Chapter Text
The thing about color is you don’t realize it’s not there until it is.
Venti’s lived his entire life seeing in shades of grey. Carmen says he can see black, but he can’t remember when it started. When he was young, he knows. Maybe he bumped into someone on the school playground, Venti had suggested. Or on a fieldtrip.
Carmen had shrugged, and went back to reading out loud.
It’s black Venti sees first.
And he doesn’t realize until after he’s slipped out of the crowd and continued down the street. It’s his own reflection in a cafe window that stops him.
He stares, wide eyes looking back at him, a hand coming up to his braids.
My hair is black…?
“Carmen!” Venti slams their dorm door open, startling the huddled, blanket-wrapped figure on the couch.
Carmen should be used to this. He really should be. But he’s not, so it’s always funny when he jumps.
Venti points. “Your hair is black, too!”
White is second, as is customary.
He’s rushing through the student union, not paying attention to where he’s going. No, no—he has far more important things to pay attention to. Like the fact he’s fifteen minutes late to class.
He notices sooner, this time.
He notices, because when he turns to apologize to the black-haired (black, which he can see now!) person he just bumped into, he sees their shirt. Their shirt-which-is-not-grey.
“Hey—”
The person starts sprinting.
Venti doesn’t even have time to react, arm half-outstretched, before they’re gone.
“Wait…”
He never makes it to class.
“Why are you even upset?” Carmen barely looks up from his laptop. He’s got one headphone off, only half-listening. “Don’t you hate soulmates?”
“Yes, okay.” Venti sighs, brushing his hair out of his face. The buttons on his jacket are digging into his skin where they’re pressed against the floor, but he’s too lazy to rearrange. “The whole concept of soulmates is bleh.” He waves his hand. “Whatever. But the colors, Carmen! The colors!”
“Uh huh.”
“I wish they would just—” he clenches his fist— “stand still so I could poke them a couple times and get it over with!”
“Venti.”
“Yes, my dearest baby brother?”
Carmen looks down at him from over his laptop screen, face blank. “This is exactly why they ran from you.”
“Unprovoked?!”
For three months, his vision doesn’t change.
It becomes...comfortable. The novelty of ‘black’ and ‘white’ fades. And, Venti has realized, black-hair-white-shirt is not a rare combination. Not at all.
He reaches into the black top hat his professor holds and pulls out a small slip.
Unfolds it.
Xiao Li
He knows exactly what smile spreads over his face. When he whips back, Xiao’s already looking at him.
His brows furrow. “No.”
“It’s on the slip, Xiao! See? Here! Your name!”
Xiao grits his teeth. “Dr. Yuan, will you please allow me to switch partners.”
“No can do. It would be unfair to everyone else who already pulled if I allowed you two a redo.”
“Please—”
“You’re both bright. If you find common ground, I’m sure you can do exceptional work together.” And he moves on, holding the hat out for the next student.
Venti slides out of his chair, pulling his bag and himself up to sit at the desk in front of Xiao. “So—”
“Do not talk to me.”
“Kinda defeats the purpose of this project.”
“The purpose was defeated when you pulled my name out of the hat.”
Harsh. Okay. Damn.
“I already know what’s going to happen. You are going to say something ridiculous, I am going to get riled up, and we will argue the whole time.”
“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to rile up!”
“I am not.”
“That’s news to me~” Venti puts his chin in his hands, elbows on Xiao’s desk. Throws in a wink for good measure. Xiao pulls back, just slightly.
“You are just incessant.”
Yes, because Xiao’s so cute when he’s annoyed. His brows furrow and his cheeks darken. Sometimes he pouts. Honestly. Just adorable.
And sometimes he growls at Venti, sharp teeth bared, and—
Okay.
Maybe Venti’s a little bit smitten.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you are hatching some nefarious plan to drive me insane.”
“But I’m not?” He flutters his lashes, eyes wide. “I don’t have a nefarious bone in my body, Xiao! I’m offended!” And there he goes! Xiao’s cheeks darken—even his ears! It takes everything Venti has to not pinch his cheeks and boop his nose.
“You annoy me on purpose. That can be considered nefarious.”
“Why, dear Xiao, would I ever annoy you on purpose?”
Xiao’s fingers drum against the desk. He looks away. “...I have yet to figure that part out.”
Oh, Xiao. Sweet, sweet, oblivious Xiao. Venti’s being textbook, here. Sure, yes, textbook if you’re a seven year old on the playground. But still textbook.
Though...it makes sense.
They’re undoubtedly not soulmates, and people rarely give anyone but their soulmate the (romantic) time of day. Xiao, knowing this and not knowing Venti’s quite controversial views on soulmates, is surely confused. Because they’re not soulmates, so Venti obviously isn’t flirting with him, right?
Ugh.
It’s expected, honestly. Though Xiao struck Venti as someone who couldn’t give a shit about society and expectations and whatnot. Maybe the boy’s more of a hopeless romantic than Venti thought. Cute, but ultimately disappointing.
“We should exchange phone numbers.”
Xiao jerks back, nearly falling out of his chair. “Why the fuck would we do that.”
“Um...so we can arrange times to meet up for the paper?” Venti raises a brow.
“If I give you my phone number, my life will never know another moment of peace. You can look up my university email. That should be all you need.” Xiao stands, abruptly. “Now if you will excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”
And just like that, Xiao’s gone.
They have, for the first time in their knowing each other, come to an agreement—after hours of arguing and nearly getting kicked out of the library several times, with only three weeks left to finish their final project. But an agreement nonetheless.
Venti mentioned Barbatos, not really intending for it to go anywhere. And definitely not expecting Xiao to go quiet, then nod his head.
Everyone knows the legends of the God of Music and his lover. Those studying music—like Xiao and Venti—often know more than the average public. For obvious reasons.
And yet (and this is where Venti starts to think they really messed up) there’s so little in the way of research sources for their paper. A couple books on a dusty shelf. Not one written in the last five years. There’s a few more things online, but most of what they find are unsourced, wild claims about the two lovers. The Guardian Yaksha was, as they all know, a mysterious figure. Even Liyue forgot about him, eventually. Until several artifacts were discovered a few decades ago, etc. etc.
It’s with these few books between them that they find their common ground.
Venti taps his pencil against the page of the book in front him. He looks up at Xiao from beneath his bangs.
Xiao looks at Venti’s pencil. Opens his mouth.
Huffs.
Closes his mouth. Goes back to clacking away on his laptop.
“I was named after Barbatos, you know.”
Xiao stops.
“Venti Barbatos Dei.”
Xiao’s eyes stay glued to his screen.
“My brother is Carmen Istaroth Dei. Like the—”
“The God of Time,” Xiao still doesn’t look at him. But his hands fall into his lap, “who died horrifically during the Archon War.” He pauses. “What a cruel thing to name a child.”
Silence, too, falls.
Venti looks back down at his book. The words blur together. He blinks.
“I was named after the Guardian Yaksha.” A pause. Venti holds his breath. “Xiao. You can’t tell from the way it’s written in Teyvatian, but the character is the same. In Liyuean.”
“Oh.”
And ‘oh’ is right. ‘Oh’ is all he can think.
Because isn’t this just...lucky.
“Is that why you agreed to this topic? Because you’re named after the adeptus?”
“No, I—” when Xiao cuts himself off, Venti has just a moment to think: this is the longest we’ve talked without arguing. It’s...nice.
Xiao tilts his head, eyes shut. Like he’s turning the words over, twisting them into something safe with his tongue. “When I was...younger. I saw a video that showed what one of Barbatos’s songs would have sounded like. Could have. Sounded like. It was a flute piece. One that he wrote for the Guardian Yaksha, to ease his pain. And it…” Xiao shrugs. He fiddles with his fingers. Clears his throat.
Venti bites his lip.
It seems so obvious yet so unexpected at the same time. Xiao is just...a fascinating set of contradictions, isn’t he?
Is that what he’s listening to when he wears those big headphones? The ones he has slung around his neck every second of every day and uses to drown Venti out? Recreations of ancient music from scraps barely preserved, humans trying desperately to imagine what a god sounded like. What a god’s love sounded like.
It’s...sweet to think about. A hopeless romantic indeed.
“Do you think—nevermind.”
“Do I think what?”
Xiao shakes his head.
“C’mon! No need to be so shy~”
He sighs. “Do you think...they were soulmates?” Xiao’s eyes flick to him. Briefly. But it must be enough to see his reaction, because his brows furrow. He tilts his head.
Venti looks away.
He flips a page of the book, words not even registering as his eyes pass over them.
“Do I think the God of Freedom would have willingly subjected himself to the demands of fate? Do I think he would have given up his choice? His lover’s choice?” He sits back. “No, I don’t think so. And if they were, he must not have known. Or he was a hypocrite.”
The silence itches beneath his skin. He crosses his arms. Shifts in his seat.
“...I believe you have a very shallow view of soulmates.” Venti sits up, brows furrowed and words ready, but Xiao continues: “I have noticed it. Here in Mondstadt. Perhaps other places as well. This view of soulmates as being dictated by fate entirely. Someone the universe believes would be the best person for you, so it ties your souls together and forces you to live the same life countless times.”
It’s Xiao’s turn to sit back, eyes never leaving Venti’s.
There’s a thrum in his chest, hot and heavy, and Venti tries to convince himself it’s nothing but anger. “Then what’s it like in Liyue?”
Xiao’s lips twist, just slightly. “It is an...outdated view, perhaps. What with globalization and the blending of cultures and ideals. But...I believe soulmates are a choice. That your souls were tied together not by fate, but by your own hand. A promise, an oath, made in a previous life. A connection born from love that transcends lifetimes. Perhaps it was an oath made one lifetime ago, or a thousand. But it is a devotion, given freely. It can be severed, it can be rebound, it can be burned. It is something you can walk toward or away from at any given moment.”
“But fate—”
“Fate is not an all-powerful force. It is also neither malevolent nor benevolent. It is simply an instrument—a tool, which we shape to fit our own designs. Perhaps fate exists. But it could never force us to choose what we wouldn’t already do. To understand fate is to understand oneself. This perspective, I believe, has been...” Xiao drums his fingers against the table, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, “lost.”
Venti sits back.
He stares at Xiao. Xiao’s eyes finally break from his. They flit around the room. Xiao gnaws on his lip. Venti stares.
Xiao starts to gather his things.
Venti doesn’t try to stop him.
When he stands, bag slung across his chest, hands wringing the strap, he pauses. “I am not saying you must change your entire world view to fit mine. To do so would be a great undertaking. It is...difficult to wrap your head around someone else’s philosophy—I find it very difficult to see fate as you seem to. But perhaps you should...think for yourself what ‘fate’ could mean to you. And what it may do for you.”
The quiet goodnight as Xiao slips past him is nearly lost.
Soulmates.
Soulmates.
A choice.
An oath.
In the letters unearthed and on display at the Adeptal Museum in Liyue, the Guardian Yaksha mentions an oath. ‘To the end of this world and into the next.’
These letters are some of the only documents from the Yaksha himself. They assume Barbatos wrote ballads and poems about his lover, certainly. But much of that has been lost or likely miscredited. The only reason they’re certain the legends of the lovers are true and not just twisted fabrications are these letters.
And now, the only records that remain are declarations of the Yaksha’s love; one-sided conversations, evidence of his oath of devotion, preserved with more care than anything else they’ve found. And mentions of the love not being one-sided, as some initially thought. If they really lived together—had a home together, got married, had children—like the letters say...
Is that what Xiao means?
A love so powerful it transcends time and death?
A connection, a devotion, a promise. Binding, yet a choice.
To choose to be bound to someone, in such a...cosmic way.
It seems so contradictory.
And yet, as Venti has learned, contradictions can easily co-exist and are endlessly fascinating.
Is it an act of trust? Like letting yourself fall, eyes closed. Like being caught, in warm arms. Like falling asleep, safe.
Venti’s read the Yaksha’s letters so many times he has them almost-memorized:
My life with you is a life I could have had, in another world, another time. And without you...the lonely feels that much bigger.
-
It is in this room, this life, that I grew to love you.
-
I am so sorry I do not listen to your stories. But know you can tell them to me time and time again, and I will promise to hold every word in the space between my heartbeats. For it is the only place left that has not already been filled with you.
Soulmates.
Is that what they can be?
Can they be more than the chains of fate winding around your ankles?
Can soulmates be a choice?
When Venti gets home, Carmen takes one look and his headphones come off fully. He pats the couch, crossing his legs and facing Venti. Bumps his knees against Venti’s as Venti mirrors the position. “What’s got you thinking so hard, huh?”
He does the same thing Xiao did: twists the words with his tongue into something safe. “What does a soulmate mean to you?”
Carmen blinks. “What’s got you thinking about soulmates?” Then he smiles, eyes glinting. “Or should I say who?”
“No, no, it’s not like that, it’s just—” he sighs, tangling his fingers in the fringe of the knitted blanket draped over the back of the couch. It’s something dark and lumpy, a remnant of Carmen’s brief interest in the craft. “Xiao and I were...talking. We got on the subject of soulmates and he said some interesting stuff.”
Carmen holds his hands out, palms up, and squeezes when Venti puts his own hands in them. “As much as I’d love to tease you about this, I’m getting the feeling this isn’t the time?”
Venti laughs, once, harsh and raw. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, because I’m seriously starting to reconsider a lot of things and it’s honestly a little scary.”
Carmen nods. Rubs his thumbs along Venti’s knuckles. “Well, I think ‘soulmate’ means something different to everyone. I think everyone has multiple soulmates and they’re not always romantic.” He smiles, eyes soft. “I know you’re one of my soulmates.”
Venti blinks, eyes stinging. If names mean anything, then perhaps they are. Perhaps they’re tied just as Wind and Time were. It’s a comforting thought—that he and Carmen will never be far from each other.
Is that what soulmates are supposed to be? A comfort? If you do love your soulmate, then is it a comfort to know that love will continue on? That you’ll have this person in the next life? That this one isn’t the end?
That you won’t be alone?
“If I find the soulmate who brings me colors, then I find them. If not,” Carmen shrugs, “I don’t need colors to live a fulfilling life. I have you, I have my friends, I have our music. ‘Soulmate’ isn’t end-all-be-all for me and I know I can love outside of that if I want to. I’m not gonna let someone’s status as my soulmate dictate my relationship with them. But I’m also not going to deny myself that relationship because of it.”
Is that what he’s been doing? Potentially denying himself a relationship because he, what, wants free will?
If he’s so set on doing the opposite of what fate wants him to do, then isn’t he just...letting fate control him anyway?
“What...did Xiao say? That got you so...think-y?” When Venti looks up, Carmen smiles. Rubs Venti’s knuckles and squeezes his hands again.
“He said...he said he believed soulmates were a choice. They were an oath you made in a previous life. That fate is just a tool for us to use.”
“Huh,” is all Carmen says.
Or Venti wishes that’s all he said.
“So...Xiao?”
“You—it’s—he’s—” Carmen’s smirk...ah. Venti deflates. “There’s no use denying it with you, huh?”
“Absolutely not. I can see right through you.”
“Have you ever seen the Yaksha’s letters in person?”
Xiao glances at him from over his screen. “...Yes.”
“I heard they’re more beautiful than the pictures.”
Xiao shrugs, looking away. “They’re just pieces of paper.”
Venti flips his pencil between his fingers. He watches Xiao watch him. “Then which part is beautiful to you?”
Xiao inhales, sharp, and looks away again. “...The spears. There’s two of them.”
When Venti gestures for him to continue, Xiao’s cheeks darken. And oh is it so cute.
“One is made of pure jade and still in perfect condition. It was forged by Rex Lapis himself and used to defend Liyue for many millennia. They say it is unbreakable and that its blade will never dull. The second was once the weapon of one of the Four Winds, gifted to the Yaksha by Barbatos. It was said to be powered by pure Anemo energy. Yet the crystal blade holding that energy has cracked and been worn down. Still, the picture they have of what the spear might have looked like is…”
The blush deepens and Xiao trails off.
“You know a lot about this stuff.”
Xiao shifts in his seat. “I...grew up in the area. So I visited often. The museum.”
Venti folds his arms on the table, resting his cheek on them. Sighs. “I wish I could see it.”
“Maybe—nevermind.”
Xiao does this sometimes, Venti’s noticed. He’ll respond almost immediately, then stop himself with a nevermind.
“Maybe what?”
Xiao fiddles with his hands. Keeps his eyes off Venti.
Venti waits.
He’s not usually a very patient person. But something about Xiao…
“I...I know the exhibit well. Winter break is coming up.” Xiao shrugs. Bites his lip. “Perhaps...if you have no other plans and wanted…”
Venti sits up, slow.
Xiao almost hunches in his seat.
“Are you...offering to take me to the one place I’ve always wanted to go the most? And potentially give me a guided tour because you know so much more than any museum intern?”
Xiao’s voice is quiet, thin. “As I said...only if you want…”
“Yes?!” Venti’s half out of his seat, leaning over the table, and Xiao looks up at him with wide eyes. “Yes! Of course! How could I possibly say no?!”
And not only because he’s been obsessed with the Yaksha’s letters since he discovered them years ago, but because the one offering to take him is a sweet, adorable, fascinating classmate of his.
But it might be a bit too soon to confess that.
Still—even after they get scolded (Venti gets scolded) for being loud in the library, he thinks, thinks, he sees the smallest smile on Xiao’s face.
“So this is the Xiao I’ve heard so much about.”
“Carmen!”
Xiao clears his throat. Carmen smirks.
Venti realizes, seconds too late, that saying nothing would have been less telling than saying that. Instead of looking at Xiao (read: avoiding Xiao’s general area at all costs), Venti slips his bag to the ground. Clears his throat. And turns, eyes closed. “Welcome to our humble abode! Please, make yourself at home. Can I get you, uh, water? Apple juice? Or—”
“Yeah no, that’s all we have.”
“Right. Yes. Water or apple juice. Or nothing. Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” The tone of Xiao’s voice, for some reason, only makes Venti flush more, eyes fluttering open. Or maybe it’s the intensity of Xiao’s eyes on him, only him, and nothing else. Venti nods, barely. Xiao opens his mouth. Closes it. Clears his throat again. His brows furrow.
When Xiao’s eyes rip away from him, Venti feels like there’s nothing left holding him up. He puts a hand on the couch behind him. Ignores Carmen’s quiet snickers.
“Just water is fine.”
“Right. Yes, okay. I’ll go get that for you. Right now.” And he escapes into the kitchen, blissfully free from Xiao’s presence.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to be around Xiao, no.
It’s that every time he’s around Xiao, all his common sense evaporates and he is suddenly piloted by a single, very, very gay braincell. Which is ultimately very bad when they’re working on an academic project due tomorrow.
That they’re going to have to present.
Together.
Oh gods.
Water.
Right.
Yes.
One step at a time.
Glass. Water. Xiao. Easy as that.
When he comes back, it’s to Carmen with a glint in his eyes and Xiao blushing.
Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no nonononononono— “Carmen. Carmen. What did you say to him.”
“That’s between me and Xiao.”
“Carmen.”
“You know,” Carmen stands, looking at a nonexistent watch on his wrist, “I had something to go do in my room that I completely forgot about. Oh dear. Whatever shall I do.” He takes his fluffy blanket, letting it drag behind him. And when he gets close enough to whisper, he leans in to Venti and just says: “Go get ‘im, tiger. I’ll have my headphones on.”
Venti splutters. “Wha—it’s not—you—Carmen!”
The door clicks shut, muffling Carmen’s cackles and sealing his fate.
Venti takes a breath.
Steadies himself.
And turns.
Xiao’s not quite looking at him. But then his lashes flutter and he is—looking up at Venti from his place on the couch. And Venti’s heart settles.
Right.
It’s just Xiao.
Xiao, who has already seen how annoying Venti can be, has seen him stressed and frustrated and pulling at his hair as he skims pages upon pages to find just a single sentence they can use. Has seen him exhausted and despondent and depressed. Has seen him irritated as they argue for hours on end about the stupidest thing.
Which, Venti realizes as he sits, sliding Xiao his water, hasn’t happened for a while now.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Xiao takes a long drink—and Venti struggles to not watch the way his throat moves, the smooth skin there. Can’t help but imagine what it would feel like. Against his lips. As Venti nestles his face in the crook of it. What it would be like to wake up and, still sleepy, kiss Xiao’s gentle pulse. To feel the life of this beautiful man against his lips, to cherish it, to feel secure in the knowledge that his heart still beats.
Oh.
This isn’t just a little crush anymore, is it?
“We should begin our practice.”
“Yes, yeah. Yeah, right right. Practice.”
There’s a pause, where Xiao looks at Venti from behind his hair. A breath— “Nervous?”
Venti takes a moment. And when he feels the smile, he lets it spread. “Not in the slightest.”