Work Text:
Venti feels a palm swatting him away.
For a moment, he finds himself spinning around in the air, his head becoming slightly dizzy from the motion. It takes some effort to stop his tiny body from spinning, and his entire form subconsciously shakes to get rid of the giddiness. His beady eyes blink, before they widen at the sight of droplets of blood.
When he looks up, he finds an arrow pieced straight through his friend’s chest.
“Oh dear,” the Bard breathes out as he shakily lifts a hand to touch the arrow. The colour is quick to leave from his face, and he suddenly drops to his knees.
Friend! Venti flies to his collapsed companion, circling around the arrow in panic. As much as he wants to pull out the thing, he is merely a wind wisp, and that comes with him not having a pair of arms to do it. I-I’ll be right back! Let me just get Master Gunnhildr—
He’s pulled back by the scruff of his neck, and he emits a noise of confusion when the Bard clutches him closely to his chest, careful to keep him from getting stained by blood.
“Master Gunnhildr is already on her way,” his friend murmurs, and they both hear her cries among the clashing of swords and firing of arrows. “Please,” the lights in his eyes flicker, and Venti feels his fingers loosening around him, “Stay with me…”
Venti cries in alarm when the Bard sprawls on the ground, and he hovers over his friend’s face, noticing how his eyes have gone half-lidded. He decides to land on top of his cheek, bouncing on his face in a poor attempt to keep him awake.
Please, friend, Venti wails, and he rubs his tiny head over the corner of his friend’s eye. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.
A small breath of air leaves the Bard’s lips. “I won’t,” he whispers. He uses whatever remaining strength to place a hand over his head, and Venti realises that this is the gesture he often uses when something bad is going to happen.
H-how do I know you’re not lying to me? Venti asks. He remains tense under his friend’s touch.
There’s a faint smile on the Bard’s face, and he gently moves him so that he sits on top of his chest, right next to the hurtful arrow.
“Do you feel the beating of my heart?” the Bard asks, his voice audibly weak.
Venti waits for a few seconds, however he only feels the slow rise and fall of his friend’s chest. He doesn’t think that this is the heartbeat that his friend is trying to make him feel, so he shakes his head. I can only feel your chest moving...
“That’s good enough,” the Bard mutters, and his eyes fully close. “As long as you feel it... I will always remain with you, Venti.”
Venti watches as his friend goes limp, and he tries his hardest not to flutter around wildly. His friend is far from a liar, and if he says the movement of his chest is a sign that he’s still alive, then Venti will hold onto that till the very end.
He’s not sure when the battle has died down, but he does finally notice the people crowding around the Bard. The next thing he knows, his friend is pulled away from him, and he does everything in his power to catch up to the people carrying him—desperate to feel the rise and fall of his chest again.
➳
Is he okay now? Venti asks as he flitters over his friend’s form. He’s been told that he can’t sit on top of his friend’s chest because of the injury there, and it’s making him agitated. He needs to know if his friend is still breathing.
“Venti…” Gunnhildr begins, only to sigh. She pauses in between tending the Bard’s wounds, her eyes searching for something to say. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t work properly with you flying around like this.”
But— Venti yelps when he’s lifted by the small tufts of his hair.
“Let her work in peace, wisp,” a gruff voice—Ragnvindr—says. Venti squirms around to get out of his hold, but it’s futile, and the next thing he knows, he finds himself outside of the house. “Since you can’t seem to sit still, you’ll be staying here until she’s done.”
No, wait—! Before Venti can dash back inside, Ragnvindr has shut the door on him, and he ends up slamming himself into the door. He quickly flies to a nearby window, and he tries tapping on the glass with his head. Master Ragnvindr, please, let me in! I promise I won’t disturb Master Gunnhildr...
Gunnhildr and Ragnvindr continue to treat the Bard, most likely unable to hear his shrill voice from outside. Venti’s body slides down to the windowsill, and his entire form droops when he’s left with nothing to do but wait.
I hope he’s okay...
He waits in apprehension for them to be done, occasionally glancing at the window for any signs that his friend will wake up. He expects Gunnhildr to look happy once she’s finished, so he knows something is terribly wrong when she looks worried instead.
Friend? Venti peers from the window, pressing his face directly against the glass to have a closer look.
He can’t see his friend’s form in the distance when he’s covered by a blanket, but he does hear Gunnhildr’s muffled voice when she says, “I don’t think he’ll make it, Ragnvindr.”
Venti’s eyes widen.
“The arrow was too close to his heart,” Ragnvindr says, his face solemn. “I’m surprised he’s even breathing.”
“Do you think we should tell Venti?” she asks. “He should at least see his friend before anything happens…”
Ragnvindr sighs, before he slowly turns his head to look at the window—where Venti has been watching. “He won’t take the news lightly—”
He stops when he sees Venti looking at the window, but Venti is already running away.
“Venti—!”
➳
Venti doesn’t know where he’s going.
All he knows is that he needs to get away. Fly to somewhere far, far away and wake up from this horrible nightmare. He can’t accept that his friend is dying, and he’s starting to regret everything that happened that has led him to this very moment. Maybe if he had stopped his friend from joining the rebellion, maybe if he wasn’t in the way of that arrow...
It’s his fault that his friend is now injured. Now, he can’t even do anything about it.
Venti lands on the grass, and his whole body plops to the ground in exhaustion. How long has he flown? He doesn’t know, and he just doesn’t care at this point. Maybe if he was stronger—blessed with a human body, along with a pair of arms and legs—none of this would’ve happened.
I’m sorry, friend, he sobs, curling his body into a ball. I’m really sorry that you’re hurt because of me.
He wishes he can turn back time. All he wants is to see that kind smile from his friend once again. He wants to hear his songs, perch on his head as he works on his poetry.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he remains on the ground, his body unmoving. The only reason why he gets up in the first place is because he feels something towering over him, and he squeaks in panic when he realises that a boar is sniffing him—looking at him as if trying to figure out whether he’s edible or not.
“Go away!” Venti yells, kicking his legs. The boar lets out an alarmed noise before running away.
He sighs in relief, placing a hand over his chest.
Wait. Placing a hand over his chest...?
Venti stiffens, before he slowly lifts his arms—hands?—right in front of his face. He stares at them in silence for a very long time, and his eyes slowly drift to the pair of legs underneath him.
He starts shrieking when his brain finally comprehends that he actually has limbs, and he scrambles to a nearby stream to look at what he has turned into. It proves to be a bad idea, because he ends up freaking out when he spots the Bard in the water.
“Friend!” he calls, and he quickly dips his hand into the water to help him.
The water ripples, and the face of his friend disappears momentarily.
Venti blinks when he sees the reflection of his friend again. Slowly, he brings his finger near the water, and he notices how ‘his friend’ is moving the same way as he is.
“Oh no,” he whispers, his eyes widening in horror. He immediately uses his hands to touch his face, and there’s no doubt it is what he thinks it is when he sees his reflection doing the same.
He... stole his friend’s face.
“No, no, no, no…” he presses and kneads his face with his hands, trying to get it to change or—something. “Change it back!” he yells to no one in particular. He draws his knees closer to his chest and starts knocking his head with his fists. “Change it back... Please, change it back…”
He doesn’t want to be a thief either. Not when his friend is dying...
He freezes.
Oh, Celestia. His friend is dying, and here he is worrying about his appearance?
What is wrong with him?
He doesn’t think he has that much time. He doesn’t even know if he’s too late. But he has to try, and he’ll start that by—
He yelps when he trips over his own leg and falls face-first to the ground.
Oh... he doesn’t know how to use his new limbs.
When he pushes himself up, he finds a few white feathers laying on the grass. His brows furrow in confusion, and it finally dawns on him that there’s some extra weight behind his back.
He reaches out to touch his back, and he’s surprised to find a pair of wings. He had been so busy panicking, he didn’t even realise he had them. They are way bigger than the wings in his wisp form, but at least he still has a part of his original self.
He begins to flap his wings, and the movements come naturally to him when he starts to hover above the ground. He adjusts the white cloak around himself (that has seemed to come with him when he has shifted into this form), and he starts flying to where he believes is the Bard’s home.
➳
Venti has somehow gotten lost along the way, but he eventually finds the place that his friend is staying.
He tries to search for a way to enter the house, but the door is locked, and the window next to it is closed. He then hears his friend’s voice coming from somewhere, and he follows the voice—which leads him to an open window. The window is a bit high up, and it looks barely enough for him to fit through.
He’s about to fly into the window, when he stops at his friend’s angered voice.
“Why would you do such a thing?!” the Bard yells, clearly vexed. There’s some shuffling noises, before he continues, “You could’ve at least attempted to calm him down! He must be terrified out there!”
“Bard—” Ragnvindr says.
“And now you’re telling me that he’s been gone for days?” the Bard says, and there’s a quiver in his voice. He sounds like he’s in a lot of pain, and Venti panics when he hears a thud, followed by cries from Gunnhildr and Ragnvindr.
Venti doesn’t know what’s going on, but he has to see his friend this instant. He uses his wings to help him reach the window, and he struggles to move his limbs to push himself through it. The hardest part is getting his wings to fit into the window because they’re a little too big, but he manages to fold them in a way that allows them to get through.
He lets out a small shriek as he falls from the window, and he tumbles to the floor with an oof.
Venti slowly pushes himself up, and he feels himself shrinking when he notices how the house has gotten eerily silent—with everyone’s eyes locked onto him. The Bard looks genuinely surprised, while Gunnhildr and Ragnvindr just stare at him, their gazes scrutinising.
Ragnvindr seems to be the first to snap out of his daze, and Venti flinches when he hears the sound of his sword unsheathing. “Who are you, impos—”
“Wait,” the Bard says, raising a hand right in front of Ragnvindr. His legs are slightly wobbly when he moves into a standing position, and Venti finds his whole body frozen as he watches his friend approach him.
Slowly, the Bard kneels right in front of him, and Venti suddenly feels the guilt building up in his stomach when he realises how similar they both must’ve looked right now.
“Venti?” the Bard calls, looking at him hopefully. “Is that you?”
“Friend,” Venti says softly, his eyes going downcast. He’s not sure if his friend will be angry, knowing that he has stolen his face, but he gives him a small nod.
He’s taken aback when the Bard throws his arms around him, clutching his body tightly. Venti immediately goes rigid, his mind suddenly at a loss of what is happening.
“I was so worried about you!” the Bard says, before he pulls away slightly just to look at his face. He seems concerned now, his brows knitting together. “What happened? You’re as stiff as a board.”
Venti forces himself to loosen up a little, finally realising how tense his body is. He can’t really tell how he’s feeling right now with the various emotions swirling inside him, but one thing he can pinpoint is the blissful feeling of his friend sitting right in front of him; alive and moving. His eyes are a lot livelier, and his skin is no longer sickeningly pale.
And his hands—they are warm as they encircle him. Warm with blood flowing in his veins. It’s a sign that his friend remains here with him. A sign that his heart is still beating.
Yet, the only words that leave his mouth is, “You... are holding me.” It’s definitely not what he wanted to say, but it’s more or less of what he’s thinking. The way his friend is holding him is different than usual, and he finds himself liking it.
The Bard stares at him, before he laughs heartily. Seeing how much he seems to like it, Venti can’t believe that his friend can tighten his hold even more. “To be more precise, I’m hugging you, dear friend. Like I always do,” he says, and he buries his face into his shoulder. “Except, it feels a little different this time since you’ve grown quite a lot.”
Venti’s suddenly being reminded again that he hasn’t actually “grown”. It makes the feeling even worse when he sees Gunnhildr and Ragnvindr’s doubtful expressions. But he allows himself to indulge in his friend’s embrace, even if it’s brief.
Eventually, the Bard remembers that Gunnhildr and Ragnvindr are still inside his home. He thanks them both for treating his wounds, and he politely tells them that he would like to retire for the night (not without making snide remarks to Ragnvindr for kicking Venti out). Once both of them have left, only then a wide smile graces his lips, and a childlike excitement begins to take over his features as he sits next to Venti again.
“Look at you,” the Bard says, his fingers twitching enthusiastically over his lap. “You have such magnificent wings! Oh—I think I must write a poem about it. How the wind wisp grows into a fascinating being. Wouldn’t that be lovely, my friend?”
Venti doesn’t answer. The Bard immediately notices his silence, and his smile quickly drops.
“What’s wrong?” the Bard asks, worried. He moves closer to Venti, placing a gentle palm over the back of his hand. “You look troubled ever since you climbed through that window. Did something happen to you on your way here? Or should I discuss with Master Ragnvindr about his harsh treatment towards you?”
Hearing Ragnvindr’s name, Venti quickly shakes his head. “No—it’s not because of him,” Venti says, averting his gaze and fidgeting his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he gathers the courage to look his friend in the eye. “Are you... not unhappy?”
“Unhappy?” the Bard questions, frowning. “Why would I be unhappy with you?”
“I’ve stolen your face,” Venti says, and he moves a hand to touch a dangling braid. “B-but I really didn’t mean to. I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden, I just—”
“Venti.” Venti instantly stops talking. He expects his friend to be disappointed, but he’s only met with a reassuring gaze. “I am not angry with you. Do you know how honoured I am to see that we both look alike now?”
“Honoured...?”
“Yes. I am a person without a name, only a face. In the eyes of others, I am known as the ‘bard’, and no one else,” his friend says, smiling a little. He’s slightly hesitant when he extends his arm near one of his wings, but he does make the bold decision to touch it when Venti doesn’t move away. “To see myself in a majestic being as yourself means to have value in my face. My face is free for you to take and free for you to keep. What you do to it will always be far from thievery.”
“Friend…” Venti says, and he subconsciously leans closer to his friend’s touch.
It feels good to have his friend’s fingers over his wings, combing the feathers in gradual motions. Venti doesn’t realise that he’s currently emitting a soft purr—doesn’t realise the softened look the Bard is giving him. It’s like he’s slowly being pulled into a trance, with all of his worries vanishing.
He feels his body melting. Or—changing. All of a sudden, his body transforms with a poof, and he finds himself back into a wind wisp.
The Bard winces a little, startled. He looks a lot bigger now in Venti’s view, but he’s not intimidating—unlike the other giant humans he has met.
I’ve changed back, Venti says, and he’s unsure whether he prefers feeling lighter and smaller again. He glances at his friend, who’s only looking at him with a wide smile. Should I turn big again?
“That’s up to you, my friend,” the Bard says, and he raises his palms right in front of him, the gesture inviting. On instinct, Venti floats to him and sits in his hands. “To me, it doesn’t matter which form you’re taking. The only thing I need to decide is whether I can hug you,” he brings Venti closer to his face and rubs his cheek against him, “or do this.”
Venti makes a sound akin to a giggle, snuggling in his friend’s cheek. He likes feeling the touch of his friend. It brings him a sense of comfort—that he rarely feels in a world so huge such as this one.
The Bard carries him to his bed, slowly placing him down on an empty space next to him. He has always moved aside whenever they sleep together, and it’s because he fears of crushing him in his sleep. Venti had reassured him long ago that he wouldn’t mind, but the Bard didn’t like the idea of finding a flattened wind wisp in the morning. In the end, Venti appreciates the sufficient space given to him and leans his body against the pillow.
The Bard yawns, covering his mouth as he’s doing so. He blinks slowly, using his finger to stroke Venti’s head. “Goodnight, Venti. I wish you nothing but good dreams.”
Goodnight, Venti says, shifting a little into a more comfortable position. Sleep well, friend.
There’s a gentle smile on his friend’s face, and it takes only a few seconds before his eyes fully close.
Venti can’t sleep that night. The only thing that occupies his mind is the feeling of his friend’s arms around him, and he suspects that this is the good dream that his friend was talking about.
➳
The next morning, the Bard wakes up feeling well enough to take a stroll outside. Venti frets about it for a moment, not wanting his friend to push himself when he has just recovered. But his friend thinks that some fresh air will do some good to heal his wounds, so Venti relents. His friend has always wanted to see the world outside of Decarabian’s barrier, and Venti doesn’t want to be the person to stop him. As long as his friend takes it slow, he supposes it should be alright.
Even though Venti has been outside after they’ve won the rebellion, he realises it now that he hasn’t gotten the chance to admire the changes made. He was too worried about the Bard leaving him alone in this world, thus he didn’t notice how Mondstadt was free from the wind barrier, and that the people were much more spirited on the streets.
The only thing that remains the same about Mondstadt is the cold weather. Snow is still falling on its lands, but that seems to be the least of the people’s worries. The Bard keeps himself warm with a thick coat, along with a woolly scarf wrapped around his neck. Venti, being an elemental being, is unable to feel the cold, so he doesn’t mind being exposed to the chill as he perches on his friend’s shoulder.
While he takes in Mondstadt’s view, a snowflake lazily falls on him, almost covering his entire face. It’s ticklish, and he can’t help himself when he sneezes, nearly toppling from where he’s sitting.
The Bard chuckles, using a hand to keep him from falling. “Are you cold, my friend?” he asks, and he gives his scarf a tug. “You can sit in here if you want.”
Venti doesn't really feel cold, but he does want to sit in the scarf that his friend is wearing. Can I?
“You know you needn’t ask,” the Bard says, and he pulls the scarf even more so that Venti can fit inside.
Venti flies over excitedly, squeezing himself into the small space between the scarf and his friend. His tiny head pops out a few seconds later, his body all wrapped up inside the fabric. He snuggles in the thing, liking the warmth coming more from his friend’s cheek than the scarf itself.
“Better?” his friend asks, teasingly.
Much better, Venti chirps, and he rubs his head against the side of his friend’s face appreciatively.
The walk to wherever his friend wants to go is nice. It’s peaceful, with no more fighting, and the movements from his friend are so gentle, to the point that Venti almost falls asleep in the scarf. Though, he thinks he may have dozed off at some point, because he suddenly finds himself outside of what used to be the border surrounding Mondstadt. There’s a tree at the top of the small hill his friend is climbing, and Venti can see the frozen Sunsettias hanging off from it.
“This looks like a good place to rest,” the Bard says, once he reaches right under the tree. He slumps to the ground, and Venti finally notices the apples in his arms.
Apples?! Venti exclaims, dashing out of his friend’s scarf. The fruits are red, big, and look so, so delicious. He hovers over the fruits excitedly, looking at his friend in anticipation.
“Yes, they are all for you,” the Bard says knowingly, placing the fruits down right next to him. “I bought them while you were sleeping.”
Thank you, friend! Venti says, giving his friend’s face another rub with his body to show him his gratitude. He flies straight to one of the apples, ready to devour the fruit—
—and his body instantly turns round and heavy when he accidentally takes in the entire thing. He blinks, struggling to swallow down the apple.
The Bard looks at him with a brow raised, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, what did I tell you about eating the whole thing in one go?”
Venti stiffens, before he deflates. He then lowers his head, like a child being reprimanded. I must eat my food in bites...
The Bard laughs good-naturedly, and he gives his back a light pat to help him. Venti immediately spits out the giant apple, and he learns his lesson by quickly eating the fruit in bites as big as his tiny body allows it.
“You’re such a glutton,” the Bard jests, laying his body so that he can rest on his side—visibly careful not to press on his wound. “There are more for you,” he says, pushing the rest of the apples towards him, “so don’t rush while eating them.”
O-okay, Venti says, finally slowing down. He can’t help it. Apples are his favourite food, and he often gets excited just seeing them.
The Bard stares at him fondly while he eats, propping his head with his hand. All of a sudden, he frowns, and he decides to slowly move back into a sitting position.
Venti notices this and pauses in between his eating. Is there something wrong, friend?
There’s a smile on his friend’s face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He places his palm in front of him, and Venti doesn’t think twice before landing on top of it.
“I was so worried about you when I was told you were gone,” the Bard says, his voice barely above a whisper. He uses his fingers to gently caress Venti’s head, before he slowly meets his gaze. “Where did you go, Venti? Master Ragnvindr told me you were gone for days.”
Oh, Venti says, and he suddenly feels bad for making his friend feel this way. He has never liked being the cause of his friend’s sadness. I’m sorry... I had some trouble trying to use my legs, and I think I got lost on my way back.
Almost immediately, the Bard’s face turns sullen. “If only Ragnvindr didn’t kick you out,” he says bitterly.
It’s one thing to hear someone’s name being mentioned—twice—by his friend in an ill-tempered way, and it’s another thing to hear it without an honorific. Venti quickly makes an attempt to placate him, pressing his body against his cheek. His friend has gotten into an argument before, and it’s scary to see him angry.
Please don’t be mad, he says, and he unsticks his head to look at his friend. I was distracting Master Gunnhildr from helping you, so I deserved to be kicked out by Master Ragnvindr.
The Bard is silent for a while, before he sighs. He uses a hand to hold him. “There is no need to defend Master Ragnvindr just to keep me from speaking to him about it,” he murmurs. He tilts his head to look at his face, a faint smile on his lips. “I will let him go just this once, but I won’t accept it if he does it again.” He picks up the apple that was left unfinished, and Venti hesitantly takes a small bite from it. “I do not appreciate it when my friend is being treated so rudely. People ought to be kinder.”
It’s okay, Venti says, swallowing the piece of apple. His body droops, and he suddenly feels disappointed with himself. If only I could change my form earlier, maybe I could’ve been more helpful to Master Gunnhildr.
“You’ve already been a huge help by staying with me, my friend,” the Bard reassures, and Venti lights up at the sincerity in his friend’s voice. He flies to his friend’s chest to nuzzle his face in it, and the Bard responds by enveloping him in his hands, practically hugging him.
Venti rests in his friend’s chest, feeling the faint rise and fall of it.
“You told me you had trouble using your limbs?” the Bard asks, after a long period of silence.
Venti bobs his head sadly. Yes, he says, and he looks at his friend in bewilderment. How do you and the others use them? It is so difficult.
The Bard smiles. “Would you like me to teach you how to use them?”
Venti’s eyes widen, and he starts to flutter around eagerly. Maybe if he knows how to use his arms and legs, he can help his friend even more in the future! Can you do that?
“Of course,” the Bard says, his smile growing wider. “Would you like me to teach you now?”
Yes, please! Venti says, and he quickly begins to change himself into his mortal form.
The transformation is easier now for some reason, as if he has gained more power, and the wind whirls around him as his body changes. A pair of arms and legs grow from his body, along with white wings behind his back. He finds himself floating in the air once he has fully transformed, his legs hanging just slightly above the ground.
The Bard looks at him in genuine awe, and he extends his arm right in front of him. “Why don’t you land, my friend?”
Venti retracts his legs on instinct, suddenly afraid to place his feet down. He had tried standing on his legs before, but he kept falling, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to experience crashing face-first again. But his friend is right here this time, and he has promised to teach him how to use his arms and legs...
“It’s okay,” the Bard coaxes, and he reaches out his other arm. He has both of his arms extended now, ready to catch him if he falls. “I’m here with you.”
Venti swallows the lump in his throat, before he lowers himself to the ground. He pokes the barely snowy grass with one toe, testing the surface to see if it’s firm enough. Seeing his friend’s encouraging gaze, he slowly places the foot down, flattens his sole, and builds enough courage to put down the other.
His wings slow down, and he stretches out his arm to reach for his friend—
He staggers the moment he fully lands, squeaking as he desperately tries to regain his balance. His friend is quick to support him, swiftly pulling him into an embrace.
However, Venti has accidentally pressed his elbow into his friend’s wound in the midst of trying to balance himself, and he panics when he hears the quiet, pained hiss.
Frantically, he pulls himself out of his friend’s arms, and he immediately falls onto his backside. The Bard looks at him, completely shocked, but Venti only scrambles away, shaking his head in horror.
“This was a bad idea. This was a bad idea,” Venti says, and he feels something moist gathering at the corner of his eyes. He draws his knees to his chest, curling his body as much as he can. “I’m sorry, friend. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I— I just wanted to learn how to walk like you…”
“I know,” the Bard says, and he’s very careful to approach him. He kneels on one knee right in front of Venti, and he shows him his hand—reaching out to him again. “It’s okay, it was an accident. We’ve talked about accidents before, right?”
Accidents are inevitable and unintentional, his friend had once said, when Venti somehow accidentally snapped one of the strings of his lyre with his wisp body. Venti only sniffs, remaining still on the ground. Back then, at least he didn’t hurt his friend in the process...
“Venti,” the Bard calls, and his face softens as he uses a thumb to wipe the tears in his eyes. “Please do not let an accident dishearten you from trying to learn new things. I know you didn’t mean it.”
Venti fiddles with his fingers, twitching. “I don’t want to hurt you again…”
“My friend, you will never hurt me,” the Bard says, and his hand moves to place over Venti’s. “Even if you tried, you will be the last person to bring me pain.”
Venti will never even think about trying to hurt his friend, and he still wants to be more helpful in the future, so he reconsiders. He slowly looks up, and he finds the Bard with a hand outstretched to him, expecting.
“Shall we try again?” the Bard asks, gently.
Whatever reluctance he has finally dissipates, and Venti accepts the hand in front of him, putting his weight onto his legs as his friend carefully pulls him to his feet. His legs feel wobbly, and he fears that the same accident will happen again. But his friend is already prepared to help him balance by grabbing both of his hands, steadying him and keeping him from toppling back to the ground.
They take it slow. Venti carefully follows his friend’s moves. One step forward, then another step. He gets used to the feeling of standing with his legs first, and when his friend deems him stable enough to stand on his own, he gradually lets go.
Venti tries to take a step forward without the help of his friend, but he instantly yelps when he feels like he’s about to fall—
The Bard reminds him that he’s here with him, catching him before he can stumble. They try again and again, until Venti can take a few steps on his own. Hours seem to have passed, and by the time Venti is able to walk, the sun is starting to dip in the horizon.
“Look, friend!” Venti says, and he’s actually moving with his own two legs. His wings flap in delight, but they don’t bother lifting him from the ground. “I’m doing it! I’m walking just like you!”
“Yes, you are,” the Bard grins, and he watches as Venti steadily approaches him, his steps growing a bit faster now. His eyes suddenly widen in realisation, and he knocks his fist over his palm as he gasps. “My friend, do you know what this means?”
Venti stops, blinking. “What?”
“Tag! You’re it,” the Bard says, and he gives a light slap over Venti’s shoulder before making a run for it. Venti knows this game—it’s the game he often sees the children play.
He had asked the Bard once to play it with him, but it was difficult to play in his wisp form when he was so small and didn’t have a pair of arms to touch his friend.
But now...
“T-that’s not fair! I wasn’t ready!” Venti says, and he starts chasing his friend. He’s not as fast as him because he’s still trying to get used to his legs, and it’s not helping that he has these giant wings behind his back—
Wait. A sneaky smile forms on his face.
He uses his wings to make himself faster, covering some distance as he hovers, before landing on his feet again to run behind his friend.
“Hey, I saw that!” the Bard says, throwing a glance at him. However, he’s laughing, his eyes full of mirth. “You play dir—ah!”
His friend accidentally trips due to the uneven terrain, and Venti reacts on instinct, his body moving first before his mind can even register what is happening.
To be frank, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he does feel himself flipping in mid air, cushioning his friend’s fall with his body. The Bard thankfully lands on top of him, and they both lie on the ground for a moment, trying to comprehend what just happened.
“You caught me,” the Bard says, slightly breathless. He rests his head over Venti’s chest, his black braids spreading out. “Thank you.”
“Please be more careful,” Venti says, and he realises that his body is rigid from the shock. He allows himself to relax now that his friend isn’t under the threat of hurting himself, and subconsciously, he puts his arms around his friend. “But... you’re welcome.”
The Bard lifts his head momentarily to give him an apologetic smile, before he snuggles back into Venti’s hold. “I really like both of your forms,” he says softly, and he uses a finger to brush the feathery wing underneath him. “I can have you sit in my hands in your wisp form, and I can feel you hugging me back in your mortal form.”
Venti’s hands twitch, unsure whether he should tighten his hold like his friend did. “Does that mean you like hugs?”
“I like them very much, yes,” his friend replies, a tender smile on his face. “Especially when they’re from you.”
Venti feels his face brighten, securing the hold he has on the Bard. “Then I will give you lots of hugs, friend!”
➳
There are glimpses of the moon in the sky when they return home.
The Bard prepares himself for bed. He washes his face, brushes his teeth, and changes himself into some comfortable clothes. Venti waits for him the whole time, legs dangling as he sits on a chair.
He perks up when he realises that his friend is done, and he watches as the other climbs onto the bed, making space for him like he usually does.
His wings bounce merrily as he makes his way to the bed, his face nothing short of excitement. The mattress dips as he climbs over, and he lays down right next to his friend, the space a little too small now that his form has grown. He turns to lie down on his side, and he feels himself stiffening when he notices his friend’s expression.
“Um,” his friend says, blinking owlishly.
“Oh—sorry. I thought…” Venti’s voice trails off, and he instinctively shrinks himself. He thought that maybe his friend would like it if they slept together like this—since he wanted to give his friend a hug while they slept—but perhaps he made the wrong decision. He moves away, suddenly feeling bad for making his friend uncomfortable.
“No, wait,” the Bard gets a hold of his arm, and Venti abruptly stops. He turns his head to look at his friend, his feet already touching the floor. “I should be the one apologising. I was only surprised because this is our first time sleeping together like this.”
Venti shifts nervously, his fingers digging into the mattress below. “D-does that mean it’s okay for me to sleep with you in this form?”
The Bard’s face softens. “Of course it is, my friend. No matter what form you’re in, I will always enjoy your company.” He scoots to the very edge of the bed, patting a hand at the empty space. “Here. You must come closer lest you fall off.”
Venti thinks about it for a moment, still feeling a little reluctant, but he quickly regains his confidence upon his friend’s encouraging smile. He moves closer to the Bard, and their foreheads nearly touch when they lay right next to each other. The Bard uses a hand to gently brush Venti’s hair, before his eyes begin to close.
“Goodnight, Venti,” his friend whispers, the smile never leaving his face.
“Goodnight, friend,” Venti whispers back, and after some contemplation, he decides to wrap his arms around the Bard, letting his wings envelop them both.
He’s rather startled when his friend suddenly nestles in his winged embrace, but when he sees how tranquil his expression is as he sleeps, a wide smile starts to crawl on his own face.
Venti thinks that he likes sleeping like this, because he gets to feel the steady breathing of his friend. Knowing that his friend is alive with a beating heart, he soon finds himself falling into a deep slumber, keeping his friend close to him the entire night.