Unlikely Love

12

Hels pov

In the cold, dimly lit underground bunker beneath the tundra, the air was tinged with a perpetual chill, despite the heaters and magma blocks strategically placed to ward off the freezing temperatures. The walls were thick and reinforced, designed to withstand the harsh conditions above, yet there was an undeniable coziness to the place—a safe haven amidst the frozen wilderness.

I was honestly surprised when he took me back to his place. It was a stark contrast to the hostile environment outside, the warmth from the heaters battling the chill that seeped through every crack. As soon as he saw his dog, his entire demeanor shifted, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he eagerly greeted the animal. The horns on his helmet were cool, I had to admit. They gave him a formidable look, but when he took them off and hung them on the wall, I could see the softer side of him—the side that didn't want to accidentally hurt his dog, Mark.

"So, you don't want to be alone anymore?" I asked, referencing the conversation we had back in the void. He just shook his head, his expression somber, before pulling his helmet off entirely. The absence of the helmet revealed more than just his face; it showed his vulnerability.

"If I'm alone, I get lost in my own head, and that's... well, that leads to me logging out, apparently," he confessed, his hand absently petting his dog as he spoke. The warmth from the nearby magma block cast flickering shadows across the room, adding to the bunker’s quiet, reflective atmosphere.

I leaned on the doorframe, watching him. The juxtaposition of his tough exterior with the tender way he handled his dog was something I hadn't expected. "You saved someone, though," I commented, breaking the silence. "Impulse and Zedaph managed to get him stable, although he did need tons of IVs." My words seemed to bring him a small sense of relief, a faint smile crossing his lips as he continued to pet the dog.

"Good," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "Now, hopefully, he'll be able to recover. Both physically and mentally. That place was..." He trailed off, his gaze drifting to the wall where his horns hung, a stark reminder of the battles he’d fought, both externally and internally.

"The place was hell," I finished his sentence for him, stepping further into the room, my footsteps muted on the bunker’s cold, stone floor. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken memories, the kind that lingered in the air like a fog.

I walked into the kitchen, feeling the warmth from the magma blocks radiating slightly stronger in this part of the bunker. "Hungry?" I asked, grabbing a frying pan from one of the cabinets. He nodded vigorously, the action almost childlike in its eagerness, before he quickly remembered something and ran to grab some dog food for Mark. It was clear he had thought ahead, setting up an infinite water source for his dog so it would never go thirsty, even if he forgot to refill the bowl.

As I started to prepare a simple meal, the sound of sizzling food filled the small kitchen, mingling with the soft, contented sounds of Mark eating nearby. The bunker, with all its cold, utilitarian aspects, felt warmer now—a small sanctuary from the chaos outside, where for a moment, we could forget the dangers that lurked just beyond the frozen tundra.

Suddenly, Xavier was quick to leave the room, disappearing down the dimly lit hallway without a word. I was left standing in the kitchen, confused by his abrupt departure. The sound of water splashing around a little in the bathroom echoed through the bunker, adding to my confusion. I wondered what had prompted him to rush off so suddenly.

When he reemerged, the sight of him made me pause. Gone was the armor and battle-worn appearance. Instead, he was dressed in cozy pajamas—thick red bottoms and a long-sleeve white T-shirt. His white hair cascaded down onto his shoulders, slightly damp from what I assumed was a quick splash of water in the bathroom. There was something almost ethereal about him now, especially with his piercing red eyes that seemed to cut right through me, sending a shiver down my spine as I continued to cook.