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xi.
He enters the mansion she spent so much time on.
It is quiet. Her laughter is long gone.
She is no longer with him.
You —
You are —
He breathes in.
iii.
“I want you to be comfortable here,” she says. “I want you to be able to relax here.”
“You didn’t have to do this for me,” he scoffs, brushing his hand along the wooden table, “you should’ve decorated it according to your taste, not mine. This is your mansion, traveller, not mine.”
She smiles. He raises an eyebrow.
“It is yours as much as it is mine, Xiao.”
xiii.
He learns that the eleventh harbinger is inconsolable. He snaps at the people around him, lingers in the golden hall of which she used to fight with him, screams her name as he slashes his blades, and he is inconsolable. It is fact.
He knows that the god of freedom is devastated. Clouds are grey and miserable, the winds, every direction, are unpredictable, storms come, and he is devastated. It is fact.
He witnesses how distraught his master is, how he whispers prayers for her, how he writes letters to her, for her, never sends them, never tries to send them, and he is distraught. It is...fact.
The whole of Teyvat is dreary, grief-stricken — he wants to wonder how just one person could make an entire world crumble once they are gone.
He doesn’t have to wonder, though. He understands.
vi.
She gives him flowers, puts them in his hair. It is raining.
“Wow,” she whispers, and his face flushes red. “So pretty.”
She weaves her fingers into his hair. He allows himself to relax, to feel her hands run through his hair, to listen to the steady thrum of the rain outside, he is at peace.
He wishes time would stop. Just for a moment.
(Time does not stop for anybody, not even for him. Not even for her.)
xii.
If you are reading this, I am gone, the note on the table says, and he crushes it under his heel.
She does not need to remind him. The whole world is crashing down. That is enough of a reminder.
He looks at the single flower she’s left for him, on her bed, where he watched her suffer through nightmares, where he watched her cry in her sleep, where he couldn’t do anything as she wept for her lost sibling, where they —
If you are reading this, I am gone, or I am dead, and I want you to know that I am in love with you.
ii.
“It’s a song from another world,” she hums, him on her lap, hands in his hair. “I think it is beautiful.”
Not as beautiful as you, he thinks, he pauses, startled by his thoughts. Closes his eyes. “Will you sing it for me again?”
“Anything for you, Xiao.” His heart beats so fast, he wonders if she can hear.
He thinks the song is beautiful. He thinks she is the most beautiful among the stars in any sky, among the flowers in any field, among everything that has ever been placed in this wretched world.
xviii.
She is all he thinks about, her name is all that is on his tongue, her, her, her, her —
No one is worried about him. If she was here, he knows she would be, but she isn’t, he shows his face to no one, not even his master, because no one understands. They couldn’t understand. They don’t make time to understand. He doesn’t want anyone to understand.
He was the closest to her. He — He loved —
iv.
“What are you writing?” He asks, and she quickly hides the note behind her back.
It’s nothing, she says.
(It isn’t nothing. It’s the note he crushes under his heel. It’s the note he stains with salty tears.)
xiv.
He sleeps in her bed. It is the only place where he can still feel her warmth.
He clutches her flower to his chest. He dreams.
Lumine in her dress, her flowers, something he will never see again.
vii.
She stops wearing one of her flowers. He asks about it. She says she’s lost it.
He offers to look for it. She shakes her head. “It’s alright,” she says, “I still have this one.”
“I can still look for it,” he whispers, “it’s important to you.”
She mumbles something incoherent.
(Not as important as you — )
xix.
Here is a list of things he didn’t ask, of things he didn’t say, of things he wants to tell her:
Why did you leave me?
Where are you?
Will you come back?
What about me?
What about us?
You’re a liar.
How could you lie to me?
I need you.
I need you.
Come back.
You said —
You said you’d —
v.
I will never leave you, she promises.
He believes her.
xvii.
Lumine, Lumine, he chants. Lumine, Lumine —
He chants, as if chanting her name would bring her back to him.
Lumine, Lumine, he chants. Lumine, Lumine.
Lumine, come home to me —
ix.
“My brother is the abyss prince,” she says, tears in her eyes. “I will end this myself.”
He reaches out, but she is already leaving.
He reaches out, but he cannot reach her.
xv.
He does not think there is any meaning in living a life without her.
He scribbles her name on pieces of parchment. He carves her name on her bedpost, trees. He chants her name in his mind, he dreams of her face, her hands, her body in his sleep, she is — she is —
She is all that he has. She was all that he had.
Why did she —
Why did you —
x.
“Let’s go home,” she whispers to her brother, and he watches with bated breath.
Her brother’s face crumbles. Her brother takes her hand.
They vanish in an instant.
viii.
“Hey, Xiao, will you take care of my teapot for me? Just for a little while. I wouldn’t want anyone else to touch what I built for you.”
xvi.
She didn’t say goodbye.
She didn’t stay for him.
She said she would, so why —
xx.
Ah.
So he loves her.
She is long gone. She will not come back. Not when all she's ever wanted is to reunite with her brother. She won't come back. Not for Teyvat, not for Liyue. Not even for him.
For the first time in millennia, Xiao cries his heart out.
( i.
He does not know, but he falls for her in the rain.
She sings:
You are sunlight, and I moon — )