Work Text:
Somewhere under the sky of Sumeru and the light from a sea of a hundred colossal glowing mushrooms, the wanderer sat, a pile of his favourite blue mushroom not too far from him and stared up at the twinkling diamonds.
Here, he wondered, pondering over one of the most maddening thoughts of the century.
What is this feeling?
The question ran across his mind the way stars fall from the sky he was gazing up at.
For every time he saw your dumb face smiling at him with that look in your eyes, sparkle in your eyes and your sunshine smile, it poked at him not different to how a thousand faux blades would.
This intense feeling, how does he put a name to it? What was this feeling? He had been mulling about this for a while now and after much contemplation, he came to a solid conclusion.
The non-existent pulse he could hear throbbing in his head, the way his head was reeling and his face seemed to burn up . . .
Yes, this must be hatred, there is no mistaking it.
The strange feeling that made him this baffled was nothing more than loathing. And here he was, at his wits' end, for what could have been days, weeks. What an inconvenience.
Now that he thought about it, it couldn't be any clearer, he despised everything about you. All of you.
You were the biggest nuisance he has ever seen. Your vexing face always pops out of nowhere, suddenly running into him and ruining the peace and quiet of his days with mindless chatter. How is anyone that happy to see him, greeting him with the enthusiasm of a puppy? Gentle conversation flowed from your lips, face bright and warm, as if you actually cared about him, a facade, he was sure of it.
Your voice rings in his ears infuriatingly when you laugh. Time and time again, it replays in his head for no reason, echoing and rewinding over and over like a broken tape. What a nightmare. A revolting one.
How your clothes were such a nuisance, that jarring sight burned and charred into his eyes that he sees you nearly anywhere - Liyue, Sumeru, it didn't matter - even if he merely happened to see someone wearing the same colour or a similar shade of you.
He detested you. You and that stupid grin you give him when you try cooking a dish as he so much as nods as a sign of approval.
Even the smallest and simplest of actions were incongruous, sending a chill down his spine in no way any cold in the world could. Like the time you cheekily compliment his hat, nudging him in the elbow and asking if you could use it as a frisbee. Or the lilt in your voice when you would call him Scaranara.
The exasperating manner you fuss over him sometimes, over countless meaningless matters, to give an example, a hilichurl camp out of all things. The worried look that would wash away only after scanning him, brushing over his body and meeting his eyes at last. That underestimation really gets to him. It made him feel . . . odd, overwhelmed.
You were obnoxious, foolish and troublesome. This intense dislike was by no means abrupt. But on the other hand, it wasn't quite so slow either.
The more you seemed to hang around him - despite his protests; even if he float away, you still manage to find him somehow - the more that odd feeling seemed to grow.
He huffed, glaring at nowhere in particular in front of him.
Such an unpredictable fool.
For all the uncertainity and chaotic mess that is you, one thing was for sure, he would loathe you, deeply, truly, for forever, for your whole life and his combined.
