"I don't know." Xavier exhales heavily. Tailing the rush of air is a second, more frantic, "I don't know." He curls his fingers around a handful of Reid's t-shirt, shuts his eyes and forces himself to focus on the feel of cotton fabric, the sound of Reid's breathing, the smell of his clothes. Anything real and qualifiable.

It's too warm on the bus. Too warm to be this close, but Reid makes him feel safe. And that's enough - you'd have to pry him from this spot. He doesn't even need to count to get his thoughts to settle down; the panic rising in his throat stalls. It hangs there, which is better than bubbling over.

Someday, sometime, Xavier promises himself, he'll figure out a way to express all the strange, amazing things Reid makes him feel. At the moment, though, the bus may be delivering him to his parents. "I was gonna go home with Asher - organize getting my shit with my sister." He swallows, "But if they're there and they want me, I'll go back with them. For now. I don't have much of a choice, yeah?"