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The sun over Mondstadt is bright, shining through a clear blue sky. Gentle breezes flow through, reducing the heat just a little, but the stone under Venti is still warm. Far below, he can hear snippets of conversations, echoes of footsteps.
He stares out into the empty blue skies.
There are shifting noises behind him, and then Aether is sitting next to him, perched a little awkwardly on stone fingers. Venti shifts to make room for them, each of them taking a hand.
Wordlessly, Venti offers them the bottle of cider he’s been sipping. They take a sip, then make a face and push it back.
“I think you got tricked,” they say aloud. “That’s just vinegar now.”
“I prefer to think of it as extra dry,” Venti replies, taking another sip himself. “A well-aged vintage. Matured. Sophisticated.”
“Or you just don’t want to give up free cider even if it’s terrible.”
“Let’s go with my take.” Venti manages a thin smile, draining a bit more of the bottle.
There’s a pause, a hesitation. Someone laughs, distantly, and the noise is clear and bell-like.
“I knew, a little,” Aether says at last. “Not… exactly what. But I… knew.”
Venti raises an eyebrow at that, turning to look at them properly. “Oh? Have you been brushing up on ancient Mondstadt history? You’d best be careful, or Lisa will come after you for overdue books.” He knows he’s talking too much. He can’t quite stop.
“No, I… Not that. Although, uh, please don’t tell Lisa how many books I’m carrying.” Aether rubs the back of their head, making their braid shift. “It was… You...”
They trail off.
Gently, wordlessly, Venti puts a hand on their shoulder, and they lean into it just a little.
“It was… raining, once. When we were trying to find a way into Storm--Dvalin’s home.” Aether looks down, at the stone beneath them. “And you paused for a second, looking into a puddle. I don’t think anyone else noticed, but your face, when you were looking…”
Another instant of hesitation.
“I haven’t… seen that expression anywhere else but a mirror.”
“Ah,” Venti says, soft, trying to hide the pulse of pain that’s run through him. He thinks of a crudely-sketched face on missing person posters, a phrase Aether repeats to anyone who will stand still. “Aether…”
“I know it’s not the same. Not like you, or Hans. I know. But…”
“Aether,” Venti repeats, a little more firmly. He squeezes their shoulder, shifting a little closer. “If it hurts, it hurts. You don’t have to hide that.”
“You’re one to talk about hiding things,” Aether mutters, but they don’t pull away.
“A cruel barb, but one I can’t say I don’t deserve.” Venti gives them a weak, brief smile. “I can’t understand all of what you feel, and you can’t understand all of what I feel, and, for that matter, neither of us can understand all of what Hans feels. It’s different, but… We understand enough to see clearly. And while I wish you didn’t have to go through this…” He manages a better smile. “It means more of us to help with the weight.”
Aether hesitates, then moves closer, pressing against Venti. Slowly, they lean against his shoulder, and Venti takes the chance to wrap his arm around their shoulders.
“If I don’t find her,” they mumble. “Will I have to carry her forever?”
“Don’t talk like that, my friend. The fight’s hardly begun; don’t stop before it is done. She’s out there, and I’ll help you search for as long as you need.” Venti leans his head against theirs. “We’ll search the ends of the earth, go wherever the breezes carry us… It makes an excellent story, if I have to say so myself.”
“And what about you?” they ask, looking at him with those piercing gold eyes. “When will you rest? You’re so willing to help with me, but…”
Venti’s smile flickers. “I promise you, Aether. It’s… been some time since all of that, you know? I’ve found comfort in story, in song, in travel, in sleep… And, of course, in shared time with good company. And all the while, I know that his face, his songs, his voice… All those things will be remembered. Isn’t that enough?”
“Has it ever stopped hurting?” Aether asks, and does not look away.
The breeze swirls around them both. Distantly, a lone cloud passes through the sky. Someone far away is calling a friend’s name, echoing through the plaza.
Aether looks at him, expression unreadable.
Then, at last, they lean up and kiss him, and they are warm.
Venti doesn’t hesitate to return the kiss, drawing Aether closer, feeling their heat, their solidity. He puts a hand against the back of their head, digging fingers into golden hair. For a moment, there is only Venti and Aether, only the places where they touch, only their lips meeting and Aether’s hand on Venti’s waist and the sunwarmed feeling of hair under his hand, and there is no room for ghosts to fit between them.
Finally, though, Aether pulls away, making a slight face. “You taste like vinegar,” they complain, shaking their head.
“Well, I suspect some of your wonderful cooking could help clear the taste away,” Venti suggests, grinning from ear to ear.
“Leech. You’re worse than Paimon sometimes.” Aether sighs, shrugging. “We should probably track her down, anyways. I can stop by the general store on the way, get some things.”
“Good plan. I suspect eventually the lovely people of Mondstadt are going to get annoyed with our acts of affection on their archon, anyways.” Venti giggles, pushing himself up. “Should we climb down, or use the fun way?”
“How long have we been traveling together now?” Aether asks, tilting their head with a bit of a grin.
“Good point.” Venti calls his lyre to his hand, plucks the familiar notes of a song from long ago.
The winds swirl around them, lift them, and Aether takes his hand in theirs and squeezes.
Together, on wings of wood and paper and metal, they soar.