Work Text:
Blue.
If there was one color Xingqiu seemed to flaunt and express himself with, it was blue. His silk tunic, a gradient of hues all pertaining to blue, his shorts, the orb in the near center of the gold ring at his chest, his choppy hair, his vision (Chongyun often wondered if his hydro powers were a coincidence) and… and...
Chongyun blinked, eyes drifting lower as he caught sight of the single tassel hanging from the band that rested just below Xingqiu’s knee. The strings tickled against his calf. It, too, was blue. Chongyun’s gaze dropped, following the smooth skin that gave way to the white and gold rimmed boots, wondering if perhaps his shoes were of the same color as his hair, but no. They were black. Maybe having blue boots would’ve been too much. Black and white suited much better; the sharp black triangle nearest the knee accentuated the shape of his calves more and—
It took Xingqiu sighing lightly and lifting his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear for Chongyun to notice that he was staring at his boyfriend’s legs. The slight movement was enough to get the exorcist to yank his gaze away, chest tingling. Archons… this staring thing was becoming more and more of a problem. He needed to stop that. Right? Even if they were technically dating…
Chongyun forced himself to turn away from Xingqiu. If the other boy had noticed his staring, he fortunately wasn’t showing it.
Staring at the desk in front of him, Chongyun tapped the stubbed end of the quill he was holding against his bottom lip (Xingqiu insisted he have the quill whose feather was cut off so that Chongyun wouldn’t accidentally bite into the fluff. Nibbling the ends of pens and pencils was a bad habit of his) trying to muster the will to concentrate on the work in front of him. Beside him, Xingqiu worked diligently and Chongyun didn’t have to turn too the swordsman to know that; the scratch of the quill writing away occurred every now and again, a slight rustle of papers, hum of the boy’s voice when something either didn’t match up or instead came together.
When Xingqiu was assigned to do some “practice guild work” by his father, he had politely accepted, later dragging Chongyun towards his home after their usual get together earlier that afternoon and groaning about all his horrid responsibilities to the poor exorcist.
“I just want some company,” Xingqiu had claimed, huffing loudly as he plopped down at his much too expensive desk, the pine wood smell strong and familiar in a way Chongyun had come to link to Xingqiu.
Xingqiu had glared at the stack of papers in front of him menacingly and Chongyun had wondered at the time if he was mentally trying to disintegrate them. Whatever the case, it hadn’t mattered since Xingqiu begrudgingly grabbed the large feathered pen in the corner of his desk and began sifting through the stack, a frown lining his brow.
“I could help you,” Chongyun had blurted without thinking. He hated the idea of doing guild work just as much as Xingqiu (well, maybe Xingqiu hated it more) but he wanted to do whatever he could to lighten the load his friend was given. Besides, it would mean spending more time with him. Chongyun liked that thought.
And so, Xingqiu had pulled up a stool that had previously rested at the base of his bed and dragged it over to the table, shoving the mass amount of books, papers, and Archons knew what else that cluttered the desk space away. When he turned, Xingqiu was smiling gratefully at Chongyun and lightly patting the seat beside him with his hand.
Because of his “gods-awful writing,” Chongyun insisted he do most of the writing and that Xingqiu organize all of those writings and whatever orders that had processed through the Feiyun Commerce Guild that month. The system worked rather well— at least it did at first. Chongyun would read one file at a time, write down information in what he hoped was convincing handwriting that appeared to be Xingqiu’s but neater since Xingqiu’s father apparently demanded that his son have neater writing. Like that would ever happen. Then, he’d pass the paper over to Xingqiu.
Xingqiu worked beside Chongyun, organizing documents and scribbling down numbers and what not— Chongyun wasn’t really sure what he was doing since he was supposed to be writing— and all that was great until the near silence caved in and became much too unbearable.
Chongyun was used to the quiet, the silence. More often than not, the two of them would share such moments, whether it be while they walked through the streets of Liyue harbour or sat on a hill and admired the view below. It was normal, natural. But this time, it was getting just a little bit more uncomfortable with the passing seconds. Especially since Xingqiu’s elbow bumped into Chongyun’s own each time he went to dip his quill in the small bowl of ink between them. Which was about 6 times per minute. Not that Chongyun was counting. He accepted the burning feeling of his skin where Xingqiu’s sleeve barely grazed him to be due to his congenital positivity. Xingqiu was just warm. That’s all there was to it. Nothing more.
The hair that Xingqiu had previously tucked behind his ear slipped back into his face again and Chongyun almost— almost— reached out to tuck it back where it belonged. Of course, Xingqiu noticed it as well and he moved swiftly to fix it, fingers lingering at the shell of his ear as he pouted at whatever was on the page in front of him. Chongyun swallowed thickly and dragged his eyes away from Xingqiu’s mouth— Archons his mouth.
Chongyun shook himself, letting out a strained breath as his fingers crinkled the paper he held. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting this way?
“You alright?”
Chongyun jumped slightly at the sound of Xingqiu’s voice, an unnecessary heat itching at his nose and cheeks. Oh, he’d been ruining the paper, hadn’t he?
“Um—“ he swallowed again. Refusing to let his eyes look at the tiny dip in the middle of Xingqiu’s upper lip but— ah, his eyes were a little too much to look at as well, the bright amber contrasting so very violently with the rest of his attire that screamed blue— and his unorthodox haircut, messy upon his head but still haloed beautifully by the light of the setting sun from the window behind him. It was all too distracting and—
Wait— beautifully?
Chongyun choked on nothing at all, his chest suddenly burning, palms itching. He jerked himself away, jaw tightening as he tried, so desperately tried, to make sense of the words scrawled in front of him.
“Y—“ Chongyun nodded, swallowing for the umpeenth time, finally managing to croak out a weak, “Yeah.”
Xingqiu let out a huff of laughter and Chongyun could see the boy resting his chin on his hand from the corner of his eye, paperwork forgotten. He was quick to procrastinate.
“That was certainly one way to reply,” he said silkily because everything Xingqiu said sounded graceful and pretty and so—
“What do you mean?” Chongyun slowly let out a breath, attempting to school his expression into something that hopefully looked normal.
Xingqiu leaned forward, shoving himself into Chongyun’s view. They were already so close, but now Chongyun could feel his breath on his hands. He gripped the paper harder. There was no doubt in his mind that Xingqiu had his signature smirk plastered on his face right now. Instead of giving into his partner’s antics, Chongyun simply read the words on his paper (again) but failed to register anything. The furrow in Chongyun’s brow deepened.
“Xingqiu,” he sighed, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to understand you,” Xingqiu says, and when Chongyun finally looks up, the boy is meeting his eyes with a critical gaze.
Chongyun is forced to look back down again, afraid that if he maintained eye contact any longer he’d turn into a melting mess. The last thing he wanted to have happened was combust in a fit of his congenital positivity. That would not be fun. Xingqiu would probably get a laugh out of it, though.
“Aren’t we supposed to be working?” Chongyun asks.
“Yeah, but that’s boring and—” Xingqiu pokes Chongyun’s cheek with a finger.
“Hey—!” the exorcist immediately jerks his head, hand covering his cheek protectively.
Xingqiu continues, “—you’re acting weird. And you’re terrible at this guild stuff.”
“Wha— how would you know? You’re not paying attention to what I’m doing,” Chongyun retorts, frowning.
Xingqiu smiles, head tilting more so from where it’s propped up on his hand. “Chongyun, I’m reading the papers you hand me. I can tell when you’re distracted.”
Chongyun opens his mouth to reply, or argue back, or whatever, but he catches the way navy hair falls over Xingqiu’s eyes as he looks to see what Chongyun has in front of him. One finger drags a piece of paper beside him closer and— wait, was that more blue he just saw?
Xingqiu frowns, a contemplative look crossing his features as he examines the document, voice more serious, “Chongyun… you don’t have to do this, you know. This guild work was my assignment, and I know you don’t understand half of what it’s about.”
Chongyun nods slowly, distracted and not exactly hearing the words directed at him as his eyes linger on Xingqiu’s hand, entranced.
“You… you painted your nails.” It’s a statement, not a question, even though Chongyun is slightly puzzled at what’s before him.
Xingqiu’s eyes widen, head snapping up as he retreats his hand, taking the hand he had previously used to prop his head up to cradle the other. His gaze drops.
“Ah… yes. I did.” He swallows, a hesitancy glossing his gaze.
Xingqiu’s nails are short, not too short, but not long either. They’re average length, Chongyun supposes, but he doesn’t really know what average is since he always chews on his own nails. And right now, Xingqiu’s are coated in a layer of dark ocean blue. His skin is already fairly light, so the color is a bright contrast, not eye straining, but rather alluring. And so blue.
“They’re pretty,” Chongyun says, looking up. You’re pretty.
And all of a sudden Chongyun is overwhelmed with the desire to hold Xingqiu’s hand, to feel his palm against his own and run his fingers over the smooth paint on Xingqiu’s nails. Except, upon closer inspection, the paint isn’t exactly neatly applied. On his right thumb, to be exact, the blue color was obviously shakily dressed, some of it running onto the edges of his skin, and the faint shadow of a lump catching in the last rays of the sun filtering through the bedroom.
Xingqiu hums, nodding slightly and mumbling something incoherent. But Chongyun simply can’t stop looking at Xingqiu’s hands. They’re gentle looking. Chongyun imagines how gentle they’d feel in his own hand and his palm itches. Despite using lotion to calm the dryness of Xingqiu’s skin, Chongyun knows that Xingqiu’s hands aren’t exactly smooth, though. They touched each other casually more often than Chongyun could count. At least, they did when they were still only friends. Once, Xingqiu had gently applied some ointment to a wound on the exorcist’s cheek that he’d received during one of his expeditions. The pads of the sword user’s fingers were caring and light, yet still roughly textured from diligent combat practice and martial arts training. He never quite forgot that moment. It was nice. Xingqiu’s hands were nice. And with the nail polish, they were somehow impossibly nicer.
“I was reading something about customs and fashion in Mondstat and Fontaine.” Xingqiu’s words carry Chongyun out of his thoughts. “Apparently this,” Xingqiu gestures at his hands, “is something a lot of people do. Well… the women anyway.”
An odd expression crosses Xingqiu’s features when Chongyun meets his eyes again, but it’s gone within an instant and Xingqiu’s smirk is eating at his face again.
“Even if only women do this in those nations, I thought it’d look rather dashing on myself, in all honesty.” Xingqiu says, pride dripping from his words and he lays his hands out in front of Chongyun, on top of the papers. “Don’t you think?”
“Um…” Chongyun glances back down, admiring the color for a moment once more before lifting his head again. “Yes. I like them a lot.”
And then he notices the paperwork again and Chongyun frowns, trying to drag the paper out from underneath Xingqiu’s hands. Xingqiu doesn’t budge, making an annoyed noise at the back of his throat and pressing down harder on the paper.
“Hey, I’m not done, y’know.” Chongyun attempts to pry Xingqiu’s fingers off, but to no avail.
In turn, Xingqiu grabs the paper, crinkling it even further and tugging lightly. “Come now, you don’t need to do my work for me, Chongyun. It’s much too boring, anyway.”
“I know that,” Chongyun huffs, frowning further, but somehow just hearing his name roll off of Xingqiu’s tongue makes him warm and stuffy. “Still, it needs to be done. Won’t your father be mad if we don’t— I mean, you don’t finish it?”
“Yes~,” Xingqiu says, dragging out the last syllable as his eyes wander away for a moment. When his gaze settles back on Chongyun, his brows are knitted together, bottom lip sticking out in a pout, and his eyes have that particular look in them when he’s about to pull a prank on Chongyun.
“And I will finish it later. Right now I don’t want to. And neither does the other half or me. Isn’t that right, boyfriend?” Xingqiu pokes Chongyun again, this time on the tip of his nose, successfully lighting the poor boy ablaze.
Ah. Ahhhhhh— jeez, Xingqiu really had no idea what he was doing, was he? Or, most likely (and most definitely) accurately, he very much did know exactly what he was doing. Chongyun wasn’t sure which part of that statement to take in first, the mention of how he was Xingqiu’s other half, the word “boyfriend” slipping from his lips, or the implications of what stopping the guild work would mean.
Chongyun audibly gulped.
Xingqiu huffed another one of his quiet laughs, a pleased smile curling at his face. He stared for a moment longer before pulling away, leaving Chongyun unsure as to whether or not that was a good thing. His brain unhelpfully supplied the image of Xingqiu leaning even closer so he could count the faint freckles that dotted across his nose, his hands— whose nails were painted with that oh so gorgeous blue— cupping his face. Chongyun internally groaned and scooted back in his chair so he could rest his forehead on the desk, arms folded in front of him. He could care a lot less about the paperwork now.
“You know, you’re pretty when you’re red,” Xingqiu muses.
“Stop it—“
“Why? I’m only stating the truth. Unless, would you rather the truth not be spoken?”
“That’s not— I mean, yes— no! Hnngg...”
When Chongyun dares to sneak a glance from under his bicep, Xingqiu is faking a thoughtful expression, innocently meeting his eyes.
He mumbles, “You’re impossible.”
Xingqiu simply smiles, once more tucking that one strand of hair that refused to stay in place behind his ear— successfully making him look as innocent as possible. Chongyun knew better, though. Damn Xingqiu and his smugness.
But when Chongyun followed the movement of the boy’s hand, a shimmer of more blue caught his eye. The earring. Or rather, the tiny blue pearl that hung the tassel. And, before he knew it, Chongyun was again blurting out the first thing that came to his head.
“You’re pretty in blue.” And then he mentally kicked himself, burrowing his head in his arms once more.
Ugh, why was he like this. Chongyun couldn’t tell whether he should be embarrassed about what he said, or simply about being embarrassed about being embarrassed around Xingqiu even though they were dating. His heart fluttered precariously in his throat at thinking about how he was dating him and how pretty Xingqiu was. Pretty. Huh. That wasn’t a weird thought, was it? Chongyun was allowed to think that, right? A boy could think that about another boy, right? And want to hold hands with that boy. And hug that boy. And… kiss that boy and—
Hm. Ah. Yeah. Xingqiu was pretty. Anyone who didn’t think so had to have been blind. So, therefore it was simply a fact. Xingqiu was pretty. Nothing weird about that.
Chongyun kind of wished he had checked to see how Xingqiu reacted instead of retreating like the coward he was. But soon enough, after a moment of silence in which Chongyun’s thoughts battled, a gentle and almost hesitant hand came to rest on his shoulder.
“Hey,” Xingqiu said, his voice so soft and low that Chongyun couldn’t resist looking up, meeting amber eyes that were much wider and beautiful and much much closer to his face than before.
Xingqiu draws his lips into a line. His eyes crinkled in the corners and an almost smile ghosts over his face as he reaches up to feather his fingers through Chongyun’s hair. He brushes the faded blue bangs out of his eyes and Chongyun’s skin burns where Xingqiu’s fingers graze against his forehead.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” Xingqiu said, teasing lilt gone, voice quiet as if speaking any louder would make the ceiling cave in above them.
Chongyun breaks the gaze he held, shame beginning to pool in his stomach. Oh. So that was his problem. He hides. And he has been since the moment the both of them clumsily told each other they liked one another. Even after they established that they wanted to be together, Chongyun shied away from Xingqiu. Because he was a coward? Embarrassed? Worried about messing things up? Fearful of driving his best friend away from him if he did the wrong thing? Unsure of how to live up to the standards he built for himself? Maybe all of that and more?
He mumbles a sloppy, “M’sorry” into his elbow, frowning.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Xingqiu replied humorously before his tone drops again and he brushes some more hair out of Chongyun’s view. “I know this is new for you… for both of us. But you don’t have to hold back on what you’re feeling even if you’re nervous. We can… we can go slow.”
Xingqiu then pushes his own chair back, his left arm folding and his head resting atop it so that he was lying down next to Chongyun on the table, facing him. The hand that remained in Chongyun’s hair didn’t budge and Xingqiu began scratching small, gentle circles just above his scalp. Chongyun allows himself a smile and lets out a small exhale through his nose.
“I like your reactions to what I do,” Xingqiu says. “They’re cute.”
Chongyun blushes furiously and buries his nose into the crook of his elbow.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean—” Xingqiu retracts his hand.
Chongyun immediately reaches out with his left hand, grabbing Xingqiu’s wrist almost desperately. “Wait—“ and he cringes, hearing the crack in his voice. “It’s— you’re fine… Don’t. Don’t stop.”
Xingqiu analyzes him for a few moments, gaze flicking back and forth between Chongyun’s eyes. Then, he smiles, soft, and his hand goes back to the soothing movements. Chongyun closes his eyes, relishing in the feel of gentle fingers against his skin, nails— pretty, soft nails painted in a beautiful blue that is so very much Xingqiu— grazing back and forth. He can feel the faded light of the sun blanketing his head and he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the prospect of sleeping right there. Right there in Xingqiu’s bedroom, on his wooden pine desk, in a position that isn’t all that comfortable on a stool that doesn’t even have a back support, but that doesn’t matter because Xingqiu is there, his hand in Chongyun’s hair and a warmth that’s so soft and soothing and welcoming seeping from his boyfriend’s presence beside him and filling Chongyun up. Filling him whole.
“I like you,” Chongyun says. He opens one eye to gauge Xingqiu’s reaction and his heart stutters a bit at the dust of pink littered across the bridge of the boy’s nose. It’s a beautiful color on him. On his cheeks.
Xingqiu blinks once. Twice. Then he smiles again and it seems to brighten the room even with the dying sun outside. “I like you, too.”
Chongyun moves a bit, reaching out with one hand to messily grab at Xingqiu’s free hand, tangling their fingers as best he can given their positions. Their palms aren’t pressed together in typical hand holding fashion, but their fingers meet and wedge together. Xingqiu’s fingers are long and pretty. Pretty against the wooden desk. Pretty in blue nail polish. Pretty next to Chongyun’s own hand. Chongyun meets Xingqiu’s eyes again and he can’t help but think to himself about how much he loves the boy beside him, somewhere in his mind chanting a soft Xingqiu, Xingqiu, Xingqiu.
Taking things slow would be best, Chongyun decides. Not just because of him, but for Xingqiu as well. The thought of his relationship with Xingqiu scares Chongyun a bit, but he can’t help but wonder what the future holds for the both of them. The significance of what it meant to love another person. To care for them more than anything else. The possible burdens they’ll have to carry concerning their relationship not being accepted within Liyue. Nonetheless, he grins, matching Xingqiu’s own smile and squeezing their hands together as best he can.
“Hey, Xingqiu?”
“Hm?”
“Can you paint my nails, too?”