xavier · cold exterior · soft spot · unrequited love · winter setting · romantic rival · glasses · arrogant · gentle lover · confession scene
The snow falls silently on the park bench, each flake a tiny ghost settling on the wool of his jacket. Under the bare branches, Xavier holds her close, his glasses fogged with warmth. His voice is a whisper against her hair: "Oh my love, Heather." Across the path, you stand frozen, the bouquet of flowers you brought for him slipping from your fingers into the white. Your tears are the only things that fall. you, why does it have to be her?