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The tavern he finds himself in stinks of sweat and wine, and the subtle vomit stains which make themselves at home in the wooden floorboards, cleaned but not erased. Perhaps only an enlightened being like himself can smell them, but it is not a pleasant scent regardless. Truly, Xiao would never willingly expose himself to such disgusting parts of the human experience, had it not been for the Anemo Archon himself asking him to… enjoy a bottle of wine together. He scoffs, setting down his finally-empty glass in favour of covering his nose, as the bard clad in green cheerfully downs his fifth drink.
“What did you want to talk about?” Xiao mutters just loud enough to be heard over the tavern’s ambiance. He can’t quite muster a scowl, or even a frown in the face of a deity who saved his life, no matter how sour his mood is. Hopefully, the faintest of pouts will suffice in conveying his thoughts on their outing.
Barbatos — Venti, lets out a satisfied sigh, licking his lips to capture whatever wine didn’t quite make it into his mouth. “Oh,” he says after a long delay, “nothing in particular. I just wanted to drink with you — since you so stubbornly turned me down last time.”
Xiao feels his eye twitch, and he clenches his fist under the table in an attempt to keep himself from saying anything stupid. Venti is his oldest friend, always meaning well even if their personalities clash at times. “I see,” he responds, drawing out the consonant in an involuntary hiss.
Fortunately, Venti does not notice the hostile sound; or if he does, he makes no mention of it. “Is it really so strange to spend time with my best friend?” He reaches for the second wine bottle in the middle of the table, topping up his glass again. “You’re like the windwheel asters to my breeze; how should one see the wind if not for the way the petals spin?”
“I wasn’t aware the Anemo Archon wanted to make himself known to the common folk again.”
“Oh, Xiao,” Venti groans, “you really should take a poetry class; that’s not at all what my carefully constructed analogy meant! All my talent being wasted on an Adeptus with no art, is this really the way my days as a free-spirited bard perish?”
Xiao huffs, turning his face away from the playful frown Venti adorns, not in the mood to deal with his antics. In his new line of sight, a different pair of people — mortals, rather than divine beings pretending to be so — share a bottle of wine, one with the same label as the wine Venti so loudly enjoys. Unlike them, who sit on opposite sides of a table as they converse, the mortals are squished together on one bench, their arms and legs tangled so that it is hard to determine which foot belongs to whose face. Xiao’s nose turns up in a frown, as if yet another nasty smell has made itself known to his senses.
“Hm?” Venti hums, the table creaking as he leans forward against it to look at the same couple Xiao squints at. “What, are they demons in disguise or something?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Xiao immediately retorts, then pales as Venti turns a raised eyebrow on him. “I-I mean, surely if they were demons you would sense it yourself.”
Venti can’t help but laugh. “True, but perhaps the alcohol could be clouding my perception too. What is it that bothers you so profusely, then?”
“They are… needlessly invading each other’s personal space.”
The silence that follows his statement is filled only by the cheers of a different drinking party, and the clatter of dozens of mugs and glasses as percussion to the drunken choir. “Xiao…” Venti sighs, a pitiful smile on his face. “Are you by any chance unfamiliar with touch used to convey affection?”
“I do not seek nor crave affection, it is a waste of time.”
“Don’t give me that,” Venti all but whines, frowning as he taps his chin. “What about with Aether? Do you not touch him? Does he touch you?”
“Why are you— no, we do not partake in such meaningless things.” Xiao frowns, too. “Even if I wanted to, I would never risk hurting him by… by touching him so carelessly.”
Venti throws back half of the glass in one go, then puts his free hand over his face as he sighs, a sound far less content than his previous sighs. “Then what do you do together? Do you two just… stand next to each other?”
“Yes.”
“Archons above,” the namely Archon groans, too wrapped up in his frustrations to care. He parts his fingers to stare at Xiao — oh hopeless Xiao who is so dearly loved by the golden traveller, yet still has no concept of love or affection. Perhaps Venti will have to again take up the mantle of love advisor if Aether is to have any chance of a normal relationship in the near future. He’ll start easy, and pry from Xiao what he wants out of the relationship. “Do you ever have thoughts about touching him?”
“I… do not indulge such selfish fantasies.”
Not this again, Venti groans silently. “Hasn’t he told you time and time again that it’s okay to be selfish? Haven’t Zhongli and I also told you there’s nothing wrong with being selfish? Why do you still restrict yourself?”
Xiao crosses his arms, casting his head down. “I know but… I do not wish to hurt him, or disappoint him. It is better that he is the one who takes; I trust him, that it all that matters.”
As usual whenever he talks to Xiao, there is always so much to unpack. This time, though, Venti decides it might best be a package left for Aether to unravel with tender words and gentle fingers, with all the unconditional love that Venti could never quite muster himself. Instead, he’ll settle for… giving Xiao food for thought, so that the next moonlit encounter he has with the star-born traveller can perhaps be spent exploring his own feelings more. “Tell me, Xiao,” Venti quietly asks, “are you really satisfied by merely standing by his side?”
Xiao looks up at him, the first semblance of want shining in his amber eyes. Still, he dismisses the question with a shake of his head. “There is no one else I would rather spend my life beside.” He looks toward the window, halfway across the tavern from where they sit. “He has brought me great peace, I could never ask for more.”
“Then… have you ever considered that he wants you to touch him? That he wants more than your quiet company, that he wants to fully enjoy everything you have to give him?”
“I—” Xiao stutters, his face shifting as he processes the idea. “I have not… I assumed he would simply ask for such things, given I have told him many times to do so.”
“I think you grossly overestimate his own ability to be selfish,” Venti sighs. “You two are hopeless, what would you ever do without the help of this humble bard?”
A single star glitters faintly outside the window, miraculously shining through the gap between towering buildings and competing with the light of a nearby street lamp. It reminds Xiao of Aether, of his stubborn determination, of his persistent efforts to exist and survive in a world that barely welcomes him; and of the way that even the brightest of lights could never possibly outshine him and his endless compassion. Maybe Venti is right, that Aether is too kind for his own good, and had never asked such a thing of Xiao in fear for making him uncomfortable.
Xiao’s heart clenches ever-so-slightly as he thinks more about his companion, wanting nothing more than to simply want him, and daring to think, maybe he can have him. “Thank you,” he mutters to Venti, as he stands abruptly. “I will… talk to him. You have been a great help— as usual, I suppose.”
It takes the willpower of every cell in his body to not bow before the Anemo Archon and make a scene in the tavern, as he instead stiffly nods. Venti smiles, nodding back — but before he can conjure an appropriately flowery reply, Xiao is gone, leaving nothing but Anemo butterflies in his wake.
“Ah, the classic Xiao,” he sighs, filling up his wine glass once more. “May the wind be in your favour, and let your words ring clear to him; heavens know you both need it.”