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He takes Xiao’s hand before he can object, holding him by the wrist with a little smile on his face. Venti’s hold on him is not firm by any means; a touch as calm and gentle as the breeze, bringing with it the smell of cecilias and windwheel asters. Xiao’s breath hitches; he looks at Venti with wide eyes, brows pinched together in something akin to confusion.
He could break away anytime, Xiao thinks. Powerful as Venti may be, he holds Xiao like he might hold a child; just firm enough to lead him, gentle enough that if Xiao just stopped walking with him, his grip would break. And Xiao considers it – briefly, he considers breaking the feather-light hold that the archon has on his wrist as they cross a deep section of the river. Even as Venti lets his hold on Xiao’s hand tighten just a bit whilst they leap onto the opposite riverbank, even as Xiao feels the pressure release as soon as their feet hit the sand and gravel; Xiao considers breaking their contact, retracting his hand and shoving it into his pocket for safe keeping.
But Xiao - doesn’t do that.
For as impossibly human as Venti appears to be, he’s every bit as powerful as Zhongli – as Morax. An archon: one of the Seven most powerful gods in Teyvat and beyond, and yet somehow – despite the drinking, Xiao thinks with a wrinkled nose and pinched brow – also one of the gentlest. Just as old as Xiao himself, if not older; but behind his youthful, free spirit holds something divine, something holy. Something so far removed from even Xiao’s unearthliness that he sometimes finds himself sitting back in awe. Venti, who doesn’t let the little things get to him; who embodies the freedom that Mondstadt is known for, the liberty that Xiao covets.
So he lets Venti guide him, wordlessly on Xiao’s part; and he cherishes the warmth of Venti’s hand that feels like it belongs there.
“Do you want to tell me where we’re going?” Xiao asks, frowning as the summit of Dragonspine comes a little too close for comfort.
(Which is to say, any closer than its proximity to the Wangshu Inn.)
Venti only hums, yanking the adeptus behind him.
He smiles that smile that makes Xiao’s heart thump and warmth bloom throughout his chest and despite his best efforts, Xiao smiles back. It almost – almost takes Venti by surprise, just for a split second before the smile blossoms across his face once more. His pace slows, a little; enough that they’re walking side by side, shoulders brushing against each other as they cross the plains of Mondstadt.
“Do you trust me?” Venti asks finally, and Xiao swallows.
He hesitates, just a moment. Just one heartbeat that feels so unbelievably, unbearably long to him – trust is not a gift that Xiao gives lightly. It’s something that he holds so tightly to his chest that he wonders if he’s even able to peel it off and give it to anybody other than Morax, who’s had a firm grip on Xiao’s trust for millenia.
Xiao’s hesitation is solely from how much the question catches him by surprise. His answer is easy.
“I do.”
Venti doesn’t stop humming and chatting while they travel, and though Xiao typically prefers his silence, the anemo archon’s mindless noise is oddly comforting. No expectations of response, no complaints that he isn’t listening – just enough that the leaves of the trees and the critters in the bushes have company as they rustle and move about.
It’s easy for Xiao, he thinks, and not a lot of things are.
Absently, Xiao leans into Venti as they walk; lets their shoulders brush together and their elbows rest against each other and their hands mingle, fingers pressed against one another without a thought behind it. Xiao has always, always been in the odd intersection of both hating and craving touch – the odd result of his upbringing and the circumstances that, in the end, brought Xiao out of the darkness as a whole.
Venti’s touch had, at first, been unwelcome: a little too aggressive, a little too excitable.
Any other time, he would just teleport away at the slightest touch from someone he didn’t deem safe. Guizhong’s touch had been calming, soothing when she’d accepted him into the family, and Morax’s, though less delicate, less graceful than Guizhong’s, had been just the same. His brothers and sisters had been less careful but just as loving, just as affectionate, and he’d grown quickly to accept Bosacius’ hugs and Inadarias’ mindless hand-grabbing.
He doesn’t think about the touches that had been less than ideal. He’s thankful that Venti ended up the former.
It doesn’t dawn on him exactly where they are until he notices a small patch of lamp grass under a pinetree. Xiao looks at Venti with a pinched brow and a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he squeezes Venti’s hand to get his attention away from the tune he whistles.
“You’re bringing me to the edge of Mondstadt.”
Venti has to laugh at the disbelief in Xiao’s voice. He links their arms together, humming a little tune as they walk; Xiao makes a noise of discontent but it’s half-hearted at best, and he lets Venti stay at close proximity despite the tugging at his chest and the itching of his skin that usually keeps others at arm’s reach or further.
“Duh,” Venti says merrily, “where else was I gonna take you? Sumeru? You saw Dragonspine! We walked past it!`”
Despite his boisterousness, he moves like he’s trying to lure in a small, scared, wild animal, deliberate in his caution and studied in his motions. Venti slots their fingers together easily, brushing against each other like they’ve done it a thousand times, a million – perhaps they have, Xiao thinks. He’s lost count by this point, centuries of comfort like this feeling both so foreign yet so familiar.
And Xiao – well, if the fluttering in his stomach and the soft heat of his cheeks mean anything, he’s not going to let on. He flexes his fingers, closes them around Venti’s hand and tries not to make a noise as Venti’s thumb brushes against his skin.
(It’s comforting in a way that tells Xiao he’s not going anywhere, even if Xiao decides to increase the gap or sever the bond altogether – I’m here, and I’ll support you, even if it’s from afar.)
Venti doesn’t let it go unnoticed with a squeeze to Xiao’s hand and the same cheeky little smile that he wears when playing his pranks on Zhongli. Xiao huffs quietly in response, and even though he knows the nuance behind Venti’s softer touches, the gentler side of the bard that’s only seen by a select few, he pretends. Pretends that he doesn’t, pretends that Venti shows this side to everyone, even if he knows the truth.
Letting someone in hadn’t been easy. Letting someone let him in had been harder.
“I guess,” Xiao relents, finally when Springvale and the long-winded, mindless smalltalk between Venti and Draff are behind them.
They reach the top of Starsnatch Cliff as the sun is perched against the horizon, dancing over the mountaintops of Stormterror’s Lair as it retires for the night. Guided by the light of the sunset and the tug of an archon, Xiao gazes over the fields of Starfell Valley, across Cider Lake and into Brightcrown Mountains as they make their way to the tip of the cliff.
Though it’s – not a linear trip. They stop every handful of yards for Venti to kneel down, pick a cecilia flower from its little patch and continue on. He does this without breaking their hand hold, and Xiao finds himself almost impressed each and every time.
He recognizes the tune that Venti hums by the third patch of cecilia, something that Xiao swears Venti saves for their alone time. For someone with a tune on his tongue at all times, this one is special: a gentle, lilting melody that’s as simple as it is beautiful, one that feels like it’s lifting him up, holding him in firm but gentle arms and telling him that it’s going to be fine. He’s going to be fine. A melody that tells him he is loved, he is cherished; that he is cared for and that makes him feel like the weight of the world is being removed from his shoulders like a breath of fresh air.
Guizhong had been just as musical, Xiao thinks. Maybe his closeness with Venti makes sense after all.
(He doesn’t want to admit that he recognizes the song that saved him from crushing under the weight of his karmic debt all those years ago; doesn’t want to admit to Venti that he remembers, or that for a long time that very tune was the only thing keeping him afloat. Of course he remembers.)
It’s not until they reach the very tip of the cliff that Xiao realizes Venti’s taken every last cecilia flower from their small patches.
“Venti, they–”
“Don’t worry,” Venti says, breezy smile in place on his perfect, round face as he plops himself down on the edge of the cliff, “I planted some in their place. Give a flower, take a flower, right?”
Xiao’s taken by surprise, for once; somehow, Venti doesn’t stop coming out of left field, surprising him at every turn. He blinks at him once, twice – mouth hung open for a brief second until he realizes how he must look and snaps it shut.
He joins Venti after a long moment, sitting himself down with his legs dangling dangerously over the edge and no fear in sight.
Venti doesn’t let the moment go wasted. The moment Xiao’s bum hits the ground, he connects the two ends of the cecilia chain working in his hands and rests the loop around the crown of Xiao’s head with a big smile, committing the sight to memory.
Xiao very nearly teleports himself back to Liyue.
“...How’s it look?” Xiao asks finally, and hopes – prays that Venti doesn’t call to attention the flush dusting his cheeks. And he gets off easily this time, with Venti grinning ear-to-ear, his back against the setting sun and the city that loves him so dearly.
“Perfect.”
And they’re quiet – for a long time. Xiao leaves his crown in place and Venti makes himself one to match, tongue poking out as he focuses, loops the stems around each other and sticks a few sweet flowers in the gaps.
As nice as it is to watch him work, Xiao finds that he almost misses the mindless droning from the Archon; misses the humming and the babbling, the noises that are easy enough for him to tune out. The sounds of the waves crashing against the beach below them is nice, and the little group of hilichurls on a cliff below them are chattering away, but it’s – not the same.
So Xiao does something about it.
He takes in a sharp inhale through his nose, pulling a knee up to his chest as he gazes out across the sea.
“Thank you,” Xiao says finally, breaking into the admittedly comfortable silence, and then adds when Venti looks at him with confusion painted all over his face, “for… this. It’s nice getting away from the Harbor for a while.”
“Oh,” Venti says, and once the hesitation clears, that cheeky smile that Xiao has grown so fond of breaks forth again. Before Xiao can say anything, Venti pulls a bottle of wine out of who knows where – Xiao doesn’t know and isn’t sure he wants to find out. “To us!”
“To us,” Xiao parrots as Venti takes a big swig from the bottle, breaking it off with a loud ahhh. Xiao snorts softly but doesn’t take the bottle when Venti passes it over; Venti’s smile is uninterrupted, and he takes an extra long sip for the both of them.