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Picture this: A festive atmosphere like any other, a welcomed change of pace. The scent of a familiar sea, accompanying the residents that traverse through the streets, gentle gusts of nightly wind doing nothing to deter the warm aura all around. Within the dark that surrounds every stall are flashes of bright lanterns, hung on top of roofs and trees—some containing wishes, some containing hopes, some containing dreams—all of them serving the same purpose. There’s laughter within every corner, an added decoration to Liyue’s beauty.
Everything is where it’s supposed to be. But not for Xingqiu. There’s still something missing.
A hand to hold, a steady presence by his side, following him to every food stand just waiting for a customer. It’s not a picture perfect image, at least not yet. but it might not be when it ends. Xingqiu leans against a tree as he counts the amount of lanterns within his eyesight, then the red coloured treats that pass by him—killing time, essentially, because although Xingqiu is always punctual (taught to be that way, what with his status) he’s still earlier than he anticipated.
He doesn’t usually let his thoughts wander, occupying himself with a book in hand, losing himself into intricate words and written fantasies. Tonight, he is without one, a deliberate choice that he made because he wants to focus all his attention onto something—someone—else. A huff leaves him, crystal blue eyes staring back at him whenever he dares to close his own. His exorcist of a friend, one he is waiting for this entire time, has been plaguing his thoughts ever since the strange (but ultimately sweet, a scene he keeps replaying back countless times as he stands here) invitation.
“Xingqiu,” Chongyun calls out, a stable voice that’s able to hold so much more. If that wasn’t enough to catch Xingqiu’s attention, a hand lightly lands on his own, tugging gently.
“Yes, dear Chongyun?” He replies with an easy smile, closing his book swiftly, back against a tree. As with most of their conversations, Xingqiu tries to guess what his friend is thinking of first, chasing that satisfying feeling he receives whenever he gets it right.
This time around, Chongyun beats him to it, speaking before Xingqiu’s mind could catch up. “The lantern rite festival is nearing,” he states at first, but doesn’t continue. Xingqiu blinks, waiting for something else. When nothing comes, he decides to speak up.
“It is. The streets will be rather crowded once more, travellers from all around are always eager to witness our festivities. I suppose we’ll be walking around with a crowd of our own, as per usual. Perhaps we can invite Aether. What do you think, ‘Yun?”
A beat of silence passes. When Xingqiu turns his head to look at the exorcist, he’s faced with the back of Chongyun’s head. The sight draws a frown out of him, confused with how reserved the other is acting. He knows Chongyun tries to keep his emotions at bay, sticking to strict rules to avoid a total shift in his demeanour. Xingqiu is under the impression that he’d be the exception though, the only consistent witness to Chongyun’s true personality that shines brighter than any other. From the tip of his fingers, he can feel a dash of warmth. Before Xingqiu can point it out, both out of worry and curiosity for its cause, Chongyun finally breaks the silence.
“What if… we went together, just the two of us?”
Chongyun utters the invitation in a whisper, soft and easy to dismiss. The exorcist is granting Xingqiu an exit, if he wishes for it. He doesn’t, by archons—he would never, but that little act in itself raises a lot of questions. He doesn’t try to seek an answer, not when he notices his heartbeat picking up, warmth rising to his cheeks. Is Chongyun reacting the same way? Is his friend turning away to spare Xingqiu his embarrassment? That’s not fair! He needs to know whether Chongyun is feeling the same way he is right now!
It takes Xingqiu a while to realise that he hasn’t given a response, but Chongyun’s hand holding his isn’t exactly helping him articulate a proper answer. He takes a second, not wanting to stumble over his own words and make a fool of himself. “Why of course, ‘Yun. I’d never decline an invitation like that.” He teases to hide his own embarrassment. He lets himself wonder whether the faint red he spots across Chongyun’s cheeks is a part of his vivid and self indulgent imagination or not. “Pray tell, is there a special occasion?” He inquires, trying to keep his shimmering hope locked away, to not seep into his voice.
His friend merely hums. “I’ll tell you when the time comes.”
Cryptic, secretive, revealing nothing more than necessary—what is it that Chongyun has planned? He’s starting to think that coming early is a mistake, his mind is wandering to places he can’t fully comprehend, all related to his best friend. Xingqiu isn’t an idiot, he knows the implications of everything he has been doing. Pulling pranks to get a rise out of the exorcist, encouraging the other to show a side of himself that he’s hiding, feeling absolute joy that he knows which of Chongyun’s buttons to push for his favourite reactions that not many people have seen, the tingling warmth under his skin whenever they huddle close under the guise of taking shelter from the cold breeze. There’s more to their friendship, layers that they don’t dare peel open, at least for Xingqiu.
But… is it the same for Chongyun?
“Is this… a date?” He mutters under his breath, a question covering a hopeful plea. Chongyun’s vague explanation leaves nothing to satiate Xingqiu’s need for answers. He doesn’t like this state of not knowing, he prides himself on being knowledgeable (it makes his heart flutter whenever Chongyun compliments him so— stop thinking about that ). More than that, he’s forming silly expectations that may not amount to anything! This isn’t the first time they’ve spent together, only the two of them. They would often explore forests and caves on their own. So why must this feel different? Is it the intimate setting, a blanket of calm, a serene milieu meant to be enjoyed with a loved one? Could it be because of the theme of hopes and wishes?
And what have you been longing for, Xingqiu?
“Ah, you’re here.” A voice that Xingqiu is more than familiar with speaks, one that shouldn’t have caught him off guard, but he tenses nonetheless. Chongyun speaks in that calm tone that he could listen to for an entire eternity, accompanied by a pleasant and inviting smile. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Did you get yourself some snacks already?”
It’s nothing new for Chongyun to be dressed in casual attire when they’re together, it’s a sight he won’t deem foreign, a dark navy blue shirt adorned with gold. Despite this, Xingqiu still can’t help himself from holding his breath as he meets Chongyun’s icy blue eyes with his own. “You wound me, dear Chongyun. I would never do that without you, especially during the lantern rite festival, now would I? We share everything together, don’t we?”
The way Chongyun’s eyes light up ever so slightly at those words, still contained but ever so evident under Xingqiu’s watchful gaze, has Xingqiu at a loss for words. Granted mercy, he doesn’t need to say more. “Of course, I should have known,” Chongyun agrees without a shred of doubt. It’s that unconditional trust that always reels Xingqiu back in, craving more of it, for Chongyun to prove it over and over again, as selfish as it may be. His momentary silence doesn’t seem to bother the exorcist, turning his head and making note of each stall, ready to survey each one.
“Let’s go, there’s a lot to check out this time as well,” Chongyun says, back facing Xingqiu. Xingqiu nods in response, though Chongyun can’t see it. Good thing he still has the ability to do so, after the internal turmoil he put himself in. Instead of taking his first step, Chongyun stays where he stands, as if contemplating something. Xingqiu waits, that’s all he can do right now, really. Eventually, his friend turns his head once more, facing Xingqiu with a rather expectant look. When Xingqiu looks down, he sees Chongyun offering his hand. Perhaps Xingqiu’s reaction isn’t satisfactory, because Chongyun rushes to explain himself a second after. “Come on, it seems to be more crowded than usual. I don’t want to lose you.”
Once again, Xingqiu blames his imagination for the scarlet hue he’s tricking himself to see on Chongyun’s face. Even with the lanterns lighting their path, he tells himself that the dark is obstructing his clear vision. Noticing Chongyun taking out a popsicle and slipping it into his mouth, a tactic he knows the other uses to calm down (and what could possibly be happening that Chongyun needs to do that at this very moment ?), he decides to look away, ignoring his impulse to question it. What he can’t deny, are the butterflies filling his stomach, provoked by his friend’s touch.
Xingqiu doesn’t know whether he’ll be able to last the entire night.
It’s not the same.
That was made clear from the very beginning, starting with Chongyun’s invitation. It becomes more apparent as the night progresses; lingering stares that neither of them addressed, the tight hold that Chongyun had on his hand, the hidden smiles sealed with intense fondness that Xingqiu would feign obliviousness towards. There’s a foreign and unacquainted air between them, strangely pleasant even with their lack of effort to peel under it. Xingqiu is enjoying his time—that’s only natural, there’s never a time he’d find unpleasant if he’s with the exorcist. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that they’re on the verge of crossing a line they’ve concealed for a long while. It’s thrilling, it’s terrifying—their friendship never felt so fragile, yet vigorous. Something is changing, gradually, as they continue on with the festival. Pressing closer to one another with each stand they visit, yearning touches shrouded by the excuse of simply feeding each other whatever meal they have in hand. A barrier is breaking, whether they’re ready to step onto the other side, neither of them seem to know.
Like water, time doesn’t stop flowing. They’ve exhausted every nook and cranny that Liyue has to offer, even managing to pick up lanterns on the way. Without realising, they find themselves many steps away from the crowd, overlooking the river as they stand on the bridge, small figures under Mt. Tianheng. Looking back, Xingqiu can see the citizens and travellers gathering within the city, preparing to release their lanterns. It’s a beautiful sight, specks of light radiating Liyue itself, enough for the corner of Xingqiu’s lips to curl upwards into a tender smile.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He hears Chongyun comment. Xingqiu returns his attention back to his friend, ready to agree, maybe even start gushing about how delightful this festival is, only to realise that Chongyun’s fervent gaze had never been directed towards the captivating lanterns behind him—but at Xingqiu. It’s impossible to hide his flushed cheeks at this point, not when Chongyun is still holding onto his hand even now—Chongyun hadn’t let go, not for a moment.
A second passes, then a minute. Chongyun's expression changes the closer he gets to registering his own words, morphing into crimson, hastily releasing Xingqiu from his hold and taking a step back, presumably to calm himself down. Mild disappointment settles within Xingqiu, but it doesn't compare to his need to know—what the hell is going on right now? This entire night, he convinced himself that it’s all just wistful thinking, an illusion he so desperately wishes is a reality. With almost everything laid out like this, clouded by mystery because they chose for it to be, Xingqiu can’t look the other way anymore.
But when his lips part, all he could ask was, “why did you bring me out here, ‘Yun?”
Easy to evade, not specific enough to warrant the answer Xingqiu craves to know, he fails to drive a nail to the coffin. Chongyun takes that chance, gesturing to both their lanterns with a small smile and soft but obscure gaze, holding a secret. “To release our lanterns into the sky. It’s about time, isn't it? I thought this would be the perfect spot.” An answer that came so naturally, it’s as if Chongyun rehearsed this exact scene before. Many times.
Xingqiu lets out a defeated sigh, but ultimately gives the other a nod. “Alright, this is the highlight of the night.” With his tone, he makes it clear to the exorcist that he knows there’s more to all of this—what exactly that may be, he can’t say. Not yet. He catches the crowd behind him from the corner of his eyes, ready to set their lanterns free. It’d be a shame to miss the occasion, especially when he has a wish he’s hoping will be fulfilled. Tucked safely inside the lantern, there’s only one thing left to do.
He stands by the railing of the bridge, holding onto his lantern, his silent wish. Chongyun is close, their shoulders brush against each other in a gentle motion, a form of comfort that simultaneously keeps Xingqiu at his toes. He raises his eyes to look at his best friend, a mistake—there’s that smile, reserved for very few people, though Xingqiu hopes it’s a sight special for him. “Together, then?” Chongyun says, tender as he carries his lantern in his own arms, handled with care, seemingly so precious that he holds it close to his chest.
Xingqiu nods, forming a smile of his own. “Together.” Always .
There’s that familiar feeling, overtaking his very senses, lighting his skin on fire. His heart hammers in his chest as he places all his desires on the lantern he’s holding, pouring in every twinge of his chest, every instance he’d feel the urge to take Chongyun’s hand into his own, every time he admits to himself that he’d rather be chasing after spirits with his best friend rather than attend a formal dinner, every moment he spends wondering how things would change if they were no longer simply friends.
As Xingqiu lets go of his lantern, he watches as it joins a swarm of gleaming hopes. They flicker in the night sky, like scattered moondust that sway freely, reaching for the highest of heights, bearing everyone’s deepest cherished dreams, as well as Xingqiu’s crumbling secret. When he’s facing Chongyun once more, he finds the similar expression that made him question himself—everything that they are. He recalls Chongyun’s previous words, the ones that ignited flames within him, left his stomach feeling queasy, but he doesn’t hate the sensation, no matter how puzzling. He wants to hear it again, for Chongyun to shower him with more praise. The same question Chongyun evaded is hanging at the tip of his tongue.
He doesn’t get the chance to say it again.
“Xingqiu,” Chongyun utters his name with warmth, it catches Xingqiu off guard. “Are you able to guess what my wish is?”
Xingqiu blinks, then shakes his head. “Of course not, dear Chongyun. I’m not a mind reader, after all. Tell me, is it something I’m supposed to know?”
Chongyun laughs a little, weak and out of place. “I thought, considering how close the two of us are, the way you’re able to guess my thoughts before I spoke them aloud, that you’d be able to figure me out tonight. You always seem to know everything, too.” Xingqiu doesn’t miss how Chongyun’s voice wavers, but his friend continues on. “But, just like with everything… I’d like to share my wish with you.”
“Ah, you don’t have to—it’s not necessary.”
“I want to, so that maybe… it may come true.”
Eyebrows furrowed, Xingqiu doesn’t try to hide his confusion. Chongyun is radiating warmth, a tell tale sign that positive energy is seeping into him little by little. “It was a lot of fun, spending the night with you. It also… felt different than our usual hangouts. I don’t know if you felt that too, but… it’s not a bad thing, to me at least.” This time, when Xingqiu sees the glowing red displayed across Chongyun’s cheeks, he doesn’t look the other way. “You asked me, why I brought you here, what the special occasion is... To be honest, I've always wanted to. So, I thought… What I meant was, my wish…”
Chongyun takes a deep breath, a hint of determination in those clear blue eyes of his. There’s a tiny pinch of hesitance evident too, Xingqiu doesn’t need to squint to see it, although it’s overshadowed by Chongyun’s resolve, whatever it may be for (Xingqiu knows —archons he knows, but he has to hear it). Whether Chongyun prepared himself beforehand or not, Xingqiu couldn’t tell. What he does know, is that this is coming from the bottom of his friend’s heart, sincere and genuine, like the boy himself. And yet, Xingqiu still hadn’t readied himself enough for what comes next.
“I… I want to do this again, spend the night with just you, like this…” Chongyun pauses for a moment to take a breath, but Xingqiu is losing his. “I want to be closer to you, I want to hold your hand without needing an excuse, I want to be like those couples wishing for a future together.” He’s burning, they both are, it doesn’t stop. “Next year, and the year after… I want to be with you.”
At the end of Chongyun’s speech, there is silence. The boy takes time to steady his own breath, but Xingqiu thinks that’s enough—it’s time for him to do what he does best . Without another thought, Xingqiu grabs a hold of Chongyun’s hand, tugging him forward, how he missed the other’s touch. His lips bloom into a smile when he notices his dear friend’s flushed face, knowing exactly what he’s doing. The night is still long, and Xingqiu must exact payback for the emotional rollercoaster he was put through. If Chongyun ends up causing a ruckus, then he’ll simply pay for the damages again. For now, he’ll enjoy the effect he has on the other.
“Oh, dear Chongyun,” Xingqiu whispers, so close he could feel Chongyun’s heated breath on his cheek. “I harbour the same wish, I always have.”
And the best wishes are sealed with a kiss.