Xavier's POV
The moment I saw them pull into the parking lot, my heart just about stopped. Ace was bleeding, and Phoenix looked like he'd barely held it together. I didn't even think—I just rushed over, Atlas right behind me.
"What the hell happened?" I snapped, not bothering to hide the worry lacing my voice. Ace looked like he'd been through a fight, and Phoenix wasn't much better off. I wanted to grab them both and shake some sense into them for going there alone.
"We… went to the mansion," Ace admitted, like it wasn't obvious. His tone was almost casual, but I wasn't buying it. "Things got rough. Real rough."
Atlas looked just as worried as I felt, hovering near Phoenix and glancing between the two of them. "You're both bleeding. Are you okay?"
Phoenix gave a nod, but it was shaky at best. I narrowed my eyes at Ace, not letting him get away with brushing it off. "You look like you barely made it out," I said, keeping my tone firm but softer than before. "What the hell were you thinking going there alone?"
He grimaced, probably expecting a lecture, but I wasn't about to lay into him when he looked that exhausted. "We thought we could get some answers. Turns out the spirits aren't exactly happy about being disturbed," he mumbled.
Atlas shot him a disapproving look, but instead of scolding him, he turned to Phoenix, lifting his chin to check the cut on his face. "You really scared us, you know," he said gently, and Phoenix managed a faint smile in response.
I let out a harsh breath, forcing myself to calm down. "Let's get inside. We'll clean up those wounds and figure out what happened."
Ace didn't argue, which was unusual for him. He looked completely drained. I stayed close as we made our way inside, just in case he stumbled or something. Once in the apartment, Ace dropped his helmet on the table and sank into the couch, wincing as the pain caught up to him. Phoenix slumped beside him, his head leaning against Ace's shoulder.
Atlas was already digging through the first-aid kit, so I knelt in front of Ace and reached for his arm. "You're an idiot," I muttered, but I couldn't help the way my hands were way gentler than my words.
He just shot me a look, somewhere between annoyed and grateful. Typical Ace—acting tough even when he was practically falling apart. I bit back a sigh and focused on cleaning the wound, ignoring the way his skin felt warm under my touch.
Phoenix finally spoke up, his voice softer than usual. "It wasn't supposed to get that bad. Something changed in that place. The spirits are restless."
I glanced up at him, then back at Ace. There was something in his eyes—like he was replaying whatever happened in that mansion over and over in his head. I wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, that he didn't have to shoulder this alone—but I knew he'd just brush it off.
Instead, I just squeezed his wrist lightly. "Next time, we're going together. No more running off on your own," I said firmly.
Ace just gave a half-hearted smirk. "Like you could keep up," he teased, but his voice lacked its usual bite.
I couldn't help but chuckle, even if it was just to break the tension. "Try me, Ace."
Atlas walked over with bandages, giving me a glance like he knew exactly what was running through my head. I didn't bother denying it. All I could think about was how close we came to losing them today—and how I wasn't about to let that happen again.
This is exhausting. Ace has this habit of taking everything on himself—like he's got something to prove or some kind of duty to bear alone. It terrifies me. What if something worse had happened today? The thought of it sends a chill down my spine.
He always acts like he's fine, even when he's bleeding and worn out. I don't get how he can just brush it off like it's nothing. It frustrates me to no end. Why can't he just speak up? Admit when he's overwhelmed or at least let someone share the burden.
I glance at him again, watching as he leans back on the couch, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. Phoenix is right there beside him, too quiet, like he's still processing everything that happened. Atlas is gently dabbing disinfectant on Phoenix's cut, trying to distract him with casual conversation, but I know he's worried too.
I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to snap at Ace for being so reckless. But instead, I just finish bandaging his arm and give his shoulder a light squeeze. "You're not invincible, you know," I say quietly, my tone softer than I intended. "You don't have to do this alone."
Ace just shrugs, offering me a faint smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. "You worry too much," he mutters, but there's a hint of guilt in his voice.
I want to argue—tell him that it's not about worrying too much, it's about caring. But I know pushing him right now won't get me anywhere. Instead, I just let my hand linger on his shoulder a moment longer before pulling away.
"I'm serious," I say, keeping my tone firm. "Next time, don't just rush in without backup. We're in this together."
He doesn't respond, just glances away like he's trying to shake off the vulnerability. I force myself to stand up, giving him space. But inside, I'm still fuming—because I can't stand the idea of losing him. Not like this. Not because he couldn't just say he needed help.
Just as I was about to step away, Ace smiled at me. It was different from his usual smirks or teasing grins—this one was warm, almost gentle. I didn't expect it, and for a moment, it caught me completely off guard.
It was like a crack in his usual tough exterior, a rare glimpse of something softer. The way his eyes softened made my chest tighten, and I couldn't help but stare for a second longer than I should have.
"Thanks," he said quietly, his voice lacking its usual edge.
I swallowed, not sure how to respond. A part of me wanted to reach out, to pull him into a hug and just hold him for a while. But I didn't move, afraid of breaking the moment. Instead, I just gave a slight nod, forcing myself to act casual despite the sudden flutter in my chest.
That smile—it was disarming. I wasn't prepared for it, and I hated how much it affected me. But at the same time, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I was finally starting to get past those walls of his.