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They’re huddled around a fireplace near Albedo’s camp, quietly warming up from the bitter cold of the mountain.
Aether’s arms are swallowed entirely by the wool blanket Albedo lent him, making his body appear like nothing more than a golden head of hair resting on a pillow of snow—albeit one that shivered quite fervently in the cold of Dragonspine. Albedo kept it around for either of his apprentices who decided to visit, but more than happily lent it to the Traveller after each experiment. After all, he was aiding him in his endeavours—the very least he could do was take care of him while he was here.
“You truly do give off the aura of the stars,” Albedo says.
Aether’s lips curl into a smile, golden eyes glowing with flame gliding to look at the chief alchemist. “I think I’ve heard that one before,” he replies amusedly.
Almost sheepishly, Albedo shies a slight grin at the statement. “I apologise. It’s just that it’s very… perceivable.”
“How so?”
Albedo looks to the ground to ponder the question—only for it to stump him immediately. How could something so factual and blatantly obvious be so hard to explain? It was present in his face, his hands, his skin, his golden hair drawn loose by the whipping wind, his fond smile that bubbled and stirred up something within him. To Albedo, every part of the stars far from Teyvat presented itself in all things he did—little or big. Knowing this made Albedo realise how abysmal the gap between them was, but he swallows the thought for now.
His focus wanders back up to Aether, who tilts his head curiously in response.
“May I try and explain how I see it?”
Aether nods.
Gently slipping his hand into the traveler’s, Albedo lifts it between them gently, turning it palm up along with his own beside it.
“If you look at our hands, you’d notice there are no discernible qualities that make them wildly different.”
His finger trails down the lines and dips of Aether’s palm as he continues.
“While we identify it as a hand all the same, features such as callus or fingerprints give key traits away and work to create an aura, such as one’s personality. In short, it’s… details, I suppose. Do you understand now?”
He looks up once more to see Aether’s face tinged entirely with a bright shade of pink—much more apparent than when they were battling the cold outside earlier. His gaze locks with his in a quick moment of tension, the previously unforeseen possibility that he might’ve overstepped his boundaries settling in with him uncomfortably. Just as he’s about to snap his hands away and back, Aether speaks:
“What kind of details?”
He says it slowly, nearly hesitantly as he peeks over the top of his blanket.
Albedo thinks. “Well, there’s many to name, but I believe…”
He takes one good look at Aether and sees his golden gaze stare back, glimmering in anticipation for the answer Albedo was to provide. Looking at them now, he could see their colour was softer than the glaze of Mora and far lighter than Prithiva Topaz—a much gentler shade of yellow than both but more luminous than either. Underneath all of it, reflected clear as crystal, was undeniable kindness and warmth. Albedo didn’t know if its enchantment was the doing of the stars, but perhaps it was that specifically, the part of Aether that no science here could yet explain that Albedo found most captivating about him. He craved his attention, for him to look at him—if for a bit longer today than yesterday. He was an Outlander after all, and Albedo knew well that their days together were numbered. How long until he vanished from his side and to the stars? How long until he’s left gazing up from the soil to wonder which one of the infinite shining speckles in the night was closest to where he was?
Aether is still smiling kindly, still placed next to him, waiting.
“…It’s your eyes,” Albedo tells him. “I believe that they are the most apparent of all. In Teyvat, it’s a popular saying that the eyes are the window to the soul, but I feel as if it rings truest with you. They’re beautiful.”
Aether smiles, exhaling a muted chuckle and dipping his eyes down to his hand on the stone. “My eyes, huh?”
Albedo stares too, at their hands placed so painfully close to each other, his fingers desperate to weave into a tight clasp around the other, to never let go.
Aether’s gaze roams past the vermillion flames of their fire and to the sinking sunset, the pink and orange hues of the sky tinging the clouds and the colour of the snow.
“It’s getting late,” Aether mumbles.
Albedo nods. He knows what that meant.
Pulling off the blanket wrapped over his shoulders, he folds it in his arms, handing it back to Albedo.
“I’ll see you here tomorrow, won’t I?” Albedo asks.
Aether beams, “Of course, I can guarantee it.”
And so, waving him goodbye, he begins to walk around the corner of his camp, shadow slinking past the snow as he does. He’s torn to see him go again.
“Aether!” he calls.
The speeding crunch of snow under boots heralds Aether eagerly peeking back round the corner. “Yeah?”
Slowly approaching him, Albedo stops at a foot’s width apart, holding out the blanket he had used previously.
“If you ever need to rest without fire and find it cold, I recommend using this. You can keep it if you’d like.”
He swears he sees him glow with how radiant his smile was in that moment. It’s transferred safely to the other man and is securely fastened in his grip, earning himself that wonderful smile. Then, as sudden and swift as the release of an arrow, Aether leans forward, landing a chaste kiss on Albedo’s cheek before he withdrew just as quickly and ran.
Albedo stands silently, dumbfounded, starstruck, watching him run and run—slip slightly--then dash out of his sight.
The feeling only settles after he vanishes under the snowy landscape, bursts of euphoria firing in his chest, burning his face red to the point where it tingled. His fingertips ghost over the spot his lips touched, relishing in the short memory of bliss.
Even if he was gone from sight, Albedo had never felt closer to him than before.