Chapter Text
Xiao was a Yaksha, an immortal being blessed with countless powers, once in charge of clearing the skies of shades and monsters, but in recent decades reduced to simply collecting the thousands of lanterns that littered the banks of Celestia every year. It was not as easy as it sounded; he needed to maintain vigilance if he was to spot each and every lantern, and he needed to work fast if he were to clear them all by the following day, as Celestia had implored him to. Still, it was far less difficult than operating this… human contraption.
He finds himself groaning as a blaring, obnoxious beeping echoes in his skull and around the smoke-filled room. He longs to simply stab the machine responsible for the noise with his Jade Winged-Spear, though he has been unable to summon his personal weapon since his impromptu descent to the earth. He is also, unfortunately, too short to simply reach the machine attached to the ceiling, with its off-button flashing menacingly and inviting him to press it, thusly mocking him for a height he has never before detested being.
In front of him, the contraption he has been leaning over for the better part of an hour now spits up another pair of cooked-bread, positively charred through and through, and Xiao feels a little like he wants to cry. He was by all means an objectively superior being to mortals, able to move faster and jump higher, able to stay awake for weeks on end and never needing food or water to sustain himself, and yet this simple device that Aether had insisted was intuitive to use was causing him immense grief.
Yes, Aether, he silently cursed, the reason he was here in the first place. Had the boy not made that impossibly intriguing lantern, Xiao would still be in Celestia, where he undoubtedly belonged, rather than fight a losing battle against… a toaster. That is what Aether had called it, anyway, and the beeping device conveniently out of his reach was a smoke alarm. Truly, the fact that humans had sought to tame the element of fire itself, and then needed to create a warning system in case the fire got out of their control; Xiao thought that maybe, Celestia should be a little more worried about their ambition than just the measly lanterns they sent up once a year.
On the other side of the kitchen, two blonds emerge from the hallway, one with a broom in hand, looking like she wants to kill a man — Xiao could certainly agree with that sentiment in the current moment — and the other still rubbing his eyes, as though he had only just woken up. The broom-wielder angrily stabs at the ceiling until the smoke alarm finally shuts off, and turns her glare towards the perpetrator of the noise. In the background, a shadow obscured by the dark smoke coughs fervently, as it opens a window and tries to empty the house of the smoke. Xiao watches as Lumine, sister of Aether, throws her glare around the kitchen, waiting for her to also comment on how unreasonable the toast machine was being. Her eyes widen as they land on the pile of blackened toast by the sink, and briefly, she dares to glare at Xiao himself.
“How many pieces did you use!?” She demands. Xiao is taken aback by her tone — surely she, the far more rational twin of the two, would be on his side here?
“I believe the toasting machine burnt twelve slices of the un-cooked bread,” he answers, feeling somewhat defensive as he is clearly not the one to blame here.
“Twelve!?” Lumine looks positively bewildered, and starts to count the charcoal pieces. “Oh my god,” she mutters as the number is indeed, twelve.
Xiao feels just a little offended that she had doubted his counting ability, but he remains quiet. He begins to suspect she is not going to blame the toaster for the unfortunate fate of the bread, and despite her being a mortal and him being immortal, he finds himself fearful of her wrath.
“That’s like, half of the loaf, we only had half left,” Lumine continues muttering to herself, her tone becoming disbelieving, if not hysteric, “you burnt twelve whole pieces of bread.”
Her phrasing confirms to Xiao that he has somehow found himself the responsible party, despite never having used the element of fire himself. After a long, judgemental pause, she eventually storms towards the window where Aether is still occasionally coughing, talking quietly and angrily to him.
“Your boyfriend wasted all our remaining bread because he can’t make toast,” Lumine whispers to him, and Xiao wonders if she’s trying to keep the conversation from his ears. It is a foolish attempt if that is the case, since Xiao’s hearing is rather impeccable.
“He’s not my-!” Aether quickly says, then sighs. It’s not the first time Lumine has referred to Xiao as such, but he’s not exactly sure what the title means. Aether continues, “he’s just trying his best. You know he’s not exactly… proficient at human things, yet.”
“Yet,” Lumine echoes, chiding. “Well, maybe you need to teach him better, because I don’t want to waste thousands of mora when he inevitably breaks our toaster like this.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to him. Just, don’t be too mad at him, ok?”
Lumine turns away with a rather aggressive shrug, and strides back down the hallway to the bathroom. Some of the smoke has cleared up, and Xiao can make out Aether’s face from where he is standing. The blond shoots him a polite smile, then covers his mouth as he coughs again on his way back to the kitchen.
“So…” Aether starts, raising an eyebrow at the pile of charcoal toast, “what were you trying to do…?”
“Make breakfast,” Xiao answers shortly. He crosses his arms, and huffs. “Your toasting machine was being unreasonable today.”
Aether snorts, then hastily stifles the following cough. “It’s just called a toaster, and it looks like you put it on the highest setting.” He points towards the numbered-dial below the lever of the toaster, which has 10 facing upwards.
“Does that not make it toast faster?” Xiao frowns, trying to recall Aether’s instructions from several days ago.
Aether again struggles not to laugh, and Xiao feels his cheeks flush in humiliation. “Well, yeah, it makes the whole thing hotter, but you have to pop it earlier than the timer or else you’ll just end up with… this,” he gestures to the pile of toast.
“Ridiculous,” Xiao says, turning his face away to hide the redness of his cheeks. “The toasting machine should account for such things when it is the one holding the uncooked bread hostage.”
“Toaster,” Aether softly corrects, “and it’s just bread, you don’t need to say it’s uncooked.”
“…whatever.”
Xiao risks a glance at him when another gentle laugh reaches his ears, and his chest inexplicably tightens when he sees the expression on Aether’s face. He frowns, wondering if he had contracted an earthly illness.
“Why were you making breakfast, anyway? I thought you didn’t need to eat.”
“I don’t,” Xiao confirms. He becomes a little self conscious as he elaborates in a smaller voice. “I thought… I could make something for you. As a thank-you. For taking me in.” He grimaces, turning his face away again. “Thanks.”
Behind the counter, Aether shifts, and Xiao can hear the way the toast crumbles a little as he picks them all up. “It’s no problem,” he quietly responds. “I’m the reason you’re down here, anyway.”
Xiao spins on his heel to face him, but whatever words he had to say quickly die on his tongue when he finally takes in Aether’s morning-self. The dissipating smoke filters the sunlight in a way that renders the room a dim gold, and the lighting makes his eyes practically shine, like they’re made of the sweetest honey that tempts even the likes of Xiao to lick his lips. His skin is painted in warmth, and he retains elegance even as he crinkles his nose at the smell of the charcoal he is holding, lips turning downwards in distaste. Even his hair, already a luscious golden colour, glows brighter in the light, and Xiao simply wants to run his fingers through it.
His eyes widen at the nonsensical thoughts, and he hastily clears his throat. “Do not blame yourself for it,” he assures, even if just minutes ago he had been blaming Aether for his conundrum. “After all it was I who… made the decision to come down here.”
Aether looks up at him after he has dumped all the toast in the bin, smiling widely. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’m just the lucky one who got my wish answered.” He moves over to the sink, running his hands under water to remove the charcoal clinging to his skin. “And I think you’re a good friend, even if you’re kinda hopeless at everything,” he laughs again.
Xiao watches quietly as he moves his hands in dexterous ways, running his fingers over the wrinkles that form when he curls his palms, and through the gaps between his fingers, then finally over the back of his hand. He sees Aether’s face puzzle over as he looks at the soap, as though he is unsure whether or not to use it, until he eventually decides against it and reaches for the towel instead. Xiao is broken out of his trance when Aether’s hands are obscured behind the fluffy red fabric.
He says the first thing that comes to mind, refusing to admit to himself that he had been staring at the blond.
“Boyfriend?”
Aether chokes, and his face rapidly changes to match the colour of the towel as he refuses to look at Xiao. “That’s not- it’s not- we’re not—” he coughs, bringing his half-dried hands to hide his face.
Xiao awkwardly steps forward, reaching over to pat his back comfortingly. He has no experience with human illnesses, nor the conundrum of choking, but he tries to comfort Aether nonetheless. “Smoke is not good for human lungs, perhaps we should step outside,” he suggests, and Aether is helpless to reply in any way other than a nod.
Once outside, the only elaboration Aether offers to his unfinished sentence is, “that’s something else,” and Xiao doesn’t question the term any further.
The sun has risen considerably since Xiao had first woken to make breakfast, bathing the streets of Liyue in ample light. Xiao still hasn’t quite familiarised himself with the view; hundreds of people passing through the street Aether and Lumine’s house faces, the small glimpses he gains of their personalities wildly differing from person to person. It is much unlike what Celestia had been, where each person he had passed was following a strict assignment from an archon, the likes of which was made evident by which worn-path they followed. Every citizen had been operating on a schedule long established decades ago, working to maintain a state of eternity that Xiao has started to question the value of. Sure, with true eternity came immortality, and the assurance that no unpredictable illness would ever fall, and no death would ever come; with eternity came a guarantee that everything would remain the same as it was a day ago, a century ago. Yet, Xiao wonders if it was truly worthwhile to walk the same life over and over, because if that was indeed the best path then… how could the people of the earth, condemned to live a life of less than a hundred years, find so much joy in it?
Next to him, Aether stretches as he yawns, and Xiao wonders if he ever thinks about his mortality. How his life would be forgotten in a century, how nothing he did now could possibly have any lasting effect in history, how the constant march of time is relentless in its victims and rendering every single thing that exists into nothing but a long-lost memory. Xiao doesn’t ask, however, as even amongst immortals in Celestia, the topic isn’t an easy one to breach; their strive to eternity is just one way they compete to survive a battle against time itself.
Aether looks at him, and smiles the way he often does, the expression crinkling his eyes into pleasant crescents, his teeth never showing unless he is laughing. Xiao tries to smile back, but he is wholly unfamiliar with the motion, and it comes out instead as tightly pressed lips and squinting eyes. Perhaps, though, it is not so bad, as Aether’s smile only grows bigger, the off-white of his teeth briefly flashing through.
Maybe, Aether simply does not care to ponder on things that won’t affect him for years to come, and Xiao considers such an approach to life, wonders if perhaps, it would be better to only concern over the worries of today, rather than the impending dooms of tomorrow. But when Aether waves farewell to go back inside the now smoke-free house, Xiao turns his gaze towards the kingdom in the sky, as the clouds part briefly to show its towering buildings. Once his home, but now no longer.
Now, he only awaits his inevitable judgement, for going against the very core values of the Heavenly Principles.