Chapter Text
Venti let out a small breath as he leaned his head against the great oak tree that overlooked the massive college he attended, Windrise Institute, one of the top colleges of Teyvat. Sometimes Venti would wonder how he got into such a college, but it was always a fleeting thought, one that never lingered long.
Venti let out a breath as he mindlessly watched his fellow students walk by on the path that was about 20 feet away from the tree he sat under with all of his items sprawled out, one good breeze and he was sure that his notes would blow away. But he wasn’t too worried about that.
Not even the wind would want such boring work such as that anyways.
His fingers dragged along the groves of his flute. It was custom made, a gift his parents gifted him many years ago when he turned 15. He never stopped playing it, always constantly strumming the strings, even if he wasn’t paying attention.
Just…
Not today.
Today was far too busy to be even thinking about playing a song.
His brain had been too busy to even bother with it as well.
It seemed so much more cluttered than usual.
As did sound, sound just seemed too cluttered, he couldn’t seem to focus on the chatter, the footsteps, the liveliness of college because of how cluttered it all was.
He just felt so disconnected, as if he were watching it all through a foggy window.
It made everything so much more—
“-Venti”
A voice said, snapping him from his thoughts like the crisp crack of a leaf underfoot, making him notice the figure standing above him.
Xiao Qing.
A chemistry major.
Xiao and Venti didn’t know each other well, Venti knew that much.
They were paired up a few times for a few science projects in the beginning of the year, when Venti still had to go to those sorts of classes, and the two of them had a few of the same friends, like Lumine, Scaramouche, and Kazuha.
But… of course that didn’t mean their paths crossed often.
They were both severally different people after all.
“Skipping class?” Xiao chuffed as he tilted his head to the side. From the lighting displaying behind him, it made it seem like he was shadow in the light.
A shadow that Venti was greatly appreciating otherwise he would be blinded by the sun.
“Xiao!” Venti beamed, letting out a laugh as he shook his head. “Feel like I can ask you the same thing actually!” he waved his hand in slight dismissal.
Xiao just raised an eyebrow before he crossed his arms, a disapproval look blooming on his face. “Well then, I asked first”
Venti let out a weak chuckle that he quickly cleared up with a clear of the throat as he looked down at his music sheets and flute, “ah, well! I am waiting for the right moment of inspiration to hit my dear chemist, as inspiration is like something as gentle and unpredicting like the wind, you just have to wait and feel it rush past you to truly get it”
He let out a soft breath as the final word left him.
He says that as if it hasn’t been weeks since he last had the inspiration, or the motivation to even bother with music. It was starting to drain him on how terribly long it was taking to have a strike of anything at this point. He felt caged in this moment of nothingness.
And he hated the feeling of being caged.
Xiao looked up for a brief moment before letting out a sigh and moved to sit next to Venti, causing the sun to go right in his eyes making the sunlight to basically spear them with the brightness of the sun.
Xiao was awfully close to Venti as well.
It was odd.
Venti knew how much Xiao adored his personal space, he’s heard it tons of times from Kazuha after all.
But,
Venti couldn’t deny that he didn’t like how their shoulders ever so slightly brushed past each other.
It was grounding to a point.
And he supposed that was the point of the gesture. It was meant as unspoken comfort— a thing that wasn’t Xiao’s own area of expertise, that much was clear, but the space they shared was enough to get the sound to unclutter just enough where it was easier to breathe.
They just sat there in the grass for a few minutes, just watching as other people walked past them, all in their own worlds, their own lives.
It was almost like a movie being sped up.
Life was blurring past him leaving him behind in the dust, but for this once, he didn’t particularly mind.
Venti let his gaze shift to the sky, the azure expanse stretching out above them, endless and clear. “I’ve been thinking about clouds a lot lately,” he said absently, twirling the flute between his fingers. “How they drift wherever the wind takes them. No plans, no obligations. Just... floating.”
Xiao remained quiet, but Venti knew he was listening in that way Xiao did; listening to what wasn’t being said more than the words themselves. He always had a way of reading between the lines, sensing the weight behind the things people chose not to speak.
“I guess it sounds like I want to drift too,” Venti continued with a soft chuckle, though there was a hollowness to the sound, making it echo more than it should’ve. “But I think I’m more like the wind. Always moving, but never really going anywhere.”
Xiao’s brow furrowed, and Venti could feel his gaze now, sharp and unreadable. It was like being under a microscope, Xiao’s analytical nature breaking him down bit by bit. Venti wasn’t sure if he liked it, or if he hated how easily Xiao could see through him, despite how little the two actually knew of each other.
“You’re not like the wind,” Xiao said quietly, his voice low and firm. There was no gentleness in his tone, only certainty, the way Xiao always spoke when he knew something without doubt. “You have control. You choose where you go.”
Venti blinked, the words settling in like stones in his chest. Control. It wasn’t something he associated with himself. He felt more like a leaf in the wind, tossed about by circumstances he couldn’t quite grasp. Especially now. Especially with—
He shifted, the flute stilling in his hands, and looked down at it, the way it gleamed in the fading sunlight. It felt like an anchor. “Maybe,” he said, quieter now. “Maybe not.”
The silence stretched between them again, this time heavier, more loaded. Venti could feel Xiao’s presence beside him, solid and unmoving, like an unspoken promise. Xiao didn’t push him. He never did. He just stayed.
And for the first time in a while, Venti was grateful for the quiet.
The quiet lingered between them, filling the space where conversation might have been. Sitting beside Xiao felt oddly grounding, like the world had slowed down just enough to breathe. His fingers absently traced the intricate carvings on his ocarina, the familiar grooves a reminder of simpler times, when music had been enough to drown out the silence that now clung to him like a second skin.
A skin he didn’t see himself shedding anytime soon.
“How’s the lab treating you?” Venti asked eventually, trying to break the tension before it settled too deeply into his chest.
Xiao’s eyes flickered with something almost unnoticeable before he shrugged. “Same as always.”
“Ah, chemistry. Always the same, always reliable.” Venti’s voice carried a hint of teasing, but it lacked its usual spark. “Wish I could say the same about music.”
Xiao didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. It was typical of him, measured in his words, as though he weighed each one carefully before letting it slip past his lips. Xiao wasn’t the type to fill silence with meaningless chatter. Venti admired that about him, even though it contrasted sharply with his own nature. Venti had always been one to fill the gaps, to weave words like melodies that could mask the uncertainty beneath.
But now, here beside Xiao, there was no need for that.
“I don’t see how music could be unreliable,” Xiao finally said, his voice low. “It’s... consistent.”
Venti smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Consistent, huh? Maybe. But it feels like the notes are slipping through my fingers lately, like I’m trying to play a song that’s already forgotten how it’s supposed to go.”
Xiao’s gaze shifted toward him, a gaze that felt like Venti was being apart by Xiao. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
Venti shrugged, twirling the flute between his fingers, the delicate instrument a comforting weight in his hands. “Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe the song’s gone out of tune. There is plenty of reasons that it may be”
Xiao watched him for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to dissect the meaning behind Venti’s words, more than just Venti himself.
But he didn’t press further.
He never did.
That was part of what made Xiao different from everyone else.
He understood when not to ask, when to let things sit unspoken.
But the silence between them now wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged, like the air before a thunderstorm, buzzing with the weight of something neither of them wanted to name. And Venti, for all his lightheartedness, could feel the weight of it settling in his soul.
Xiao shifted beside him, his body a rigid line of tension, like he was about to speak, but instead, he just exhaled quietly. Venti wasn’t sure what he’d expected.
Xiao wasn’t one for long conversations or emotional confessions.
And yet.
The way he sat there, close but not too close, grounded Venti in a way words never could.
Finally, Xiao stood, his movements fluid and deliberate. “I have class,” he said, his voice as quiet as the space between them.
“Ah, right.” Venti tried to smile, but it felt hollow. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to enjoy Xiao’s presence until the possibility of him leaving made the silence feel heavier. “Don’t blow up the lab while you’re at it, alright?”
Xiao’s lips quirked slightly, a faint ghost of amusement that barely reached his eyes. “I’ll try.”
For a moment, Venti thought that would be it.
that Xiao would leave, and the solitude would close in again like an unwelcome guest.
But then Xiao paused, turning back to him.
There was something hesitant in his expression.
A flicker of uncertainty that Venti rarely saw in the usually composed chemistry major.
“Venti,” Xiao said, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “If... if you need someone to talk to, you can come find me.”
The offer hung in the air between them, heavy and unexpected. Xiao wasn’t the type to offer help easily, and for him to say something like this.
Well, it meant more than Venti was willing to admit. His usual deflection rose to his lips, a playful quip or a lighthearted tease, but something in Xiao’s gaze stopped him.
Instead, Venti nodded, the smile he gave this time genuine, if not a little bittersweet. “Thanks, Xiao. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Xiao held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding and turning away, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone pathway as he disappeared into the crowd of students. Venti watched him go, the weight of the unspoken promise lingering in the air long after Xiao had left.
For a while, Venti sat there alone, the flute still heavy in his hands. He wondered what Xiao saw when he looked at him.
Whether he could see through the easy smiles and playful banter.
Or if he just accepted Venti for what he presented.
It was hard to tell with Xiao.
He was quiet, yes, but not in the way most people were. It was as if Xiao chose his silences carefully, like he knew how much they could say without words.
Venti exhaled slowly, leaning back against the rough bark.
The sun was dipping lower now, casting long shadows across the courtyard. He could feel the weight of the day settling in his bones, the familiar ache that came with exhaustion.
Not just physical, but emotional.
The kind that crept up on you when you weren’t paying attention.
Wrapping around your heart until it squeezed too tight.
The sound of footsteps approaching broke his self-absorption, and Venti glanced up to see a familiar figure walking toward him.
Lumine, her golden hair catching the last rays of sunlight like a halo.
“Hey,” she greeted, a soft smile on her lips as she sat down beside him. “You alright?”
“Of course,” Venti replied, his tone light but not entirely convincing. “Just soaking up the sun before it’s gone.”
Lumine didn’t buy it.
she rarely did.
She knew him better than that after all.
Her perceptive eyes studied him for a moment before she leaned back, mirroring his position. They sat in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of the campus fading into the background.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” Lumine said after a while, her voice gentle but probing. “Not like you.”
Venti hummed in response, twirling the flute between his fingers, an odd habit he was quickly noticing he was picking up,
“Maybe I’ve run out of things to say.”
Lumine snorted softly. “That’ll be the day.”
They shared a quiet laugh, though the weight of the conversation still lingered. Lumine had known Venti long enough to know when something was bothering him, and she wasn’t one to let things slide without at least trying to help,she was far too stubborn for that after all.
“Is it the music?” she asked, her voice softer now. “Or something else?”
Venti’s fingers stilled on the flute, his smile fading as he stared down at the instrument in his hands. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.
“It’s like... everything’s slipping through my fingers lately. The music, school, life. I can’t keep up with it anymore.”
Lumine’s gaze softened, and she reached out to place a hand on his arm, a gesture of comfort that didn’t need words. “You don’t have to keep up with everything, Venti. Sometimes... it’s okay to let go for a while.”
Venti’s chest tightened at her words, a quiet ache settling in his heart. Letting go—it sounded so simple, but he wasn’t sure if he even knew how to anymore.
“I don’t know if I can,” he whispered, his voice barely audible even to himself.
Lumine didn’t press further. She just sat with him, her presence a steady, reassuring force beside him. And for the first time in a while, Venti allowed himself to rest in that silence, to let the weight of his thoughts drift away, if only for a moment.
The golden hour faded into twilight, casting long shadows over the stone benches and pathways. Venti felt the subtle shift in the air as the warmth of the day gave way to a gentle coolness, brushing against his skin. He wasn’t used to the stillness.
Not for this long, at least.
Normally, the quiet would make him restless, but tonight, sitting with Lumine by his side, it felt… bearable.
For now.
“I should probably get back to my dorm,” Venti said, though his body made no effort to move. His voice was soft, almost regretful.
Lumine glanced at him with a knowing look. “Need a hand?”
Venti offered her a half-hearted grin, but it didn’t mask the unease beneath. “I think I’ll manage this time, but thanks.”
She stood first, offering him a hand. “Just remember, I’m around. And if you need to talk… well, you know where to find me.”
Venti took her hand, letting her help him up. “Always so reliable, Lumine. I’ll take you up on that… someday.”
They walked together toward the dorms, the silence between them this time not as heavy as before. Lumine gave him one last smile before heading off in the direction of her building, leaving Venti to navigate the emptying courtyard alone.
He took the long route back to his dorm, savoring the solitude while it lasted. As he approached the music department, he could hear faint notes from a distant piano, a student likely rehearsing late into the evening.
The melody was slow and deliberate, and for a moment, it tugged at something deep within him—something that reminded him of who he used to be, before the pressure and the silence became too much.
His thoughts drifted back to Xiao.
Stoic, reserved Xiao.
With his quiet understanding and steady presence.
Venti hadn’t expected him to offer comfort earlier, not in the way that Xiao had.
But there it was—an invitation, an unspoken promise that maybe Venti didn’t have to face everything alone.
The thought was both comforting and terrifying.
Venti stood outside his dorm building, staring up at the windows. His room was on the third floor, tucked into the corner where it stayed mostly dark, save for the occasional dim glow of his desk lamp. He used to love that room.
His sanctuary, where he could get lost in music until the world outside faded away.
But lately, it felt suffocating.
The four walls seemed to close in on him, the clutter of sheet music and half-written songs a constant reminder of his inability to find his rhythm. The soundproofed walls, once his escape, now trapped him in his own silence.
With a sigh, Venti headed inside and climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. When he finally reached his door, he hesitated, fingers resting on the handle. A brief flicker of doubt crossed his mind, wondering if he should go somewhere else, anywhere but here.
But in the end, he pushed the door open.
The familiar scent of old books and worn wood greeted him, along with the disarray of his personal space. Instruments were scattered haphazardly across the floor.
His guitar leaning precariously against the bookshelf, his violin case half-open, and his lyre placed carefully on the windowsill where the moonlight could catch it.
Venti closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he took in the mess. His eyes landed on his laptop, the screen dark but still open to a music composition program that hadn’t been touched in days. The sight stirred something inside him—a mix of frustration, longing, and exhaustion.
He moved to his desk, sinking into the old wooden chair with a groan. His fingers ghosted over the keys of his laptop, hovering, hesitating. Maybe tonight would be the night he’d finally find the notes he’d been searching for, the melody that had been evading him for weeks.
But the inspiration didn’t come.
Instead, Venti reached for the small bottle tucked away in his drawer.
A bottle he’d been relying on more and more lately.
The liquid inside shimmered in the low light, tempting him with the promise of numbness.
Just one drink, to take the edge off .
That’s what he always told himself.
But something stopped him tonight. Xiao’s voice echoed in his mind, low and steady: If you need someone to talk to, you can come find me.
Venti’s hand faltered, the bottle still unopened. He exhaled shakily, setting it back down without a word. The weight of his loneliness was still there, pressing against his chest, but it didn’t feel as suffocating this time.
Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to face it alone.
Pushing the bottle further back into the drawer, Venti stood and walked to the window. The city lights sparkled in the distance, the world outside alive with a quiet hum of energy that he couldn’t quite reach. But for the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to hope that things could change.
That he could change.
With one last glance at the moonlit city, Venti turned off his desk lamp and climbed into bed. The sheets were cool against his skin, and the familiar hum of the campus outside lulled him into a fitful sleep.
Tomorrow, he will face another day. Maybe the music would come, maybe it wouldn’t. But at least now, he knew he didn’t have to face it all on his own.
And that, for tonight, was enough for him.