The heavy front door creaked open as Xavier stepped into the manor, his boots dragging across the stone floor. His arms were still locked tightly around Alvin, who leaned against his chest with pale cheeks and tired eyes.
The warmth of home pressed around them—the faint crackle of the fireplace, the murmur of voices from the living room.
Immediately, Alex rose from his chair. His broad shoulders stiffened, his gaze sharpening as he saw the figure in Xavier's arms.
"Xavier." His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the concern of a father. "What happened?"
Beside him, Sasha's expression shifted from calm to alarm, her hand flying to her mouth. "Alvin?" She hurried closer, skirts brushing against the floor. "He looks pale—"
Xavier adjusted his grip, angling Alvin slightly toward them. Alvin, though weak, managed to lift his head enough to meet their eyes. He wore his usual expression: one part pride, one part dismissal, as if anything less would shatter the image he so carefully upheld.
"It's nothing," he said evenly, though his voice was faint. "Just a bit of weakness."
Sasha frowned deeply. "Weakness? You call this weakness? Look at yourself—you're white as chalk." She turned sharply, determination flashing. "I'll cook soup for you. Something warm. Something nourishing."
Alvin blinked. For a moment, silence hung heavy, until he lifted his hand weakly, shaking his head. "…Mother, you don't need to worry so much."
The word mother hung in the air. Alvin said it with such calm certainty that it startled everyone, even Xavier.
Xavier's lips curved faintly at the corner. His beloved, who usually hated to admit needing anyone, had just accepted Sasha into his world with that single word.
But Sasha—Sasha froze as if she had been struck. Her eyes shimmered, her hand trembling slightly. "You… called me…"
Alvin's ears reddened faintly, but his expression stayed cool. "That's what you are. Don't make a fuss about it."
Xavier laughed softly, unable to hide the warmth spilling from his chest.
Alex chuckled too, breaking the thick air. "Sasha, leave the soup. You know how your cooking turns out." His lips twitched. "We don't want to make the poor boy suffer even more."
Sasha whipped her head toward him, scandalized. "Alex!"
But Alex only grinned and tugged her hand gently. "Come on. Let Xavier take care of him. Let's go experiment with our powers instead."
"Experiment? Now? When Alvin is—"
"He'll be fine. You heard him." Alex's voice softened as he leaned closer. "Besides, we'll just be in the yard. If he needs us, he'll call. Don't worry."
Sasha bit her lip, torn. But she finally exhaled and nodded, her gaze lingering on Alvin with maternal worry. "Fine. But Xavier, if he so much as coughs again, you call me."
"I will," Xavier promised.
As Alex led Sasha away, Xavier caught the faint upward quirk of Alvin's lips.
"See?" Xavier murmured, his voice low enough for only Alvin to hear. "They really do accept you."
Alvin's eyes softened, pride faltering for a heartbeat into something almost vulnerable. "…Hn. Seems so."
The bedroom door clicked shut behind them. Xavier carried Alvin straight to the bed, laying him down with a gentleness that belied his strength. He pulled the blanket over him, smoothing it around his shoulders.
Alvin turned his face toward him, expression unreadable. "You're hovering."
"I have the right," Xavier said simply, pulling a chair closer and sitting down at the bedside. "You scared me earlier."
Alvin sighed, turning his eyes to the ceiling. "It was only blood. I've survived worse."
"That doesn't mean I want to see it again." Xavier leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze was piercing, unwavering. "Tell me the truth. Are you really fine now?"
For a long moment, Alvin was silent. His lashes lowered, shadowing his gaze. Then he lifted a hand slowly, letting his fingers brush against Xavier's jaw.
"…I'm better," he admitted quietly. "Weaker than I'd like. But better."
Xavier caught that hand, pressing it firmly against his cheek. "Don't downplay it. You don't have to."
Alvin studied him, his lips parting as if to argue—but then closing again. Finally, he let his head sink deeper into the pillow. "…You'll never stop worrying, will you?"
"Not as long as you're mine."
Alvin chuckled softly. "Possessive fool."
"Proud fool," Xavier corrected, leaning closer until their foreheads brushed. "Because you're mine."
Alvin lay in silence for a moment, letting the warmth of the blanket and Xavier's presence soothe the gnawing ache in his chest.
He had expected Sasha's fussing. He had expected Alex's sharp eye. But what he had not expected—what he had never truly believed—was the quiet, unshaken acceptance.
Even without Xavier's bond, they treated him as one of their own.
The memory of Sasha's stunned expression when he called her mother replayed in his mind. It had slipped out unconsciously, and yet it had felt… right.
Xavier's family was a fortress. In this broken world, where the skies bled fire and the ground tore itself apart, a fortress of acceptance was rarer than gold.
He closed his eyes briefly. For once, the weight pressing against him wasn't just responsibility or corruption or the gnawing dread of miasma. For once, it was warmth.
Home...He was in his home...His home, his family.
Xavier didn't leave his side.
He stayed by the bed, his large hand still wrapped around Alvin's smaller one. The minutes stretched quietly.
"Sleep," Xavier murmured.
Alvin cracked one eye open. "…You're the one who looks like you need it. Those circles under your eyes could scare off zombies."
"I'll sleep when I know you're steady."
"You're insufferable."
"And you love me for it."
Alvin huffed, turning his face away. "…Maybe."
Xavier smiled faintly, watching him with a tenderness he rarely allowed anyone else to see.
In the hall, the faint sound of Alex and Sasha's voices echoed, the occasional crackle of power rumbling. The family was moving forward, adjusting to this strange new reality of supernatural strength.
And here, in this room, Xavier's world had narrowed to one pale but defiant man in his bed.
"Rest," Xavier whispered again.
Alvin, stubborn as ever, muttered something incoherent—but his eyes finally drifted shut, lashes brushing against pale skin.
Xavier stayed still, guarding him as if the entire apocalypse might storm their door at any moment.
He didn't wanted Alvin to hide things from him. But he didn't want to force him too. Xavier could see the pride Alvin had in his bones.
Such pride only comes when a person know how strong he is or...he is just trying to protect himself.
He brushed against Alvin's hair and bend down. A gentle kiss on the forehead and a smile on his face, Xavier wished sweet dreams to his beloved.
Hours later, when Alvin stirred awake, he found Xavier still at his side.
He sighed, exasperated, but his chest felt inexplicably lighter.
"You really meant it," Alvin murmured.
Xavier tilted his head. "Meant what?"
"That I don't have to fight this alone." Alvin's eyes lingered on him, dark and sharp but softer at the edges. "…You really won't let me."
Xavier leaned closer, pressing his lips against Alvin's hand. "Not now. Not ever."
And though Alvin would never say it aloud, the warmth of Xavier's devotion was more healing than any soup Sasha might have cooked.