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Venti got a paper cut during orchestra.
This wasn’t a big deal or even particularly unusual — if you turn the sheet music fast enough to get the flute back up before you come in for your solo, you ended up with paper cuts. It didn’t matter, really, except it was just plain annoying.
He complained about it during his study session with Xiao. They were studying different things — they always did, they just had a habit of meeting up in one of the library study rooms on Thursday — and Venti wasn’t studying at all. Today he was using the paper cut as an excuse, but he rarely needed one. He mostly just wanted to sit around with Xiao for an hour between classes. Sometimes, Xiao would give up studying and talk to him instead, which is always nice. They were friends but Venti wanted to know him even better. Xiao was different than all of Venti’s other friends, and Venti liked it when Xiao listened to him and he liked that Xiao had given up on studying to listen to his sad saga about his paper cut and—
Xiao gave him a pink band-aid with a little cat face on it. It was so out of place that Venti shut up talking entirely. “Ah?”
“Sorry,” Xiao said seriously, zipping up in his pencil bag. “I know you’re allergic to cats.”
Venti was so warm and fuzzy all over from the gesture that he didn’t even mind that his over-the-top complaining had been cut short. “It’s adorable,” he said, but he meant Xiao. I know you’re allergic, shut up, that was so adorable. What a cute, funny, amazing thing to say. Venti was in love with his best friend who apparently bought cat band-aids. Did Xiao wear the cat band-aids? “Put it on me?”
“It’s a band-aid.”
“I’m injured,” he said dramatically, draping himself all over the table and Xiao’s notes, specifically. “Help me!”
Xiao scoffed in the back of his throat, a sound that Venti knew by now was more fond than annoyed. And he did help Venti sit back up, more gentle than rough. Venti scooted his chair forward, closer to Xiao, until their knees knocked together under the table. It was all a game, in a way — to see what Venti could get away with, which he kept finding was a lot more than he expected. It was a game, to see how close he could get, how close Xiao would allow him.
Xiao wrapped the cat band-aid around Venti’s finger with care. He made sure it wasn’t crooked, or maybe he was lingering just because — well, Venti wasn’t going to think about that right now. He just enjoyed Xiao’s hands on his for however brief it was.
“I think your prospects are good,” Xiao said mildly, and Venti didn’t realize he was making a joke until he added, “Don’t sue me if you lose the hand.”
Venti burst into laughter, shoving at him with said injured hand. It really was just a papercut, he knew, and it was barely more than an irritant. All a band-aid really did was stop it from irritating himself a little further; though he’d argue wearing a band-aid on your finger is just as irritating, especially for a musician such as himself. But it was nice, for Xiao to soothe even a little annoyance. “Are you sure, doctor?”
“Very much so.”
Venti waved his bandaged finger in Xiao’s face. “You didn’t kiss it better, though!”
Xiao’s face turned slightly pink, which was enough for Venti to know he was really embarrassed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, pushing Venti’s hand away. “It’s a papercut.”
“Mortal wound!”
“Then you need better care than a band-aid,” Xiao told him. Even his ears were turning pink, which was honestly quite fetching on him. Everything looked fetching on Xiao, Venti thought. A cat band-aid especially, though he’d never seen Xiao wear one.
“Nah,” Venti said, settling back in his chair. He propped his feet up on the chair next to him, warm and leisurely. Maybe he’d take a nap right here, with the summer sun slanting through the window and Xiao to keep him company while he dozed. “I think you patched me up just fine.”
(He wore the band-aid all day.)
Venti was a very good skateboarder, so it wasn’t his fault he’d fallen off. That was what he told Xiao, anyways.
Xiao told him to wear better safety gear. “You’re going to have a hard time getting to class,” he said, brow furrowed. Venti was getting better at reading his expressions, and despite the shadow of the trees above them, he thought this one was worry more than anything else, even though it was just a sprain.
“You can carry me there,” Venti suggested, tightening his arms just a tiny bit around Xiao’s neck. Xiao was, in fact, currently giving Venti a piggy back ride back to their dorm, which was pretty far away from the skatepark Venti liked to go to, but Xiao was pretty strong. He even had Venti’s skateboard tucked under his arm, even though it was probably heavy.
Xiao snorted. “Who has the time?”
Venti kicked his foot out, making Xiao veer a little bit to the left, briefly into the shade of a spring-green tree and then back into the sun. He thought Xiao would really do it, if he asked. Carry his books, carry him. “Xiao,” he whined. He wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t taking full advantage of being this close to him, his chin nestled in the crook of his shoulder. Xiao’s earring was cold against Venti’s cheek. “Kiss it better.”
Xiao wrinkled his nose “You know that only spreads bacteria more, right?”
“So?” Venti smashed his hand against Xiao’s face inelegantly. “Kiss it better!”
“How is kissing your hand going to make your ankle better?”
Well, obviously Venti had a great solution to this. “I didn’t sprain my ankle, I sprained my wrist!”
Xiao’s footsteps slowed. “Why am I carrying you,” he said, betrayed and yet making no move to drop Venti flat on his ass. Because Xiao was wonderful and Xiao had come to get him when Venti fell off his skateboard and sprained his wrist, and it wasn’t that bad but it did hurt, a little bit. And all Venti could think was that he wanted to talk to Xiao and he’d feel better.
“You assumed,” Venti said, throwing his head back and laughing, holding on for dear life with his good hand. “Don’t be mad! Don’t be mad, it’s just a little sprain! You don’t have to carry me anymore.”
Xiao grumbled, hiking Venti a little higher up on his back. The movement brought Venti closer to him. He felt so high up like this, like he could fly. “We’re almost there anyways,” he said begrudgingly, though it seemed fonder than it should have been. His brow furrowed, like he was already planning out a way to con Venti into wearing those ugly wrist guards that were stowed away somewhere under his bed in his little dorm room. Xiao definitely knew about them.
Venti relaxed against Xiao’s back, enjoying how Xiao was always so cool, even when it was warm out and the sun was shining. It was refreshing. “Thank you for carrying me,” he sang into Xiao’s ear, and was vindicated by the small smile that Xiao clearly struggled not to let show. “Even if it’s my hand that hurt, you made me feel better.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know what could make me feel even better, though,” Venti said, wiggling his eyebrows in a dramatic manner.
Xiao side-eyed him. “What.”
“Kiss it better. I would kiss your boo-boo better.”
“I don’t sprain my wrist,” Xiao said flatly, which wasn’t anything Venti could prove was a lie, but factually untrue just based on the laws of the universe. “Take better care of yourself next time.”
“We should get an apartment together next year,” Venti said, before he could think better of it. Last year students didn’t have housing and most of them were tired of the dorms; Venti sure was. But Xiao was only down the hall in the dorms, and Venti wanted him just as close next year. Even closer, if he could. “Then you can kiss it better all the time.”
It took Xiao a moment to decide. Venti waited for him, cheeks pressed together as Xiao carried him through the rest of the quad, the spring wind whistling coolly around them. With anyone else, Venti would have felt rejected; with Xiao, it was different. Xiao needed a moment to think about it because it was a real question that needed a real answer.
“Alright,” Xiao said eventually. “Someone should keep you out of trouble.”
“Hey,” Venti complained, but it was cut off by Xiao craning his head down and placing a sloppy kiss on the back of Venti’s wrist. Venti’s face went hot immediately and Xiao seemed just as flustered, like he hadn’t meant to do it. And it was a joke, every time Venti asked, because there was no other way to ask for a thing you wanted so much.
And Xiao gave it to him.
“What happened?”
Venti jumped about a mile in the air, dropping the washcloth directly into the sink with a wet smack. He hadn’t heard Xiao come home. “Nothing!”
Xiao crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. He took up the whole doorframe like this so that Venti couldn’t see out the hallway into the living room, only the gray of Xiao’s loose shirt. “What really happened?”
Venti had never really gotten used to being caught in Xiao’s gaze, the way it was so focused he felt simultaneously very small and so huge he could swallow the world whole.
“Really,” Venti insisted, closing the medicine cabinet behind him. The lighting in their tiny bathroom was a revolting yellow and it made him look way worse than he was — he looked like a zombie, frankly — and really it was just a red welt on the corner of his mouth, that was all. Just the normal bumps you got when you did something stupid. “You didn’t even see anything.”
Xiao unfolded his arms. Venti tried to shove past him — it was a very embarrassing story and he didn’t want to be embarrassing in front of Xiao! — but Xiao caught his arm, stopping Venti in place even though his grip was gentle. “It looks like it hurts.”
He raised his hand slowly, fingers curling across Venti’s jaw. It was new, the way Xiao touched Venti since they had moved into this shitty apartment with the tiny living room and the huge balcony that they liked to sit out Venti was always tactile, always had been — Xiao was never so. It had taken all these years of friendship for Xiao to reach out first.
Xiao’s thumb caressed the welt on his cheek; his touch cool against the hot, angry skin. “Tell me?”
“I—” Venti started, but Xiao was already looking disappointed, and Venti couldn’t stand that. Xiao looked so upset with himself, even, not Venti. Venti didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t managed to stop Venti from getting hurt, even if it was just a red mark that would fade in a matter of hours, or because Venti wouldn’t tell him. “I hit myself in the cheek with my flute.”
The hand dropped immediately, shock coloring Xiao’s face. “You—” Bastard, he sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “What?”
Venti groaned, shoving ineffectually at Xiao’s shoulder. “I hit myself in the face with my flute, are you happy? I was just — the head joint was kind of stuck, so I—” he pantomimed twisting his flute. It had been kind of stuck and he had been tugging pretty hard, which you weren’t supposed to do but sue him, and it just — popped off. The mouthpiece careened directly into Venti’s cheek. “Stop laughing!”
Xiao was laughing, a full-bodied laugh that made his shoulders shake and his mouth curve into a wide smile. “Sorry,” he said around the edges of his giggles, which made him look so young that Venti was awe-struck. “Sorry, sorry, here—” he picked up the abandoned washcloth in the sink, wetting it cold.
Venti let Xiao hold the cold washcloth to his face. It wasn’t swelling, his cheek — he’d checked, okay, it was impossible to play the flute or kiss anyone if your cheek was swollen — but it smarted a little when he talked. And probably also when he’d play the flute or kiss anyone. But the cold made it feel better.
Or maybe that was just Xiao and the warmth in his eyes, the dedication with which he took to the extremely mild task of cooling down Venti’s cheek. “It feels better,” Venti said, getting half the washcloth in his mouth. But he thought it was important to say.
“It probably doesn’t need ice.”
“Psh, who do you think I am that I can bop myself that hard?”
“Very strong,” Xiao said solemnly, except he was definitely still trying not to laugh, wasn’t he? Venti could tell. His eyes were all warm and his lips were pressed into that thin line that meant he was trying not to have any emotions at all and Venti wanted to see all of them and — Xiao pulled the washcloth away, the air startingly cool on Venti’s bare skin. “It’s not so red anymore. Does it still hurt?”
“A little,” Venti admitted, watching Xiao rinse out the washcloth. He made even the dingy yellow light look good. “You could kiss it better.”
Xiao turned the faucet off abruptly, the bathroom suddenly silent. Venti had been serious this time, had wanted it this time. And things have been different with Xiao; more loaded, more… intimate. If Venti had been planning this, he wouldn’t have said this in their dingy, not clean bathroom at eleven o’clock at night but it had just happened. It felt like if he said it, Xiao would know what he wanted.
Xiao slid his gaze along to Venti’s in the mirror. “You mean it this time?”
Venti gave him a smile. “I meant it every time,” he said. “I really mean it now.”
Xiao turned around, studying Venti’s face. Venti curled his fingers in the hem of his sweatshirt nervously — and it was Xiao’s sweatshirt, an ugly black sweatshirt with a demon face on it that so comfortable that Venti stole it when they moved in together and never returned it. He was nervous, somehow! Was that fair? He knew Xiao, he knew Xiao knew what they were moving towards. But he was still nervous.
“Xiao,” he whined quietly. “Xiao, I—”
Xiao approached him, telegraphing every move. He leaned down just a little, head tilting to the side, and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Venti’s mouth. The welt burned under his lips or maybe that was just Venti.
“Again,” Venti said quietly.
And when Xiao leaned in this time, Venti turned his head, so that Xiao caught him full on the mouth. It was a careful kiss, with wonder; Xiao startled when he found lips instead of cheek and then pulled Venti flush up against his body. It was so quick Venti didn’t even have time to close his eyes; he was only caught up staring at Xiao’s face. The sweep of his eyelashes, that faint scar against his temple. Xiao’s soft lips on his, a thrill of electricity running through Venti’s body, on cloud nine, so light he could float.
“Wow,” Venti said goofily. He hadn’t pulled away from Xiao yet. He won’t. They’ll stay here forever in this dingy bathroom, pressed together, warm and their hearts beating in time. “Kiss it better again.”
“What is there to kiss better,” Xiao grumbled, face red.
“Just kiss me, then!”
“Alright,” Xiao said, and did just that.
The cut on Venti’s left cheek wasn’t that bad. It was actually barely a scrape, but Xiao seemed to consider it one of his boyfriend duties to patch Venti up, and it was so cute how focused he got, so who was Venti to dissuade him? This time, the band-aid was orange, with pink flowers on it.
It was adorable. Both the band-aid, which Venti had picked out himself, and Xiao, which Venti had also kind of picked out himself. He inspected the band-aid in the mirror, holding his hair away from his face. “Happy now?”
“No.”
Venti beamed at him, the band-aid crinkling from the force of the smile. “But you cleaned me up! You did such a good job; I don’t even blame you for running into me.”
Xiao frowned. He never really pouted, which was far too indulgent for him, but sometimes when he frowned like this it seemed like a pout. His frowns were very myriad and complex and Venti was an expert. “You ran into me.”
“Well, you ran into me first!” Venti stuck his tongue. Neither of them had really run into each other, or they had actually both run into each other. Xiao had been wearing a jacket, so he didn’t end up with any cuts when he fell over, but Venti did not care for skateboard safety. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways; his cheek would not have been protected by a helmet or the cute bomber jacket that Xiao was wearing that Venti was considering stealing. The point was, they both ran into each other.
Venti would continue to tease Xiao about it except for the fact that he could tell Xiao felt genuinely bad, even though Venti wasn’t hurt at all, besides the cut.
And that didn’t even matter now, did it, because Venti had a cute pink band-aid and a boyfriend who felt guilty for being the one to not end up with scrapes in an unfortunate skateboarding collision. “Xiao,” he whined, slinging his arms around Xiao’s shoulders. He was sitting on the counter neat the sink and like this, he was just a little bit taller than Xiao. He used it to his full advantage. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Xiao raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “You want me to kiss it better?”
“Of course I want you to kiss it better! Are you my boyfriend or aren’t you?”
Xiao considered this carefully. “I am,” he said, voice full of fake-doubt. Oh, Venti could see right through the façade, Venti could see the carefully crafted jokes. He loved to see it, the hidden dry humor that no one but him got to experience. He was selfish, wanted to keep it for himself. “But perhaps I can’t shoulder such a heavy responsibility—”
Venti hit at Xiao’s shoulder, already laughing. “Xiao! You have to kiss me!” He pouted. “You called me work, is that very nice? It’s not nice! Xiao, kiss me—”
Xiao shut him up with a kiss, then another, then another. “Happy now?”
“No! Try again—”