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The bar is loud; half emptied glasses thudding against sealed cork counters, one song playing over the entryway muffling the distant sound of a completely separate song that sets a sleepy mood in the back, and at least a dozen separate conversations, all competing with each other to be heard. Every minute or so, the bartender shakes up a new mix, ice crashing inside a metal tumbler, to then slosh out into a tall cocktail glass which slides across the unsmooth counter. The clients swallow loudly, announce their every drink with a loud sigh of content.
The only good thing about this place is the alcohol is strong enough to numb Aether’s senses, and it’s one of the few occasions he gets to hang out with Xiao. An old friend, from when they both had the misfortunate placement in a dreary factory job in the underbelly of Liyue. Putting salt and pepper shakers into boxes, the boxes then taped closed and labelled with batch numbers, then stacking them on pallets to get them out to the forklifts, and bending over backwards to meet the cruelly impossible demands of their supervisors. Twelve hour days, and one half-hour lunch. And a few short breaks to get off their feet, if they were lucky. One time, they’d been eating lunch together — well, Xiao forgot his own, so Aether offered half of the stale sandwich he couldn’t stomach himself. And they talked, about how revolting the stiff bread and soggy contents were. Then their conversations continued to where they worked on the line, and eventually, out of the factory. Aether isn’t too clear on the exact details.
One of the first things he learnt about Xiao post-production was that he was terrible at holding his liquor. That hasn’t changed, eight years later, but he’s certainly gotten better at hiding the fact. The flush to his cheeks and fluttering gaze may slip past others, but Aether knows him all too well by now.
Xiao is smarter — he brings a pair of earplugs every time they go to the bar, and a floral scented face mask which he pulls up when the stench of alcoholics gets too much. Aether just stifles his breath in whatever lousy shirt he’s thrown on, but usually he ends up smelling the rum he’s sculled all night.
It’s the eve of the new year — the lunar one, that is, hence how they’ve both managed some spare time in their usually busy schedules. They don’t talk much these days, other than a few small updates here and there; Lumine is doing well, thirty weeks into her second. Probably another boy. And Xiao will say he has nothing to share at all, in the same breath as he announces half of his mortgage is paid off. And then they drink. Aether scooches his chair close to Xiao’s, sometimes they exchange drinks. Xiao prefers the sweet stuff, and it gives Aether a headache just catching a whiff of it. Likewise, Xiao turns up his nose at the barely tolerable amount of cola Aether has with his rum. It’s not as if Aether comes to a shitty bar to taste something divine, anyway.
Xiao’s heavy eyes land on Aether, lingering as he hiccups for a third time. He’s kinda cute when he’s drunk, the usual stoic seriousness abandoned as he leans into Aether’s shoulder, as if they’re standing up and he might just fall over. Aether pats his shoulder assuringly, and Xiao will deny being drunk at all.
“You should come ov’r,” he slurs, trying to prop himself upright again. It’s more than he usually says.
Aether’s a bit too wasted himself to read into his words. “You live like, three hours out of the city,” he mumbles back. He’d only seen the house once, after Xiao had finally got the water system working again, following months of bucket showers and renting a portable toilet. It was a small, but lovely place regardless, even if a bit fuzzy in his four year old memory.
“Not true.” Xiao frowns, pinching the middle of his mask as he tugs it over his nose. “It’s only forty minutes. You got lost last time.”
Oh yeah, he did. It’s a straight shot west from the Harbour, yet Aether somehow ended up on the international road connecting Liyue to Mondstadt. He’s much better with directions on foot than on wheels.
“Forty minutes is still a long time,” Aether sighs. “You’re too drunk to drive. I’ll visit some other time.” He orders another rum, glances over to Xiao to see if he’s having another too.
He’s just wavering in his seat. Eyes unusually focused, staring right back at him. With the mask now covering most of his face, Aether could almost believe he’d suddenly become sober. But then someone behind the bar drops an ice bucket, and Xiao winces a little more intensely at the sharp crash than he usually would, considering the ear plugs and strategically placed lengths of dyed hair. Aether shoots out a hand to steady him, worrying he might fall out of his seat with how far back he’s flinched.
“When?”
His eyes are back on Aether. The question is heavier than usual.
“I dunno,” Aether shrugs, sliding his hand away again. “Summer?”
Xiao grabs his wrist before he can rest it back in his lap. “You say that every year.”
Aether can smell qingxin and violetgrass, can see the reflection of a neon exit sign in otherwise yellow eyes. A strand of Xiao’s hair tickles his lip. “You cancel it as much as I do.” A truth, that makes Xiao’s brows furrow.
Their noses bump together. Aether quickly leans away, almost losing his balance entirely if not for his firm grip on the counter. He hadn’t realised they’d been inching closer this whole time, imperceptible and natural.
If not for the mask that Xiao fidgets at the seam of…
Aether shakes his head, dropping a hand on Xiao’s shoulder and keeping him there, at a safe arm’s length. It’s probably a good sign that it’s time to leave.
Aether downs the last glass, shuffling through his pockets for cash that he tucks under the empty drink, doesn’t bother waiting for change as he drags Xiao out the doors into the cold Liyuen night.
The breeze is sobering, striking clarity into his head, yet he finds himself standing all too close to Xiao’s side anyway. Huddling for warmth, he would say, but Xiao doesn’t ask. Never does, when it’s the two of them sharing their personal space like it’s just one. Xiao shuffles his hands in a pocket, withdrawing a metal tin of mints, that he slips under his mask — he pulls it down, in the end, and tilts the tin towards Aether.
He declines with a subtle sway of his head. Mint was never his thing, he’d rather stew in his own bad breath. And Xiao tucks it back away, wordless also.
His lips are red-stained from the drink he had, glistening under the city lights as he constantly licks them. Aether should probably get him some water, though there’s no fountains or vending machines nearby, and… Xiao’s eyes keep dropping to Aether’s lips.
Perhaps the breeze isn’t as sobering as he’d thought.
Xiao’s mouth is tacky, against his own, lips pulling as Aether moves away, only just realising that he’d leant in at all. The rum is stupefying, that’s why he comes here at all. To forget, and not think, and apparently not-thinking makes it difficult to keep himself at bay.
In all honesty, he wants to keep kissing Xiao; he’s dangerously close enough to taste the sharp mint in the air from Xiao’s tongue, and Xiao makes no effort to distance himself. Aether’s hands are precariously on his waist, pulling, not hard enough, yet Xiao ebbs closer all the same. It would be too easy, to crush their lips together, to smear invisible lipstick over his half-drunk face, to involve necks and tongues and needy fingers, and confess something Aether isn’t even ready to admit to himself.
Xiao is too tempting, too sweet and tolerant. His best friend. These lines have been all too blurry for all too long.
Aether doesn’t know how to be friends anymore.
He backs away, shoving his hands back into his pockets. Xiao chases him, barely, or maybe it’s the alcohol making him sway. Aether nudges against his shoulder, reverting to his side, and when Xiao sways again Aether brings a hand back out, to wrap around his shoulders and nothing more. Xiao leans into it all the same.
They’re friends. They always have been. Standing with him is normal. Natural. He casts an aside glance, to see Xiao’s eyelids lowered, his head dropping to Aether’s shoulder, a soft drunkenness that Aether will never be, because his head is never as empty as he’d like.
Kissing him is… not as abnormal as Aether likes to think. But he doesn’t keep active memories of those moments, doesn’t count them. He casts them to the wayside, prefers to linger on when they played cards, or chess, when they went sightseeing or caught up on chores together. Even if they all ended the same. Some because of abundant alcohol, and others…
Tonight was just another lapse in control.
He doubts it will be the last.
Xiao’s fallen asleep in his arms, and a taxi couldn’t come any slower than when one finally drives close enough for Aether to wave down. The ride is quiet, aside from the low radio, and Xiao’s soft breathing against Aether’s neck. He glances down at him, his lips parted, eyes flickering open every now and then — their eyes meet, and there’s something all too softly intense in Xiao’s gaze. Aether kisses his eyelids closed again, shifts his far arm around to pull Xiao’s mask back up.
Maybe, someday, he’ll figure this all out. One day, he’ll kiss him for real, intentionally, with the passion he deserves.
Aether bites his bottom lip, tasting metallic on his tongue. Turns towards the window, and the passing lights.
Just maybe not tonight.