Work Text:
"Now that the situation in Inazuma is unclear, the trouble the Kamisato Clan faces will only increase. You are someone who can see what's at stake, so if you don't want to get involved, leave early."
A memory of the past, ringing in Thoma’s head as he restrained himself from brushing his hands against Ayato’s cheek.
He shook his head. Partly, it was his unwillingness to indulge in his yearnings without the other being conscious to provide his consent. Though it was also to question why that particular echo of the past had suddenly resurfaced in his head.
Was it the way the moonlight framed Ayato’s face, perhaps? He acknowledged how similar it was to that day, ten years ago.
But, the face that he saw ten years ago was not that of a sleeping person, comfortably drifting as the night lulls him to sleep on Thoma’s lap.
It was that of a young man burdened by expectations of young and old, of the people who follow him and those who sit above him, and by the belief that Thoma’s path and his should diverge. That Thoma doesn’t deserve to get caught up in the problems that surrounded the Kamisato clan
But all that Thoma wanted was to be there for him. If he would even allow him an indulgence, it was for him to stay by Ayato’s side To map uncharted areas by his side, knowing that no matter what would happen in the future, Thoma knew that he was true to his heart.
”If I leave at this time, I will lose my loyalty and righteousness. Father has always taught me to be a loyal and righteous man... I would like to do my best to do my part for the young master and the young lady. The path you take in the future will certainly need me as a helper.”
Ayato groaned in his sleep quietly, and the noise distracted Thoma from his thoughts. Though he allowed himself to smile, Thoma sighed as he resisted the urge to lean in closer and kiss him.
He looked up to the moon, and allowed himself to reminisce of moments from years ago.
-
Thoma was brought back to a time well over ten years ago, when his mornings were filled with the warmth and the vibrancy of the first bloom of spring.
“Mother, I’ll help!”
He remembered how his mother would take him to the market on Sunday mornings. He’d spent quite a few months before he developed a legitimate interest in what the bustling markets had to offer, and when he did, he begged his mother for a basket.
He remembered how she giggled, and pat his head, promising him that she’ll get him one. Though there was a brief moment that he felt disappointment upon seeing how small his was, he was quickly reassured by her words, that “This basket will grow with you. If you grow big and strong, this basket will also become big and strong!”
“Father, can we have rice cake soup for dinner again?”
He remembered the warm broth that evoked a comfortable and pleasant feeling in his chest. His father would tell him to always keep the broth, to allow the flavours to deepen and develop through the days, and how he was shocked at the knowledge that some chefs would have master stock almost as old as he was at the time.
He remembered the taste of his father’s handmade rice cakes, but most of all he remembers how his father would make them. Rice, flour, oil... But not just any kind of rice, and oh, the lessons he learnt when he added a random oil-like substance to the rice cakes. Then, there was how he used to make the biggest frown when his dads began to chop the chives and marvel about how delicious they were, that “You’ll grow up and want to add these to everything, I guarantee it!”
He remembered how much his father loved them, and at the dinner table on one particular night, he shook his head in terror the moment that his parents added chili into the hot pot. Although he told himself back then that while he may never love chives or chili the way that both his parents do, everything was alright and as it should be.
Then, there were the moments that his parents would take him stargazing, reciting to him words that he’d find comfort in.
“Wherever you go, whatever life throws at you... In Teyvat, the stars in the sky will always have a place for you.”
That was life. At least, for him, the best kind. It was a laidback, leisurely life, with no intention to or any thought of the possibility that he should lose it all in the blink of an eye.
Why would he want to or wish for such a thing to happen, after all?
-
No one would.
So his mind takes him back to the unforgiving judgment of the skies and the seas as they ripped apart the safe haven that carried him across the sea, as if declaring war with the rage of a thousand unborn suns.
A one-sided war with one clear victor, Thoma clinging to debris as fear and terror overpowered the desperate struggle to stay alive, even his won body seemed to forget the painful thumping in his head and the searing pain from his wounds against the ocean water.
He sees the crate of wine for his father slowly begin to sink, helpless against the battering of broken wood and raging water, his mind far too tired to comprehend what was happening, but his eyes wide open, afraid that if he’d close them then this unruly sight would be his final living memory.
He tried to keep himself conscious. He thought of his friends and how they’d react if he never came back. He couldn’t do that to Chris or Delia. He wouldn’t dare come back as a spirit, helpless as he watched his friends cry and wonder if they should have begged him not to go.
His thoughts immediately wandered to Barbatos. His image comes to mind and he screams his pleas in his head, begging him for help. Why him? Why now? Or is it all pointless, perhaps Barbatos’ influence does not extend beyond Mondstadt? Perhaps any other Archon, if they were so willing to extend a helping hand...
Or... is this it then? Is a seafarer’s path then simply a godless voyage, without salvation or sanctuary?
How could the stars be so cruel?
He regretted being excited about seeing what lies beyond the sapphire waves, what awaits him at the ends of the earth further than he was able to see... He was even briefly excited at the prospect of travelling the seven regions and what such a future might hold for him.
But he was right all along. That life should be peaceful and quiet.
And in those last moments before everything went black, Thoma was truly unable to tell whether the salt on his tongue were still his tears, or if he had simply run out of them and it was merely the seawater.
If only.
-
All he knew was that his throat burned as he coughed what felt like an endless stream of water from within him. The pain was indescribable, and it was as if his chest was threatening to collapse from inside.
But the pain meant that he was alive. It meant that he was still given another chance.
He opened his eyes, though he was left wondering as to what he was seeing.
Either it was just the sheer happiness of the fact that he was still alive, or those really were the most vibrant purple pair of eyes that he had ever seen.
“Oh, he’s alive.”
The face that was staring at him intently left his vision right after, leaving him puzzled.
“Alive! Alive!”
A small and timid voice squeaks from behind him. A small, young girl with a bowl cut.
“Alive... person? Brother!”
“Ayaka, that’s called a survivor.”
The boy from earlier, who looked to be around his age, turned to her as he enunciated every word, and the girl followed suit. Though it took multiple tries, she eventually succeeded, but she eventually pointed at him and said loudly,
“Survey-four!”
Before he could speak any further, a tall shadow loomed over him, blocking the sunlight from him. He turned around in dread, but was met with a pair of eyes with a swan-like elegance, a smile as gentle as silk, and a voice as soft as a bird’s whisper.
“I am Kamisato Kayo of the Kamisato Clan.” She bends down slightly to look into his eyes properly. “What is your name, young man?”
-
Ayato let himself fall onto the grass and sighed out loud.
“My lord, are you sure?”
“Of course.” He said without missing a beat, tapping rather aggressively on the ground next to him.
Thoma laughed at the display, and sat next to him. Ayato, slightly disgruntled, tugged at the back of Thoma’s clothing.
“Ack—my lord, please not there!” Thoma hesitantly tries to pull away from the direction of the tug, but quickly realised that he simply can’t refuse Ayato.
It was Ayato’s seventeenth birthday, and they were lying down next to one another just behind the Kamisato Estate, away from other people’s prying eyes.
He wanted to spend time with Thoma alone, Ayato said, as he held on to Thoma’s hands and pulled him with, exiting the Estate.
He gave up rather quick, and laid down on the grass next to Ayato.
“My lord, I should at least sit upwards...” Thoma paused to look at him. “What if someone were to attack us?”
“It’s my birthday.” Ayato laughed as his eyes remained fixated on the stars.
“I... don’t know if thieves would respect that and simply walk away if they saw you this vulnerable.”
“I have you.”
His voice is almost like a whisper as he turns to look at Thoma.
All of a sudden, Thoma felt his heart thump faster against his chest, unable to pull away from his gaze.
Though Thoma eventually does, there was probably no hiding the blush that had crept up to his face the moment that Ayato had said that.
“Ah, I... Well, I should at least sit up a little...”
Before Thoma could move his arms to support his attempt to sit upwards, Ayato tugged at his sleeve.
“Thoma, what was your childhood like?”
The question caught him off guard, and it left him staring at Ayato with a raised eyebrow and wide eyes.
“Ah, well...” Thoma laughed sheepishly as he watched a curious Ayato eye him, an indescribable expression on his face, almost as if... scrutiny? No. It was... genuine.
Thoma wasn’t even sure if that had made sense, but...
“It was...” He paused, unsure where to start or how to continue. “Well, we lived in a house near Mondstadt that belonged to my grandfather, from my mother’s side. It was an old house, but it was really sturdy...”
“What was he like?” Ayato now laid on his side, an arm under his head and his gaze now continually facing Thoma. “Your grandfather.”
“I... Only knew him briefly, in childhood. He passed away when I was far too young to even understand death.” Thoma sighed. “But from the stories I’ve heard... He always meant well, even if people thought he was a prankster.”
“Really?”
“My mother... When she was younger, she was sick for a while. She was unable to see her friends, and it saddened her, so he tried to do something about it.”
“Did he invite her friends over?”
“No, unfortunately not. I forgot why, though. But... he tried his best to cheer her up. He spent a few days carving out wooden figures from wood sized like a child, and meant to surprise her the next day.”
“I sense a but coming.”
“Well, it’s true...” Thoma laughed. “But, while hiding it away from her, he forgot that he had placed them at a truly unfortunate place. That, against the living room window, with the backlight of the street lamps and shadows of the figure, well...”
Ayato laughed, his voice like velvet against the cold breeze of the night.
“He truly does mean well, though...” Ayato said.
“He does, he does.” Thoma looked up to the sky and sighed. “I think... I would have liked to know him a little better.”
“He sounds like a wonderful person.”
He could hear the vague shuffling of grass against clothing, but chose to ignore it.
Because he could have sworn that in that moment, Ayato was slightly closer to him than in the beginning.
He felt selfish, really, that he let it be. That he let themselves forget that at any moment, there was always danger lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike when Kamisato Ayato was at his most vulnerable.
But he let it happen.
How he simply allowed himself to indulge in brief moments when their skin would touch, or how he lingered a little more when their eyes would meet, or even how he’d joke more often as the night went on and would look towards Ayato with the hopes that he would laugh just a little bit longer than before.
-
Then there were moments like these, when Ayato would allow Thoma an insight into his mind, and the thoughts that swirled within.
“Do you know the old saying, how in Teyvat, the stars will always have a place for you?”
Ayato asked him, interrupting the sound of crickets chirping within the inner garden of the Kamisato Estate and the waves crashing against the rocks right outside.
He was lying on his bed, facing at the ceiling, but his eyes were firmly locked onto Thoma.
“...Wherever you go, whatever life throws at you.” Thoma recites. “In Teyvat, the stars in the sky will always have a place for you.”
“Do you think it’s possible for someone... not to?” Ayato tugged at Thoma’s sleeve. “Not to have a place amongst the stars, I mean.”
And it was exactly moments like these that Thoma wished he could wipe away Ayato’s worries, perhaps with a simple stroke on the cheek, or hand in hand as their fingers intertwined.
Though Thoma knew full well that it doesn’t work like that, it never once stopped his heart from aching.
“Oh, well...” Thoma hummed to himself. “I do wonder...”
“Have you?” Ayato asked, but he responded with a long pause.
“Well,” He finally spoke up. “...I’ve... certainly spent time wondering if that’s true, or what that means.”
“...Why? Even now?”
“I... I don’t really wonder about it now. But ah...” Thoma tilted his head to the side slightly. “I first thought about it a few months after I arrived here.”
“Oh?”
“Not—Not that I’m unhappy for all that you’ve done for me, my lord!” Thoma fumbled with his words, but quickly followed up. “It’s just that... I had spent a lot of time thinking about my father and how I couldn’t find him, and I...”
Thoma’s gaze turned apologetic as he continued.
“Believe me, my lord, I am eternally grateful to everything that you and your family have given me.” Thoma shook his head. “It’s simply, ah... It was simply my thoughts. They were astray for quite some time after that.”
Ayato gazed at him, the quiet of the night slowly becoming filled with chirping and the crashing of waves once more.
And the thumping of Thoma’s heart, growing faster and faster as Ayato placed a hand on his.
“...Thoma.” Ayato murmured.
“My lord?”
At that moment, Ayato sat upright, and leaned in closer to Thoma as he pulled him into a hug.
“I—”
“If you wish to seek him out again, I understand.” Ayato held on to him closer. “All I want you to know is that I will always have a place for you.”
“...”
Thoma was quiet as he placed a hand on Ayato’s back.
“The stars would be fools if they truly do not have a place for you.”
Ayato spoke without missing a beat, as if a perfectly choreographed sentence trained often in his solitude.
It was impossible for Thoma to simply remain in the embrace instead of reciprocating it, as much as he tried to resist the urge.
-
It wasn’t often that Thoma would spot another soul wandering around the Kamisato Estate at this time of the morning. But when he did, it was rare for him to find one Kamisato Ayato.
“My lord,” Thoma piped up, worry in his voice. “Have you slept yet?”
“Thoma.”
The way that the light framed his face was truly unfair, because it was a sight that Thoma could never possibly forget. Though the dark circles under his eyes were undeniable, the way he smiled at him made Thoma forget to point it out. Instead, he busied himself, convincing his own eyes that it was just the way the lighting shone.
“Watch the sunrise with me?”
“...Ah, well,” Thoma picked up the pail by the side of the stairway. “I’m more concerned if you’ve slept at all. It’s... 4.30 AM.”
“I’m fine.” Ayato waved his hand, dismissing Thoma’s concerns. He then sat down on the top of the stairs, and pat the wooden florring. “Come.”
“My lord, please...” Thoma sighed, worry etched into his features, causing Ayato to stop what he was doing. “You have a long day ahead of you.”
“I want to watch the sunrise with you, Thoma.” He said.
“My lord, you have quite the schedule today.” Then, Thoma continued, but failed to realise now that the words that followed were akin to a bald-faced lie. “I’m... sure that we can find another day, one where you’ll have a more flexible schedule?”
Really, though, the sentence came from honest and genuine intentions. Because truthfully, as much as Thoma wanted to, it became obvious that the longer they stayed under the night sky, the more that Thoma noticed the red in his eyes, the dark circles under them, and his chapped lips.
Ayato laughed at it, and the way it rang in the night air was so unfair. It was unfair how much it made Thoma realise the flower that bloomed in his heart whenever he listened to the way Ayato carried himself every time the two of them were alone.
“You and I both know that’s not possible in the near future.”
Thoma paused in his footsteps, and slowly shook his head.
“Well, I—”
“...So, please, Thoma?” His hand reached out to Thoma, Ayato’s playful face falling to give way to an expression that he could have sworn was what yearning looked like. “...Won’t you indulge me, just this once?”
At that, Thoma shook his head, unable to resist.
Just this once.
“I can only hope that you’ve had sufficient sleep...”
With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Ayato’s face lit up once more as Thoma walked closer, placed the pail nearby, and sat next to him.
Thoma had barely settled in on the hard wooden floor when Ayato immediately slumped onto his shoulder, and let out a sigh.
“Thank you, Thoma.” Ayato said as he snuggled a little closer, and slipped his arm around Thoma’s, letting his hand drape lazily across the other man’s lap.
It wasn’t that Thoma did not realise the rapid thumping of his heart or the way his cheeks were steadily growing hotter. No, he was fully aware of it.
But what fully caught his attention was the way that Ayato’s hand was placed on his lap, open and facing him, as if waiting for Thoma to place his palms on them and intertwine their fingers together.
...But he couldn’t.
He shouldn’t.
So in a fit of panic, wondering if Ayato was waiting for something, anything, Thoma placed a finger on the palm, earning a confused sound from Ayato.
“Hmm...?” Ayato hummed to himself, and with battle-trained speed he tried to catch Thoma’s finger between his palms.
But he closed his fist to nothing, with Thoma having lifted his finger just before Ayato’s palms could catch him.
“Cheater.” Ayato murmured with a smile as his palm opened once more, urging Thoma to place his finger on it again.
“Ah...” Thoma let out a brief laugh, and placed another finger.
It was then that a particular shine of light highlighted the pink hues on Ayato’s finger. Somehow, to Thoma, it was reminiscent of a blooming lotus.
Unfortunately, he was too busy admiring Ayato’s fingers to notice it closing in on him.
“Ack—!”
“Now you’ve got to make me butter crab for lunch today.”
“I—I didn’t even know that that was what’s at stake!”
When golden-fingered dawn finally rose to take upon its throne on the sapphire skies, Thoma was unable to find it in himself to wake Ayato up.
-
“Thoma.”
Thoma is brought back to the present by Ayato’s voice, having failed to notice Ayato's hand that had reached up to his face and stroked his cheek.
“What were you thinking about?” He asked, his head still on Thoma's lap, though this time around he was wide awake.
“Ah... Nothing.” He smiled.
“About me, perhaps?”
Ayato traces a finger to Thoma’s chin.
“My lord, I—”
“It’s just us, Thoma.” He beckoned, and Thoma knew exactly what Ayato was looking for.
“...Ayato.”
He paused briefly, as if it was the first taste of Ayato's name on his tongue, but by the Archons did it glide across his tongue like silk against the wind. Like it always does.
“Thoma.”
Ayato placed a thumb on Thoma’s lower lip and let the rest of his fingers rest on Thoma’s cheek.
“Ayato.” Thoma said again, gentler and like a prayer, as he cupped Ayato’s hand on his cheek.
Thoma closed his eyes and placed a kiss on the palm of Ayato’s hand.
“The stars truly are fools if they do not have a place for you.” Ayato murmured.