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It all starts with a party invitation. Now, mind you, Aether is not one for parties. This is a commonly known fact, so the invitation is in poor taste. He is, however, a party person when the party happens to be hosted by Ajax (more commonly known as Childe, or sometimes even Tartaglia- a name he never could quite get behind considering it’s similarity to the shape of spaghetti).
“I’m throwing this party for Christmas- nothing big, just a couple people. If you and Lumine are free on Saturday around 8 feel free to drop by,”
“Sure, we’ll come,” he plays it off. No big deal. He wasn’t invited by his long-standing crush of two years to a party to Childe’s house or anything like that. No, all very chill.
“Great!” The smile he receives is blinding, and he takes a moment to remind himself that he is a composed 18-year-old and no pretty boy is going to take his senses away. “I’ll see you there, then!”
“Not if I see you first!” Aether returns.
Then it registers.
“I mean, if I see you first then I’ll come say hi, and then you’ll see me. In that case I saw you first. If you see what I mean?” The attempt so save it potentially makes it worse. See doesn’t feel like a word anymore and Aether should probably shut up now.
Childe gives him a laugh, but it feels like that laugh you give someone when you don’t know quite what to say, “Right, I’ll catch you later,” he turns to go.
“Yep!” Aether calls after him, definitely a bit too loudly.
Then he immediately turns and walks away from the scene, regretting every one of his life choices that led to this moment. Such as skipping his glass of coffee that morning. It was definitely that, no relation to Ajax whatsoever. Nope. None.
And no, he’s not in denial. He just refuses to be that person in front of his crush.
You know the one.
Anyway, he has approximately… 80 hours till the party on Saturday (yes, he did the math on a calculator, he never claimed to be good at the subject), meaning he has 80 hours to pull himself together and look as good as possible for said party.
He’s totally got this.
Looking at himself in the mirror right now, this task is looking increasingly difficult to accomplish.
Oh well, this is why he has till Saturday. He can just start the next day! If he plans what he’ll wear in advance, then there’s no pressure whatsoever. The next day is Thursday, still plenty of time.
Or, you know, Friday. Who needs two days to prepare for a party?
Or- oh, it’s today. In (he checks his watch) three hours. Maybe it’s time to get off the phone.
He pulls together an outfit comprising a black cropped top that looks like it’s seen better days, (black) pants that most certainly need ironing (it’s for the aesthetic, he tells himself) and (black) boots. The one thing he’s confident in is his shoe game.
Finally for his hair, he decides a braid is not very partyish of him, so he opts for a high ponytail.
“Okay, what do you think?” He asks Lumine, who sits on the bed behind him. She looks him over once.
“Your boyfriend’s gonna love it,” she says, snickering.
“Not my boyfriend,” he mutters, turning back to the mirror.
“Not yet ,” she amends, “Just wait till he sees you in that.”
“I feel like you’re not taking this seriously enough,” Aether tells her, admonishing, “This is the first party he’s throwing in almost a year, and thereby the first one we’re invited to.”
“Mmhmm,” Lumine agrees. She’s typing something on her phone, probably talking to her girlfriend again.
Aether loves how invested she is in this. It's almost like she really doesn't care. Of course, Aether knows his sister well enough to know that she actually doesn't. It's easy for her to say. She already has the girlfriend. Need he remind her how she was just as bad, if not worse, before they started dating?
He doesn't, because he's not petty like that. And he has better things to be worrying about. Tomorrow, however...
The party is loud.
They’ve only just arrived and he has half a mind to turn around and leave. Only the motivator of Childe being somewhere around here convinces him to stay.
And, just a couple of people? There are 50 here, minimum. Perhaps that’s a small number by Childe’s standards, but for Aether that’s a whole army, thank you very much.
“You can handle yourself, right? I see her over there,” Lumine yells to him over the music, pointing to her girlfriend.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine-” Really, he’s not a child.
“Remember, don’t take drinks from anyone you don’t know, don’t get too drunk, and don’t sleep with him!” She calls as she walks away.
“I’m not going to do that!” Aether yells back, embarrassed.
He huffs, wandering into the house, dodging a random drunk person he’s never seen before hurtling across- no, wait, that’s his annoying classmate.
He plucks a drink of… something resembling water off the tray of a passing waiter, not at all surprised that Ajax has hired any to begin with. He takes a sniff of the clear concoction before deciding he wants absolutely nothing to do with it. Well, at least he can carry it around as his shield and to appear more sociable.
Well, time to go pretend he enjoys the festivities by staring at the giant Christmas tree in the centre. Wow, what unique decorations. Red streamers and… golden baubles.
“Aether, hi!”
The voice startles him, and he nearly tips over the drink. Phew, nearly lost the shield there.
It turns out to be Childe, who does not hesitate to immediately throw an arm around him. “You made it!”
“Yeah,” Aether agrees, smiling involuntarily, “I did say I’d be here.”
Childe laughs, and Aether apparently decides he likes that enough to reward it with a blush, “I thought you didn’t drink?” Childe flicks the glass in his hands.
“I don’t,” Aether agrees. “I don’t even know what’s in here,”
“Straight vodka,” Childe says, “And yes, the Snezhnayan stereotype is true, I love that stuff. So if you’re not going to drink it,”
“All yours,” Aether shrugs, holding out the drink for him.
Childe takes the shot glass from his hands, downing it in one gulp. “That’s the good stuff,” he informs Aether, “Top quality, you’re really missing out here,”
In the distance, a drunk person can be heard retching. Childe grimaces.
“I really don’t think I am,” Aether says, raising a brow. He wonders how much longer Childe is going to keep up this close contact. Not that he dislikes it. Rather he thinks he likes it a little too much.
“You look great today, by the way,” Childe tells him, and his voice is softer. As if he’s sharing with Aether a secret.
Aether turns a little redder. So he had noticed. “So do you,” he says, and it’s the truth. Chile always looks great.
“Thank you,” Childe says.
There’s silence for a little bit, but not an awkward one. It almost feels like it’s building up to something.
Childe walks around him, coming to face him. “Aether,” he whispers, “Look up,”
“What?” Aether is understandably confused, but he looks up anyway.
Oh.
Oh.
“Oh,” He says, hushed. Mistletoe. Childe is holding a little sprig of mistletoe above their heads. In another context, Aether would have been offended at how much shorter he was than Childe.
But not now.
Childe’s hand brushes his cheek, soft, barely there, and the touch draws Aether’s eyes back down to him. “You know what they say about mistletoe,” he says.
He sees the words for what they are: a question. Childe wants his consent.
This is really happening.
“Yeah,” he nods, “Wouldn’t want to go against the custom,”
Childe smiles, but it’s a small one, and one of the most genuine he’s ever seen, “Yeah,”
The noise of the party surrounding them mutes as Childe leans in, kissing him softly. It feels like ages before they part again, out of breath and flushed, but it’s probably only a few seconds.
“Oh, ew, is that what vodka tastes like?” Aether pulls a face.
Childe laughs, unbridled, “Been saving that one for you the whole night,” he confesses, putting the mistletoe away, “Merry Christmas, Aether.”
Aether grins, a sappy thing he can’t quite keep off his face, “Merry Christmas, Ajax,”