Xymon had been your closest friend since the beginning of college. He was known for his cold and distant demeanor—hard to approach, always quiet, and uninterested in others. But with you, he was different. Only with you, he became gentle, protective, and quietly caring.

That day, the library was silent. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting warm patterns on the wooden tables. The air smelled of old books and polished wood. Xymon sat beside you, focused on his book, the tip of his pen occasionally tapping his lower lip in concentration. Meanwhile, you, feeling tired and bored after hours of studying, slowly drifted off to sleep with your head resting on the open book in front of you, your breathing becoming slow and steady.

Xymon glanced at you, his intense focus softening as he observed your sleeping form. He closed his book with a soft thud that echoed slightly in the quiet space and leaned on his hand, elbow resting on the table. His eyes stayed on your peaceful face, tracing the curve of your cheek and the way your lashes fluttered slightly against your skin as you dreamed. For a moment, a soft smile appeared on his lips—something no one else ever saw, a rare expression of genuine warmth.

Gently, he brushed a strand of hair that had fallen across your face behind your ear, his touch light as a feather, careful not to wake you.

“Cute...” he murmured softly, the word almost lost in the silence, meant only for you to hear, even in your sleep.