*.*.*.*.*.*

Perching the two coffee mugs in the tray along with a dish of chocolate chip cookies, I head back into the living room just as I hear the bathroom door open. As soon as Xavier comes into my line of vision, I see him wearing one of my dad's white jumpers and grey trousers. Though Xavier is just about as tall as my dad, he's quite thinner, making the shoulders of the fluffy sweater hang off him.

This is probably the first time I'm seeing him in anything other than black.

"You look nice in white," I comment without putting too much thought into it, and Xavier staggers to a stop. I ignore how he stares at me and bring the platter of sandwiches out from the kitchen, placing it next to the cookies.

He looks at me. "Um ... what do I do with my clothes?" he points a thumb over his shoulder. "I put them in a basket but ..."

"Oh, just leave that." I shrug it off, placing the food on the square wooden table in front of the couch. "I'll just put them in the washer in the morning."

"No, please," he perks up.

I straighten up to give him a questioning look.

"I'll do it myself," he insists. "You ... you've already done too much."

I take a deep breath and put on a soft smile. "Okay, just leave it for now. Come have something to eat."

Xavier doesn't answer as he makes his way slowly towards me and I hear dad join us. I look towards him and see him carrying a huge pillow and one of the extra comforters.

"You can use these," dad huffs, dropping everything onto the infamous white couch of our living room. "If you need anything else, I'll be right along the hall in the first room, next to the bathroom. Just give me a shout or come knock, whatever you need."

"Thank you, Sir," Xavier says, not looking up at dad.

"Haley, you should sleep early too," dad goes on. "You've been out all day and must be tired."

I nod as Dad waves over his shoulder at Xavier, and walks off towards his room. Turning back to Xavier who isn't really looking at anything in particular, I notice he's still standing awkwardly in place.

"Xavier," I bring his attention to me.

He looks up, his gray eyes focusing on me.

"You can sit down." I indicate the couch and take my own seat on one of the cushioned chairs my dad loves so much.

Xavier obeys, gathering up the comforter dad dumped on the couch and placing it neatly on one side before sitting on the other. I hold out one of the mugs towards him, which he takes between both of his hands. Taking the other mug of coffee up to my lips, I sip the smoldering liquid, keeping my eyes fixed on Xavier.

"Can I ask you something? Why did you walk out of class like that today?" I can't help but ask, watching him for his reaction.

"I didn't have anything to write," he says in a low voice, looking down at his mug.

"I was giving you a pen –"

"You were giving me what to write with, not what to write," he counters.

I close my mouth, considering his words.

"Didn't you study?" I ask, but he doesn't reply, making me remember the interaction between him and his father that I saw earlier in the evening. "Do you know we have a calculus test tomorrow?"

Instead of answering, Xavier closes his eyes, bowing his head and rubbing his forehead with the fingers of his free hand. He looks absolutely exhausted, like he would rather be anywhere than here.

Watching him now, I can see the circles under his eyes, his thin but handsome face marred by bruises ... this is not the Xavier everyone thinks they know.

"I have an idea," I say suddenly, making Xavier open his eyes and glance at me. "I have to study for the test on my own. How about we study together? Like a paired-study thing? If you're not too tired, that is."

Xavier simply stares at me from the corner of his eyes, his eyebrows pulled together.

"Do you want us to study together right now?" I rephrase my question to help him make sense of it.

Xavier sighs and straightens up with a tired look. "Okay," he says.

My heart lifts instantly. "Great." I jump to my feet. "I'll get my books."

Without waiting for Xavier to change his mind, I hurry through the living room, my heels tapping loudly on the wooden panels of the floor. As I grab hold of the wooden support railing of the stairs and nearly run upstairs, two stairs at a time, I don't even glance at the picture frames lining the wall, displaying the happy couple my parents used to be when I was young.

Bursting through the first of two doors on the upper landing, I enter my room which has remained largely unchanged for the last ten years since mom and dad divorced and I first moved here when I was seven. The pure white walls, white lace curtains, pink and white comforter are no longer representative of me.

Nearly tripping over my own feet, I send my heels flying across the wooden floor, snatching my bag up off the bed and pulling out my calculus notes from the messy array that is on my study-table.

I catch a glimpse of my own reflection in the mirror and almost scream. Freezing to stare at the disturbing sight, I note how my mascara is dripping down my dimpled cheeks like a horror movie ghost. The bun on the top of my head is a crow's nest. I sigh.

Can't believe Xavier didn't get a heart attack at the sight of me.

I tilt my head sideways, dropping my things on the table and hurry into the bathroom. Throwing off the coat and falling over when my jeans get stuck in my toes as I struggle to pull them off. I change into a plain shirt and striped trousers. By the time I'm done scrubbing my face free of the makeup I applied in the morning, I look like a tomato, but no longer an apocalyptic zombie.

Racing out of the bathroom, snatching the books off the table and half-jumping half-running down the stairs, I skid into the living room. Xavier straightens up when I noisily flop on the couch beside him, dropping all my study material between us.

The surprised frown on his face directs itself towards the books before returning to my face.

"Let's study, shall we?" I smile, confident that I look better than I did just five minutes ago.

Without waiting for an answer I know Xavier probably won't give me, I throw open one of the books.

"Okay," I say, turning sideways on the couch and folding my legs beneath me. "Can you solve ... f(x,y,z) = xy - 25?"

Xavier doesn't answer, staring at me with the blankest expression on his face. Unable to help it, I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing. Xavier notices, and lowers his eyes from my face, making me feel instantly guilty for finding it funny that he doesn't know this stuff. After what I saw today, the last thing I should be doing is laughing at him.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we?" I suggest, trying not to be insensitive.

Xavier nods half-heartedly.

I open chapter one, even though we're on chapter three in class, beginning with the easy questions, explaining the theorems as we cross them. A couple of problems, I solve on the rough notepad, narrating each step I take. Xavier watches with his full attention, his grey eyes following my pencil closely. He doesn't say a single word, just frowning at the pages I continue to scribble random letters and numbers on. I ask him if he wants to sleep but he shakes his head, not answering me.

Midnight -- that's when I get up to make more coffee.

"Do you want some?" I ask Xavier, who shakes his head, not even looking up from the book I handed him before getting to my feet.

All the while I walk to the kitchen, make coffee, come back with two mugs, place them on the table and resume my place on the couch again, Xavier keeps his focus on calculus.

"Shall we start chapter three?" I ask him.

He holds the book towards me and I take that as yes.

By the time we're done with half of the chapter, my neck is stiff and my eyes stinging. I flex my neck, looking towards Xavier. My mouth opens of its own accord when I see him.

He's reclining against the back of the couch, his head resting backwards. His eyes are closed and by the looks of it, his breathing is even and he's clearly deep asleep.

I watch him, half-expecting him to stir and sit up. He doesn't do so, though, just sleeping in an awkward and seemingly uncomfortable sitting position. My dad's white upper makes his skin look as pale as snow, the only burst of color his jet black hair, falling limp over half of his forehead. His hands lie limp in his lap, legs spread out on the floor --

Why am I staring at him?

"Xavier?" I say uncertainly. He doesn't answer and I wonder if I should just let him sleep. I clear my throat and try again but to no avail.

Blinking a few times, I get to my feet and gather all the things off the couch, perching them gingerly on the edge of the table. I pull the comforter off the ground where it had dropped when we began to study. Uncertainly, I reach a hand out towards Xavier. As soon as my fingers touch his shoulder, he jerks awake, shooting up.

"Um, I ..." I stammer. "You should lie down."

He stares at me. Quickly picking the books off the table, I turn away from Xavier and make my way towards the stairs leading up to my room. I only glance over my shoulder when I'm halfway up the stairs and see Xavier lying down and pulling the comforter over himself.

Smiling to myself for absolutely no reason, I make it to my room and get in bed. I fall asleep with my mind on the boy sleeping on my living room couch.

For some crazy reason I totally don't understand, I can't get him off my mind.

*.*.*.*.*.*

"All right class, put your notes away," calls Mrs. Johnson as she hands out our quizzes to us.

Taking mine from her, I smile at her before looking to my right at the empty seat where Xavier's supposed to be.

He was gone before I woke up in the morning, and dad told me 'he didn't even stay for breakfast'. According to dad, he seemed in quite a hurry but made sure to drop a 'thank you for everything' note for me before he left. The pencil-scribbled, crumpled post-it is now resting treasured in my jeans pocket.

"Okay, everyone!" Mrs. Johnson calls us to attention, returning to the front of class once she's handed us all our quizzes. "You'll have an hour to finish this. No extra time will be allowed. Ask me if there's anything you don't understand. Remember this counts for ten percent of your final grade. Okay, you may begin."

The synched class flips its quizzes over and begins scribbling names and roll numbers. Even when I read the first question, I can't help but wonder where Xavier could be. Doesn't he know he has a test right now? Ten minutes into the test, I hear a chair scrape against the ground close by, quickly glancing to the right in the hope that it would be who I think it is. My heart lifts when I see Xavier taking his seat as Mrs. Johnson hands him his test paper.

"Fifty minutes, Xavier Hunt," she tells him.

He neither responds to her nor looks at me as he turns his paper over and begins to scan the questions. I notice he's changed out of my dad's clothes, having gone back to his black, mourning attire. The bruises on his face are still visible quite clearly, bypassing blue and turning purple. I see him lick his dry lower lip and put a hand in his pocket. It comes out empty.

Shaking off the feeling of deja vu, I quickly grab my extra pen.

"Psst, Xavier?" I offer for the second time in two days.

Xavier's gaze lifts off the test, coming to focus on me. Our eyes meet, my brown ones, his icy grey. He looks back at his test and my heart picks up its pace.

Is he going to walk out again?

On the contrary, he reaches out and takes the pen from my outstretched hand. I sigh unnoticeably, relieved more than I care to show.

Twirling the pen in his long fingers for a few brief moments, Xavier finally posits its tip on the paper. I watch him begin to scribble.

Resisting an overwhelming desire to jump in joy, I return my gaze to my own quiz, unable to resist the smile nonetheless.

Second time's the charm.

*.*.*.*.*.*