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Using your key to enter his place, you call out a couple of times. Not receiving a reply, you let yourself in completely, closing the door behind you and shedding your winter clothes.
When you spoke to him over the phone earlier, he said he’d be home today. So you went straight to his place instead of stopping by yours to change. You figure he must have stepped out for a while, and you plan on making yourself comfy before he arrives.
Sending him a quick text to tell him you made it home safe, you have second thoughts and decide to call him instead. If he is walking home from the convenience store right now, that’s alright with you. But if he’s still there, he won’t mind doing a favor for you by picking up a couple things, right?
You are surprised, however, to hear his phone go off in the bedroom.
Instantly, you grow suspicious. Xavier has been known to pull a few pranks on you here and there. And just last week, you had wandered into his room just for him to step out from behind the door wearing the most terrifying, low-quality Bun-Bun mask you’d ever seen in your entire life. So you’re admittedly a little wary of any more surprises from him.
“Xavier, you better not be messing around,” you grumble, loud enough for him to hear and rethink his life decisions, “I still have some of those wasabi-flavored candies and you promised you’d eat one as a punishment for scaring the life out of me last time. Don’t think I forgot about that.”
You still don’t get a response, so you decide to risk it. Stepping into his room, you prepare for a jumpscare…
Only to find him asleep atop the blankets, lying on his stomach with his arms folded under his head. He’s turned away from you as you approach and, still not sure he won’t suddenly hop up to startle you, you walk around the bed slowly.
Sure enough, he’s completely knocked out. His breathing is slow and steady and his brow is furrowed ever so slightly. But when you lie beside him and gently tap the space between his eyebrows with the tip of your finger, his expression softens and he slowly opens his eyes.
“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” you coo, your heart nearly bursting with affection at the sight of his groggy face.
He frowns again, his sweet, low voice as rough as sand when he murmurs, “Afternoon?”
“Yeah, I just got back. How long have you been asleep?”
He rolls onto his side, a thoughtful look gracing his expression as he reaches out and grabs his phone, “ Well, I was texting Jeremiah about the plants he’s renting out to the museum for the exhibition thing they're doing—since I’ll be watching the shop while he’s delivering them. So I’d say I fell asleep sometime during that conversation.”
He looks at his phone, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.
“Hmm… and I guess I fell asleep on my phone.”
He turns the phone to you and shows you the last message he sent to Jeremiah—a string of unintelligible keyboard smashing. Below it is a message from Jeremiah:
**Are you alright, Xavier? Are you in danger or did you fall asleep on your phone again?**
Then another:
**I’ll just go ahead and assume you fell asleep, then...**
You frown, “That message was four hours ago. You should text him back. You probably worried him sick.”
“He’ll be fine,” he murmurs, shaking his head, and tossing the phone back on the bed, “You don’t need to worry about him.”
You resist an eye roll as you scoot closer to him.
“Anyway, I just got here. It’s cold out, so you’d better warm me up,” you say, causing a soft smile to form on his lips, “Especially my hands. I forgot to wear gloves.”
“You can put them on me to warm them up,” he offers, shifting over and making space for you to curl up beside him.
“Are you sure? They’re pretty cold,” you warn, but he insists. After a short hesitation, you slide into the space he made for you. Still not entirely sure what his plan of action was for you, you hesitate again before sliding your hands under his sweatshirt.
Though he doesn’t say anything, you feel the way his abdomen tightens up beneath your fingers. Honestly, you thought he’d been wearing a shirt under the sweatshirt, he usually does, but apparently not today. And now your face burns as you tilt your head back ever so slightly to look up at him.
His cheeks are bright pink from this angle and when he looks down at you and meets your eye, his ears darken as well.
“Sorry!” you squeak, pulling your hands back. He shakes his head, his hair covering his eyes for a moment as he reassures.
“No, it’s okay. I just didn’t realize how cold your hands were,” he murmurs, grabbing them in his and lifting them to place on the sides of his face. You scoot upward on the bed to get into a more comfortable position and he smiles faintly, “From here on out, I’ll have to make sure to put a pair of mittens in every one of your jackets.”