Chapter Text
Philosians healed quickly from their wounds. Jeremiah had never been more grateful. Still bruised and not without the occasional wince for air, he approached a familiar apartment complex. Briefly he pauses to adjust a fresh bunch of flowers in a pristine white pot in his arms, then smiles up at the window on the fifth floor he's grown so accustomed to looking towards.
With renewed strength, he enters the elevator, letting the cool of the air conditioned atmosphere ease the bruises on his face and lips.
He presses the button for the sixth floor.
Xavier hadn't ever been quick to answer the door. Jeremiah knew the man was probably deeply asleep in recovery mode, just as Jeremiah had been the past week. This time, however, the door clicks open quickly and a messy-headed blonde blinks slowly at him, eyebrows drawing together in question at the unwelcome visitor.
Jeremiah takes a strained breath.
"You've looked better. Are you sleep walking?"
Xavier scowls at the remark and folds his arms, not moving or posing to let the other man enter.
"What is it?" He asks, tiredly.
There's a rasp in his voice that tells Jeremiah he hasn't been sleeping well.
"I thought about what you said," he responded, voice more serious now. Footsteps passing by of a giggling female neighbor enters a door across from them and he clears his throat wondering what it possibly could have looked like to her. Xavier looks impatient.
Ignoring it, he continues.
"...I wanted to let you know that I was wrong. About so many things. But one thing especially, and if you hear one thing, let it be this. I won't ever make that mistake of believing I'm not the man she'll choose in this lifetime again. And I'll be damned before letting anyone change that. I'll do everything in my power to make her happy, and safe. I'll be fighting for her every day. And if anyone dares hurt her,"
"-You won't live to quell her tears after that."
Xavier finished, shifting his weight a little and looking pensive, blue gaze piercing through Jeremiah's soul, but he nods.
"Yeah."
The air in the hall seems to clear, and where Jeremiah once felt the unrelenting heartbeat of uncertainty, he feels a sense of calm.
"And," Xavier says after clearing his throat, voice clear and no longer tired, "I won't stop watching over her. Even from you."
Jeremiah nods in understanding, having expected this.
"You do know I'll be watching you, too, right?"
Xavier frowned, arms casually on his hips above the waistband of his grey sweatpants. "And I'll be watching you. If you hurt her, you won't have enough air above those ribs to say you can't breathe next time."
This time, Jeremiah laughs, immediately regretting the action as the painful reminder of their quarrel shoots into his lower back.
The laugh-turned-wince makes him cough and he nods. "Right, yeah. I know. But it won't happen. I promise."
Thinking the conversation is over, Xavier gives one last nod and goes to shut the door.
"Wait!" Jeremiah begs, curls bouncing on his forehead while the man who saved him hesitates on the other side of the door frame.
This somehow the more difficult thing, he clears his throat and holds out the pot of carefully tended forget-me-nots. Xavier doesn't take them and raises his eyebrows in question. Not waiting for the question to come, Jeremiah continues,
"I thought you could get a headstart on fixing up that field. These are pretty resilient. And... I thought you might want to have something to show her when you find her again."
Emotion waves over Xavier's eyes like a shine of light on glass while he takes the white pot gingerly. Then unable to meet his friend's gaze, he nudges something on the ground from just behind his door into view. A pot of sunflowers half their size, standing tall and unbothered in spite of the lacking ideal conditions.
Still looking away, Xavier takes a step back to finish nudging it forward.
"These... don't fit in this spot anymore."
"You're giving me these?" Before he can ask where and what exactly he's supposed to do with a pot of that size, understanding washes over them.
These small gestures speaking louder than the words between them could, loud as they are, and as needed as they are, both understanding that this would just have to suffice.
"I know just what to do with these. Thanks." He says, holding back the emotion in his throat. Unable to keep his hands to himself, as usual, his hand goes to clasp the shoulder he knows Xavier injured to rescue him, and gives a few nods as the man finally meets his face. No more words are spoken and Jeremiah drags the pot of his precious gift away. He places it at the front of his shop for all to see, but most of all, as the first thing she sees every time she visits.