The black sedan pulled up smoothly in front of Xavier's apartment building, the same route Nana had memorized since she was twelve. Eight years of this routine, and her heart still did that stupid little flutter when she saw his building.
"Thank you, Mr. Chen!" Nana chirped, already unbuckling her seatbelt before the car fully stopped.
"Miss Anderson, shall I wait—"
"No need! Xavier will take me home later!" She was already out the door, her canvas bag bouncing against her hip, stuffed with butterfly nets, empty jars, and enough snacks to feed a small army.
The elderly security guard didn't even look up anymore when she breezed past. "Afternoon, Miss Nana."
"Hi, Mr. Kim!"
She took the elevator to the eighth floor, humming to herself. Xavier had promised—actually promised—that they'd go catch butterflies today, just like last week when they'd spotted that gorgeous swallowtail near her family's estate. She'd been planning this all week, even bought a special net with a longer handle so Xavier wouldn't have to bend down as much.
The lock on his door clicked open easily. He'd given her the code years ago (her birthday, because he was sentimental like that, even if he pretended not to be).
"Xavieee!" she called out, already toeing off her shoes. "Wake up, sleepyhead!"
The apartment was dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. It always smelled like him—something clean and cool, like winter air. She padded through the familiar space, past his pristine kitchen (too pristine, suspiciously unused), past the living room where his textbooks were scattered across the coffee table.
There he was.
Xavier lay sprawled across his bed, silver hair fanned across the dark pillows, one arm thrown over his face. He was still in his sleep clothes—black shirt riding up slightly to show a sliver of pale skin and defined muscle.
Nana's smile widened. Without hesitation, she took a running start and launched herself onto the bed, landing directly on top of him like the world's most enthusiastic cat.
"Oof—" Xavier's breath expelled in a rush.
"Good morning!" Nana sang, propping her chin on his chest, grinning up at him.
Those blue eyes cracked open slowly, fighting against consciousness. Even half-asleep, they were striking—the color of arctic ice, almost unnatural. They focused on her face with the lazy attention of someone who'd been dragged from very deep sleep.
"Starlight..." His voice was rough, deeper than usual. "I'm still sleepy..."
His hand came up automatically, fingers threading through her hair in that absent way he always did. The gesture was so familiar it made her chest warm.
"Xaviee! It's already afternoon, you should wake up... and eat something!" She wiggled on top of him, making him groan. "Come on, come on! We have butterflies to catch!"
"Mmm... five more minutes..."
"You said that last time and it turned into two hours!"
She wiggled more aggressively, and finally—finally—he sighed in defeat. His arms came around her in a brief squeeze before he shifted, sitting up with her still in his lap. He was warm, sleep-soft, and he yawned so wide she could count his teeth.
Then he did the thing.
He rested his chin directly on top of her head.
"Hey!" Nana pouted, trying to duck away. "I'm not a chin rest!"
She felt more than heard his quiet laugh, a rumble in his chest. "You're the perfect height for it."
"I'm not short, you're just freakishly tall!"
"Mmm." He was still holding her, still half-asleep, nuzzling slightly into her hair. This was normal. This was their normal. Had been for years.
So why did her traitorous heart skip?
"Okay, okay." Xavier finally released her, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rode up more, and Nana definitely didn't notice the lines of his abdomen. Definitely not. "Let me shower. You're not leaving until you get your butterfly adventure, I know."
"You promised!"
"I did." He stood, ruffling her hair as he passed. "Don't burn down my kitchen."
"That was ONE time and I was twelve!"
His quiet laugh followed him into the bathroom.
.
.
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.
.
Nana immediately headed for the kitchen, opening his fridge with the confidence of someone who'd done this a hundred times. Her nose wrinkled.
Instant noodles. Soda. Cereal. Milk. Eggs. A lonely takeout container that might be older than her art project.
"How are you alive?" she muttered to herself.
This wouldn't do. Xavier was tall and strong and needed proper nutrition, not whatever bachelor nightmare this was. She pulled out her phone and opened the food delivery app, ordering his favorites—fried chicken, fruits salad, rice, some dumplings soup because he always looked too pale lately.
By the time Xavier emerged from the bathroom—hair damp, smelling like soap, wearing jeans and a loose sweater that somehow made him look like a model—the food had arrived.
"You ordered again." It wasn't a question.
"You need real food! What if you collapse from malnutrition?"
"I won't collapse." But he was already sitting down, pulling the containers toward them. "Thank you, Starlight."
There it was again. That nickname. He'd called her that since she was seven and had insisted stars were made of glitter. She'd called him Xaviee, and somehow both names stuck.
They ate together in comfortable silence, Nana chattering about her art class, about the new exhibition her father was sponsoring, about the butterfly species she wanted to find today. Xavier listened with that quiet attention he always gave her, those blue eyes focused and soft.
But something was different.
She noticed it as they walked to her family's estate, nets and jars in hand. Xavier kept yawning—not the lazy, comfortable yawns she was used to, but deep, bone-tired yawns that made his eyes water. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, subtle but there if you knew where to look.
And Nana knew every detail of Xavier's face.
"Xaviee, are you okay?" she asked, catching a gorgeous yellow butterfly and carefully transferring it to a jar to observe. "You seem extra tired today."
"Mmm. Finals coming up." He was sitting under the old apple tree in her family's garden, leaning back against the trunk. His eyes were already half-closed. "Lots of studying."
"Oh! Your business major exam?" Nana released the butterfly and bounded over to him. "Is it hard? Do you need help? I mean, I'm doing art, but I could—"
"It's fine." His hand reached out, snagging her wrist and gently tugging her down to sit beside him. "You have your own studies. Don't worry about me."
She settled against his side, small enough to tuck under his arm comfortably. This was normal too. They'd been like this forever—close, comfortable, more than friends but not quite... something else.
"But I do worry," she said quietly.
His arm tightened around her. "I know."
They sat like that for a while, Nana watching butterflies dance through the afternoon sun, Xavier's breathing evening out as he dozed. She looked up at his face—so peaceful in sleep, so beautiful it almost hurt—and noticed things she'd missed before.
There was a faint bruise on his jaw, barely visible. A small cut on his knuckle. His shoulders held tension even in sleep.
Business exams didn't give you bruises.
But before she could think too hard about it, Xavier shifted, his chin finding its favorite resting spot on her head again.
"Caught any good ones?" he murmured, not opening his eyes.
"A few. But I let them go." She snuggled closer. "It's more fun to watch them fly."
"Mmm. That's very you, Starlight."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You can't stand to cage anything beautiful."
Her heart did that stupid flutter again.
Above them, butterflies danced in the golden afternoon light, delicate and free. Neither of them noticed the black car that had been parked across the street for the past hour, or the way Xavier's phone buzzed three times with messages he ignored.
For now, they were just Xavier and Nana. Best friends. Constant companions.
For now, the shadows could wait.
But in his pocket, Xavier's phone lit up one more time:
**Unknown Number:** *Target acquired. Awaiting your orders, Boss.*
Xavier's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he didn't move. Didn't check the message. Just held Nana a little closer, breathing in her sunshine warmth while he still could.
Soon enough, the darkness would come calling.
It always did.
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To be continued.