Work Text:
Like the seasons, Venti never seems to stay. He’s plucked on many a lyre, and almost as many heart strings. Mortals love so strongly for such ephemeral creatures, and perhaps that is why Venti is endlessly fascinated by them: their rituals of affection, the way they devote themselves to one another so wholly, give each other gifts and go on dates and celebrate the amount of time they have spent with each other like it is all they will ever have. Venti walks among them to pretend that he too, could be swept off his feet by anything other than the wind.
A maiden or bachelor in his bed cannot undo a millennia of divinity, but when the bard plays his song, extends his hand with a smile and a “Come with me,” it is so easy for the mortals to imagine he could love them. They think him the kindest of archons, and in doing so they forget that he is not one of them, and never will be.
If humans speak of Venti as a mercurial lover, then Xiao is naught but immovable stone. They know that Xiao doesn’t fare well with them or their complicated emotions, guilt having carved up any space in his soul that could’ve ever housed another emotion.
“Adeptus Xiao cannot love,” the storytellers in Liyue weave woefully into their tales, “It is his price to pay for eons of slaughter.”
And the women and the children and the lovers coo sadly over the last Yaksha, alone and sublime.
But Xiao is not lonely.
He has not known loneliness since he first heard the sweet song of the flute carried over the wind to his aching body, bleeding out over the Bishui Plain.
He does not know loneliness at all, with his head laying in the lap of the wind god, sat by a balcony in Wangshu Inn.
Venti kisses his forehead and plays with his hair, and for once Xiao feels his guard slip enough to close his eyes.
“Can you…” Xiao asks softly, his voice hoarse with disuse, “Can you sing that song I like?”
“Which one?” Venti laughs, “You like all the songs I play.”
Xiao pouts, and Venti thinks he is much cuter than the mortals could ever give him credit for.
“I don’t remember the words,” Xiao mumbles into his lap.
“Hum it then,” Venti says.
Xiao opens his eyes to frown fully at him, “No, my voice is awful.”
Venti flicks his forehead and Xiao yelps from his spot in Venti’s lap.
“I like your awful voice,” Venti replies sweetly.
Xiao reaches for his spear on the floor, and Venti starts laughing and tugs him back with a hug and kisses all over his face.
“No need for the spear,” He chides, “ Just hum me the song you want to hear, and the music you desire will appear.”
Xiao struggles out of Venti’s vice of a hug to cross his arms, and looks back down to where his spear is laying.
“Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.”
Venti kicks it across the room with his foot, and smiles at Xiao expectantly.
With a sigh Xiao starts humming a new song that Venti remembers showing Xiao the scraps of just a week ago. He feels his chest grow warm. He didn’t know it’d left such an impression.
“That’s enough,” Venti says, not unkind, “I know which one you’re talking about.”
He uncrosses Xiao’s arms to hold his hands in his, and when he looks away shyly he is not hurt. Some things just feel too close… too romantic… too… something they’re not. They both have their things. It is okay.
Venti starts to sing, his voice airy and light, the gentle tinkling of bells on the breeze, and Xiao sighs.
When Venti tucks the flower behind his ear into Xiao’s hair, he does not pull away.
When Venti leans in to kiss him gently, he does not pull away.
They know everything they are to each other, and everything they are not.
Xiao leans his head on Venti’s shoulder, and makes sure not to let go of his hand.
They do not love each other.
They like each other like they’ve never liked anyone else.
They will keep changing and shifting, just like the breeze, just like seasons.
It is enough.