Chapter Text
Sometimes Venti is simply unbearable. He interrupts Barbara’s evening prayer by throwing pebbles at her dorm window, and when she glares at him through the glass, he simply responds by strumming the strings of his ukulele while his face lights up with a sly smile. Despite all of this, the girl is more worried about him being caught by campus security. After all, being out and making loud noises at this hour can easily lead Venti to trouble, and God knows how many of them he has been in already. When Barbara reminds him about that, Venti just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.
“Well, come down then! I just wanted to show you this song I made, and if I play it here, I’ll get caught for sure!”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m on the second floor!”
“You can always try to sneak out through the main exit...”
“Who said someone will let me? Have you seen the time? N-no, that’s not the point! Who said that I want to go out at all?”
“But you always did...”, Venti quickly changes tactics by pouting and giving her a pleading expression, “Can’t you do it today as well?”
“Not through the window!”
Barbara’s last line of defense melts under his warm emerald gaze like ice cream under the sun.
“I won’t let you fall.”
At first, Barbara doesn’t say anything, but then Venti gets his answer in the form of a tired sigh.
“You’re unbearable,” she whispers, throwing a cardigan over her shoulders for warmth.
And Venti beams.
Barbara is a medical student, and she is well aware of the consequences of falling from such a height. She also knows how many weeks it will take for fractures to heal and can even imagine how painful it would be. The only thing she can’t figure out is what force is pushing her to hesitantly climb on the window sill and then step on the tree branch. It slightly shakes under Barbara’s weight, and the sudden rush of anxiety runs down her back.
Keep your eyes open, she reminds herself, don’t look down. If you forget about it, you will definitely fall. The thought of it tenses the girl’s shoulder blades and traps her mind in a shell of fear.
But Venti brings her back to reality with an amazed “Wow,” and the shell cracks.
“It’s time to spread your wings, Barbara.”
And she does.
“See? All you needed was courage!” he laughs while grabbing her desperately outstretched hand. Barbara feels like she has just survived a parachute jump. Fortunately, Venti’s gentle hand gives good aid to her soft landing, the third irreplaceable point of support.
After all, he kept his promise of not letting the girl fall. Even though she feels the ground slipping from underneath her feet once more when his lips brush the girl’s knuckles. Like a light feather, which flying starts a wild hurricane with Barbara’s heart beating in the eye of it.
Venti is also unbearably talented. Barbara had known it for a long time, and now, sitting on the curb and leaning her back against a lamppost, she listens to him sing once more. His fingers are doing magic by deftly jumping from chord to chord while the trees are lazily casting shadows all over his white shirt and the ukulele in his graceful hands. She hears silver and charm in the boy’s voice, and Venti looks so carefree, lively, and bright, playing and winking in between verses. In return, he gazes at her as though he knows that the calm night will remember everything, from his music to the small sounds of a rustling skirt, which Barbara always fixes shyly.
The memory of charming blush on her cheeks, however, Venti wishes to keep for himself, not willing to share it with anyone or anything else.
The boy’s cheek is resting against his hand when Venti finishes singing. He looks at Barbara and squints his eyes in an attempt to read her expression. To no avail, though, since the girl quickly averts her eyes as if she suddenly saw something interesting in the shadows. The slightly excited trembling in her voice, much to Venti’s delight, gives everything away.
“Did you write this song with someone particular in mind?”
“Hmm,” the boy frowns playfully, taking his sweet time to think of an answer, only to shrug his shoulders in the end, “I have no idea!”
Venti moves a little closer and gently nudges Barbara with the elbow so she could pay full attention. Not to him, though, but to the bomb that he ruthlessly drops on her right now and then.
“Perhaps you already know the answer.”
The boy revels in her delicious expression, the dandelion wine being the only thing sweeter than this cocktail of embarrassment and mild irritation. Suddenly, Venti thinks that now, Barbara’s heartbeat would probably fall into a perfect rhythm for one of his songs.
“You are...unbearable! It’s-”
He doesn’t let her finish.
There are millions of reasons why Venti can be called unbearable. But Barbara has a reason to turn a blind eye to each of them and let him steal kisses from her flushed cheeks and soft lips. His kisses are lighter than dandelion hats, after all, and are also unbearably pleasant.