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There’s a sheen of sweat on the Bard’s forehead as he wipes his hands over the apron. Baking took longer than he expected, but the results proved to be worth it with how careful he was to make sure that every step was followed thoroughly. Last time he baked this recipe, he had noticed how some of the edges had burnt. Even though Venti still found the food delicious and gobbled up most of it, he wasn’t very pleased that he hadn’t been able to give his friend the best.
Letting out a tired but satisfied sigh, he pulls the apron off and folds it neatly before keeping it in a drawer. The pie he has baked sits temptingly on the dining table, the smell wafting into the air. All that’s left to do is wait for his friend’s return, and they both can eat it together.
He glances at the window, and he notices how the sky is slowly turning a dark shade of blue. It’s getting pretty late, and Venti still hasn’t returned. He thinks of going out to find him, when he suddenly hears the sound of the door creaking open.
“Welcome back—” the Bard greets, only for his smile to drop when he sees Venti hobbling inside, his wings dragging heavily behind him.
He hasn’t even gotten enough time to approach his friend. He rushes to Venti the moment he collapses to the floor, his body sprawled out.
“Venti!” the Bard exclaims, and he quickly kneels right beside him. His friend looks awfully pale. He’s breathing heavily, and his face is covered in a thin layer of sweat. “My friend, what happened?”
Venti spends another few seconds breathing in and out, before he finally lets out a quiet sigh. “Just tired,” he murmurs.
The Bard frowns. It had been a month since Venti ascended as Mondstadt’s archon. He had never wanted to become one, but he really didn’t have a choice in the matter since the other candidate, Andrius, had stepped down. The Bard wishes that it had been someone else, since he knew more than anyone that Venti never wanted this. But going against Celestia’s decision isn’t an option, and now his friend is burdened with the responsibility of taking care of an entire nation.
The Bard stares at him for a while, before he decides to lie down right next to him. He’s about to pull his friend into a hug, when the other flinches at his touch.
“Don’t,” Venti says, giving him an apologetic look. He looks down at his own clothes. They are covered in dirt. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes.”
A small smile creeps on the Bard’s lips. Venti, always so considerate. It still doesn’t stop him from closing the distance between them and spreading his arms out. “I think a dear friend of mine is more important than some mere clothing,” he says, before he gestures for his friend to move closer. “Come.”
Venti hesitates for a moment, before he slowly allows himself to be pulled into the Bard’s chest, his forehead buried deep in it. His body has been tense, but the Bard gradually feels him relaxing when he starts to comb the ruffled feathers, knowing it’s one of the ways to help soothe his friend. There is some dirt stuck to his wings, and he uses his other hand to brush off the ones he can.
“I feel so much better now,” Venti says softly, and he looks up to meet his gaze with a pair of teal. “Thank you.”
The smile on the Bard’s face returns. “You know,” he begins, and his fingers move to gently stroke Venti’s hair. “If you need help, you only have to ask.”
Venti’s silent for a while, before he exhales. “I don’t want to trouble you,” he murmurs, his eyes going downcast. “This work—it’s boring.”
“And tiring, I assume.”
His friend visibly swallows, before he turns his head to the side. His hands are small as he uses a finger to absentmindedly trace over the wooden flooring. “You don’t deserve to be bored.”
“What if I say I want to?” the Bard asks. He tilts his head in a way that gets Venti to look at him again. “Will you deny the request of this humble bard?”
“...No,” Venti says, after a long pause. “I could never.”
The Bard places a gentle hand over Venti’s cheek. Unlike a human’s, it’s cold—a testimony of him being an elemental being. “Let me share the burden with you,” he says, and he can’t help but look a little downhearted when he meets his gaze. “Please do not send me home only for you to deal with trouble on your own.”
Venti looks at him with widened eyes, his irises momentarily flashing with guilt. He then gives him a nod, and he holds the hand the Bard uses to touch his cheek. “Okay. If—if that’s what you really want…”
The Bard’s lips stretch into a contented smile, before he moves his face to plant a kiss to his friend’s forehead. “Thank you,” he whispers. Thankfully, the kiss has the intended effect, because he immediately sees Venti’s face brightening, as if some of his energy has returned. “As a reward for today’s hard work, shall we have some Apple Pie?”
Almost immediately, Venti shifts into a sitting position, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Is it the round apple thing you made last week?”
“Yes,” the Bard laughs, and he stands up to tug at his friend’s arm. “Come on, it’s freshly baked. I think it prefers a certain wind wisp to be the first to devour it.”
He’s about to head over to the kitchen to prepare the pie for Venti, when he feels a pair of arms wrapping him from behind.
“Thank you, friend!” Venti says, and he turns his head to peck his face with lots of kisses.
The Bard chuckles, a wide grin settling on his face. Nothing makes him happier than seeing his friend all cheered up. He lets his friend spoil him with kisses, feeling the hold around his midsection tightening to keep him from fleeing (not that he ever has the intention to).
Archon or no archon, Venti will always be the Bard’s little wind wisp—whose stomach knows no bounds when it comes to apples.