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“I missed you back then, so be here with me. And I watched the water unfold, it's a feeling I want you to know”
- Porter Robinson and TEED, Unfold
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Memories are not something Xiao wishes to hang onto, and sentimentality has no use to him, after all these years. Yet, he remembers strands of white gold in his vision, running ahead of him always.
And always, Xiao will follow.
He thinks of the first time Aether brought him almond tofu and the smooth bittersweet taste of dreams. Then he thinks of the second time and the third and— it’s been too many times to count. Xiao did not mean for it to keep happening after the first, really. But each time the dish comes, he finds himself hoping it’s Aether that’s there.
He thinks of the lantern rite, how they walked back to the harbor, how he’s seen this spectacle from afar many times in his life, how the city is rarely decorated any differently from the late. But the way Aether talked about the festival and the pretty glow of the lights framing Aether’s face and reflected in his eyes as they approached the harbor that night was something special, and almost made Xiao actually go with him.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t be there with him then, even if it had tugged at his chest to watch him go. There was no guarantee for the next time they would see each other, no guarantee that either of them would be safe if there ever was a next time. But the one thing Xiao knows is that Aether will continue on his journey, across oceans, across mountains, and Xiao will follow silently where he can.
It’s a different kind of hurt, isn’t it? To want so badly but not allow yourself to. He’s never wanted as acutely as this, never really held on to something that wasn’t about a sense of duty.
He’s never really experienced nostalgia. He knows what it is, of course. A simple longing for the past. Xiao has lived a thousand years worth of the past, and there was nothing particularly special to long for. There were some nice memories, sure, but they’re just nice memories. And maybe, maybe now he knows what it is to yearn for something, for someone.
He stands on that same ledge that hangs over the water, faces the harbor, wild skies and a sea of clouds, and thinks of sentimentality and chances not taken. It’s not about a specific place, or particular memory, but a person that he sees in his mind when he closes his eyes. And Xiao has never really thought of anything as home, other than Wangshu Inn maybe, but he thinks of wide smiles and a single loose braid in the wind, and it feels like it could be home, wherever Aether is.
As the wind blows, water unfolds. It matches the unfolding space in his chest, unfolding to accommodate the shape of another. The descent of the sun from the afternoon sky is slow, and the vastness of the landscape and in himself makes him feel small. Then slowly and all at once, the feelings he’s held back from thinking too hard about before rush in to fill this cavity within him.
It’s a feeling he wants Aether to know, to share, after all this time of storing it away. Nothing else has changed, except for this feeling. He is still Alatus, the remaining Yaksha, the Conqueror of Demons, the Golden-Winged King. Alatus, who shoulders the weight of the world. But it is Xiao that has chosen to indulge in human food and observe their festivities, Xiao that met Aether, and Xiao that wishes to spend another moment with him.
The grass rustles faintly behind him, quiet, but loud enough for Xiao to notice. He’s ready to simply plunge off the edge of the ledge and disappear, but the shock of approaching blonde hair stops him.
“Aether,” he says softly.
“Xiao.” Aether comes to a stop a few paces away. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah. It has.”
“I- um,” he starts then stops again, abruptly. “I’ve missed you,” he continues, steadier but quieter. And Xiao feels that unfolding feeling again, even more so. People are not glad to see him, and people certainly do not miss him.
Xiao tugs at his right sleeve. Aether is very pointedly studying the leaves of a tree. Xiao finds that words can be very hard to get out, even if you want to express them. He pushes them out after a few more seconds of silent floundering.
“I’ve missed you too.” It comes out sounding a lot more tender than intended, and Xiao has to look away as he fights off the slight flush that threatens to bloom on his cheeks.
The grass rustles once again. When Xiao looks back, Aether’s is close, closer than he was before, and his eyes are bright—
“Can I?” Aether asks. He’s reaching for Xiao’s hand. Xiao nods.
Aether’s hand is warm, even through the gloves that they both wear. They tangle their fingers loosely together, then Xiao tugs, pulling Aether even closer, eliminating those last few inches of space.
He raises his free hand to cradle Aether’s face, and runs a careful thumb over his cheek bone, watching as the skin colors under his touch.
“I’ve missed you,” Xiao repeats. “So be here with me now.”
“Of course. Of course I will,” Aether breathes.
Aether’s hand comes up to smooth over Xiao’s brow, and he is alive. Even if they’re a little bit late in getting to each other, there is nothing to be sorry for.
As the wind blows, water unfolds. It matches the unfolding space in his chest, unfolding to accommodate the shape of another. Aether settles into that space, and comfortably fills up the crevices of his ribs, permeates through his skin. It feels like Xiao could bear the weight of a thousand pasts, of a thousand worlds.