Archive of Our Own

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the universe does not bless a singular person with a perfectly blissful life. 

Tighnari thinks his luck ran out the moment said universe decided to send him Kaveh as a friend.

Speak of the devil: “Are you even listening to me?”

“No,” says Tighnari, releasing the thick band stretched between his wrists. It snaps off his skin and falls to the ground by his feet. “I’m not.”

Kaveh frowns. As his frown begins to tug deeper, Tighnari sighs and moves to pick up the band, swinging it over his shoulder and walking over to Kaveh, who wordlessly passes him his pastel purple water bottle. As Tighnari begins to chug, Kaveh goes back to staring at him and frowning, and this goes on for an entire six seconds before Tighnari deadpans him a look and says, “What do you want?”

Kaveh sniffs. “Just someone who’ll listen to me, but you know, apparently that’s not something easily found nowadays.”

Tighnari rolls his eyes. “I’m training. Actually, you should be training.”

“I can train and talk at the same time! As can you!”

“You’ve spent the last hour of my warm up session sitting on the bench and giving me googly eyes.”

“I do not give googly eyes—” Kaveh shakes his head as Tighnari heads over to a nearby treadmill, beckoning for him to follow. “Whatever. That’s not what’s important right now. What’s important is that I still haven’t come up with a name for my chinchilla—Kusanali above, Tighnari, are you trying to kill me?”

Tighnari blinks down at the running treadmill, currently set at a speed of a very normal five, and tilts his head. “What?”

“I can’t just jump onto a moving treadmill like this!”

“Sure you can. It’s like skipping rope.”

“What?”

“What?”

Kaveh shakes his head. “I don’t know why I talk to you,” he says, then jumps onto the treadmill and proceeds to just barely manage not to trip over himself.

Tighnari does not even get to follow up on whatever chinchilla Kaveh had been talking about, because a few minutes later, a head of white appears at the doorway to the gym, one cup of coffee in each hand.

“Oh,” says Cyno, looking between them, “I didn’t know you were here, Kaveh.”

Kaveh falls off the treadmill.

“What do you mean, you didn’t know I was here?” he says a few minutes later, after Cyno finishes helping him up and Tighnari is sipping idly on his mocha. “I literally texted Tighnari that I’m coming to bother him in our three person group chat.”

“Oh,” says Cyno, taking his phone out. There’s a few moments of silence where Tighnari and Kaveh watch him as he scrolls through something on his screen, before twisting his lips and clicking the device off again. “I didn’t see it.”

“Well, in any case,” says Tighnari, “now that you’re here, Cyno, we can leave. So. That was a pretty productive session for some of us!”

Kaveh pulls a face. “Why does that sound pointed?”

“Because it is,” says Tighnari, and then he turns to smile at Cyno and walk past the both of them. 

The gym isn’t very crowded at this time, so they’re able to slip into line at the juice bar right by the entrance so that Kaveh can stop complaining about not having his own drink. He orders quickly, the harra fruit enthusiast he is, while Tighnari lingers back with Cyno. 

“How did training go?” Cyno asks him, taking a quiet sip of his coffee as Tighnari’s ears perk in his direction.

“It was all right,” says Tighnari, swallowing. He frowns, then glances at Kaveh. “Well, you know, it was how it usually is when Kaveh is involved.”

“I see,” Cyno nods. “You don’t have to explain more.”

“Don’t worry,” Tighnari smiles. “I’m well aware.”

Kaveh appears a few minutes later, his smile a lot less tired now, lips perched around the thick straw of his drink. “Personally, if I were the one going on a coffee run, I would have gotten something for everyone! But, you know, maybe that’s just me and the consequences I must face for having a good heart.”

Tighnari rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t know you were there,” says Cyno. “If I had known, I would have gotten you your usual.”

“Aw, you know my usual?” Kaveh says, looking mildly touched for all of one and a half seconds. Then he shakes his head, eyes narrowing atop his face. “Then if I were you, I would have known the work out patterns of my friend so well that there would be no need for him to even tell me that he was there. I would have just taken the chance and bought one extra. Personally.”

“No you wouldn’t,” says Tighnari. “It’s more money.”

Kaveh’s eyebrow ticks. “Do you think I’m broke?”

“Yes,” says Tighnari. “You say so every day.”

“Okay, whatever, you know what?” Kaveh takes a particularly hard sip of his juice, his cheeks bunching up and making him somewhat resemble a chipmunk. He swallows, and Tighnari feels his eyebrow raise. “I don’t even want to talk to you guys anymore. I’m going home. Bye.”

“Ah. So you want to go home that badly?” Tighnari says, just because he can.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” says Kaveh, already turning on his heel, “but I don’t like it.”

And then he’s gone. And Tighnari is left at the entrance to the gym with Cyno standing idly by his side. 

He sighs. “Sometimes, I wonder about him.”

“It’s a wonder he’s okay,” says Cyno with a straight face.

And then. Well. It doesn’t take very long for Tighnari to be gone as well.

When Tighnari had been told he was going to be the archer representing Sumeru in the biennial Teyvat Games, he honestly thought it was the universe’s way of pulling yet another sick joke on him. But even the universe isn’t that cruel. They wouldn’t make something like this up, surely.

He called his parents first. He sat on the bench in the locker room with sweaty palms and a sweatier forehead, and he willed the seconds to tick by faster as he waited and he waited and he waited for his mother to pick up. She did, finally, on the fourth ring, and before she could even get a simple hello out, he blurted out the news to her and allowed the seedling to plant in his throat.

It was a dream of many to be in his position. He knew that. Of course he knew that. It had been his dream to be in this position for practically all of his life. Quite honestly, he didn’t even know how he got here. Sure, he worked hard, he trained hard, but there were thousands upon thousands of people who also worked hard and trained hard. Being the singular golden ticket was completely out of reach. An anomaly in the system.

And yet, when his mother met his enthusiasm with surprise that quickly melted into cheer, he felt the rocks on his shoulders begin to slide off, tumbling down past his bare knees and landing in a pile by his feet. He stared at them as he listened to his mother’s congratulations, and then his father’s too, when he came to the phone. And Tighnari kept staring at the rocks by his feet and willed them not to expand and magically float back up.

When he clicked the phone off, he looked back up, and right there, standing in the doorway, was Cyno, with parted lips and wide eyes and so much emotion in his expression that finally—all of it was too much to bear. The rocks didn’t float up. They exploded. They exploded into ash and debris and some of them scratched the skin of his face, pouring blood out of the wound in the form of tears pooling against the corners of his eyes.

“Tighnari,” said Cyno slowly, in disbelief, and instantly, Tighnari knew that he just heard everything. “You were selected?”

Tighnari moved to stand. He thought his legs were shaking. He met Cyno’s gaze and pressed his lips together and finally burst, “I was selected. Cyno, I was selected!”

It was a rush, the celebration. Tighnari won’t remember a lot of it. He’ll remember Cyno, though. He thinks, in the back of his mind, that he will always remember Cyno. Even if he grows old and bears memory loss, he will still remember the way that Cyno, his best friend, lept forward and enveloped his body against him and buried his face in the back of his neck and all of a sudden, Tighnari’s vision was entirely clouded by the silvery white of his hair.

He said congratulations. He pulled a joke. It’s not a very good one—none of them are, really—and yet for the first time the laugh that was pulled from his throat is real and raw and all of his hopes bundled together in one single sound.

“You’ll have to be with me,” he said, finally, when his voice was working again and his eyes were numb and red-rimmed. “Well, I mean, I know you don’t have a choice because you’re my guard and everything, but even beyond that, Cyno. I really want you to be there with me.”

“Of course I will be there,” said Cyno, shaking his head. “Tighnari, you would be silly to expect anything otherwise.”

“I just really, really hope I don’t mess up.” He was rambling now, a little. He didn’t really know. “This is—really a lot. That stadium is going to be full of people, more people than I’ve ever shot in front of.”

“Don’t think about them,” said Cyno. “Just think about me. I’m your only audience member.”

Tighnari swallowed. He nodded. “Okay.”

They met in college, actually, though not many know that. Not many really wonder about the lives of the people guarding their athletes. They just care about the outcome of the next match, the physical condition of the player. Rarely do they look at that one person who’s always somehow found right next to them.

“I’ve wondered for a while,” said Nilou at breakfast one morning, a few years ago when they were all at training camp. Cyno, being the only non-athlete in their group, was for once not with them. “But, Tighnari, how did you get Cyno to agree to be your bodyguard?”

“Oh,” said Tighnari as Kaveh snorted next to him. “Well, it was actually quite simple.”

Nilou looked between them, her brows furrowing curiously. “Ah?”

“Genius Invokation TCG often has collaborations with the events I shoot at,” Tighnari explained, ignoring the way Kaveh was now doubling over in laughter against his shoulder. “I told him that if he agreed to be my bodyguard, he’d get better access to all the merchandise. Really, it didn’t take him much convincing after that.”

“Oh,” said Nilou, and then, “Oh my god.”

“He’s a nerd,” Kaveh grinned. “He’s our nerd.”

“He’s something,” said Tighnari. The corners of his lips were quirking upward, but if he tried hard enough, he could ignore that. 

“Why didn’t you hire someone else?” Nilou asked, tilting her head. “I didn’t know Cyno was even in the industry.”

“He’s close enough,” Tighnari shrugged. “And everyone in school used to tell him that, before they got to know him, they thought he looked really intimidating. All I did was take an order from my manager and turn it into something that could maybe alleviate some stress. I don’t want some stranger all up in my business. If my best friend can do the job, then naturally I’m going to want to stick with him.”

Nilou was nodding, slowly. “That makes sense. I never thought about it that way.”

“He’s a freak,” Kaveh said matter-of-factly. “Tighnari, I mean. We all know the real reason he was so hellbent on making Cyno his bodyguard. It’s because he’s madly in—”

Tighnari kicked him under the table and watched as Kaveh visibly winced. “Don’t just say things because you’ve been unfairly given a mouth. Use it properly instead of making things up.”

“What do you mean, unfairly? What are you, my maman?”

“No,” said Tighnari. “I would have raised a much less nosy son.”

“You—”

And, really, his explanation had been perfectly revealing of the entire story. There was quite literally nothing more to it, no matter how much Kaveh wanted to harp on and on. His words could never really be trusted, anyway. He tended to be a little over dramatic at times. He also tended to put emphasis in places that really did not require it. So. Yeah. Anyway—

Okay. Well. It isn’t as if Tighnari is oblivious. Not completely, in any case. After all, he cannot truly know the depth of someone else’s affections lest he ask them himself—and, frankly, there is no shot he will be doing anything of the sort. Much less to Cyno, of all people.

Cyno is…obvious, to put it simply. Tighnari doesn’t really mind—he knows Cyno will do nothing that could potentially jeopardize their friendship. He’s also sure that whatever feelings Cyno may or may not have for him have never extended past a simple crush. That’s all it is. It can’t be anything more.

The morning air is crisp when Tighnari gets the first swig of it, bright and early at six o’clock. He’s taken to sleeping earlier these days, a far cry from what his life was like back in college when Kaveh would drag him out every other night. Nowadays, he is content to sip a cup of steaming tea at nine pm and be in bed by ten, because the one thing college was good for was making him immune to the effects of caffeine. Ah. He can practically hear Kaveh’s chime of oh please, you’re just a dramatic freak, something he will very pointedly choose to ignore right now.

But, he digresses, and he hums under his breath to himself as he crouches down into a squat to gather the fallen targets from yesterday’s practice, running his cracked fingers over the rough spine of red and white. 

He feels a weight over his shoulder then, a shadow of someone’s figure looming over him against the grass. Tighnari twists halfway, blinking back his surprise when Cyno’s side profile comes perfectly into view.

“Oh,” he says as Cyno bends down to help him, “Cyno. It’s you.”

“I thought you’d be here,” Cyno murmurs, prying the target out from between Tighnari’s hands and tossing it gently in his palms. 

Tighnari frowns. “The games are in a week.”

“Yes,” says Cyno, and then his head turns, and his cheek is facing the ground as he meets Tighnari’s eyes. “That’s why I thought you’d be here.”

He’s saying a lot, while also saying nothing at all. He’s saying you have a pattern, the week leading up to a competition, I’ve known you for years, I know you better than anyone else, but he’s also saying this can be a coincidence, you being here was nothing more than a passing consideration. 

Tighnari swallows, but his eyes don’t leave Cyno’s. Against the weeping moonglow, red-orange sparkles, like stars disappearing under the blanket of sunrise. Sometimes, Tighnari wonders how long he can look at them before he inevitably gets pulled under.

So—he averts his gaze. His throat hurts with how hard he swallows.

“It’s early,” he says. “You don’t have to be here.”

Cyno moves to stand, then holds his arm out, down until his wrist is hanging in front of Tighnari’s face. Tighnari, wordlessly, takes his hand and allows himself to be pulled up. His knees ache. He blinks at Cyno, who lets go of his hand and walks over to set up the targets.

“I’m serious,” he tries again, watching as Cyno picks up a few stray arrows and tucks them beneath his underarm. “You can go get some rest. It’s going to be a long week for you too.”

“It’s easier for you to practice if someone else is helping you,” says Cyno.

Which is true. Cyno has always been his favorite practice buddy too—he’s one of the few people who will actually stay quiet at the sidelines and allow Tighnari to freely practice his form. He also has no qualms about quickly resetting the targets, picking out arrows and putting them cleanly away. Sometimes, Tighnari feels a bit guilty for making him run around so much, but Cyno always swiftly shakes his head, which is as much of a don’t feel guilty, I want to help you, as he’s going to get.

“Fine,” says Tighnari. “If you want to ruin your sleep schedule, I’m not going to stop you.”

“That sort of logic only works on Kaveh,” says Cyno.

Tighnari rolls his eyes, helpless, as he reaches for his bow and flexes it between his fingers. “Kaveh wouldn’t be here at six am to help me practice though, would he?” He lets out a soft laugh, then straightens his spine, swinging the bow up and effortlessly pulling an arrow back. He takes a deep breath, then another, then shoots, and finds his gaze shifting to watch Cyno’s head follow the arrow as it cuts through the air and cleanly spears the very center of the target.

Cyno brings his hands up to clap slowly, turning to find Tighnari staring at him.

“What is it?” he asks, tilting his head. “Do you want a compliment?”

Tighnari shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Cyno’s lips twist. “That was very impressive, Nari.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a compliment, but thank you, Cyno.”

Cyno shrugs as Tighnari readies another shot, this one going by just a few seconds faster and landing right next to the previous one. He breathes through it, his muscles flexing, like silk wrung taut, and an hour later, his breathing has grown haggard, his hands sore and fingertips calloused. 

Cyno passes him a bottle of water, somehow still cold to the touch, and Tighnari gulps down half of it before his mouth breaks away and he pants up into the morning breeze. It curls around his sweat-soaked hair, and when he recovers, he finds Cyno staring at him intently.

His gaze is dark, and immediately, Tighnari freezes. The crinkling sound of the plastic sounds through the quiet morning as Tighnari’s fingers stutter by his side, and the entire time, Cyno’s gaze does not waver.

Tighnari swallows. Cyno follows this movement, too. “Cyno,” he says.

Cyno’s eyes snap up to meet his again, and immediately, the darkness fades, and what’s left is the way he blinks slowly and presses his lips soundly together.

They don’t talk about it. They never do. 

“Do you want to go get breakfast?” Cyno asks, and Tighnari smiles, and he nods, and then he begins to gather his things and fruitlessly tries to calm the wild beating of his heart.

cyno

[21:01] cyno: Let’s play archery!

[21:02] you: ?????

[21:02] cyno: It’s your move

[21:02] you: did you seriously just challenge me to online archery at 9 pm

[21:02] cyno: It’s your move

[21:02] you: i’ve never played this before

[21:02] cyno: You have to shoot 3 arrows, max 30 pts for a turn
[21:02] cyno: But watch out for the direction of the wind

[21:03] you: Opponent’s move!
[21:03] you: how did you get 30 points
[21:03] you: why did i only get 26

[21:04] cyno: Your move!
[21:04] cyno: Hmm

[21:04] you: Opponent’s move!
[21:04] you: how did you get 30 points again
[21:04] you: why are you better at this than me
[21:04] you: i’m a professional archer
[21:04] you: i’ve literally watched you pick up my bow and then drop it

[21:05] cyno: Your move!

[21:05] you: You lost!
[21:05] you: this is deeply wrong and incorrect

[21:05] cyno: Skill issue

[21:06] you: what did you just say to me

[21:06] cyno: Skill issue
[21:06] cyno: Good night, sleep early

[21:06] you: wow
[21:07] you: wow
[21:10] you: ok i guess
[21:10] you: good night

“Don’t you think that, realistically, your ears actually give you an unfair advantage on the field?” Kaveh asks one day as he and Tighnari are grabbing dinner together after their respective training sessions.

“Why would they give me an unfair advantage?” Tighnari asks.

“I don’t know,” Kaveh shrugs. His hair is still a bit wet from the pool, and a droplet lands on the outline of Tighnari’s jaw. “Like, you can hear the direction of the wind or something.”

“I can’t hear the direction of the wind, Kaveh,” says Tighnari, flicking it away.

“Hm,” says Kaveh. “I believe you, of course I do, because I’m your friend. But if I wasn’t, well, let’s just say…”

“Oh, look,” Tighnari drawls, “isn’t that Al-Haitham over there?”

“What?” Kaveh spins on his heel with so much force that he almost knocks Tighnari right onto the ground. “Where? Where is he? He’s been avoiding me all week because I showed up with the chinchilla the other day, but really, I gave him plenty of heads up in the form of two entire texts—”

“I am not avoiding you,” comes a new voice, familiar in its deadpan tone, and Tighnari does not have to turn even the slightest bit to know that it is Al-Haitham himself. “Don’t just make things up in front of people I am also acquainted with, senior.”

Immediately, Kaveh scowls. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Acquainted with?” Tighnari echoes, frowning. “Al-Haitham, I’m offended. I thought we were friends.”

Al-Haitham raises an eyebrow. “Did you.” Then he looks at Kaveh. “You were the one who texted me last week telling me to train with you today. I am just following orders.”

Kaveh scoffs. “So now you want to listen to me.”

“My, Kaveh, double booking?” Tighnari gasps. “What was this then, pray tell me? A pity training session? Do you think I have no other friends?”

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, none of us even actually train together outside of the gym,” he says, “and yes. That’s exactly what I think.”

“That’s really rich coming from you, you know,” says Tighnari.

“Why are you even still here?” Kaveh says. He reaches out and flicks his index finger against Tighnari’s forehead. Tighnari does not so much as flinch. 

“Oh, do you want me to leave you alone with Al-Haitham that badly?”

“What are you—” Kaveh snaps his mouth shut, the tips of his ears blooming faintly red. Al-Haitham is staring upon the scene with a blank look on his face. “Okay, that’s enough out of you. Go away. Go away. Go away—”

“Going!” Tighnari calls over his shoulder, already three steps out of the area. Behind him, Kaveh and Al-Haitham are already resuming their bickering. Flirting? Honestly, Tighnari doesn’t really know. Nor does he particularly want to know. Kaveh and Al-Haitham are just…like that. They’ve been like that since when they all studied together at the Akademiya, and now that they quite literally live together and train together every other day…well. 

Suffice to say, Tighnari is more than happy to completely stay out of it. Not one foot will stray close to the border between blissfully ignorant and bleakly involved.  

The Teyvat Games have sort of existed in the edges of Tighnari’s periphery for the past few months. Sure, he’s trained like a dog for them every single day ever since he got the news about being selected, and sure, his heart races uncontrollably every time he so much as thinks about standing in the middle of a stadium filled to the brim with thousands and thousands of cheering spectators.

The periphery is a nice place for the Games to be, really. Like this, Tighnari has to think about them without ever really thinking about them at all. Until, well, the day of the very first match arrives, and his eyes open with a grand total of four hours of sleep behind them, because even though he was in bed by nine o’clock last night, the nerves kept him staring blankly up at the ceiling until well past one in the morning.

Oh well.

He drinks water first. Three hearty sips, and then a fourth, just for good measure. Then he brushes his teeth and takes a shower. Then he checks his phone.

There’s several messages from Kaveh, mostly frantic excitement, and Tighnari smiles as he sends off a quick good luck, kaveh! and receives a yeah yeah you too almost immediately in response. There’s well wishes from Al-Haitham, too, which is only mildly surprising. Tighnari knows that Kaveh’s the one that probably told him to text his friends. There are also messages from his parents, a few other friends, and then finally, two from Cyno:

cyno

[05:32] cyno: Good morning
[05:32] cyno: How are you feeling?

[06:49] you: i genuinely have no idea

[06:50] cyno: Well, I know something that can probably take your mind off things for a few minutes
[06:50] cyno: Let’s play archery!

[06:50] you: seriously?

[06:50] cyno: Yeah

[06:51] you: fine
[06:51] you: Opponent’s move!
[06:51] you: ok why did i get 2 less points than you again

[06:52] cyno: Your move!

[06:52] you: Opponent’s move!
[06:52] you: I GOT 30 PTS THAT TIME

[06:53] cyno: I’m proud of you
[06:53] cyno: Your move!

[06:53] you: You lost!
[06:53] you: ok
[06:53] you: i don’t want to talk about it
[06:53] you: how have you never lost a single point

[06:53] cyno: Good luck today, Nari
[06:53] cyno: All signs point to you winning every match <3 

[06:54] you: haha so funny
[06:53] you: (i didn’t actually laugh btw)
[06:53] you: thank you cyno <3 see you soon

Soon ends up being just under an hour later—Tighnari opens the front door to his apartment, fully ready for whatever this day ahead has in store for him, and there is Cyno. Waiting for him.

“Oh,” says Tighnari. “Hi.”

“Hi,” says Cyno, side-stepping and gesturing to the empty span of hallway. “Let’s go?”

Tighnari nods. “Let’s go,” he says.

“You didn’t have early morning training?” Cyno asks as the two of them slip into the front seats of the car. It’s big, with tinted windows and enough space for a whole sports team. Normally, athletes sit in the back, but this is Cyno. So Tighnari settles into the passenger’s seat, eyes sweeping over the console and over to where Cyno’s toned arm twists the gear into action. “I was going to go over, but I checked your location and saw you were still at home.”

Tighnari averts his gaze, focusing on the road ahead. “Coach said to just get a good night’s sleep. My first match isn’t until three pm, so I’ll try to practice until then once we get there.”

“Mm,” Cyno hums. “Are you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” says Tighnari honestly. “I am, I think. But I also just feel…numb.”

“I understand,” says Cyno. “Well, I don’t, I guess. But technically, today is my first day in a while.”

“That’s right,” says Tighnari slowly. “Your first day as my valiant defender for the Teyvat Games.”

“Yes,” Cyno nods seriously. “I wonder if I’ll have to punch someone.”

Tighnari turns halfway to stare at him. “You won’t actually punch someone, will you?”

“Of course I will,” says Cyno, his eyebrows furrowing atop his head. “I will if I need to.”

“You can just…shove them away?” says Tighnari. “Um. Forcefully? If you must.”

At this, the corners of Cyno’s mouth quirk upward. It catches Tighnari a little off guard, if he’s being honest. Cyno isn’t really the type to smile very frequently. “I never thought you would encourage violence, Nari.”

“I’m not,” says Tighnari quickly. “I just think that…well, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

If Cyno were to punch someone full force…well. The thought makes Tighnari’s eyes inadvertently go back to looking straight at the curve of Cyno’s arms, the way his muscles flex as he turns the wheel and pulls them into another street. 

Devi Kusanali above. What has been in the air recently? Tighnari is not the type to ogle. Tighnari has never been the type to ogle. Maybe he should get himself checked out. Maybe. Probably not. That feels like a Kaveh-esque thing to do, and there is no way Tighnari is going to stoop to that sort of level.

Anyways. None of this matters, because Tighnari is not the level of famous where these sorts of precautions should even be a consideration. That sort of thing is reserved for athletes like Nilou, or Candace, or Kaveh, or even Al-Haitham. At most, Cyno will have to stand stiffly next to him as Tighnari is told to move from point A to point B. He won’t have to punch anyone. He won’t have to even forcefully shove someone. Tighnari is just not that well known in this sphere of human beings.

He is quickly proven wrong.

Apparently, it’s a common occurrence for fans to camp out in front of the spot where athletes are led into the arena, and Tighnari’s jaw drops as the car begins to approach and he is immediately met with the sight of a sizable crowd of people.

“What the hell,” he says out loud. “There’s no way they’re here for me, right?”

“Yes they are,” says Cyno, and Tighnari’s eyes go wide.

“How can you be so sure? I’m not the only one—”

“They’re holding up pictures of your face, Nari.”

Tighnari looks back to the crowd they’re quickly approaching, and sure enough, there are multiple signs with scribbled, bolded words of encouragement on them, some of them topped with a printed picture of his face splashed against the sky. 

Tighnari coughs, his back arching downward as he wheezes into his knees, and when Cyno reaches over and thuds his palm against his back, he coughs harder.

“This suddenly got very, very real,” he says quietly. “Cyno, I had no idea, I—”

“There is a reason I was hired, you know,” says Cyno, and he’s smiling again, and it makes another cough rise up the line of Tighnari’s throat. It’s soft on his face, even though it really shouldn’t be. It’s just a smile. Everyone smiles. Maybe not, like, Al-Haitham, but nobody’s seen Al-Haitham smile apart from Kaveh. Tighnari has seen Cyno smile before. There is no need to get so worked up about this.

“Did you think it was going to be like this?” Tighnari asks him as the car comes to a stop.

Cyno’s hands leave the wheel, and like this, he can finally face Tighnari properly. Like this, Tighnari can see the messy set of his white bangs, the way they thread over his slowly blinking eyes. He’s looking at Tighnari as if he’s just asked the silliest question. 

“Of course I did,” he says. “Who wouldn’t be your fan?”

“Does that mean you’re my fan too?” Tighnari blinks.

“Of course I am,” says Cyno, tilting his head. “I thought you already knew that.”

“Okay,” says Tighnari, already deciding that this is something he is not going to think about right now or any time in the foreseeable future. “Um. We should get out of the car.”

“Okay,” says Cyno, and then he turns back around to open his car door, and immediately, the sound of screams fills the air. Tighnari’s jaw tightens as he moves to click his own door open, but then suddenly, Cyno is in front of him again. He’s meeting his eyes straight through the tinted glass, which should be impossible, but here it is. Then the door opens, the handle slipping out of Tighnari’s fingers, and then Cyno is holding out his hand and gesturing for him to follow him. 

Tighnari swallows, and then he does just that.

Thankfully, there are already plenty of big, burly looking men standing around to help deter the screaming onlookers, so Cyno does not have to punch or shove anyone. He just walks ahead of Tighnari, their hands still clasped tightly together, and Tighnari blinks in the wake of him. He barely remembers to smile and nod and wave in greeting to everyone, and by the time they are safely inside the arena, Tighnari’s lips are parted in awe.

“Wow,” he whispers, looking back over his shoulder. Subconsciously, his grip around Cyno’s fingers tighten. “That was…”

Cyno comes to stand next to him, and through all of this, they have not stopped holding hands. Tighnari just prays that whatever is going on inside his chest right now is also not being reflected on his face. 

“Come on,” Cyno says quietly, after a few moments have passed. “You should go and get ready for your match later.”

Tighnari nods, despite himself. “Thank you, Cyno. For…for all of this. I know you—I know you only really started doing this because of the TCG collabs, but—”

“I’m not only doing this because of the TCG collabs,” Cyno interrupts, which makes Tighnari’s mouth snap audibly shut at once. “I would have agreed even without that added benefit. You are important to me.”

And isn’t that exactly what the problem is? 

Yes. Tighnari thinks he can admit that much to himself at least—that there is a problem. He doesn’t know what the problem is, nor does he have any idea of how to go about fixing it, but he can say with confidence that there is a problem. Great.

You are important to me. Cyno should learn to guard his heart, too, Tighnari thinks.

So does the only thing he can do right now: ignore what Cyno just said. 

“Let’s go,” he says instead, and Cyno nods.

And so they go. 

There are six total matches Tighnari is set to play: one against each region of Teyvat. The way the Games work, the gold medal winner will be the archer with the most points by the end of it all, accumulated through various ways either through matches themselves or the opponents bested.

Tighnari’s first match is against the archer from Snezhnaya, a tall ginger guy named Childe who holds his bow with the worst posture Tighnari has ever seen. It’s a little insane, considering his almost perfect accuracy against the targets, but well, whatever works, Tighnari supposes.

It’s a close match. Closer than Tighnari would have liked, but he wins. And it’s crazy. And it feels like the world is caving in with the intensity of the screams around him, but here he is, fresh out of winning his very first match at the Teyvat Games, shaking hands and smiling against the congratulations from his opponent.

He finds Cyno first, after it’s over, and he watches as Cyno’s mouth opens to say something when all of a sudden someone is throwing their arms over Tighnari’s shoulders and laughing into his ear. 

“Holy shit!” Kaveh is saying, somehow even louder than the cheers of the crowd behind them, “Holy shit! Holy fuck, Tighnari, congratulations! You won your first match!”

“Why the hell are you here?” Tighnari exclaims as Kaveh leans back and plants a wet, sloppy kiss onto his forehead. “Shouldn’t you be training for your own match in a few hours?”

“I just popped out to watch you super quick!” Kaveh is grinning. “As if you wouldn’t do the same for me if I was playing before you!”

He’s right, of course. Though Tighnari would never say that out loud.

“Thank you,” he says instead. “That’s…”

“Oh!” Kaveh perks up. “You’ll never guess who else is here—”

And, well, he’s right again. Because Tighnari never would have expected what happens next: Kaveh pulls Al-Haitham out of literally nowhere, and then he presents him as if he is some sort of prize to the world. 

“Oh,” says Tighnari.

“Congratulations,” says Al-Haitham coolly. “You shot well.”

“Um,” says Tighnari. “Thanks.” And then, just because he can, “You’re only here because of Kaveh, aren’t you?”

Kaveh blanches. “What? What does that even mean?”

“That doesn’t seem like something I would do,” says Al-Haitham, followed by literally nothing else. 

Okay. Tighnari is going to turn away from these two now.

Which, of course, ends up with him looking directly at Cyno.

Immediately, he breaks out into a grin, and watches with mild astonishment as the expression is mirrored on Cyno’s face, too. Then Cyno is holding up his arms, open and out in front of him, which is just as much invitation as Tighnari usually needs. So he takes the three steps forward needed to enter his best friend’s bubble, and then he hugs him. And it’s not an excited thing like Kaveh’s had been, it’s just…Cyno. Cyno, who might be on his tip-toes right now to meet him at eye level, pressing their chests together and smiling into the curve of Tighnari’s neck.

“Congratulations,” Cyno says, pulling away. “Everyone should bow down to you.”

“Oh,” says Tighnari, “okay.”

Cyno sniffs. “Do you get the joke?”

“I do, yes.”

“Really? But you didn’t laugh.”

“I don’t have to laugh to get it.”

Cyno cocks his head. Tighnari can practically hear the gears turning in his head, trying with all his might to come up with something Tighnari will laugh at. The thought makes him smile, though it’s probably not the best timing, because this of course prompts Cyno to straighten and—

“You’re smiling.”

“What?” Tighnari presses his lips together as the corners of his mouth filthily betray him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you did think it was funny,” Cyno says, and then he nods to himself in the proud sort of way. “Good.”

Tighnari shakes his head. Then he decides, fuck it, and starts laughing. This seems to alarm Cyno, and Kaveh, who has evidently been watching all of this unfold, all of a sudden drapes himself over the back of Tighnari’s shoulders and lazily drawls into his left ear, “And now you’re even laughing at his god awful jokes. It’s over for you, Tighnari. I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

Thankfully, this is said at a volume where only Tighnari can really hear it. And Al-Haitham, apparently, judging by the lightning-quick way his eyes dart from the blond of Kaveh’s hair to Tighnari’s face. 

Al-Haitham raises an eyebrow at him, and Tighnari raises an eyebrow back. He’s honestly not sure what lies Kaveh has or has not been feeding to his roommate, but two can play at this game. He will not back down.

Eventually, Al-Haitham goes back to looking at Kaveh, probably deciding that this is enough attention he has spared away from his true person of interest, and it almost makes Tighnari laugh. He doesn’t, though, because the next thing he knows is Cyno’s familiar grip coming to wrap around his wrist and being pulled away from a bustling, approaching crowd of reporters. 

Through the corner of his eye, Tighnari sees Kaveh yelp in shock, crowding into Al-Haitham’s space in an effort to hide himself from the blinding camera light, and the frozen shock that suddenly takes over Al-Haitham’s expression is one that Tighnari decides to gleefully pocket away in the back of his mind for another day.

His next match is against a tall Natlani woman with burgundy hair and ears that look almost elf-like. She looks like a good shot, so Tighnari is a little surprised when he ends up racking up dozens of points over her in record time. When it’s over, she shakes his hand firmly, and then Tighnari is left to soak in the fact that he has just won his first two inter-region games.

Apparently, the entirety of their group scored similarly today: Nilou accumulated the most points for rhythmic gymnastics, Dehya for wrestling, Candace for javelin, Kaveh for diving, and Al-Haitham for fencing.

So naturally, they meet up to celebrate: all six of them, plus Cyno.

“Honestly, Cyno,” Kaveh says through inhaling his rice, “you should have just become an athlete too.”

Dehya snorts. “Maybe when they make Genius Invokation TCG an official Teyvat Games sport.”

“Who knows, maybe they will!” Nilou says, smiling cheerily and splashing her glass of juice above her head. Al-Haitham discreetly passes her a napkin.

“Or maybe they won’t,” says Candace, and there’s a murmur of agreement that settles over them. 

Tighnari, who’s been food coma-d into sitting against the back of his chair with a slouch that really should be criminal for someone of his profession, laughs and reaches out to squeeze Cyno’s shoulder next to him. Cyno stiffens a little, turning in slow motion to look at him, and suddenly, Tighnari’s throat goes dry.

Cyno, being the only non-athlete of the group, is the only one allowed to have alcohol at these sorts of things. He doesn’t usually, as a show of solidarity, or something like that. Today, though, he is drinking for all of them. Albeit in small and contained quantities.

The problem with this? Cyno is the lightest weight Tighnari has ever met in his life. He’s known this since college, when Kaveh would pop into their dorm room and drag them out to parties and Tighnari would have to act as a shoulder rest for both him and Cyno on the way home. Al-Haitham, always the quieter type, mostly just clung to Kaveh. So, together, the four of them formed something of a chain. Kind of. With Tighnari as the anchor most of the times, or when Tighnari got particularly sloshed—Al-Haitham.

But he won’t think too deeply about that particular dynamic. He’s sure Al-Haitham doesn’t want to think about it either.

Back to the problem at hand: Cyno, who is very clearly at least humbly tipsy, and the fact that Tighnari is very, very sober and also growing very, very suspicious about what is currently lying in the depths of his own heart. Funny how these things work out, really. He’s known that Cyno has had a crush on him for years.

Well, he’s suspected. He’s never really gotten any confirmation about that. 

Not that he wants it.

…He doesn’t.

Anyways, Cyno’s head is rocking east to west, and Tighnari is still gripping his shoulder. Tighnari can loosely predict what is about to happen; it doesn’t take a genius to see the arc Cyno is currently journeying on. Approximately three seconds later, the side of his face lands flat on the back of Tighnari’s hand. 

Tighnari freezes.

Someone whistles. Kaveh, probably.

“Shut up,” Tighnari mutters. “He’s just drunk.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Kaveh says. The grin is obvious in his voice. “But since you said that, I’m going to take it as a pass to just point out that—”

“He’s drunk, not unconscious,” Tighnari cuts in. Sure enough, Cyno begins to nuzzle against his knuckles, and all of a sudden, Tighnari wishes with everything in him that they were not currently in front of literally all of their mutual friends.

He chances a glance around. Nilou is smiling softly at them, while Candace and Dehya are grinning at each other. Kaveh is smirking, and Al-Haitham is—well, Al-Haitham is looking at Kaveh. But Al-Haitham is always looking at Kaveh, so Tighnari can disregard him.

“I’m,” Tighnari starts, then stops, considers. “I’m going to take him home.”

“You do that,” says Dehya, now looking at Cyno with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Call if you need anything, okay?” says Nilou. 

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” says Tighnari, already hoisting Cyno up. He inhales softly when Cyno’s head drops onto his shoulder, but he can dwell on this later, when there aren’t so many gleaming pairs of eyes on them.

Which is how Tighnari ends up at his apartment, lugging a sleeping Cyno inside with all the strength he has accumulated throughout his life. Maybe this is why his conscience decided that fateful day in his childhood that he was going to one day shoot targets for a living. That sort of thing requires killer upper body strength. Everything happens for a reason indeed.

But he digresses, setting his drunk best friend down gently on top of the living room couch. His apartment always seems to glow just a few shades brighter whenever Cyno is over—it’s been this way for years, really—and evidently this fact does not diminish with intoxication thrown into the mix. Tighnari drops into a squat at the edge of the sofa and buries his chin into his arms slung over his knees. He looks at Cyno’s sleeping face, his lips twisting, his heart thudding in his ribs.

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” he whispers, then lifts his hand up to gingerly push a bit of Cyno’s white hair out of his eyes. “What are you going to do with me, really. God. What the hell is wrong with me?”

Cyno’s lips part. Tighnari’s eyes go impossibly wide as his voice comes softly through the night, “Nothing’s wrong with you, Nari.”

Tighnari swallows. “You’re awake?”

“No,” says Cyno. His eyes are still shut, and his breathing is still deep. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I…what?”

Then Cyno huffs. His eyes squint tighter. He rolls over onto his back and murmurs, “I really like you. I like being your best friend. I hope I can always be your best friend, no matter what.”

Tighnari blinks at him, hard, in one second intervals. “What?” he says again. 

Then Cyno starts snoring, and just like that, Tighnari is left to contemplate, well, all of that. No matter what. The problem is, he doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. The problem is, whatever Cyno feels for him is probably tenfold whatever Tighnari feels back. And there’s no way he can do that to him. There’s no way he can offer Cyno his hand when he’s receiving a whole arm and thensome in return. It isn’t fair. It wouldn’t be fair. Tighnari would never do that to him.

He stands up until he no longer level with the couch, and he contemplates whether or not it would be worth it to carry him to the bed. 

But that’s too much. Tighnari is many things, but a fool is not one of them.

He brings the pads of his fingers up to his mouth and presses his lips against them, then bends down and gently brands Cyno’s jaw. There. For now, this is all he will allow himself.

His next match isn’t until several days later: he enters the field to find this opponent there waiting for him, against the backdrop of the screaming spectators. One side for Sumeru, and one side for Fontaine. The archer in front of him tilts the tip of his squared black hat with his thumb and index finger, and then he winks. 

Tighnari blinks back at him. He’s heard a lot about the Fontanian archer, Lyney Snezhevich. His siblings are also competing in this year’s Games: his twin sister in fencing, and his younger brother in diving. Tighnari makes a mental note to ask Al-Haitham and Kaveh about those particular matches later.

Lyney shoots the first arrow. Bullseye. Ten points for Fontaine.

Tighnari raises his bow next. He takes a deep breath, and he shoots. The arrow misses the center of the target by just a hair. Nine points for Sumeru.

He drops his bow and sighs, rolling his shoulders back as he watches Lyney take his next turn. Another perfect shot: ten more points for Fontaine.

And then Tighnari takes his second shot too. Ten points for Sumeru.

And so it goes. Lyney shoots with a precision and speed that Tighnari has never seen before. He pulls back the string of his bow and fires the shot almost immediately, the entire thing exactly one smooth movement that is honestly quite beautiful. It looks more like a performance than anything else, and by the end of it, Tighnari finds himself smiling through his loss.

“That was brilliant,” he compliments when the two shake hands. It was a close match, Tighnari losing by just two points, but it was also possibly the most fun he’s had on the field in a long, long time.

“Why thank you!” Lyney says, grinning, and then he lifts Tighnari’s hand gingerly with the tips of his fingers and plants a quick kiss to the back of his palm. “It was wonderful to shoot with you.”

Tighnari thinks that if he had normal ears, they would probably be tinged red right now.

This time, it’s just Cyno waiting for him at the end of the several post-match interviews he has to give, but something is different. Cyno’s eyes are dark, and he’s looking straight at Lyney, who’s currently still being flocked by reporters, smiling and laughing and throwing up a peace sign to the several cameras being shoved into his face. 

Something in Tighnari’s chest grows sharp, scraping against his bones like chalk. He inhales at the realization of what is going on, and when Cyno finally turns to him, Tighnari averts his gaze. 

“Do you want a hug?” Cyno asks. 

Tighnari whips his head back around. “What?”

Cyno frowns. “You just lost.”

“Oh,” says Tighnari. Was I mistaken? Was it not jealousy? “No, I—why were you just looking at Lyney like that?”

“Like what?” Cyno asks. His expression is blank now.

Tighnari winces. “Just now…you were. Staring at him. You looked mad.”

“Oh,” says Cyno. “That’s because he kissed your hand.”

Tighnari doesn’t say anything for a good five seconds.

Eventually, Cyno says, “Are you okay, Nari?”

“I’m fine,” says Tighnari. His voice is a few pitches higher than usual, but if Cyno notices, he expertly does not comment on it. “He didn’t mean anything by it, you know. I’ve heard that he’s just…like that. He’s an insanely good shot, though. I’m honestly not sure if I can win gold.”

Cyno shakes his head. “You don’t know what will happen.”

“Neither do you,” says Tighnari.

Cyno hums. “That’s true. But I believe in you.”

Tighnari laughs. It sounds a little hollow, even to his own ears. “There are a lot of people believing in the other archers too, Cyno.”

“Maybe so,” says Cyno, “but they don’t matter, do they?”

“I—” Tighnari snaps his mouth shut. Cyno is blinking at him, unwavering, just as always. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a hug?”

Tighnari thinks that if Cyno hugs him right now, something really bad will happen. He doesn’t know what it is—just that the world is tipping on its axis right now, just a little. He thinks it has been for a while now. He doesn’t know if he can return a hug from Cyno like a normal person right now, doesn’t know if he will or will not simply just burst into tears upon the first touch. Probably not. Tighnari has never been much of a crier. But it might be a close thing. It really might be a close thing. He doesn’t even really know why.

“I’m sure,” he says instead, and then he watches as Cyno’s shoulders drop, maybe out of disappointment or something else entirely. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

By this point in a tournament, Tighnari is usually pretty sure of his chances at a medal. He doesn’t want to be too overconfident, but through looking at the current point rankings, he thinks he may have a pretty good shot at least bronze. Maybe. Once again, he doesn’t want to speak too soon, nor does he want to jinx anything.

Gold is of course the dream. But he still has three more archers to shoot against: Liyue, Inazuma, and Mondstadt. He’s most nervous about Liyue and Mondstadt, he thinks. The Liyuen archer is a new face in the inter-region scene, much like himself, but word on the street is that she is the apprentice of Cloud Retainer. The same Cloud Retainer who won ten gold medals for Liyue at the Games during her career before she retired several years ago.

The Mondstadt archer is an absolute enigma, but he won gold for archery at the last Games. And the one before that. The thing is, Tighnari is pretty sure he saw him at the restaurant the other day, sitting in the corner at the bar getting drunk out of his mind. Tighnari is also pretty sure that this is just his usual state of being too. Which is crazy, really. A professional athlete during the most important tournament of the year? Absolutely insane.

So, basically, the TLDR is that he might be fucked.

“Don’t discount yourself so soon,” Kaveh says seriously, right after Tighnari has finished lamenting about this later that same night. 

They’re sitting around the living room floor of Kaveh and Al-Haitham’s apartment, which really is quite nice. For a brief moment, Tighnari is very grateful for the fact that Sumeru is hosting the Games this year—he’s heard less than pleasant stories about the set up they’ve got going for the other regions’ contestants.

Then again, there is the chinchilla, sitting in the corner of the room inside its cage, staring at them.

“Don’t forget that you’re a new face too,” Kaveh continues, ignoring all of this and dipping his pita into the bowl of hummus currently slapped in the middle of their little four-person circle. Square? Whatever. Next to him, Al-Haitham is turning the page of a book in his lap, and next to him, Cyno is shuffling through what Tighnari assumes is a new set of TCG cards. “None of these people know anything about your game. You’re the underdog, basically. The under dawg. D A W G.”

Tighnari turns to face Al-Haitham. “Is he okay?”

“He lost pretty badly today,” says Al-Haitham, not looking up from his book. “Against the Fontainian diver. Freminet, or something.”

“Oh!” says Tighnari. “I lost to his brother today, too.”

Kaveh reaches over, and the two high-five.

Al-Haitham turns another page. “I won against Lynette, personally.”

“Okay, well, fuck you,” says Kaveh, with emphasis. “Nobody asked you for your input.”

“It just seemed like a valuable addition to the conversation.”

“Well, it wasn’t, so. Go back to your book and stop eavesdropping on this very private conversation I’m trying to have with my good friend Tighnari.”

Finally, Al-Haitham looks up. “Cyno and I are right here.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “Clearly Cyno is preoccupied with—well, whatever it is he’s doing. Hey, Cyno, what are you doing?”

“Your mom,” says Cyno without missing a beat.

“Never mind,” says Kaveh. “I no longer want to know.”

Tighnari leans over, frowning, in Cyno’s direction. Immediately, Cyno half-turns, splaying out the cards in his hand to show him. 

“Are they,” Tighnari starts, his nose scrunching, “um, good? For the game?”

Cyno nods seriously. “These are what will carry me through the first tournament I play after the Games are over.”

“I see,” says Tighnari, not knowing at all what he’s talking about. Tighnari’s own knowledge of Genius Invokation TCG basically only extends to knowing what the different sides on the dice mean. And even that he knows pretty vaguely—mostly from Cyno’s own muttering from next to him when the two of them are taking the bus together, or something. They have an app, and Tighnari knows for a fact it takes up at least fifty percent of Cyno’s screen time.

“Who’s your next match against?” Kaveh asks, rolling back until he’s leaning against his elbow on the carpet. He’s looking at Tighnari with a grin, and so Tighnari rolls his eyes and goes back to sitting at his original spot.

“Inazuma,” he says. “The archer’s name is Yoimiya.”

“Oh!” Kaveh nods. “I know her, kind of. We met briefly at the opening ceremony. She’s really sweet. I’m up against Liyue next.” Then he extends his foot and kicks Al-Haitham’s thigh. “What about you, huh?”

“Kaveh, stop touching me with your foot,” says Al-Haitham, and with this, he finally sets his book down. “And I’m playing Inazuma next too. Chiori. I think she will finally give me the proper fight I’ve been looking for.”

Kaveh clicks his tongue. “You are so rude. Has anyone ever told you that, Al-Haitham?”

“Yes,” says Al-Haitham primly. “You tell me every day.”

“And it’s still not enough,” says Kaveh, and then he sighs very dramatically.

Cyno looks up from his cards. “Good luck,” he says.

“Thanks,” says Al-Haitham.

“Thanks,” says Tighnari.

Kaveh pulls a face. “I won’t need luck.”

Al-Haitham gives Kaveh a look.

“Yeah,” says Kaveh, deflating, “you’re right. Thanks, Cyno. We can all count on you to be our number one cheerleader. Well, to some more than others, but, well, it’s the thought that counts at the end of the day.”

“You’re welcome,” says Cyno with no parsable emotion.

Tighnari sighs. Al-Haitham picks up his book again. The chinchilla starts sprinting on the wheel in her cage.

All in all, a pretty typical evening.

Yoimiya is quite lovely, really, so Tighnari guesses he will have to give Kaveh a little credit. Not too much, though. Kaveh has a tendency to let these sorts of things get to his head. But Yoimiya greets him with a wide smile, tells him how excited she is to see how he plays, and then walks with a skip in her step back to her position. 

Tighnari watches her go. She looks back, shooting him another smile and a thumbs up, and he returns it, feeling faintly out of his element. No matter, though. He can do friendly. And, really, these sorts of matches are the best ones, even if you have to sort of forget for a few moments the things at stake here. 

And so, they shoot. After every one of her turns, Yoimiya whips to face the crowd and throws up a peace sign, posing, and Tighnari’s ears droop slightly at the sheer volume the stadium erupts into. Holy wow. This is the type of person who needs a bodyguard. Briefly, Tighnari thinks about Cyno, and how he’s probably tucked into this same crowd somewhere, watching him, rooting for him in that quiet way of his. It makes his chest swell.

Kusanali above. Maybe he really does need to get himself checked out. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on like this.

Surprisingly, Tighnari wins the match with the largest point margin he’s had so far. Yoimiya is still smiling brightly, even through her loss, which is sort of inspiring, really—not that Tighnari would consider himself a sore loser in any way.

The interviewers are more like vipers today, sticking their microphones into his face with an increased intensity than they have been so far. Though maybe that’s because, with how these points are looking, Tighnari truly has a good shot at becoming a medalist. 

“How do you feel?”

“I feel pretty great,” says Tighnari to the first one.

“You’re up against Liyue next. Are you scared to shoot against Cloud Retainer’s protégé?”

“I’m more excited than scared, I’d say,” says Tighnari to the second one.

“What’s your relationship with the Sumeru diver?”

“Kaveh?” says Tighnari to the third one. “He’s a good friend of mine.”

“What’s your relationship with the Sumeru fencer?”

“Al-Haitham is also a good friend,” says Tighnari to the fourth one, and privately smiles at what he suspects will be Al-Haitham’s reaction to this when he hears about it later.

“The internet is dying to know, what’s your relationship with your bodyguard?”

This question makes Tighnari pause, his eyebrows shooting up high atop his face. His hesitation, however, just makes them erupt with even more questions, like “Is he a good friend too?” and “Is he your boyfriend?” and “How long have you known him for?” and “What’s his name?”

Tighnari, for one, didn’t realize anyone would even care about his friendships like this. But alas.

Then, suddenly, there’s a flash of white, and there he is, Cyno in the flesh, standing in front of him with his arms held out wide at his sides. 

“Stay back,” he says, his voice loud, commanding in a way that Tighnari has never heard him before. “One at a time.”

Tighnari blinks at Cyno’s back, surprise coating his features. Hopefully, this isn’t too obvious on his face—the last thing the internet needs, apparently, is something more to gossip about. 

The reports seem surprised too, though Tighnari thinks that’s a bit stupid. They only know Cyno as Tighnari’s bodyguard, after all; they don’t know him in the context Tighnari knows him in.

“He’s…” Tighnari says, and all eyes turn back to him. The cameras start flashing again, and he squints and takes a breath, looking to the fifth reporter that had asked the question. “He’s my best friend.”

Cyno turns back, looks over his shoulder, meets Tighnari’s eyes. Through all of the chaos, for just that moment, their red-orange shine is all he can see.

“Hey, uh,” says Tighnari suddenly as Cyno is helping him fit his arm guard on. The match against Liyue is in just a few minutes. “I know we just…we don’t talk about—you know.”

Cyno’s head tilts. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you…what I mean is…” Tighnari’s face twists. “Are you in love with me?”

“Yes,” says Cyno. “Why?”

“Oh,” says Tighnari. He blinks once, then twice, then three times, and says, “What?”

Cyno doesn’t even seem shocked. He finishes tying up the brace, then pats his arm twice in quick succession before taking a step back. Tighnari’s head is beginning to spin. “There you go. Good luck out there, Nari.”

“Wait,” says Tighnari. “Wait, what? What did you just say?”

“What?” says Cyno. He’s frowning now. “Are you okay?”

“No?” says Tighnari, and it comes out more as a question than anything else. “No? I’m not? You just told me you’re in love with me?”

“Oh,” says Cyno. He looks conflicted for a moment. “I’m sorr—”

“Don’t apologize.”

Cyno closes his mouth wordlessly.

Tighnari stares at him and mentally curses himself for being so goddamn stupid. Really? He chose to do this now? Really? 

He takes a deep breath. “Are you sure?” It’s quieter than he means for it to be, which may have been a poor decision on his part considering the numbing sounds of the crowd’s cheering in the background. Cyno seems to hear it regardless though, so, small wins.

God.

“I’m sure,” says Cyno, and it’s simple. 

It sends a knife through Tighnari’s chest. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I know you don’t feel the same way,” says Cyno, his shoulders dropping, though not in a resigned way. He seems…remarkably sure of himself, actually. “It’s okay. I’m not asking for an answer from you. This has never affected my feelings toward our friendship, so it shouldn’t affect yours either.”

Tighnari opens his mouth to say something—say what? He doesn’t have a damn clue. 

But then Cyno is stepping forward, and he’s putting his hand on Tighnari’s shoulder, and Tighnari is flinching, ever so slightly. Cyno seems to notice this, and something in his expression shutters.

“We can talk about it later,” he says softly, and Tighnari’s heart hurts. It hurts. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know why he did this. He’s supposed to be out there right now, shooting to perfection in front of thousands and thousands of people, but all he can do is look into his best friend’s face and watch as he wilts. “You have to go.”

“Okay,” says Tighnari, and his voice cracks as he says it. “I’m—”

“Don’t apologize,” says Cyno, echoing his words from earlier.

Tighnari’s brows flatten. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“Yes, I do,” says Cyno, followed by nothing else. And then he turns Tighnari around on his heel and pushes him across the threshold.

Ganyu is exceptionally skilled. Within the first two shots, they are neck to neck in points, and Tighnari is beginning to sweat. He glances to his right, watches as Ganyu calmly wipes the back of her neck with a white towel and reaches up to tighten the band around her flowing baby blue hair. Her muscles flex as she does this, and a little off to the side, Tighnari spots Xianyun too, her arms crossed over her chest and her narrow gaze pointed directly onto him. 

Then his eyes slide further, zeroing in on Cyno, who’s leaning against the wall of the bleachers and staring back at him.

Tighnari swallows.

Now is not the time.

Ganyu returns to her spot. As the turn is called, she raises her bow and shoots her next arrow with the grace of a mythical beast, and when the crowd erupts, she starts and cowers down.

Tighnari takes a deep breath, and he takes his shot.

Bullseye. Again and again and again. He can tell that Xianyun is beginning to grow agitated with the way her eyebrows set as she speaks to Ganyu in between their turns. They’re still tied, and there are only two more shots in the match. 

Tighnari doesn’t know what has possessed him. He can feel Cyno’s gaze burning on his back with every movement of his arms, every time he raises his bow to the side of his face and glares against the beating, oblivious sun and feels every bristle of the string. The guard on his arm is aching where Cyno had been touching it earlier, poking little pins into his skin and sitting as a reminder of what had just happened between the two of them. Are you in love with me? 

Yes. Why?

Tighnari closes his eyes. 

He’s known. He knows this. He’s not an idiot. He knows Cyno has liked him. Loves him. But this—this is real life. This is no longer all stuffed into the recesses of Tighnari’s mind. It’s bubbled to the surface, all of it, whether or not he likes it. Back there, he made a decision—an impulsive one, a very impulsive one—and now he’s going to have to deal with the consequences. He’s going to have to go on with his life and face Cyno with the decisive knowledge that his best friend is, indeed, in love with him. That he’s been in love with him for a while now, probably.

How the hell is he supposed to do that?

Why didn’t you ever tell me? 

Because I know you don’t feel the same way.

Wrong. 

What?

Tighnari screws his eyes shut again. No. He cannot be doing this right now. So he opens his eyes, and meets Ganyu’s across the field. She’s looking at him with concern, which, you know, is really just great.

He inhales. Ganyu just scored another bullseye. This may just be the closest match Tighnari has ever played in his life. This may also just be his best performance in his life. Ironic, really. 

So he raises his bow again, and he shoots. 

The crowd bursts into cheers again, and when Tighnari looks up, he finds that he too has scored another ten points. 

Fucking hell.

Ganyu looks vaguely stunned. Xianyun’s eyes are wide. Fuck. 

Fuck.

One more.

He watches with his breath caught in his throat as Ganyu takes her final shot, the glide of the bow cutting the air as she pulls the arrow back and lets go. 

It propels forward. Tighnari’s eyes are wide on his face as he watches it go, and go, and go, until—

Nine points.

Ganyu’s shoulders drop, and her lips purse. Tighnari feels a chill run down his spine, and the screaming of the onlookers is nothing but murky water around him. She scored just one point lower than absolute full marks, which is insane. It’s insanity—but. 

It’s in his hands. The win is in his hands. The win is literally here, within arm’s reach, against an opponent he thought he would have no chance of beating at all. He thinks of his parents. He thinks of his friends. He thinks of Cyno. He wonders what expression Cyno is making right now, if he’s just as nervous as Tighnari is, if he just believes in him so much that he doesn’t have to think about the possibility of him fucking this up. Or maybe the outcome doesn’t even matter. Maybe it’s never mattered. Maybe the only thing that really matters is—

He raises his bow. In his periphery, he sees Ganyu’s head tilted as she observes him closely, as if he is someone worth learning from, and then he closes his gaze to the world and the only thing he can see is the distinct yellow yolk center of the target.

He shoots and immediately closes his eyes.

A second passes. Then another. Then another. 

Then, the only thing he hears is roaring, chanting screaming. When Tighnari flickers back to reality, he sees that the arrow has nestled into the very center of the sun, and he drops his arrow as the shock shutters through him. 

Ganyu is clapping. Xianyun looks begrudgingly impressed. Tighnari thinks that this may be the end of the world as he knows it. A perfect score? Him? 

Kaveh’s voice faintly rings through his head, something about not discounting himself so soon, something about an underdog spelled in a strange and incorrect way. Something something something, and then someone is hugging him. 

It’s Cyno, because of course it’s Cyno. His grip is fierce, and it knocks the wind out of Tighnari’s lungs. His heart catches in the base of his throat, his lips parting in surprise, and then he’s tilting his chin toward the sky and laughing at the top of his lungs.

Ganyu is walking up to him as Cyno backs away, holding out her hand. “Congratulations,” she says a little shyly. Tighnari smiles and returns her handshake. “I’ve actually never shot that well before.”

“Me neither,” says Tighnari. “That means we brought out the best in each other.”

Ganyu smiles. “If you ever find yourself in Liyue Harbor, I’d love a rematch.”

“I’m already rearranging my schedule,” says Tighnari, and then Ganyu nods and walks back over to where Xianyun is waiting for her. 

When he turns, he finds Cyno looking at him with a serious expression.

Tighnari inhales sharply. “What is it?”

“You just got a perfect score,” says Cyno. “I’m going to tell everyone I know.”

Tighnari presses his lips together to stop his smile from overtaking. “The games are broadcasted region-wide, you know.”

“Oh,” says Cyno, looking a little disappointed.

Tighnari laughs. “But I suppose you can tell them again. Just to drive the point home.”

“Yes,” says Cyno, nodding quickly. “Yes, yes, you’re right. You’re always right. I’m so—I—I’m very proud of you. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Tighnari’s heart twists. “Thank you, Cyno,” he says quietly and wonders if Cyno can even hear him.

Winning against Ganyu pushes him up the rankings quite a bit, actually. In fact, it puts him as a contender for gold. It’s between Tighnari and the Mondstadt archer—who, by the way, has thus far not lost a single one of his matches. It’s just Tighnari’s luck that his very final round will be against him.

But if he loses badly, then second place might be lost to him, too. Ganyu is up against the Natlani archer for the final, Chasca. Tighnari knows it will be an easy win for Liyue.

“Oh! I know you!” a voice hiccups, and Tighnari turns to see a shorter man with black-blue braids framing his face skipping up to him. He’s drooping, a little. “You’re the guy who got a perfect score against Ganyu today, aren’t you?”

Is he drunk? “That’s me, yeah.”

The Mondstadt archer grins. “I’m Venti,” he introduces himself. “We’re shooting together tomorrow!”

Another hiccup. Tighnari is mildly alarmed.

“I’m, uh,” he starts, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Ehe!” says Venti, and then he skips drunkenly away.

Tighnari blinks after him.

“Is he okay?” comes Cyno’s telltale confused drawl from the shadows, which probably sounds more dramatic than it is, but Cyno literally appears out of nowhere right then. Tighnari had been in the process of leaving to go to train, and when he sees him, his grip around the straps of his backpack tighten.

“Hi,” he says. He swallows. “Uh. Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Hm,” says Cyno, looking in the direction of where Venti had just wobbled away. “I wonder if that’s even allowed.”

“I doubt he shoots drunk,” says Tighnari, but his voice comes out a little unsure despite himself. “But, um, I guess we’ll find out tomorrow?”

“Right,” says Cyno, and then their eyes meet.

Tighnari becomes very acutely aware of this very, very quickly. A stone drops into his stomach, and it pebbles there, like the last drop of rain against concrete. Are you in love with me? Yes. Why?

“Cyno,” Tighnari starts, and then stops. God, he’s so stupid. “I’m sorry.”

Cyno frowns. “About what?”

“I just—I don’t know.” Tighnari can feel his hands curling into fists by his sides, feels the gums of his lower mouth beginning to ache from how hard he’s sinking his teeth into them. He closes his eyes and presses his lips together, and when he opens them again, Cyno is looking at him softly. “I don’t know what to say. To…you. Right now.”

“Tighnari,” says Cyno. He takes a step forward. There's concern in his voice now. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. No. I—I don’t know. I don’t know, Cyno, and I’m so mad at myself for not knowing,” says Tighnari. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that his words are speeding up. “I didn’t know for sure if you…if you felt. That way. About me. And I swear I didn’t think—well, that sounds really bad, but I wasn’t thinking when I asked you for confirmation. I shouldn’t have asked you, is…is what I’m trying to say. And that I’m sorry. I just feel like I’ve ruined everything.”

Cyno is quiet. He’s looking off into an empty spot above Tighnari’s elbow, his mouth stretched into a thin little line. He looks more contemplative than Tighnari has ever seen him before.

When Cyno does finally say something, his voice is quiet. “Is this because you don’t love me back?”

“What?” Tighnari feels his entire body freeze, cold acid washing over him in one fell swoop.

“I already know that, Tighnari,” Cyno says. There’s no discernable emotion behind it, just a subtle sort of resignation that makes something cut straight into Tighnari’s heart. Bullseye, just like that. “I already know you don’t love me back,” Cyno says again as the arrow burns deeper, and deeper, and deeper, “so it’s okay. I promise this doesn’t change anything. I mean it.”

Tighnari shakes his head, numb. “No. No, it changes everything.”

Cyno looks pained. “It doesn’t have to. I’m—I’m okay with it. I’ve long come to terms with it.”

And that’s a second arrow. A second bullseye. 

Because Tighnari does love him back. Of course he loves him back. It’s clearly been obvious to everyone but himself. And Cyno. 

But Cyno—Cyno—

“I’m sorry,” says Tighnari again, and his throat is suddenly dry. “I just. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” says Cyno.

“I don’t want to give you false hope. I don’t want to just give you half of something you deserve a whole of.” Tighnari looks over, and like this, with his flat soles and Cyno’s boots, they’re the same height. “You deserve more than that. I can’t—I don’t know if I can give you that.” Silence stretches between them. “Please say something.”

“Okay,” says Cyno. “I understand.”

“You do?”

Cyno nods. It’s a firm nod. For the first time in a very long time, Tighnari has completely zero idea what he’s thinking. “Yes, I understand. It’s okay. You shouldn’t think so much about this and focus your attention instead on your match tomorrow.”

“I…” Tighnari trails off. He swallows. “Yeah, okay. I was about to leave to go and practice.”

“Do you need help?” Cyno asks.

“No, it’s okay,” Tighnari shakes his head. “It’ll just be me and my coach. Don’t worry about it.”

“All right,” says Cyno. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Shoot them dead.”

Tighnari blinks in the aftermath of the—frankly really bad—joke, but before he can think to react in any sort of plausible way, Cyno is already turning from him and walking away. Tighnari stares at his receding back, all the way down until he turns a corner and disappears from sight.

happy birthday kaveh

[21:00] kaveh: so
[21:00] kaveh: i may have a bit of a problem

[21:01] you: did you lose your chinchilla
[21:01] you: you fucking lost your chinchilla didn't you
[21:01] you: if you did i literally don’t want to hear it
[21:01] you: stop typing kaveh. stop typing

[21:02] kaveh: guys i think i lost my chinchilla

[21:02] al-haitham: Hm
[21:02] al-haitham: Maybe this could have been avoided
[21:02] al-haitham: You know, by not bringing a random chinchilla home
[21:02] al-haitham: Without even informing the owner of the house you’re living in

[21:02] kaveh: SHE’S NOT A RANDOM CHINCHILLA SHE IS MY DAUGHTER
[21:02] kaveh: FUCK YOU AL-HAITHAM
[21:02] kaveh: MAYBE THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU HAD BEEN A GOOD PERSON AND JUST TRIED TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH HER
[21:02] kaveh: GO AND FUCK YOURSELF

[21:02] al-haitham: And yet at the end of the day, you still lost your supposed daughter

[21:03] kaveh: IT’S CRAZY HOW I DIDN’T FUCKING ASK???

[21:03] dehya: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

[21:03] you: what did i fucking say

[21:03] nilou: hi guys!
[21:03] nilou: what did i miss?

[21:03] kaveh: AL-HAITHAM THE NEXT TIME WE HAVE SEX I AM GOING TO UNLEASH THE CHINCHILLA ON YOU

[21:03] nilou: oh

[21:03] cyno: Hey Kaveh, I think I found Tighnari in my kitchen

[21:03] you: wait what?
[21:03] you: i’m at home in my bed?

[21:03] cyno: Oh, not you

[21:04] kaveh: CYNO YOU FOUND TIGHNARI

[21:04] you: DID YOU NAME YOUR FUCKING CHINCHILLA TIGHNARI

[21:04] kaveh: ohh wait that makes sense i forgot i took her with me to ur place earlier cyno

[21:04] you: WHY DID YOU NAME YOUR CHINCHILLA TIGHNARI
[21:04] you: NAME IT SOMETHING ELSE?

[21:04] kaveh: she’s not an IT
[21:04] kaveh: she’s my DAUGHTER
[21:04] kaveh: anyways tighnari is just a placeholder for until i can think of a proper name for her
[21:04] kaveh: actually her name was al-haitham first but then it got confusing in the house

[21:05] you: ????????????????

[21:05] dehya: why is this still the gc name kaveh’s birthday was over a month ago

[21:06] candace: did we all just like gloss over kaveh revealing that he and al-haitham have sex

[21:06] kaveh: doesn’t seem like something i’d do

[21:06] you: what, have sex with al-haitham or reveal it in the group chat?

[21:06] kaveh: yes

[21:06] you: ok

al-haitham has left the group chat.

Tighnari does not, in fact, find out about the validity of whatever the hell happened last night with Kaveh in the group chat the next morning. Instead, he goes with Cyno to the arena, meets his coach, practices his shots until his calves are numb from standing, then mentally begins to prepare for the finals.

He tells himself that no matter the outcome, he will be proud of himself. No matter the outcome, he will be okay with it. But with every shot he doesn’t hit center square, he releases his bow from his hands and finds them shaking underneath the rubble.

“You’re going to be fine,” Cyno murmurs to him just an hour before it’s time. He leans over and envelopes Tighnari’s hands in his palms, which is exactly what Tighnari does not need right now, actually. But he doesn’t flinch away. He lets Cyno hold him. A part of him fears what’ll happen if he pushes him away.

“Did Kaveh go over to your place yesterday?” he asks instead.

Cyno looks a little taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovers. “Yes. I invited him and Al-Haitham for a moment after they were done with training. On their way home.”

Tighnari nods tightly. “And then he left his chinchilla with you.”

“Yeah, I dropped Tighnari off at their place before I came to get you this morning,” says Cyno.

“Don’t call Kaveh’s chinchilla Tighnari.”

“Oh. But that’s her name.”

“Anyways,” says Tighnari, “um. What did you talk to them about?”

“The conversation I had with you, mostly,” says Cyno, leaning back a little. “Not in any details, though. They didn’t know that I was actually talking about myself.”

Tighnari is absolutely, one hundred-percent sure that Kaveh and Al-Haitham both knew exactly what Cyno was talking about.

“Okay,” he manages, suddenly feeling a little sick. Not because Kaveh and Al-Haitham know—that was bound to happen sooner or later—but because Tighnari knows how that conversation must have gone: Tighnari rejected me being the main overarching narrative, whether or not that was portrayed clearly.

His mouth opens before he can stop it. “Do you really love me?”

“I do,” says Cyno not even a second later. It’s followed by nothing else.

Tighnari feels himself swallow.

“I didn’t say all of that because I don’t feel the same way,” he says. “I’m just scared I won’t be able to give you what you want.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” says Cyno softly. “I just want to be by your side as your friend.”

Tighnari wants that too. He just doesn’t know if friendship is enough anymore.

“You won’t ask me for any more than that?” he asks, and watches as Cyno’s expression shifts ever so slightly. “Not a single thing more?”

“Would you…” Cyno trails off. His back straightens. His eyes darken. “Would you want me to ask for anything else?”

“That’s what I’m asking you,” Tighnari whispers. It’s like someone’s brought the sun into this small room and ballooned it out into the air. Everything feels hot, dust filling his lungs and his gut and his stomach. He parts his lips and echoes Kaveh’s sentiment from the other day, “Don’t discount yourself so soon.”

“Tighnari,” Cyno says slowly, deliberately, like he’s scared. “You have to mean it, when you answer me. I’ll know if you don’t mean it.”

Tighnari knows that. Outside, he can hear the crowds of people shuffling in, talking and chattering amongst themselves. It’s all white noise. Everything is right here, right now, cradled in the pocket of air between their hands. “I will. I promise.”

Venti does not, in fact, show up to the finals drunk. It was a fifty-fifty, really, in Tighnari’s head. He’ll give it to his right side today. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Kaveh jogging in and taking a seat next to Cyno, and then Al-Haitham, Nilou, Candace, and Dehya following shortly after. Tighnari smiles, thinks to the good luck chain that had just occurred in their group chat a few minutes ago, and even catches Kaveh’s eye and shoots him a thumbs-up. Kaveh, he knows, just won against the Inazuman diver.

When the match starts, Venti is up to take the first shot. His form is short, and he’s smiling. When he draws the arrow, he tilts his head to briefly meet Tighnari’s eye, and winks.

The arrow shoots forward and lands perfectly in the center of the target. Without even looking. 

Ten points for Mondstadt, just like that.

Tighnari’s jaw drops. He’s heard about Venti’s masterful aim, and last night Cyno had even sent him several grainy videos showcasing this exact trick. In the videos, it looked as if Venti was almost taunting his opponents. Now, looking at it firsthand, Tighnari knows that this is just his way of having fun.

“Well,” Venti drawls from a few feet over, “you learn to spice things up when being inebriated is apparently forbidden!”

“I see,” says Tighnari. He tilts his head, appraises him. “I’m curious, Venti, do you shoot better or worse when you’re drunk?”

Venti breaks out into a grin. “What do you think?”

Before he can answer, Venti’s bullseye is suddenly reflected on the scoreboard, and Tighnari’s turn is called.

Better. Definitely better.

Tighnari breathes in, then out, then draws his arrow and shoots.

Bullseye. He lowers his bow and feels the beginnings of a smile creeping up at the corners of his mouth. 

“Ooh,” Venti laughs. “This is fun.”

Then he shoots perfectly again. And again. And again. And with every shot, Tighnari follows him. On the fifth shot, Tighnari scores nine, and a hush descends around the arena. His shoulders drop, and he sighs and moves to pick up the next arrow. He watches as Venti scores another ten points, and then draws his next shot and scores ten again.

He doesn’t mean to, but his eyes flit over to where he knows his friends are sitting. Immediately, he finds Cyno, and in that one, half second, the world around them falls away, and Tighnari is left alone in the center of the stage, looking out into the stands where his best friend is gripping the edge of the partition diving them with knuckles that are slowly turning the color of his hair.

Then Cyno nods at him, and the blood returns to Tighnari’s veins.

He raises his bow. He takes a deep breath.

Shoot. 

Bullseye.

The Sumeru side of the audience is screaming, and it’s mind numbing and everything Tighnari never thought he could even come close to. He shoots again. Ten. Ten. Ten. Ten. It’s like a dance against the wind and the partner standing opposite him and competing for the crown. His bow is his suit. His arrow is his tie. He draws his bow and ignores the sweat landing in droplets around his neck. 

When it’s over, he looks up at the scoreboard and finds that he’s just achieved one away from another perfect score. Venti, however, did achieve a perfect score.

Tighnari lost.

He looks over to the stands and finds that his friends are jumping up and down. Kaveh has somehow climbed atop Al-Haitham’s back, his arms practically choking a very exasperated looking Al-Haitham under him. Nilou is sobbing, her hands messily covering her face, and Candace and Dehya are screaming, grins wide on their faces and hands out up in the air. Cyno is staring at him.

Tighnari’s heart drops into his throat.

“My my my!” comes Venti’s now-familiar drawl, and Tighnari twists just in time to see him skipping over to him and holding his hand out. “That was pretty damn close. I’ll have to look out for you next year.”

“Next year?” Tighnari blinks, taking his hand.

“Well, duh,” says Venti. The way he shakes his hand is downright aggressive, and Tighnari has to stop the surprised cough from spilling past his lips. “You’re the best shot Sumeru has seen in years. Trust me, we’ll meet again. Perhaps right here!”

“I look forward to it, then,” Tighnari says. He feels like he might be shaking. “Congratulations on your gold, Venti.”

“Congratulations on your silver!”

In Tighnari’s periphery, he can see the cameras flashing, the blur of reporters stalking their way over to them. But he can also see his friends breaking away from the screaming crowd, tumbling down until they’re on the field too, running up to him at full speed. Tighnari stares at them in shock. And in the middle of it all, there is Cyno.

Tighnari holds his arms up, perhaps even subconsciously, and then everything is Cyno. Cyno is hugging him harder than he’s ever hugged him in his life, shock coating themselves and also the world. Cyno’s fingers are tight against his scalp and his nose is pressed into the crevice between Tighnari’s neck and shoulder, and Tighnari is laughing into the ends of Cyno’s hair. He thinks he might be crying. He thinks Cyno might be crying.

“Ask me now,” he whispers, and shudders against the way Cyno’s entire body stiffens around him. “Ask me now, Cyno.”

“Are you sure?” Cyno’s voice comes, quiet next to his ear. Tighnari can feel the flashes of cameras against the backs of his eyelids. “You have to mean it. You promised—”

“I will mean it,” says Tighnari. “Ask me now. Please.”

“Okay,” says Cyno, and then he leans his head back, and when Tighnari finally gets a good look at his face, he finds streaks of tears and red, red eyes. “Would you…” He visibly swallows. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime, Nari?”

Tighnari mock gasps. “What is this, is the Cyno currently asking me out on a date?”

“Between the two of us,” Cyno sniffs, “you’re the famous one.”

“After this?” Tighnari grins. “I’m not so sure.”

He darts forward and ropes his fingers around to the back of Cyno’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer and pressing their lips firmly together. 

He barely registers the collective gasp that explodes through the air, because Cyno is kissing him back. His left arm is coming to curl against the small of Tighnari’s back, and his front teeth are sinking into Tighnari’s bottom lip, and, god, if only they were not very much in the pinnacle of public right now.

“Really? For real?” Cyno is murmuring into his mouth. “Really, Nari, really? You mean it?”

“I promised I’d mean it.”

“I didn’t think…” He breaks away, buries his forehead into his collarbones. “In this life, I—I never thought that you and I could…” He peeks up. His cheeks are flushed, and it is the most adorable sight Tighnari has ever seen. “You just kissed me.” He sounds in awe. Tighnari suddenly becomes acutely aware of the fact that it would be very easy for anyone around them to see the sight of a blushing Cyno. 

So he tucks his chin over Cyno’s head and feels Cyno’s smile against his chest.

“FINALLY!” Kaveh screams later, when they’re all huddled in the middle of Al-Haitham’s living room floor surrounded by drinks and food. “FINALLY! FINALLY! FINALLY! FINALLY!”

“Please stop yelling in my face,” says Tighnari solemnly, not looking up from his phone.

“No!” Kaveh exclaims. “I will bask in this victory. In fact, you and Cyno finally getting together is more of a victory than my own silver medal. Oh, thank god Al-Haitham isn’t here right now. We get it, you won gold. Nobody fucking asked—hey, are you even listening to me? What are you doing?”

“Shh,” says Tighnari, squinting at his phone screen. “I’m about to finally beat Cyno in online archery.”

“What?” says Kaveh, and then he turns to look at Cyno, who is sitting quite literally with his head buried in Tighnari’s shoulder. “Are you guys seriously texting while you’re sitting together in person? Kusanali above, that’s so insufferable.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you,” Tighnari snaps right back, closing one eye to get a better look at the arrow graphic. They’re neck to neck. Cyno’s already gotten a full thirty points, and this next shot will determine whether or not Tighnari finally—

Kaveh arches over and smashes his hands over Tighnari’s cheeks, effectively ending all of his hopes and dreams.

“Oh,” says Cyno, holding up his own phone. “I won again.”

“I am going to fucking kill you,” says Tighnari to Kaveh.

“Hmm. You look kinda cute like this,” says Kaveh, squishing his face even further.

Al-Haitham appears from the hallway then. “Kaveh, where is Tighnari?”

“What?” Kaveh turns to look at him, then looks back at Tighnari, whose face is still in his hands. “What are you talking about? He’s right here.”

“No,” says Al-Haitham. “I mean your chinchilla.”

Kaveh’s eyes go wide. “Oh for fuck’s sake—”