Chapter Text
The clock on the conference-room wall ticked past ten.
Everyone else had gone home hours ago.
Only two lights burned in the sales department — one over Rafayel’s desk, and another across from him, where Xavier sat typing, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
The quiet should have been peaceful.
Instead, it thrummed like a live wire.
Rafayel rubbed his eyes and exhaled. “If I look at another spreadsheet, I’ll start seeing numbers in my dreams.”
“Maybe they’ll love you back,” Xavier murmured without looking up.
Rafayel threw him a glare that could have curdled milk. “You think you’re funny?”
“I know I am.”
Xavier leaned back in his chair, stretching. “Come on, Qi. We’ve been at this for six hours. Take a break.”
“I don’t—”
He stopped when Xavier reached across the table and slid a small can toward him.
Iced coffee. His favorite brand.
Rafayel blinked. “Where did you—?”
“Machine downstairs. You like the caramel one, right?”
Xavier’s tone was offhand, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
It was too gentle.
Rafayel hesitated, fingers brushing the can. “You remember that?”
“I remember a lot of things,” Xavier said quietly.
Something in Rafayel’s chest stumbled.
He cracked open the drink, hoping the sound would drown out his heartbeat.
Xavier’s POV
He hadn’t meant for it to get this far.
Every teasing word, every little challenge — it was supposed to keep Rafayel close, not push him into his thoughts like this.
The lamplight softened the edges of Rafayel’s hair, the lavender hue catching gold. He looked tired, determined, human in a way Xavier rarely got to see.
“Stop staring,” Rafayel said, not looking up from his laptop.
“You’re sitting right in front of me,” Xavier replied.
“That’s not an excuse.”
“Then close your eyes.”
Rafayel finally glanced up — and that was it.
The tiny spark that lived between them flickered into something sharp and dangerous.
Rafayel’s POV
The air felt too thick. Too close.
He told himself it was exhaustion, the late hour, the coffee.
But it wasn’t. It was him.
Xavier.
With that calm voice, that maddening smile, the warmth in his eyes that shouldn’t have been there.
“I don’t get you,” Rafayel said suddenly.
“What’s not to get?”
“You act like we’re friends.”
“Are we not?”
Rafayel scoffed. “You stole my top spot twice, turned my desk pink, and drive me insane on a weekly basis.”
“And yet,” Xavier said, standing slowly, “you’re still here. Working with me. Late at night.”
Rafayel’s breath caught as Xavier came closer.
He didn’t move — couldn’t.
The distance shrank to a heartbeat. He could feel the faint brush of Xavier’s sleeve, smell the hint of coffee and rain in his cologne.
“Maybe,” Xavier whispered, “you don’t hate me as much as you think.”
Rafayel looked up — and met his eyes.
Blue like the sea after a storm. Steady. Unyielding.
His pulse roared in his ears.
“Xavier…”
It was barely a whisper.
Xavier’s hand lifted, hesitated, then brushed a stray strand of hair from Rafayel’s cheek.
The touch was feather-light, but it burned all the same.
Time stopped.
The world narrowed to the space between their lips — a breath apart, waiting, trembling.
And then—
Knock, knock.
The janitor poked his head through the glass door. “Uh, sorry, sirs. Need to lock up soon.”
They jumped apart like guilty teenagers.
“Of course,” Xavier said smoothly, clearing his throat. “We were just finishing.”
Rafayel snatched his laptop, cheeks flaming. “Good. Because this conversation is over.”
He walked out first, heart hammering, refusing to look back.
Behind him, Xavier let out a soft laugh — the kind that sounded equal parts regret and hope.
He touched his own lips briefly, as if to remember the almost.
Outside, the night air was cool.
Rafayel pressed a hand to his chest and exhaled.
“Idiot,” he muttered — though he wasn’t sure which of them he meant.