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An Adeptus is born from the helpless cries of the people, ingrained with only a fragment of an Archons’ power but enough to destroy all that stands in their way. Xiao has long gotten used to the role he was assigned from the moment of his birth—a merciless weapon who exists only to annihilate his enemies. With the scraps of his conscience, he sometimes regrets that he couldn’t go down a more peaceful path. However, as the last Yaksha standing, he has too much blood on his hands, the stains thoroughly scrubbed but never leaving. On most days, the nightmares are unbearable—gory, unforgettable images of corpses rotting beneath his feet and stabbing fragments of loss cutting into his mind.
There are two days where Xiao bears the exceptional burden of existing: the first night of Lantern Rite and his birthday.
Xiao grips onto the kitchen counter, pressing the edge of his palm against his temple. Muffling a grimace through gritted teeth, he feels around for his medicine, barely able to remember where he last kept it. His vision blurs as he tries to make out shapes in his hazy vision. Letting out a deep exhale, he murmurs to himself, “I should make breakfast.” When he hears the sound of nearing footsteps, he falls into a defensive stance, as if preparing to swing into motion upon being confronted by an assailant.
A sluggish pair of arms make their way around his waist. Venti pushes his body against his back. “Morning, love.”
Xiao’s expression softens. He assembles a struggled smile. “Hey,” Xiao mutters, only for his words to be stifled by a groan when an excruciating pain surges through his forehead. He slams his palm against the counter, startling Venti.
“Are you..?” Venti asks, concern laced in his eyebrows. He pulls away for a moment to get a better look at Xiao’s face, still keeping his other arm around Xiao. Xiao nods stiffly, every muscle in his face starting to ache as he tries to hold back tears. He bites his bottom lip hard. “Hush, hush. It’s going to be okay,” Venti murmurs, guiding his hand to Xiao’s. He intertwines their fingers and, knowing his habits, keeps Xiao from digging his fingernails too deep into his flesh.
Spinning his fiancé around, Venti pins him against the counter, trapping him between his arms. Xiao frowns, his heartbeat picking up pace. Starting to flush, he turns away, trying to keep himself from frowning. He nestles his head against the nape of Venti’s neck, pulling him in by his hip.
“I feel horrible,” he confesses, sniffling. He hides his face in Venti’s collar where the homely scent of lemony detergent will hopefully calm himself down. When he closes his eyes, he recalls the jarring image of a dismembered head in his hands and his blood suddenly runs cold. Terrified, Xiao balls his hands into fists and starts to tremble in panic. Venti rises onto the tips of his toes, caressing the back of Xiao’s head gently. He hums a comforting melody, stroking Xiao softly. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here for you,” Venti comforts, tickling Xiao with the gentle touch of his fingertips.
To the rest of the world, even the clocks and the sun, an entire hour goes by while Xiao tries to calm himself down in the kitchen, pacing back and forth but eventually returning to Venti’s touch. To them, it feels like both eternity and an hour have passed at the same time, unbearably painful but gone in an instant. At the end of the hour, Xiao is on the ground, fidgeting with his hands and the seams of his shirt but a little better. He plays with his fingers, his head throbbing from his overwhelming emotions but wherever he is, Venti follows. Cautiously, Venti rests his head on Xiao’s shoulders.
“I think… I might be better now,” Xiao takes Venti’s hand, interlocking their fingers. He leans his head back against the counter with a huff, coughing hoarsely. The last tear he can manage slips off his eyelid, trickling down the length of his jaw. “I’m sorry.”
“Surely I have more to apologise for than you,” Venti teases.
“Birthdays are supposed to be fun and everything but I never have fun on mine. I don’t even know mine exists. I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” Xiao winces, guilty. Venti pokes Xiao’s forearm but his fiancé keeps his reddened face averted away. Adamant, he turns Xiao’s face by his chin, forcing him to keep his gaze on him.
“You did nothing wrong,” Venti reassures. “It’s my job to make your birthday special, no matter how bad you think it is. As long as you let me.”
“Come here?” Xiao stammers between breaths. When he stretches his arm out, it feels like Venti’s far even though he’s right next to him at the tips of his fingers. His palm feels cold. Venti crawls over, kneeling with his knees on either side of Xiao’s feet.
“Can I hold you?” Xiao whispers in a shaky voice. It’s not always that Xiaoever has to ask for physical affection when Venti always readily initiates. Before meeting Venti, he used to be closed off and kept his hands to himself. There were few who had the courage to be anywhere close to him. Snaking his palm up Venti’s jaw, he pulls his lover closer and rests their heads together. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I think you’re pretty amazing as you are,” Venti laughs, dispelling any tension in the air. “Even without me, you’ve made it far.”
“I don’t know how I did,” Xiao trembles, feeling weaker than he ever has. “It’s so hard… It’s so hard, it feels like it’s never going to fucking end.”
“Hey, follow me to the bedroom,” Venti cajoles in a gentle voice. Hesitant to move any more than he already has, Xiao reluctantly agrees, allowing Venti to lead the way. Their apartment has a relatively modern design with just enough space for the both of them, gifted to them by Zhongli. Though he claimed it was an act of goodwill, Xiao suspects it’s because he needed a way to ensure Venti would stop showing up to his office at odd hours, half drunk. It’s much like a studio apartment, equipped with an open-style kitchen that leads to the living room, two bedrooms and a bathroom. There are two parts that Xiao absolutely adores about the house—the balcony that lets him overlook the Pavillion and the window sill in their bedroom that they’ve decorated with cushions and unclean clothes.
“Sit here,” Venti instructs, scrambling out of the room. If Xiao had the energy, he gets the feeling he would start crying again. For now, the only evidences of his oncoming bout of despair are the salty tears on his lips and the frown weighing down on his face. Exhausted, he rests his head against the window, watching the people of Liyue at his feet. His nose starts to ache, eyes numb from the whimpering and wailing. “Have this,” Venti’s voice punctuates the still air, a cold glass of almond milk being stuffed into Xiao’s hands.
Xiao nuzzles in against the window, folding his legs where Venti can take a seat, holding his lyre in hand. His lips crack a smile. He has always been in love with Venti’s music, but the fact that the song is about him makes it much sweeter to his ears. So when the love of his life parts his lips and sweeps him up in the most gorgeous sound, Xiao feels like he’s home again—a place meaning more ‘home’ than a house itself, when he’s with Venti and Venti alone.
Xiao’s vision is clouded by a familiar mist. For once, he doesn’t see his entire history flashing before his eyes and he can almost see straight, the silhouette of his lover in a bright room with the sunlight swimming between the strands of his luminous braids, strumming his lyre with his eyes closed. Venti’s muffled voice, to Xiao, soon clears up. Like he has stepped foot into a whole new world, Xiao feels his heart come alive in his chest and every colour in front of him disperse into a kaleidoscope display. When Venti ends off on his last note, reality settles in—but not in the harsh, ruthless way that he expects it to.
“Venti,” Xiao calls out to his boyfriend, stretching his arms out eagerly with a weary smile.
“Xiao,” Venti giggles, throwing himself into Xiao’s arms, hugging him with enough love to last them lifetimes.