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Aether has explored enough cities that he’s well aware of the glamour over Fontaine. In the bones, like any place, there is struggle. And he’s not really seen a place until he’s been mired in it. At least, Teyvat seems to think so.
Regardless of whether or not he agrees, he’s already exhausted from it. The problems of the city throw themselves at his feet and he steps over them as best as he can.
They follow him, sometimes. Up all the ladders, through the glossy streets with pretty lights and flowers. Spina di Rosula ropes him into taking a closer look whenever they can and sometimes he gets lost in another place, another identity begging him to grow his roots here.
But if he grows too fond of this place, of any of these places, what is he meant to do when it’s time to go?
Paimon falls asleep early. She’s been excited enough for three days and that was just today’s worth. Every day has been like this since they got here. Lynette thinks Fontaine is trying to live all of its last days all at once. Freminet thinks that all the people in Fontaine view their lives as one big movie. Aether has seen evidence of both.
Fontaine has been full of less friends than coworkers. Even Navia, the friendliest of his recent acquaintances, called him her Partner and rarely spoke of anything not to do with a case. In fact, he noticed that all everyone ever seemed to talk about–even in their own lives–are the cases. He’s tired of true crime.
At least in the bars if something happens, it is mostly the bartender’s problem.
“Traveler!” the bartender’s voice is sweet, but her eyes are sharp.
It is strange how long he can stay in a place and still have people who can’t remember his name. He wonders if it’s because the name is strange, like Albedo says they both are. Maybe Irminsul has a difficult time remembering them. Maybe their names slide like smoke between the roots of a burning tree. Scaramouche is like that too, and Rukkhadevata. Though only one of them remains and they are almost insufferable. In an endearing way.
“Y’ look…” A voice sighs below him. A familiar voice.
“Lyney?”
“Aether,” Lyney’s voice is so warm. Aether’s name drops from his lips thickly, like warm honey. “Y’ look like it’s raining.”
Aether takes note of the amber liquid clutched in Lyney’s thin grasp. From the flush to his cheeks and the unsteadiness in his gaze, this was not his first glass. “Are you… uh… ok?”
The earlier bartender, a stocky woman with a beautiful dress and hat combination, carefully removes the glass from his hands. “Sorry, dearie. You’ve come on one of those nights.”
“Secrets make for close friends, Demoiselle Rachel,” Lyney sounds so steady. If Aether couldn't see him now, he’d think the man is perfectly sober. “Do not forget how much closer we have been.”
Which is a veiled threat if Aether has ever heard one. But the bartender only shrugs and passes Lyney’s cup under a stream of water.
“You aren’t ok, then.” Aether isn’t sure what to think of the Magician Fatui. He is as charming as he is suspect.
Lyney makes an unintelligible noise in response. It was meant to be words, Aether is sure, but the magician has managed to turn his face into his sleeve and the meaning is muffled into the crush of fabric. Lyney’s hat is askew on his head, his make up smeared so that the raindrop on his cheek is a tragic cut across his face.
“You look like…” Aether sighs and determines he won’t be drinking tonight. Which is fine. He rarely indulges the habit anyway. And based on Lyney’s state–he doesn’t either. “Like a light weight in a high wind. Let’s get you up.”
The bartender throws him a grateful look. He should mention this to Lyney later. She doesn’t know him from Haitham. With their recent goings on, maybe she shouldn’t have been too quick to trust a stranger pulling their favorite magic user away in this state.
“Can you stand?”
“Affirmative, my flower.”
Aether prefers his name on the man’s lips but he doesn’t think now is the time to indulge the thought. “Then do.”
It appears Lyney cannot stand. Though he tries, he can’t seem to keep his feet beneath him. He leans into Aether’s arms until he’s nearly carrying him.
“You are so strong, monsieur.” Lyney grins at him, but the expression is lost in the drowning behind his eyes. “Please, allow me to lean on you a little longer.”
“I think Lynette will be angry you’ve gone off like this.” Aether clears his throat and pulls Lyney’s arm back up. It had tried, rather sloppily, to slip down to his hip. “What on earth possessed you?”
“Ah, I don’t often indulge.” Lyney’s breath smells like a spark from his vision could set it off. “And when I do I have to drink quickly to rush past the maudlin stage. It’s rarely good news when I do.”
He’s surprisingly responsive for someone who keeps falling from one side to the other. “And what brings you here tonight?”
Lyney is quiet for a moment, all of his concentration on keeping his steps in the correct order and coordination. Finally, when he speaks, Aether fears he may have sent him to the maudlin stage despite his clear efforts. His voice is empty and hollow, completely unlike the way he’d spoken so far. “An anniversary. One I prefer forgetting, when necessary.”
Aether has been here before. Different boots, different nations, all of them weighed down with the weight of something terrible. Loss, betrayal, pain.
Lyney hops forward a couple of steps outside of Aether’s grasp. He is alight again, a master of his very own stage. He twirls and plucks a flower from the air. Aether’s no idea where it came from. Lyney snaps and the flower disappears. He has no idea where it went. The magician is quick on his feet, one more turn and his fingertip cradles Aether’s chin. Such impressive precision. A flower pops into his hand–a rainbow rose. Aether isn’t sure that it is the same flower as before. In fact, he is almost certain it isn’t.
The petals brush against his lips.
“A kiss from a rose is nearly as sweet,” Lyney’s pose crumbles and Aether has to catch him. “For you, at least.”
“You’re a mess.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“No.” Aether takes a moment to steady the two of them again. They’re almost to Lyney’s room, and then he’ll be able to put the man to bed. “I usually find you disarming.”
“Oh,” Lyney smiles, beaming really. It’s so bright, even in the evening lights on the cobbled streets, that Aether has to look ahead. “For a knight such as yourself, that must be quite disconcerting.”
Aether reaches the room only a few moments before Lyney’s stomach finally loses its hold on its contents.
“I’d hate–” Lyney takes a deep breath, sweat gathering on his upper lip. “I'd hate to get vomit–however empty–on your boots, so if you could just–”
Aether barely has time to let go and stumble back before the floor is splattered with sour-sweet clear liquid. The smell of the alcohol hasn’t even been masked yet by the stomach acid. “Is Lynette home?”
“I’m afraid not. This anniversary is not one I bear alone, I’m afraid.” He leans against the wall, forehead clammy, and takes another deep breath. “I’m going to be awfully embarrassed in the morning.”
“Don’t be. You won’t be the first and probably won’t be the last who’s thrown up on me.”
“I didn’t–”
Aether waves away the protest. It is true. Lyney did warn him first. “Let’s get you in the bath.”
It’s easy to run the bath to the right temperature. Aether keeps away all the scented soaps and perfumes. Best to avoid the stronger stuff.
Harder is getting Lyney into the water. His stockings cling to his legs and his garters tangle when Aether tries to remove them.
The shorts stay long enough for Aether to confirm there’s something below the corseted bodysuit. The briefs are plenty cover. Lyney is only exposed as a day on the beach. Aether weighs the temporary embarrassment of the undies to the embarrassment of waking up smelling like booze with a puddle of vomit on the floor.
“Do you want a bath,” Aether catches the numb flop of Lyney’s arm into the tub. “Or would you rather sleep?”
“Mmm.” Lyney hums against Aether’s touch, lurching forward into his chest. “Yes, please.”
“Only one.” Aether crosses his arms after Lyney has successfully climbed into the bath. Ash blond hair sticks to the sides of a high cheekbone. Aether wets his thumb and wipes soap across the red tearmark. Or the remains of it, at least.
He pulls away abruptly when Lyney practically purrs against the touch, sinking into the water when his attempt to chase Aether’s palm proves fruitless. Lavender eyes peer at him from the steam over the soap.
“What?” Aether sighs. He meant to clean up the entrance while Lyney bathed but… “Don’t fall asleep on me, now.”
Lyney’s eyes flutter back open, but Aether can see his chest still rising and falling in the even pattern of sleep. Even if he’s awake now, he’ll be sleeping soon. Lyney pushes himself up against the side of the tub. “You could touch me, you know. If you wanted. I wouldn’t mind, if it was you.”
Aether reaches across the end of the tub to smooth Lyney’s hair back from his face. “It is precisely because it is me that I won’t.”
“You don’t want to?” Lyney’s skin is porcelain, his cheeks red and his hair loose. His lashes are still wet from their brush against the water. He looks fragile, so uncertain. So unlike himself, on stage or in his street performance. Even the veneer of solid strength has escaped him so that he all but melts into the water. Is this what he looks like when his siblings aren’t there to give him an audience?
“Ask me again in a few hours.” Aether doesn’t think Lyney will be asking him anything in a few hours. He has high hopes he won’t remember this conversation at all. Those hopes rise, along with a flash of panic, as Lyney slips into the water again.
Getting him out of the tub is a soaking affair. He mainly supports himself but his hair and body slough off enough water to splash beneath their feet. After an unfortunate tumble, Aether has Lyney on a thin, stylish couch. A half dozen pillows and a decorative throw later and the man is set up to safely sleep.
And yet now is when Lyney’s eyes stare unblinking and unfocussed into his.
“Are you ok? I could go find Lynette. Or Freminet.”
Lyney doesn’t speak immediately. He shakes his head, slow and purposeful, and closes his eyes. Aether notes the quick, shallow breaths but nothing happens. Which is good–he still has the other mess to clean up.
“Lyney,” Aether places a hand carefully against Lyney’s knee. He avoids any further encouragement, though even just this touch makes Lyney jump. “If you need to talk…”
The offer hangs between them for a while. Lyney has told Aether about Lynette and her run in with the famous man and his friends. How they both were introduced to Arlecchino and the predicament they found themselves in. The way she had all the answers and even took in their youngest brother despite all his strangeness. They are all fascinating–and revealing–fragments of Lyney’s life, and the stories that build him, but none of them are his.
Maybe this is what Aether should feel guilty for. He can’t help but lean forward, to study Lyney’s face as he sorts through his muddled thoughts to find a decision. The curve of his neck is delicate, his hair a layer of gossamer over his shoulders and jawline. The flicker of candlelight leaves him washed in warm colors, an inviting fire in the cool of the night.
“Aether,” Lyney’s hand searches, twining their fingers together. “Do you know, Lynette was not the only one with offers. Nor the first.”
Aether had expected as much. “But you do share the anniversary?”
“Exactly a year after he began with me, he attempted to start with my sister.” Lyney’s lips press too warm into the back of Aether’s hand. Stripes of heat drip down his forearm, but Lyney is quiet in the deep silence of the room.
“You didn’t just do magic tricks for him?” Aether already knows the answer, but Lyney seems to need something from this conversation that can’t be approached directly.
“Of course I did that as well.” Lyney leans back, legs tucking into the space beside Aether’s lap. Their hands stay clasped together. “But I was also very good for a particular taste of a particular friend. A gentleman caller who preferred his partners to be quiet and amenable.”
“You are the loudest man I know.”
“And yet, when I was a child, I was known for my quiet. For my easy smile and quick, sly ways. It was easy to be a mystery.” Lyney’s voice is quiet, far away. He sounds like he may be half awake, on the cusp of falling into dreams. “A mystery is enjoyable to ponder, harder to solve. And once you do, the whole fun is gone.”
“Is that so.” Aether wonders if this is about him or about the magician himself. Aether has been a mystery in all of his travels, to all of the new people he meets. Whether as an outsider, a strange anomaly in the fabric of their world, or as a hero of some other nation come to take on the monster of the moment. “Is that what you think?”
“I think to make mysteries of people is cruel,” Lyney smiles. “Aether, we are so alike, you and I. Surviving off our charms, honing our abilities and in search of what? The truth at the end of the world? The way to save our siblings?”
“I’ve only one, I’m afraid.”
Lyney laughs, breathy and low. “You sound so convinced. Paimon would be heartbroken.”
“Paimon’s not–” But he can’t finish the sentence. It’s true. She is practically his sister, isn’t she? In a roundabout way, she’s the closest person he’s kept in this place. Even with all of his other friends. “Well, you have me there.”
“The elder sibling curse,” Lyney whispers and curls around Aether’s arm. The covers make his small body appear twice as big as it usually is and still he’s smaller than some men Aether’s known. Wagner would bend Lyney in two like a brittle blade.
Right now, the magician sleeps. He is quiet, only a tiny, tinny whistle any sign of his breathing. The sound is a small miracle. Aether is able to clean the mess from the entryway and the water on the floor. Only once did the whistling snore stop and Aether hurried to find Lyney had pulled the blanket over his nose and muffled the sound.
Leaving him alone like this would be irresponsible, Aether reasons. He could still get sick again or fall. He should at least stay until someone arrives. And who knows when Lynette or Freminet will return from… well he doesn’t even know where they are.
He tries to read. Lynette has rows and rows of books about oceanids and illusions. The association makes sense. He’s never known a boar that hits quite as hard as the ones Rhodeia sculpts from water. The information in the texts slip away into thoughts of the rainbow rose and the vulnerability of the man who keeps presenting them. Lyney claimed that he hadn’t studied flower language, but he’d been so quick to change the flower for Aether.
Rainbow roses, Aether had noticed, were only for him. Lyney didn’t charm anyone else with them. Everyone else still gets the parting flower.
He sleeps on a perfumed comforter and pillow on the floor. The morning breaks through the windows within a couple of hours of him closing his eyes and he does not feel rested. Lyney hasn’t moved from his position on the couch, the covers still smothering him. The only difference at all from when Aether went to bed is that Lyney’s arm drapes over the end, slender fingers brushing against the floor near the tip of Aether’s braid.
“Silly man. I wonder if you’ve sobered up.” From experience of taking care of friends–Kaeya, Kazuha, even Venti on occasion, Aether knows Lyney should be at least coherent now. He is still contemplating whether to wake him up when he notices a pair of lavender eyes staring at him. “Oh, you’re awake.”
“Only just.” Lyney’s face looks naked without the teardrop or the hat. His hair is loose. Aether notes that this is the least done up he’s ever seen the man.
“How do you feel?”
“Fine, mostly.” Lyney sits up and winces. “A bit nauseous. I… don’t suppose you’ve only just arrived and made yourself comfortable.”
It is not a real question or hope, Aether knows.
“I would prefer if you kept last night between us. I fear I rarely get so chatty, even in such a state. Lynette wouldn’t be very pleased with my behavior.”
Aether remembers the request and then the later confession. He can’t tell how much Lyney remembers of either. “Do you remember much from last night?”
Lyney swallows and turns away. “I’m sure I embarrassed myself thoroughly. I do remember you arriving at the bar, though I’ve not a clue how we started talking.”
You look like it’s raining.
“It was just a downpour for both of us last night, I’m afraid.” Aether stands, picking up the comforter to fold. Lyney doesn’t move to help him. He’s still watching, as if there are clues to the night hidden in Aether’s movements.
“I didn’t… I didn’t push myself on you, did I?”
Aether remembers Lyney’s memory he’d shared last night, and the offer as well. I wouldn’t mind if it was you. He shakes his head. “No. You did give me another flower, though.”
“I’m fond of flowers,” Lyney leans his head against his knee. “Are you leaving?”
“Paimon will be wondering where I am.” Aether places the pillow and the comforter on the couch beside Lyney. “I’m sure she’s looking for breakfast.”
Lyney turns slightly green at the word, but presses both feet against the floor and stands straight. “I’ll get you some pastries from the café. I owe you for helping me last night.”
“Ah, it’s truly no problem. This is the easiest time I’ve had helping anyone in ages.”
Lyney flinches at that. No doubt he’s remembering the trial and Aether’s hand in keeping him from being charged with murder. “Even easy help is worth repaying. Besides, it’s a good excuse for me to get an obscene amount of sweets and swear that you’re eating half of them.”
“Are you fond of sweets?”
“What man with his senses isn’t fond of sweets?” Lyney hops into action. He’s always reminded Aether of a bird more than a cat–light and fast and elegant, even now.
“Lyney?”
“Yes?” Lyney turns, his eyes wide and curious. “Did you need something?”
And Aether can see the hope, a crystalfly in motion across Lyney’s face, that he does need something. That somehow, someway, Lyney can pull himself to his feet by way of being useful.
He’s still close enough that Aether only has to extend his arm to grab hold of Lyney’s arm. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”
“Oh, I did push myself on you,” Lyney deflates, and it’s such a discouraging reaction to being asked for a kiss, Aether can’t help but laugh.
“No, you asked.” Aether hummed. “You weren’t in a position for me to respond. But you didn’t press the issue.”
Lyney relaxes. “And you… would like to, now?”
“Yes.” Aether laughs, and Lyney’s cheeks burn. It is endearing to see him this way. Uncertain, reaching out. The magician puts himself in so many boxes that when he is just Lyney, Aether can’t help but fall a little.
“Then yes, of course.”
Aether acts quick. He is reminded of the brush of the rainbow rose against his lips. Lyney’s lips are soft, his palm on Aether’s cheek a gentle sweetness.