Chapter Text
The house had been silent for a while, and Xiao hated it.
He lay on the couch that faced the piano, staring blankly into the ceiling as the seconds audibly ticked by, the clock on the wall a painful reminder of the time he was wasting. If only there was some kind of music that could drown out this hell.
For a moment, he contemplated getting up and playing something—anything, so long as it distracted him. Surely, with his limited knowledge (taught by him) of the workings of a piano, it would suffice for some kind of tune. Maybe a very hesitant Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He knew what even looking at the piano would do to his consciousness, his stupid piece of shit brain that would undoubtedly wander to him no matter how much he tried not to and oh fuckit’sdoingitagainjustmakeitstop-
And so, Xiao resigned himself to studying every detail the ceiling could offer him. The texturing of the off-white told him that the ceiling was probably really dirty, and needed some cleaning. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d done any cleaning. It’d been easier to just ignore the mess that piled up over time, and instead focus on exactly what medication that Venti had to take, and… I did it again.
A distraction. He needed a distraction. His progress with learning the guitar was coming along great, something that he’d been quite proud of. Learning his favourite songs, and coming up with his own little tunes, though they’d never progressed beyond humming them to Venti while he drifted off to sleep, with empty promises of one day dueting with him and maybe even forming some sort of makeshift band, and-
There was no denying it at this point. His head hurt, and how badly he wanted to crawl into his boyfriend’s arms right now, and just break down into them while Venti consoled him with soft humming, running nimble fingers through his hair. He wasn’t here, with his usual piano playing, his usual cheerful tone, his words of reassurance that everything would be okay… It’d been a long time since he’d been able to have those luxuries, luxuries that Xiao should’ve ingrained further into his memory had he known what Venti was going through. Comforts he should’ve appreciated more, because now, he didn’t know whether he’d ever receive the same warm hug he did just a few weeks ago.
Well, at least he wasn’t dead. Yet, a small, monotone voice of reason whispered. He’s on that hospital bed right now, and he’s barely responsive, who knows when they’re going to pull the plug?
“Shut up,” Xiao mumbled to himself. He felt his cheeks heat up slightly, feeling stupid for talking to himself in an empty studio.
He was stupid, though. He should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve paid attention to the signs, they were all there, but dismissed. If only he could’ve gone back in time, to scream at his past self that what seemed insignificant and a minor problem would indeed come back to whack him in the face with many, many stressful hours.
It was difficult to think of anything else, and it was so easy to just forget and pretend that none of this was actually happening. To just sleep, and let himself succumb to the realm of unconsciousness. Xiao let himself fall asleep once more, eyes sore from the tears that endlessly threatened to spill. He had to stay strong, and with no one else he could imagine relying on, he could only do his best to support himself, though it was difficult. It seemed as though that at any moment, any semblance of stability could simply slip through his fingers, lost forever.
He curled up, ensuring his phone lay clutched in his hands for a phone call, and succumbed himself to nothingness.
The studio was silent, apart from the soft ticking of the clock mounted on the wall, and harsh gusts of wind that banged against the unsteady window.
The brief moment brought him back to another memory.
It was like time had stopped. Xiao- he’d been accustomed to the occasional pauses that Venti would spend figuring out what part of the piece he’d been playing wrong, or maybe writing some notes for himself on the paper. It was something that all musicians became familiar with in the first few weeks of picking up their instrument. Moments of frustration from being unable to play properly. It was normal.
Without taking his eyes off his phone, Xiao continued scrolling through his social media feed, waiting for the music to start up again. He flicked his thumb once. Then twice. Again. That was weird.
He looked up at Venti, and his heart pounded at the sight.
“Venti…?”
Venti had curled up into a fetal position, shaking slightly. The hands that had once graced the keys of the piano now embraced around himself. To Xiao, Venti looked so small in that moment, that he wanted nothing but to protect him.
He rushed over to the silent figure, kneeling on the floor and wrapping his arms around him and allowing Venti’s head to rest on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to be responsive at all, and instead stared blankly into who-knows-what.
“Venti, are you alright? Are you sick? Do you-”
Venti shook his head slightly.
“I’m alright.”
“Clearly not,” muttered Xiao, picking him up. “You look messed up as hell. I’m taking you to the bedroom.”
He looked down to see a small, sad smile break across Venti’s face.
“Sure.”
Xiao awoke once more with a start, half expecting braids to fall across his face.
Nothing.
A quick glance outside told him that the weather still remained grey and passive as ever.
He slowly sat up, wincing at the aches from sleeping in such an awkward position.
He found himself face to face with the piano from across the room. The lid had still been up, he hadn’t found the time to close it.
Walking over, he gently let it down, and let himself fall onto the piano seat, where he once sat.
It was going to be quiet around here, for a very, very long time.