again.
This time not because of the Core. Not because of Philos.
Because your own body was running out of time.
And every day it became harder to pretend otherwise.
The next time it happened, Xavier saw everything. Not because you slipped. Not because you told him. Because fate finally ran out of patience. And so did your body.
It happened during a UNICORNs mission. A routine assignment. The kind everyone liked because it usually ended early.
A low-risk Wanderer cleanup near the outskirts of Linkon. Nothing unusual. Nothing dangerous. Nothing that should have gone wrong. Which was exactly why it did.
You arrived before sunrise. The sky was still dark. The air carried the damp chill of approaching rain.
Hunters gathered around the briefing screens while operators reviewed deployment routes.
You stood near the back of the room. Coffee in hand. Trying very hard not to look exhausted. Trying very hard not to look sick. Trying very hard not to look at Xavier.
Unfortunately, Xavier was already looking at you. He looked away the second you noticed.
You almost smiled. Some things never changed. Even after centuries. Even after losing each other. Even after finding each other again. Xavier still looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention.
The realization warmed your chest. Then immediately hurt it. Literally. A sharp pain twisted beneath your ribs.
You froze. Only for a second. Nobody noticed. Except Xavier. Of course he noticed.
His gaze immediately narrowed. You hated that. Not Xavier. The fact that he always saw everything.
You recovered quickly. Forced yourself to move. Forced yourself to smile. Forced yourself to breathe normally. The moment passed. At least on the surface.
The mission began an hour later. At first everything went fine.
The Wanderers were weaker than expected. Most Hunters treated the operation like routine cleanup. Even Jeremiah looked bored.
You almost relaxed. Almost. Then the resonance instability hit. Without warning.
One second you were fighting. The next, your protocore surged violently beneath your chest. Pain exploded through your body. Your vision blurred. The world tilted.
You missed a step. Only one.
But Xavier saw it. The same way he'd seen every missed step before. The same way he'd seen it on Philos. The same way he'd seen it before your first diagnosis. The memory slammed into him so hard it nearly stole his breath.
You recovered immediately. Too quickly. Too deliberately. The movement looked practiced. Like someone accustomed to hiding weakness.
The realization made Xavier's stomach drop. Because healthy people didn't recover like that. Healthy people didn't hide pain automatically. Healthy people didn't already know how to pretend.
Fear settled into his chest. Cold. Heavy. Unwelcome. He hated how familiar it felt.
You kept fighting. Kept smiling. Kept pretending.
And Xavier kept watching. Every movement. Every hesitation. Every breath. The more he watched, the worse it became.
Your reactions were slower. Your attacks lacked force. You paused when you thought nobody was looking. You pressed a hand briefly against your chest. Then immediately lowered it.
The exact same gesture. The exact same one. Xavier remembered it perfectly.
Because he'd spent months watching you do it on Philos. Before the diagnosis. Before the hospital. Before everything.
His pulse accelerated. The world around him seemed distant suddenly. Muted. Like he was hearing it through water.
Not again. Please. Not again.
The thought repeated endlessly. Like a prayer. Like a plea. Like a curse. Then it happened. The thing you'd spent months trying to prevent.
A Wanderer lunged. You moved to counter. The pain hit first. Your resonance failed. Your knees buckled. And suddenly the world disappeared beneath you. You never hit the ground.
Xavier caught you. Immediately. The same way he always did.
One moment you were falling. The next his arms were around you. Holding you. Keeping you upright. Protecting you.
Your eyes squeezed shut. Not from embarrassment. From pain. And that was when Xavier knew. Because he remembered that expression. He remembered it perfectly.
The way your face tightened when the pain became unbearable. The way you tried to hide it. The way you hated worrying people. The way you smiled afterward and claimed you were fine. The realization shattered something inside him.
Because he knew. Not the diagnosis. Not the details. But enough. Enough to be terrified. Enough to know this wasn't normal. Enough to know you had been lying.
The mission ended shortly afterward. You barely remembered how. Only that Xavier refused to leave your side.
Every attempt you made to create distance failed. Every excuse died immediately. Every smile fooled absolutely nobody. Especially not him.
By the time you returned to headquarters, Xavier looked frighteningly calm. You knew that calm. You remembered it from Philos.
It wasn't peace. It was the moment before something broke. The realization scared you. Because Xavier almost never broke.
The elevator ride home was silent. Jeremiah stood nearby. Watching both of you. Understanding far more than either of you wanted him to. Nobody spoke. Nobody knew how.
The apartment hallway felt unusually quiet. Your footsteps slowed. Xavier noticed. Of course he did.
You reached your door. Then your keys. Then froze.
Because Xavier spoke. Finally. Your name. Just your name. Nothing else. The sound alone nearly destroyed your resolve.
You turned around. Slowly. And immediately wished you hadn't.
Because Xavier looked terrified. Not visibly. Not dramatically. Nobody else would have seen it.
You did. You always would.
His eyes. That was the problem. You knew those eyes. You knew what they looked like after losing you. And right now they looked dangerously close.
Your chest tightened. Not from illness this time. From guilt. From love. From heartbreak. From all three.
The words came softly. Almost gently. Which somehow made them worse.
You looked away. Immediately. Because if you met his eyes any longer, you were going to fold. You knew it. Xavier knew it too.
"You need to tell me what's happening."
Silence. The hallway felt too small. Too quiet. Too intimate.
You could hear your own heartbeat. Hear Xavier breathing. Hear Jeremiah standing awkwardly near the elevators pretending not to listen.
The moment stretched. Then stretched further. Until finally—
You laughed. A weak attempt. A terrible one.
Xavier's expression changed. Only slightly. Enough.
Because that wasn't a denial. That wasn't an excuse. That wasn't "I'm fine."
And suddenly hope and fear collided inside him. Hope that you would finally tell him. Fear that he already knew the answer.
You looked down at the keys in your hand. Then toward your apartment door. Then back at Xavier. The man you'd loved for centuries. The man who crossed galaxies. The man you'd been trying desperately to protect. The man who was about to hate you for keeping this from him.
Your eyes filled with tears. Immediately. Because you already knew what came next. And for the first time since recovering your memories, you realized you were finally out of time.
The words barely escaped above a whisper. Xavier went completely still. Because he heard it.
The surrender. The exhaustion. The sadness. And suddenly every terrible possibility felt real.
Behind him, Jeremiah quietly closed his eyes. Because after months of secrets, months of lies, and months of watching both of you suffer—
The truth had finally arrived.
And none of them were ready for it.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every sound feel louder. The rain outside. The ticking of the kitchen clock. The uneven rhythm of your heartbeat.
Xavier stood just inside the doorway. You stood near the couch. Neither of you seemed willing to move first. As though crossing the distance between you would make everything real.
The door clicked shut behind him. Jeremiah had stayed outside. Giving you both privacy. Giving Xavier the answers he'd spent months fearing. The answers you'd spent months hiding.
You placed your keys on the counter. Your hand trembled. Xavier noticed immediately. Of course he did. He always did.
The realization hurt. Because it reminded you of Philos. Of the academy. Of hospital rooms. Of centuries spent being known by one person better than anyone else ever could.
You laughed softly. A sad little sound.
The words came out weaker than intended.
Xavier's gaze remained fixed on you. Patient. Waiting. The same way he always waited.
Giving you space. Giving you a choice. Never forcing. Never demanding. The kindness nearly broke your resolve.
You looked away first. Because if you kept looking at him, you were going to cry. And if you started crying, everything would come apart.
You crossed slowly toward the couch. The room tilted briefly. The pain in your chest flared.You hid it immediately. Xavier noticed anyway.
His jaw tightened. Just slightly. The sight made your chest ache.
You remembered that expression. You remembered all of them now. The realization hit harder than the pain.
Because Xavier still didn't know. After all this time—
You lowered yourself onto the couch. Carefully. Xavier took the chair opposite you.
The silence stretched. Then stretched further. Neither of you knew where to begin. Eventually, you spoke.
"Zayne isn't my boyfriend."
The words startled him. Immediately. Confusion crossed his face. A rare thing.
You almost smiled. Almost.
The confusion vanished. Instantly. Something darker replaced it. Something far more dangerous. Because pieces were already falling into place.
You could see it happening. The calculations. The observations. The connections. The same brilliant mind that had solved impossible problems for centuries. The same mind that had probably been building this puzzle for months.
You clasped your hands together. Trying to stop them from shaking.
"I asked him to help me."
Xavier didn't speak. Didn't interrupt. Didn't look away.
"I didn't want you to know."
The apartment grew quiet again. Painfully quiet.
One word. Nothing more. Yet somehow it hurt more than any accusation.
Because there wasn't anger in it. Just confusion. Heartbreak.
You looked down at your hands. The same hands Xavier had held beneath silver skies. The same hands he'd reached for after the sacrifice. The same hands you'd spent the last year pretending didn't remember him.
Your throat tightened. Then finally—
The apartment went completely silent.
Xavier didn't move. Didn't blink. For a moment, it looked like he hadn't understood.
His eyes widened. Not much. Most people wouldn't have noticed. You did. You always would.
The word came out barely above a whisper.
You felt tears gathering immediately. Because there it was. The thing you'd been hiding. The thing you'd feared more than anything else.
"I remembered before you found me."
Xavier stared. The silence stretched. Long enough that you could hear the rain against the windows. Long enough that you could hear your own heartbeat.
The question sounded almost afraid. You swallowed.
The answer hit him harder than anything else you'd said. You saw it happen. The realization. The understanding.
A year. A full year. A year of seeing him. Talking to him. Smiling at him. Knowing him. Remembering him. A year of pretending otherwise.
Xavier sat completely still. As though moving might shatter something.
"I remembered everything."
For several seconds, Xavier couldn't speak. Because suddenly every strange moment made sense. The hesitation when he'd introduced himself. The way your eyes lingered on him. The sadness he sometimes caught when you thought nobody was looking.
The familiarity. The comfort. The grief. All of it.
You had known. The entire time.
And somehow that realization didn't make him happy. It broke his heart. Because all he could think about was you carrying that alone.
A year. You'd carried it alone for a year.
His voice sounded distant. Lost.
You nodded. Tears falling freely now.
"I remembered before you ever got to Earth."
The confession hung heavily between you.
"I knew you were here the first day."
Xavier closed his eyes briefly. The movement was tiny. Yet it hurt to watch. Because you knew him. You knew what that meant.
He was trying to hold himself together. Trying not to think about what you'd endured alone. Trying not to imagine you carrying all of this without him.
When his eyes opened again, they looked brighter. Dangerously bright.
You nodded. A helpless laugh escaped.
"I knew you were living next door."
"I knew Jeremiah was terrible at pretending he wasn't watching me."
Under different circumstances, it would have been funny. It wasn't now.
Because Xavier looked devastated. Not by the lie. By the reason behind it.
His gaze lowered briefly. Then returned to you.
And for the first time all evening, you saw the grief he'd been trying so hard to hide. Not grief for himself. For you.
Because now he understood. You remembered him. You loved him. And even knowing that—
Even remembering everything—
You still chose to face this alone. To protect him. The realization shattered something inside him.
"You should have told me."
The words came softly. Almost pleading. Not angry. Never angry. Just heartbroken.
You looked away. Unable to bear the look in his eyes.
"I already watched what it did to you."
Silence. The hospital. The sacrifice. The years afterward. The version of Xavier who looked like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
The memories surfaced immediately. You squeezed your eyes shut.
"I couldn't do that to you again."
The apartment fell silent. Then Xavier spoke. His voice shaking for the first time. Barely. Just enough.
"You don't get to decide that."
The words weren't harsh. They weren't angry. They were wounded. Raw. Because losing you had always been his choice to endure. And loving you had always been his choice too.
He leaned forward slightly. Never taking his eyes off you.
"You don't get to carry this by yourself."
That was the moment you broke. Because that was Xavier. Not the prince. Not the Hunter. Not the legend. Just Xavier. Your Xavier. Still choosing you. Even now. Even after everything.
A sob escaped your throat. You covered your mouth immediately. The pain followed. Sharp. Violent.
Your hand moved instinctively toward your chest. Toward the unstable protocore beneath it.
The room changed. The air changed. Everything changed. Because he recognized that movement. The exact movement. The same one from Philos. The same one from before the diagnosis. The same one he'd spent years trying to forget.
Fear settled visibly into his eyes. For the first time all evening. Real fear.
You looked down. Unable to bear it. Then finally whispered the words you'd been avoiding for months.
"My protocore is failing."
The room went silent. Completely silent.
"The farther I am from Philos..."
"The more it rebounds, the worse it gets."
Xavier didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't breathe.
You forced yourself to continue.
"The farther I got from the Core, the more my memories came back."
A tear slipped down your cheek.
"But the distance is killing me."
The words hung between you. Heavy. Final. Terrible.
And suddenly Xavier understood. Not just that you were sick. Not just that you were dying. But that the thing he'd crossed galaxies to save you from had followed both of you to Earth.
And despite giving up his throne. Despite abandoning his kingdom. Despite sacrificing everything to find you—
He still wasn't fast enough. Because fate had found you again.
And it intended to take you from him a second time.
Xavier didn't speak. Not immediately.
The silence stretched between you. Heavy. Suffocating.
The rain continued tapping softly against the windows. Somewhere outside, Linkon City carried on as if nothing had changed. As if the world hadn't just fallen apart. As if Xavier's worst nightmare wasn't sitting right in front of him.
You watched him carefully. Because you knew him. You knew exactly what was happening.
The stillness. The quiet. The complete absence of reaction.
Most people would mistake it for composure. It wasn't. It never was.
This was Xavier trying to survive what he'd just heard. One thought at a time. One breath at a time. One heartbeat at a time.
You hated it. You hated being the reason for that look in his eyes.
Eventually, he lowered his gaze. Not away from you. Toward your hands. Toward the trembling fingers clenched together in your lap.
His voice, when it finally came, was almost too soft to hear.
The question broke something inside you. Because he wasn't asking how long you'd known. He wasn't asking how long you'd remembered. He was asking how long you had left.
You looked away. Immediately. Tears burned behind your eyes. You had always hated that question.
The doctors asked it. Zayne asked it. You asked it when you were alone. Nobody liked the answer.
A lie. A terrible one. Xavier recognized it instantly.
His eyes lifted to yours. Waiting. Patient. The same way he'd always waited. Giving you another chance.
The realization hurt. You laughed weakly. Then finally whispered,
The room seemed to stop breathing. Your own voice sounded distant. Foreign. Wrong.
Reduced to two words. As if centuries of loving someone could fit inside them. As if an entire future could disappear so easily.
Xavier looked down. The movement was tiny. Barely noticeable. You saw it anyway. Because he was trying to hide it.
The grief. The fear. The devastation. You saw all of it. And somehow that hurt worse than if he'd cried.
You wished he would cry. Just once. You wished he would yell. Get angry. Throw something. Anything. Anything except this quiet heartbreak.
Because Xavier was carrying it all alone. Again.
The realization made your chest ache. Not from the protocore. From love. From guilt. From knowing exactly what you were doing to him.
The words escaped automatically.
Xavier's head snapped up. Immediately.
The reaction was so familiar it almost made you smile. Because he'd always hated that. Always.
Back on Philos. On Earth. Across every version of your story. You apologizing for suffering. You apologizing for pain that wasn't your fault.
The sight of it clearly wounded him.
The word came instantly. Firm. Not angry. Just desperate.
A tear slipped down your cheek. You looked away.
"I don't know what else to say."
The truth hung heavily in the room. Because neither did he. Neither of you had a script for this. Not anymore.
The first time had been different. Back then there had been options. Hospitals. Research. The Core. Desperate plans. Impossible choices.
This time there was only a countdown. And both of you knew it.
The silence stretched again. Then suddenly—
Xavier stood. The movement startled you. You looked up. Confused. Because for the first time all evening, he looked restless. Agitated.
The carefully controlled calm had finally begun to crack. He crossed toward the window. Then stopped. Then turned. Then stopped again. Like he couldn't settle. Like standing still had become impossible.
You watched him. Your heart breaking a little more with every second. Because now you recognized it.
Xavier wasn't trying to process your diagnosis. He was trying to solve it. Trying to find an answer. Any answer. The same way he always did. Even when none existed.
You closed your eyes. Immediately. Of course. Of course he was already searching for solutions.
His gaze found yours. Hope and desperation living side by side.
"The distance is causing it."
The answer came instantly. Too instantly. You saw it then.
The fear. The raw terror he'd been holding back. And suddenly you realized something.
Xavier wasn't arguing because he believed he could save you. He was arguing because the alternative was losing you. Again.
The realization shattered your heart. You stood slowly. Ignoring the dizziness. Ignoring the pain. Ignoring the way Xavier immediately moved toward you in case you stumbled.
You reached for his hand. The moment your fingers touched, he stopped talking. Stopped moving. Stopped trying to solve impossible things.
Because it was you. It had always been you. Your fingers intertwined with his. Warm. Familiar. Home.
For a moment neither of you spoke. Then quietly, you said,
The confession landed heavily. Not physically. Not completely. Emotionally. Spiritually. The kind of exhaustion that comes from carrying a secret too long. The kind of exhaustion that comes from pretending you're fine while dying.
Xavier's expression softened immediately. Painfully.
"I don't want to spend whatever time I have left fighting."
"I don't want hospitals."
"I don't want treatments."
"I don't want every conversation to be about saving me."
Your voice broke entirely.
Silence. Complete silence.
Xavier stared at you. As though you'd reached into his chest and exposed every vulnerable thing hiding there. Because after everything—
After centuries. After galaxies. After kingdoms. After sacrifices.
You still chose him. The realization nearly destroyed him.
Your thumb brushed gently across his knuckles. A familiar gesture. One he'd missed for years. One you'd missed too.
"You asked me why I didn't tell you."
His eyes never left yours. You smiled sadly.
"Because I wanted a little more time."
The confession hurt. Because it was selfish. You knew it.
"I wanted coffee in your kitchen."
"I wanted to hear Jeremiah complain."
"I wanted to watch movies with you."
"I wanted normal things."
Your voice dropped to a whisper.
The apartment blurred. The tears finally came. You hated crying. Always had. Especially in front of him. Tonight you couldn't stop. Because this wasn't really about dying. Not entirely.
It was about finally having him back. And losing him anyway.
Xavier closed the distance. Slowly. Like he was afraid you might disappear.
He pulled you into his arms. The moment he did, you broke. Completely.
The sob escaped before you could stop it. Your hands clutched the back of his shirt. Holding on. Holding him. Holding everything.
Xavier wrapped his arms around you immediately. Tightly. Protectively. Like he could shield you from fate itself.
For several minutes neither of you spoke.
The only sound was rain. And breathing. And heartbreak.
Eventually, you felt something warm against your hair. A tear. Just one.
The realization stunned you. Because Xavier almost never cried. Not where anyone could see. Not even you. Especially not you.
You looked up. His eyes immediately looked away. Embarrassed. The sight nearly shattered what remained of your heart.
Because after everything—
He still loved you this much.
The apartment felt impossibly small. The future felt impossibly short. And for the first time since recovering your memories, you stopped trying to push him away. You stopped trying to protect him from the truth.
Because the truth was simple. Neither of you wanted distance anymore. Not when time was running out. Not when every remaining day mattered. Not when loving each other hurt less than pretending not to.
You rested your forehead against his chest. Closed your eyes. And listened to his heartbeat.
The same heartbeat you'd known for centuries. The same heartbeat that had followed you across galaxies. The same heartbeat that would soon have to learn how to continue without you.
The thought made fresh tears burn behind your eyes.
Xavier was here. Holding you. And neither of you were saying goodbye yet.
Neither of you moved. Not for a long time.
The rain continued outside. Soft against the windows. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white beyond the glass.
Inside the apartment, Xavier held you like he was afraid the moment he let go, you'd disappear. Maybe he was. You couldn't blame him.
Your face remained pressed against his chest. Listening. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled the silence.
For years, it had existed only in memories. Dreams. Fragments. Now it was real again.Warm. Familiar. Home.
The realization made your eyes sting. Again.
Your voice was muffled against his shirt. Xavier looked down.
“You always hold me like you’re trying to keep the universe from taking me.”
The words were meant to be teasing. They weren't. Not really. Because it was true.
You felt his arms tighten slightly. The answer came after a long pause.
The quiet honesty nearly broke you. You pulled back enough to look at him. Really look at him.
Your Xavier. The one you'd spent centuries loving. The one who had crossed galaxies for you. The one who had never stopped.
His eyes met yours. And suddenly neither of you knew what to say. There wasn't anything left to say.
Your hand lifted slowly. Resting against his cheek. The familiar gesture made something vulnerable flicker across his face.
You stepped closer. The distance between you disappeared completely.
Xavier's gaze dropped briefly to your lips. Then immediately returned to your eyes. As though giving you every chance to change your mind.
You never would. Not this time. Not anymore.
Your fingers curled gently into the front of his shirt. Then you leaned forward.
The kiss was soft. At first. Tentative. Not because either of you doubted. Because neither of you wanted to rush.
After everything that had happened, this felt almost sacred.
Xavier's hand lifted to your face. Careful. Like he was touching something precious.
The kiss deepened slowly. Filled with everything neither of you had managed to say.
The years. The longing. The loneliness. The relief. The love.
When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. Foreheads resting together. Eyes closed. Neither willing to move far.
Xavier lifted you effortlessly. Carrying you to the bedroom as if the distance was unbearable.
He laid you down with infinite care. The city lights filtering through rain-streaked windows. Casting a soft glow over your bodies. Clothes fell away in a quiet hush.
His hands explored you with reverent tenderness. Tracing every curve. Every inch of skin he'd been afraid he'd never touch again.
You explored him in return. Fingers gliding over the warmth of his chest. His back. Pulling him closer until there was nothing between you. Skin to skin. Heart to heart.
Xavier settled over you. His body a warm, protective weight.
Every movement slow and full of worship. Whispers of love against your lips.
Your neck. The curve of your shoulder. You moved together in perfect harmony. A gentle rhythm born of centuries apart. Two souls finally reunited. Breath mingling. Bodies entwined so completely it felt like becoming one.
The world outside faded completely. There was only this. Only him. Only you. Only the love that had endured everything.
Waves of deep, shimmering pleasure washed over you both. Not just of the body. But of the heart. Of the soul.
For a long time afterward, neither of you moved. He stayed close. Holding you like the universe might still try to steal you away.
You traced lazy patterns on his back. Feeling his heartbeat slow against your chest.
“We wasted a lot of time,” you whispered eventually.
Smiling through the haze. Xavier lifted his head. Eyes soft.
His thumb brushed your cheek.
The rain kept falling outside. But inside, the apartment finally felt like home.
His warmth surrounding you.
The two of you whole again.
