Chapter Text
"You got scammed."
"He was a very convincing salesman!" Hu Tao's voice comes through the speaker sharp and a few touches too loud. Xiao holds his phone an inch further away from his head, hoping to salvage his eardrums.
"You said he told you it was a magic music box," Xiao says flatly. He lets every ounce of judgement seep into his words.
"Exactly! Very convincing, Xiao!" Hu Tao hums merrily. Xiao just barely bites back a retort, mutely dragging a hand across his face in exasperation. Frankly, talking with Hu Tao typically felt like an endless merry-go-round, where she would drag her victims in circles until only they were left winded. He never thought that conversations had a victor until he met Hu Tao.
"Anyway," she continues easily, "all you have to do is come with me to return it this weekend."
Xiao huffs. "Why do I have to go?"
"Intimidation factor, of course!" she says brightly. "See you then, Xiao!"
She hangs up before he can even begin to form a response.
He slides his phone back in his pocket and resumes his trek home, mulling over Hu Tao's words. Leave it to her to be enamored by a clever salesman with a talent for glib. Typically, he thinks her wits, though well-hidden, are one of her (few, and quickly diminishing) redeeming factors. On the other hand, of course, Hu Tao was always intrigued by the quirky and eccentric. She chased mysteries and hauntings as a sport. And as far as schemes go, this one was relatively harmless. Save for the damage to her wallet, that is.
As he nears his apartment, a flash of pale blue catches his attention. That in itself isn't strange — the shortcut he takes winds through a field of pale blue flowers, each curled tightly into a bulb as if harboring a deep secret. Despite living his entire life in Liyue, Xiao has never been privy to seeing them bloom.
Until tonight, apparently.
Tonight, each flowers' petals have come carefully unfurled, revealing a golden center they hoard like a treasure.
And, even stranger, tonight they dance and sway to the tune of gentle melody.
It's not a number he's heard before. The song is as beautiful as it is melancholy, the notes dancing over and around each other in a waltz. For a brief moment, a sense of jealousy burns through him, sharp and horrid, that Xiao could never weave something so lovely. He automatically turns towards the source, curious.
What he finds is perhaps the strangest thing of all.
Sitting amidst the flowers is a boy decked in a green cardigan, looking to be in his early-twenties — no older than Xiao himself. A green beret decorated with flowers sits lopsided on his head. The cool night air lightly tousles the two black braids that frame his face. His fingers deftly pluck the strings of a small instrument sitting in his lap (a lyre, Xiao guesses). Xiao doesn't recognize him; his features and clothes distinguish him clearly as a foreigner to Liyue.
Despite that, in the sea of flowers and bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, Xiao finds the boy looks perfectly at home.
The boy suddenly stops, the song meeting an untimely end. He must've felt Xiao staring. Quickly, in the interest of not looking like a creep, Xiao averts his eyes and tries to hustle away.
"Oh? Hello there!" the boy calls out before he can make his escape. "Are you here to listen to a song, stranger?"
"No," Xiao answers immediately, back already turned. These were strange flowers and a stranger person, sure. It would be a story to tell, a blip in his memory. But that would be all. Xiao had no reason to engage in such trivial matters any further.
Still, a quiet part of him longs to listen to more of his music. Xiao shoves it down.
The boy gives a deep, heaving sigh. "Oh, what a shame! Ah, but at least these little flowers have been such wonderful audience members."
Xiao hesitates, curiosity forcing a crack into his will. "I've never seen them in bloom," he says, cautious, as he slowly turns back around. The boy tosses him a bright smile.
"Ah, that's because you have to sing to them!"
Xiao stares at him blankly. The boy laughs.
"Oh, stranger, your face has a look so sour! Be careful now, or you'll miss the beauty of this here flower." He punctuates his sentence with a strum of his lyre as if to emphasize his point. Xiao's brain has ground to an abrupt halt, because surely this was a madman, someone who had a bit too much of whatever vice he indulged in, and — wait, did he rhyme?!
"I did indeed, I enjoy a good rhyme!" Ah, so Xiao had said the last part aloud. "And I have many other tricks, if you could spare some time." The boy winks playfully.
Xiao has no idea what expression his face had contorted to, but he was sure it wasn't positive. The boy seems unbothered, merely giving another laugh.
"Hehe, you're face will get stuck like that if you aren't careful, stranger!"
Xiao scowls. "You don't have to keep calling me that."
"Oh? Are you not a stranger?" The boy plucks at a few strings. The notes hang in the air like a question. "Have we met before?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Not even in a past life, or in a dream?" There's a teasing lilt to the boy's voice, eyes glittering with mischief.
"No, I'd remember." And then, before he can stop himself: "You seem irritating."
Xiao winces internally. Well, he thinks to himself, bluntness would always be one of his best and worst qualities.
The boy looks taken aback, but a smile soon overtakes his face once again.
"Well, you're still here talking to this irritating person, aren't you?"
Xiao says nothing.
The boy picks at his instrument, humming to the melody he spins. The flowers almost seem to turn towards him, their leaves beckoning. Keep playing, keep singing, their petals beseech, let us see the world for a little longer. Xiao can't look away; he's never felt that flowers could feel so alive.
"I'm certain they'd love to hear you sing, you know!" the boy chirps.
"I don't sing."
"Truly a shame," the boy sighs. "You really should sing these flowers a song every now and then, you know. These poor glaze lilies looked like they were going to cry if they couldn't see the world any longer!"
Xiao frowns. The boy was a fountain of nonsense. "They're flowers. They can't be sad."
The boy tuts, waving his finger. "Sure they can. They have feelings, you just aren't looking hard enough!"
Xiao looks at the flowers, at their golden centers, at the way their stems bend and dance in the wind, at their fragile petals asking for song. Nonsense, Xiao reiterates to himself.
But, for a second, under the kiss of the moon and embrace of a song, he finds himself willing to believe him.
Late that night, in the darkness of his own room, Xiao sits in front of his keyboard. His fingers hover delicately over the keys, ghosting over the notes as if fearing they'd shatter.
He wills music back into each nerve of his fingertips, thinking of glaze lilies, of strings and lyres, of flowers that cry and boys that rhyme —
His hands fall back into his lap without a sound.
For the next few days, if Xiao walks the slightest bit slower through the field of glaze lilies, eyes searching for a glimpse of green, then, well, no one has to know.
"Alrighty, I just need you to be as intimidating and broody as possible, okay?" Hu Tao pauses. "So really, just be yourself!" She slaps him on the arm.
"I still really don't understand why I'm here," Xiao mutters, tugging his hood further over his eyes. "Also, I'm not intimidating and broody."
"You definitely are. If you can't think of anything, just say you listen to screamo or something. That's probably intimidating, yeah?"
Xiao doesn't deem that worthy of an answer. Hu Tao just sends him a wicked grin and leads him around the corner.
Only, when they arrive at their destination, the street is empty.
“Huh.” Hu Tao tips her head. “He was here last time.”
“He probably just took your money and ran.”
"Well, in that case," Hu Tao says, tapping her fingertips together with a menacing smile, "we should hunt him down!"
Though labeled as a "manhunt", the afternoon really just consisted of the two of them wandering aimlessly around Liyue, chatting and snacking as they popped in and out of various stores. Even so, somehow, they manage to find the culprit anyway.
"Aha! There!" Hu Tao bounds forward, gesturing for Xiao to follow.
Outside near Liuli Pavillion, there's a simple, foldable table set up. On it is an array of wooden boxes, each with its own unique design. A person sits behind the table, inspecting one of the boxes while whistling a merry tune.
A person, Xiao realizes suddenly, wearing a bucket hat and with twin, black braids framing his face.
Something, a feeling he can't quite place a name to, stirs deep in Xiao's gut.
"Mister street vendor~!" Hu Tao says. The boy's head snaps up, peering at them curiously. Xiao hangs back, nerves fluttering in his chest. Though he had offhandedly wondered if (even wished for, but that was a secret he wasn't ready to tackle) they would cross paths again, he never really planned for the after. He ducks his head, hoping to obscure his face.
"Oh, hello there!" the boy greets Hu Tao happily. "I remember you."
“Yep, I'm a loyal customer!" she boasts, adding, "you moved places!”
“Hehe, I switch to random locations a lot. Appealing to different audiences and all. I’m honored you came and found me though!”
"Mhm!" Hu Tao swings back and forth on her feet. "I brought a friend this time, too!" Without turning around, she grabs a fistful of Xiao's clothes and yanks him forward.
The boy's eyes slide over to him, and Xiao tightens the strings of his hoodie, his mind a mental marathon of please don't recognize me please don't recognize me pleasepleaseplease —
"Oh!" Xiao can practically hear the smile in his voice, dammit. "It's you again!"
"Wait, you know each other?" Hu Tao gasps in exaggerated surprise, hand over her mouth, as she turns to Xiao. Her eyes gaze at him, wide and sincere. "Wait, you actually have friends!?"
Xiao glares.
Hu Tao snickers.
"We do!" the boy says with a laugh. "From another life, or from a dream—"
"We don't know each other," Xiao interrupts.
The boy pouts. "That's not true. We had such a wonderful night together!"
"Wait, you had a one-night stand?" Hu Tao gasps again, jabbing Xiao's side with her elbow. "Wait, people actually like you?!"
Xiao's scowl deepens.
The boy giggles. "Okay, hehe, I'll stop messing around. We bumped into each other the other night, that's all!" He pauses. "Though he is rather charming. Er, despite the glares." He turns to Xiao, eyes glimmering. "Have you sung to the glaze lilies?"
"I can't sing to them," Xiao tells him seriously. "The only music I know is screamo."
The boy laughs. "Oh, so you can joke!"
Seeing Xiao's unflinching expression, the boy's smile falters. His eyes glance at Xiao's all-black ensemble, then at Hu Tao. "That. That was a joke, right?"
Hu Tao cackles in response.
"I'll tell you," she says slyly, "if you give me a refund!"
The boy squawks. "A refund?! Why would you need a refund?"
"It doesn't work!" Hu Tao rummages into her bag, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. Her expression lights up, and she slams something down on the table with a grin.
It's a wooden rectangular box, very similar to the ones cluttering the table. Red embellishments decorate the edges while bunches of flowers and stems are carved into the sides. Xiao watches, curious.
The street vendor peers down at it, then flicks the lid open in one fluid motion. Slowly, tinkling, bell-like music begins to fill the air. Xiao tips his head to the side. The song curls around him, enveloping him like a blanket. It's different from the one he heard the boy play that night in the glaze lilies, but just as charming. Just as beautiful. Haunting, yet with a playful lilt — it fits Hu Tao quite well, really. At once, he begins to understand how she could have been so taken with it.
"It works just fine!" the boy proclaims, shutting the box. The corners of Xiao's lips flick down as the music cuts off.
"It's not doing the thing!" Hu Tao flails her arms. Xiao furrows his brows. A sense of dread begins to settle in his veins. "I don't see anything at all!"
The boy blinks owlishly at them. "Well, this music box summons ghosts, not gives you the ability to see them!"
Xiao lets the words sink in, processing, then looks to Hu Tao incredulously. "That's why you bought it?"
Hu Tao arches an eyebrow. "Okay, honestly? That should be the least surprising part of this."
Xiao opens his mouth. Closes it. Wordlessly turns back to the vendor.
"It's working just fine, really, I promise! Spirits love this song! And it's a lovely tune, too, and such a beautiful design. You really have nothing to complain about!" The boy pushes the music box towards Hu Tao with a triumphant glint in his eyes.
"Besides!" he adds brightly, clasping his hands together, "the money's already all gone, so I can't refund you anyway!" He smiles serenely. Xiao wonders if his brain has been replaced with cotton.
"Didn't you buy this a week ago?" Xiao asks Hu Tao.
"I did! And it was a loooooot of money, too, mister!" She waggles her finger at the salesman.
The boy just giggles. "And it bought a looooot of great wine!"
Xiao sighs. He can no longer tell how much of this boy was serious and how much was pure jest. "You," Xiao says, exasperation taking over, "have awful business sense."
"Sure," the boy agrees, "but now I also have great wine!"
Hu Tao taps her chin pensively. And then, as Xiao watches, one by one her features shift. Her brows unknit, her eyes brighten, the corners of her lips flip upward, all pleasant and disarming. If Xiao squinted, he was sure he could see the lightbulb flicker on above her head. Instinctively, the hairs on his arm stand straight.
"You know," Hu Tao says easily, leaning over the table, "it's fine, whatever! I'll just whine to my girlfriend about it, no biggie!"
The boy sits up eagerly. "Oh, how cute! I do really adore young love! How about purchasing a gift for her?" He gestures towards his products, tactfully pretending they hadn't come here demanding a refund.
"Sure!" Hu Tao blinks innocently. "Do you have anything a lawyer would like?"
The boy freezes, suddenly nervous. "Lawyer...?"
"Mhm, laaaaaawyer," Hu Tao drawls the word out. "Hopefully she won't mind hearing about how I was scammed by such a nefarious, shady street salesman!" Hu Tao tilts her head. "She can be rather ruthless when she wants to be, y'know! Super smart! Can put just about anyone into prison, really. She has a great track record!" Hu Tao giggles delightedly while the street vendor gapes at her. He looks towards Xiao, eyes wide.
Is she serious? he mouths.
Xiao shrugs. He probably could clarify Yanfei's status as a law student, but, hey, he was loyal to his friends.
The boy groans. "Fine, fine!" he acquiesces. "I really can't refund you right now, so how about I give you a deal?"
His eyes scan across the table until me mutters a quiet "Aha!". He carefully takes one of the other music boxes and pushes it towards Xiao. The square box is painted a dark blue, a golden dusting of of glitter giving it a shimmer. Two four-pointed stars are carved onto the lid. With a flourish, the boy props it open.
It starts with the music trickling out, drip by drip, before it slowly coalesces until it flows like a river. Again, Xiao lets the sound wash over him, the refrain catching on his heart.
"I'll give this to you for free! This one," the boy gazes at it with a soft smile, "ensures that you get a restful, peaceful sleep. No nightmares, only pleasant dreams."
Xiao watches the boy as he speaks. There's something about him when he talks about his music, fond and warm. Like every note was a pearl harvested from an oyster and every melody was a child he raised. Something pure and tender and loving and proud.
A pang of longing aches in Xiao's heart. He has not felt something like that towards his own music in a very, very long time.
Hu Tao's eyes dart between the music box, the vendor, and Xiao. "For me?" she clarifies.
"Um," the boy says nervously, "for him, actually." He gestures towards Xiao half-heartedly.
"That's the wrong customer," Xiao points out.
"Oh come on," the boy prods, "I'm really just a starving salesman, and I really don't have the money anymore, so please have some pity on me. I just thought he would have more appreciation for it!"
Xiao frowns, his words prickling against his brain. It was true that Xiao was never the soundest sleeper, was prone to bouts of insomnia, but did he look the part? He lightly presses a finger towards his under-eyes self-consciously. The boy looks at him in amusement.
"I don't understand how this really benefits me, though." Hu Tao places her hips on her hand.
"Well, obviously, you're friend will be less grumpy!"
"I'm not grumpy," Xiao grumbles under his breath.
"And, well, he kind of inspired this one! So it's really only fair."
For a moment, Xiao lets himself be swayed by the boy's charm and words, lets himself believe that someone like Xiao could serve as anyone's muse. But then, reality knocks back into him, and Xiao rolls his eyes. "That's not possible." Xiao sighs. "We met a week ago. You're just trying to scam us again."
The boy just laughs.
Hu Tao looks at Xiao, and then at the sales vendor. "Huh," she says to herself, a smile splitting from ear to ear, then: "We'll take it! Thanks!" She snatches the music box up and shoves it into Xiao's hands. He stares at it in disbelief.
The boy exhales a puff of relief. "Fantastic! Glad we could settle that without any lawsuits."
"...Thanks," Xiao mutters softly, turning the box gingerly in his hands.
The boy beams at him. "Of course, not-stranger! We’ve already stumbled into each other's lives twice now, after all. That's no coincidence. Must be the strings of fate!" He winks, and Xiao stares.
Is.
Is he flirting?
He glances out of the corner of his eye. Hu Tao, like the menace she is, has now taken her phone out and aimed its camera very obviously towards them. When she notices Xiao looking, she gives an enthusiastic thumbs up.
Briefly, he considers murder.
"Definitely just a coincidence,” Xiao answers flatly.
"Such a nonbeliever!" The boy taps his chin. "Can't I at least have your name?"
"No."
"Oh, right, I should probably introduce myself, first!"
"That's not —"
"My name’s Venti!" He holds a hand out that Xiao very deliberately does not shake. "And you are?"
Xiao frowns. "We won't see each other again.” It's not that Xiao is necessarily against the two of them meeting again, had even cradled something too close to hope that they'd fall into each other's paths. But Xiao has never been much of a dreamer.
Venti hums. He tilts his head back and forth, his braids swaying with the movement. "Okay, then how about a deal? If we meet again, then you'll tell me your name, not-stranger!"
Xiao opens his mouth, already tasting his own refusal on his tongue when, instead, what comes out is: "Fine."
Surprised at his own response, Xiao purses his lips together and scowls, afraid of what else might slip out if he wasn't careful. Venti, on the other hand, glows with joy.
"It's a promise!"
"I feel like this didn't work out in your favor," Xiao points out as he and Hu Tao walk away, Venti waving after them.
Hu Tao hums. "Yeah, well!" Her eyes sparkle as she taps on her phone, no doubt doing something with whatever photos she snapped of him and Venti. He prefers not to know exactly what; he feels that this is one of the few times were ignorance really is bliss. "It seemed like he was kinda into you, and maybe you were kinda into him, so I didn't want to be on bad terms with your future boyfriend!"
Xiao nods, momentarily distracted as he examines his new music box, when his brain finishes flipping through her words. He sputters, heat flushing his cheeks.
"Future boyfriend — ?!"
That night, Xiao shoots up in his bed, gasping for air like a drowning man. He clutches his shirt, damp with sweat, knuckles white from the force of it all. His eyes dart towards his clock: 2:44 AM. He doesn't move, counting the seconds as they tick. With each one, the terror flooding his veins seeps out of him drop by drop, muscles uncoiling inch by inch.
In his mind, the nightmare is muddled already, the waking world sanding down its edges. But when he brushes against it, the memories still slice him open.
The sickening crunch of cars slamming together.
The feeling of glass splintering and shattering onto his skin.
The scent of gasoline and blood, thick and poisonous, clogging his nostrils.
The soft, dying whispers of it's okay, Xiao, baby, it'll be okay.
The thought of it all chokes him, steals the air from his lungs and keeps it hostage. He can still hear the sound of sirens ringing in his ears, can still feel the ghost of pain in his bones.
Legs shaking and stiff from fear, he slowly moves to grab a glass of water. His eyes fall onto the music box sitting in his room.
No nightmares, a voice says, soft and kind, only pleasant dreams.
He downs the water in one gulp, returns to his bed, and tries to sleep.
Not even an hour later, Xiao sits up and buries his face in his hands, heart pounding bruises into his ribcage. Nightmares had an ugly habit; once they sunk their claws into you, they never liked to loosen their grip. Though, this time, they were more nonsensical; blood soaking his hands, knives pressed against his neck, shadows drowning his senses.
It didn't make it any less haunting.
Xiao looks up slowly, exhaustion sagging his movements, and a soft sparkle grabs his attention. The music box, glowing gently in the moonlight. He bites his lip.
He takes the music box, a strange amalgamation of desperation and hope and want brewing in his gut. He traces the lines of star-shaped carvings, fingers catching on the lid.
This is absurd, he thinks.
Just a salesman with a talent for glib.
Just a toy meant to scam.
Xiao takes a breath and opens the box.
That night, Xiao dreams of dancing to the sound of a flute in a field of flowers.
The third time they meet, Xiao begins to genuinely believe that he is on the set of an elaborate prank show. Coincidences can only be called such for so long.
He's at Zhongli's apartment, returning a few books he had borrowed from the other's impressive collection, when disaster strikes.
xiao
2:31 PM
Hey.
I have your books, can I drop them off at your place?
zhongli
2:32 PM
Certainly. My roommate will collect them from you.
Xiao stops himself from rolling his eyes, sending a reply before he knocks on the door.
xiao
2:34 PM
We all know you and Childe started dating. You can just call him your boyfriend.
zhongli
2:35 PM
No, I do not mean Childe. We have a new roommate.
Unfortunately.
Unfortunately? Xiao asks, furrowing his brows. Before the text comes, a hauntingly familiar voice calls out, "Just a second!"
Xiao pales. He has never believed in divinity, but now certainly seems like a wonderful time to begin. This is just my imagination, he thinks to himself. This is just a dream.
The door swings open. The gods scoff at him. Xiao hangs his head.
"Oh!" Venti says with a light laugh. "This really is a surprise!"
"What — You live here?!"
"Temporarily!" Venti chirps. "Zhongli's an old friend, so I'm crashing here during my time in Liyue!"
Xiao doesn't — can't — think of a response, the absurdity of the situation rattling his brain.
"If you're looking for that old blockhead though, he went out with his boyfriend," Venti continues. "Him, getting a boyfriend! That one really took me by surprise, let me tell you. He doesn't know a thing about romance!"
Xiao is still, he's sure, holding his imitation of a fish, mouth agape and eyes bulging. Venti seems almost disturbingly nonplussed, smiling as if nothing was amiss.
Fate, huh? Xiao thinks, recalling Venti's words from before.
"Ah, where are my manners! Go ahead, come in!"
Xiao clears his throat, finally finding his voice. "I don't think it's your place to invite me."
"Hehe, sure it is!"
Venti opens the door, and Xiao can't help but follow him inside.
"You never came to visit," Venti complains as he plops down on the couch.
"Your location changes,” Xiao points out.
Venti looks amused. "Well, maybe I would’ve stayed if I knew someone was looking for me.” Before Xiao can parse through the implications of that, Venti barrels ahead. “Anyway, it's our third meeting! As promised, someone owes me a name."
Xiao picks at his fingernails. Something as simple as a name, yet it has become something so massive. "Xiao," he says, strained.
"Xiao," Venti repeats softly, and then smiles. "It's just as lovely as I imagined."
Xiao looks away, hoping the warmth he feels is a mere product of his imagination.
"Have you sung to the glaze lilies?" Venti asks, then tacks on, "I'm sure they'd enjoy screamo, too!"
Xiao snorts. "No."
"Unfortunate! Have you at least listened to the music box?"
Xiao hesitates.
"Yes."
"And?" Venti prods. "Did it help?"
"It did," Xiao admits, then hastily adds, "But it was just a coincidence."
Venti pouts. "It's not a coincidence! They really are magic, you know!"
"Sure they are."
"Xiao," Venti whines. "My whole livelihood, turned into a joke! No respect for your seniors!"
Xiao looks at him incredulously, at Venti's round cheeks and his large doe-like eyes. There was no way in hell. "I'm definitely older."
"I'm older than I look!" Venti protests.
Xiao quirks an eyebrow. "So you're, what, seventeen?" he asks sarcastically.
"Hm, maybe closer to one-hundred and seventeen, really." Venti grins in challenge.
Xiao ducks his head to hide the slight upward twitch of his lips. Banter with Venti was easy, in a way it never was for Xiao. Talking sometimes felt like a chore, even more so with a stranger. But now, sitting here and trading jokes and teases and smiles — it all felt comfortingly familiar.
It was as simple as breathing.
"It was nice," Xiao says at last. "The music box." And the dream it gave, he adds.
At this, Venti's expression softens.
"Thank you, Xiao," he says, grateful and earnest, "that means a lot."
Pink colors Xiao's cheeks. It shouldn't, Xiao thinks. Because Xiao was a stranger. Because Xiao dreams of spinning gold from notes like Venti does.
Because the weight of way Venti was looking at him felt too heavy for Xiao to bear.
Venti continues. "I'm actually working on a new song, wanna listen?"
Xiao nods mutely.
Venti clears his throat, closing his eyes and placing a hand on his chest. Xiao closes his eyes with him. When Venti begins to sing, Xiao feels the tension drain out of him. His voice is just as Xiao expected — warm, clear, beautiful. Something like this, Xiao thinks in wonder, could soothe all the world's abrasive edges. Xiao tilts his head, listening, when he registers that Venti is singing a string of nonsensical numbers.
When Venti finishes, Xiao opens his eyes and looks at him with a frown. "What was that?" Xiao asks suspiciously.
Venti laughs. "My phone number! In case you wanted to add it!"
Xiao huffs a laugh. "You're ridiculous." Xiao can't hide the amusement coloring his voice.
Venti looks especially pleased by the comment, beaming. "Okay, that was a joke. But I really am working on a song, and I would love to hear your feedback!"
Xiao pauses. "Why me?"
Venti pulls his legs onto the couch, shoes and all. Xiao makes a face, but Venti doesn't seem to notice.
"Well," he says, fiddling with one of his braids, "I can tell you really love music!" Xiao doesn't respond. Venti smiles gently. "When you listen to music," he continues, "you open up a little, and you have this look on your face." He pauses. "You look like it could save you."
Xiao freezes, staring. Venti's gaze is steady, unwavering. There's - there's something else in there, too, the same weight from earlier. Something Xiao doesn't quite understand, a code he can't crack. A question Venti is asking that Xiao can't even fathom, let alone find a way to answer.
The silence hangs in the air. Xiao is too afraid to even breathe against it, wondering what would happen to this moment if he chose to shatter it.
Thankfully, Venti breaks it for him.
"It reminds me a bit of the glaze lilies," Venti giggles. "And while the glaze lilies are wonderful listeners, they can't provide a lot of criticism!" He leans forward.
"So, not-stranger? Can I give you my number?"
It was never really up for debate at all.
Xiao hands him his phone.
venti
7:43 PM
xiao!!
i got your name AND your number so quickly
im speedrunning this relationship!
xiao
7:45 PM
What relationship?
venti
7:45 PM
TT ^ TT 💔
our blooming friendship! 🌸
xiao
7:46 PM
😑
venti
7:48 PM
lolol
all anti-venti behavior aside~
heres the 🎶! let me know what u think pls :3
venti
9:01 PM
ouch... was it that bad???
xiao
9:02 PM
No.
It's nice.
venti
9:03 PM
u sure have a way with words :p
xiao
9:05 PM
...
venti
9:05 PM
i didn't mean it in a bad way ofc!!!
xiao
9:06 PM
I just don't think my opinion really matters here.
venti
9:06 PM
nonsense, xiao!!
i'd love to hear what u have to say.
Somehow, Xiao's routine slowly but surely begins to shift.
Like clockwork, every day when Xiao returns home, he sits in front of his keyboard. He presses a key, then another, then another. The sounds are grating and harsh, clashing and combative, and Xiao isn't finding — can't find — the harmony in them. He gives up, smashes a run or two on the keys in frustration, and opens his phone. He replies to Venti's texts, listens to the songs he sends, and wonders what Venti sees in him that he deems so valuable.
Like clockwork, every night, after Xiao turns off his lights and before he slips under his covers, he opens the music box sitting in his room. He lets the melody carry him to sleep, and, amidst flowers and music and laughter, Xiao finds a home in the serenity it brings.
A week later, after Hu Tao wheedles him into a night out with their friends (It's our first time out since graduation, Xiao!), Xiao is met with a surprisingly unsurprising sight.
"Aw, c'mon! That's just a silly ole piece of art, there's no need to pay it any mind!"
A familiar voice rings in Xiao's ears as soon as he sets foot inside Third-Round Knockout, stopping him abruptly. He feels Hu Tao bump into him and distantly registers her complaints.
"Oy! Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about this now, you boring old man!"
He ignores her. Instead, his eyes skim the area to find Venti at the bar, animatedly gesturing at an old man behind the counter.
"Oh?" Hu Tao says from behind. The lilt of interest in her voice does not bode well for the rest of the night. "Isn't that the guy you've been texting?"
When Xiao doesn't answer, Hu Tao cackles. Xiao has approximately one second to feel terror flush through his veins before Hu Tao begins to shove him forward. He stumbles with a yelp, narrowly meeting the ground in a fashion too intimate for someone so sober, but she pays him no mind and pulls him to sit a few seats away from the person of interest before bounding off with a set of finger guns. Luckily, Venti is far too engrossed in his argument to notice.
The man he's talking to sighs, exasperated. Xiao feels a sense of pity; he knows how conversations with Venti tend to go.
"Like I already said, this is a valuable message that's been passed down my family for generations. You have to leave." He waves a sheet of paper in front of Venti, and, curious, Xiao sneaks a peak.
On it is a crude drawing of a stick person. The only distinct features are its all-green ensemble, a vague blob representing a hat, and the short, black hair with two braids dangling from the head. Xiao glances at Venti.
The resemblance was truly startling.
In addition, the artist had also taken the artistic liberty to add horns and a forked tail, which Xiao also thought fitting. The words written on the page read, "DO NOT LET HIM IN. HE WILL DRINK ALL, YET PAY NONE. BEWARE!!!"
Xiao rests his chin in his hand, hiding the beginnings of a smile in his palm.
"That can't possibly be me! This was from generations ago, how would that even make sense?!"
The man shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Maybe they could see the damn future. Who knows? Either way, this looks exactly like you."
"Now, mister — " Venti squints his eyes at the man's nametag. "— Degui, as much as I am an appreciator of the arts, this is just a stick figure."
Degui stares him down. "Are you insulting my great-grandfather's skills?"
"I'm insulting your common sense!" Venti laments, throwing his head on the table in despair. "Third-Round Knockout's reputation in Liyue is unprecedented, and I am in dire need of a good drink. Won't you allow this poor, poor man to ease his pains for the night in this fine establishment?"
Degui levels him a look before crossing his arms. "Well, can you pay?"
Venti pauses, then smiles brightly, hope gleaming in his expression. "In charm and song!"
"Okay, get out —"
"I'll pay for him," Xiao cuts in, startling all of them, Xiao included. The words had leapt off his tongue before he had the chance to swallow them.
Venti and Degui's heads both snap to look at him, Venti with unbridled surprise and Degui like he was a madman. Venti's face lights up with joy, surely pleased at his new, Xiao-shaped wallet.
Degui's expression sours. "Fine. But if anything goes wrong, you're all banned." He spins towards the woman working the bar, who'd been nervously scrubbing a glass. "You! Keep an eye on them."
She squeaks out a "Yessir!", but he's already gone before she finishes speaking.
"Xiao!" Venti sings, shuffling until they sit side-by-side. "My knight in shining armor! Thanks for the save. I've been arguing with that old man for ages!"
Xiao wonders, briefly, about the paper the old man had and the drawing of Venti on it. Though Degui had claimed it was an age-old family heirloom, Xiao wouldn't be surprised if they had conjured it up as an excuse not to let Venti into their bar. From what he's learned about the boy since meeting him, it seemed he had a penchant for drinking his nights away despite a conspicuously empty wallet. It was a creative tactic on the part of the bar, Xiao had to at least give them that.
"Do you never have money on you?" Xiao asks, forced annoyance ringing in his tone. It only comes out sounding entertained.
Venti giggles, tactfully avoiding an answer.
"Well, I can't let such a chivalrous act go unrewarded!" Venti fishes something out of his pocket and fiddles with it before sliding it over. Xiao picks it up.
It's a slip of paper, no bigger than the palm of his hand, that says, "one free music box!! :)" decorated with music notes.
"I see why you have no money," Xiao says flatly, "you keep giving your products away for free."
Venti grins. "That's only special treatment for my favorite customers!" He leans forward with a playful wink.
Xiao flushes crimson, and Venti laughs delightedly.
"Well, have you sung to the glaze lilies?" he asks as soon as Xiao regains his composure.
Xiao sighs. "Are you going to ask every time we meet?"
Venti smiles, sly and mischievous. "Are you implying that we'll keep meeting?"
Xiao ignores him, scowling. Instead, after a moment, he tips his head towards the bar. "What do you want?"
Venti brighten, straightening. "Dandelion wine, if you could! I heard they recently introduced it, and I had to see for myself! I'm a Mondstadtian, you know. It's practically my duty!"
Xiao nods and gets the attention of the woman from earlier. He relays the order to her, adding on a glass for himself as well.
After she pours their drinks, Venti turns his attention back to Xiao. "I never thought I'd see you here, Xiao!" Venti chirps. He downs the entire glass of wine in one swift movement. Xiao tries not to gape. Wasn't wine supposed to be something sipped, something savored? Venti orders another glass, and a foreboding feeling churns in Xiao's stomach.
"I'm here with my friends," Xiao says, trying not to stare. He gestures a bit to the side, where Hu Tao is chattering away with Yanfei, Chongyun, and Xingqiu. He notes, eyes narrowed, that their table is situated at a perfect viewing spot to watch him and Venti. Xiao knows Hu Tao too well to think it a coincidence.
"Oh!" Venti leans forward with interest. "That's the one that bought the music box, right? The ghost one?"
Xiao pauses, frowning. "Does it really summon ghosts?"
Venti groans. "Do we have to have this conversation every time? My music is really magic, you know!"
Xiao scoffs into his glass. He knows better to believe Venti, knows that this was a selling point for profit, knows that it's all just a series of well-timed coincidences. Knows that the music that sings him to sleep and sweetens his dreams is just a champion of chance. And yet, even knowing that, Xiao still can't help but ask:
"Why would you want to summon ghosts?"
Venti looks at him, clear and sharp. For a moment, it cuts through him like a blade, and Xiao feels his breath catch in his throat. He feels as if he, ignorant and reckless, had stepped on a landmine. And now, he's just waiting for the explosion to tear him apart.
But, in a heartbeat, Venti's expression shifts, a playful glint in his eyes once more. "Hmm," he hums, swinging his legs, "I'm not drunk enough for that yet. How about you try again in, say, twenty drinks?"
"Whatever — wait, twenty?!"
Somehow, approximately twenty-two drinks later (with Xiao mourning his funds that Venti was happily dumping down his gullet), it comes up once again.
Hu Tao and Venti had been engaging in a series of very involved debates, the latest being the optimal strategy in a zombie apocalypse. It had quickly devolved to more and more ridiculous scenarios; Venti was currently advocating for the merit of using a flute to stab a zombie through its eye-socket. It was fun, though Xiao would be hard-pressed to admit such a thing. Xiao could see the pair of them forging a strong alliance, zombies or not; they were both high-energy and eccentric, bouncing off of each other's ideas with enthusiasm and wit.
"Oh yeah!" Hu Tao says suddenly. "You were right about the music box, by the way! It actually does work! I've been using a Ouija board to talk to all the ghosts, and they say they like your music!"
"See!" Venti harrumphs. "And you were giving me all that grief, too." He pauses. "But, uh, be careful with the Ouija board. If you get possessed or something, then I'm not liable. Be sure to tell your lawyer girlfriend as much, too!"
"Don't worry, I use Ouija boards all the time!
"I really don't think that's the comfort you think it is, but I'll drink to it!" Venti raises his (twenty-third, Xiao bemoans) glass, and the pair down their respective drinks.
Xiao doesn't quite understand why it has piqued his interest so, but when Hu Tao wanders off with Yanfei soon after, Xiao can't help but wonder.
"The ghosts," Xiao says abruptly, finding no easy way to segue into the topic. "Are you drunk enough?"
Venti looks at him in surprise, eyes wide. "You still want to know?"
Xiao swirls his own drink with a shrug, wondering if his curiosity is as palpable as he feels it is.
Venti doesn't respond immediately, staring at the countertop. His cheeks are flushed pink from the alcohol, hat askew on his head. Again, watching Venti right now, Xiao can feel the landmine. It's as if a switch has flipped. The easy joy and energy is gone; the person sitting with him only has Venti's appearance, none of his light and laughter. Xiao has never seen him so somber, so used to seeing his eyes light with mirth and fun. Although Xiao can barely begin to call Venti something more than acquaintance, seeing the boy who found a home in smiles look so hollow causes a part of Xiao to ache.
He waits for the blast.
"You don't have to — "
"Xiao," Venti interrupts, voice soft and serious, "can I share something private with you?"
Xiao opens his mouth, wanting to ask why. Why Venti would want to open up to someone like him, someone he has only spent fragments of time with, someone he barely knows. But perhaps, Xiao muses, some pains are easiest to share with those who hold no weight. He lets his mouth fall closed, swallowing thickly with a nod.
Venti is quiet again, holding his drink close. His brows are furrowed as he chews on his lip. His eyes dart to Xiao.
Xiao doesn't know what Venti finds there. But, somehow, Venti's expression softens, a sad smile graces his lips, and he begins.
"Today's date marks the death of someone I used to know."
Xiao blinks, taken by surprise. "I — I'm sorry."
Venti frowns and shakes his head, waving off his words. "No, that's not — " Venti sighs. "Please don't."
"Sorr—" Xiao cuts himself off before he can finish the word, and Venti chuckles under his breath.
Another few beats of silence. Then —
"I loved him."
And Xiao knew it, had felt it coming, had seen it in the tired arch of Venti's back. Yet it rattles him still, the sorrow buried within each syllable. The way the grief clings to Venti like a cloak. Xiao knows. He has worn it himself, after all.
"I was too scared to tell him," Venti continues, voice distant, "and then, it was too late. And it was all my fault."
Xiao can't move. He doesn't know what to say, the gravity of it all turning him to stone. He wasn't built for this, for people to find comfort and reassurances in. He was all spikes and barbs; one wrong move, and he feared he would cut their tentative connection until it bled.
All he can do is let Venti carry on.
"Sometimes, I hoped that if I played that song, then..." Venti trails off. He shakes his head.
"But instead, now I just drink it all away. Though I'm sure if he knew what I was like now, he would be disappointed in who I've become." Venti's grip on his glass tightens. "Guess his ghost never needed to be here to haunt me." Venti punctuates it with a laugh, self-deprecating and bitter, and Xiao's heart tears itself apart.
No, Xiao wants to tell him, wants to find some way to ease his pain. The words stick in his throat, too big and uncomfortable and drenched in alcohol.
Venti's eyes slide to him, tries to smile. The edge of it wobbles. "Ah, I ruined the mood!"
Xiao swallows, his voice coming back to him in pieces. "No — shit, sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
Venti shakes his head. "It's all right! I wouldn't have told you if I didn't want you to know."
Xiao's mouth feels dry. How can he be trusted with something like this? Xiao was never good at handling delicate, fragile things; he'd fumble them in his fingers until they'd slip shatter on the ground like glass. And yet, even so, Venti keeps tossing bits and pieces of himself towards him like he knew Xiao would catch them.
And the thing is, the thing he doesn't quite understand, is that he wants to. Wants to hold them, cherish them, keep them safe.
Keep Venti safe.
But Venti is a stranger. And Xiao doesn't understand.
"Mmm, besides," Venti says softly, words melting together, his chin resting atop his arms on the counter, "you remind me of him." He turns his head, eyes holding onto Xiao's. This time, when a flicker of a smile returns to his lips, it feels a bit more genuine. "But, y'know Xiao, I like you just as you are, too."
The sincerity with which Venti says it stings.
"Ah, I really have had too much to drink," Venti groans, pressing a hand to his face. "I think this might be a sign for me to leave."
Xiao clears his throat. "Do you want me to call Zhongli...?" Xiao asks, strangled and hoarse.
Venti makes a face as he stands. He sways, stumbling, before steadying himself. "Ugh, no, he'll just end up lecturing me the entire time. I can get home fine by myself." He pauses. "Oh, but remember to stop by to pick up that music box! I have one I think you'll like a lot."
Xiao thinks he could offer to walk Venti back. Could lend a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen. Could be a friend instead of a stranger.
Xiao doesn't say a word. He nods, brows furrowed, mouth pinched tight.
Venti chuckles. "Now, don't make that face! It'll get stuck like that if you're not careful," he reminds him. And then suddenly, Xiao's vision is filled with Venti's face, their noses separated by a few mere inches as Venti pokes Xiao's cheek. Reflexively, Xiao leans back with a startled noise in the back of his throat, flustered and pink and nearly topples over from his seat. Venti laughs.
"Hehe, that's better! Thanks for the drinks tonight, Xiao! I'll see you later!"
Xiao watches Venti turn away, watches him start to leave. His heart lurches, and then —
"Wait." The word comes from Xiao like its been punched out, leaving him desperate and winded. His hand is curled around Venti's wrist.
Venti stops.
"I'm don't think he'd be disappointed," Xiao blurts out unceremoniously. "Your friend, I mean. I think — you — Archons." His friends often joked that words had to be yanked out of Xiao's teeth lest the man finds a home in silence. But really, the thing was, Xiao never knew how to string words together like pearls, could never paint a beautiful picture or sing a lovely song. And now, in this stupid bar with this stupid boy, Xiao feels so utterly unwound and undone. By the music, by the dim lights, by the alcohol.
By Venti.
"I just — I like your music," Xiao says lamely.
Venti looks confused. He tilts his head. "Thank you?"
Xiao berates himself mentally. "I mean. I think." He takes a breath. "I mean, even if you did put me in debt tonight with all your drinks...." He meets Venti's eyes. "I like you just as you are, too."
Venti stares. His eyes are wide, lips parted. The depth in Venti's gaze could make Xiao drown; Again, Xiao feels Venti is looking as if he is searching for something in Xiao that he cannot understand and cannot give.
Something in Venti's face crumbles. His hand ghosts along Xiao's cheek.
Xiao burns with the touch.
"Oh Xiao," Venti says, soft and sweet and sorrowful. "You're really, truly, much too kind."
When Venti leaves, Xiao feels the echo of fingers on his skin and an ache in his heart.