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Fatigue had a funny way of creeping up on you. One minute your brain would be running a mile a minute with everything you had to get done, then the next your limbs would be weighted down from the all the effort you had already expended.
The minute you latched the door for the night the thought of having to ascend the stairs to the loft one final time felt impossible. You linger against the weathered door in the dim light. Cold air crept through the imperfect seal providing a welcomed contrast from the heat that lingered in the space.
Soon the fire in the hearth would go out for good.
You couldn't remember if you added firewood to the supply list, but it wouldn't be that hard to scrape some up if you had. Maybe you could bribe Venti with a case or two of wine to keep the wind down for a little while so you could put it off a little longer.
You scoff at the idea forcing yourself to straighten. Yeah right. You could practically hear him sulking about you not respecting his talents or blessing or whatever other bullshit he'd conjure up alongside pulling the archon card.
Sometimes it disgusted you that someone so carefree was your archon. You didn't hate Venti by any means, when push came to shove he proved that he had what it takes to do what's necessary; what grated on your nerves was the fact that he treated such things as if it was any other day.
To do: Stop by Angel’s Share, go to Windrise, stop Dvalin from destroying the continent, preform in the church square.
There was a fine line between freedom and complacency and you had a hard time telling which side of it he was on. He was too hard to understand and the more time you let him spend here the farther you got from getting to the bottom of this.
Venti was one of several problems you couldn't solve. The effort was probably better spent someplace else, but you weren't ready to give up just yet.
A couple of the stairs creak beneath your weight. Replacing them always came to mind when you weren't in a state to do anything about it let alone make serious note of it. A table near the railing had too many chairs. You weren't sure if you had put it at the wrong place or if someone had broken it and managed to dispose of the evidence. With Venti around the latter would have been a lot easier than it should have been. Not that it really mattered. Chairs were easily replaced.
The tiredness that bogged down your limbs intensified when the door to the spare room opened with ease. Images of your things being strewn about the room burned themselves into your mind. You test the lock a few times, trying to figure out if it was broken or not, but there was only so much procrastinating you could do. It wasn't broken, thankfully, but it didn't solve the problem of who was sneaking around. This too was another problem you couldn't solve in the moment.
You shove the door open.
Or maybe it was.
The oil lamp burned as low as it could go on the night stand beside a half empty wine bottle. Venti himself was curled up on the bed, fast asleep. Apparently you hadn't imagined his disappearance towards the end of the night. You assumed he had gotten his fill and went to cause trouble someplace else, not help himself to your bed on top of everything else.
Venti's clothes were scattered on the floor and the top drawer of your dresser was cracked. Your clothes apparently weren't off limits either.
You didn't have it in you to be annoyed.
You take a deep breath, step into the room, and close the door. You close your eyes for a moment, telling yourself not to fall asleep on repeat in an attempt to get yourself moving again. It was enough.
Despite everything you pick his clothes up off the floor and lay them on the dresser halfway between folded and whatever state they were in before. If anybody was going to make a mess of the place it was you.
You drop your own on the floor to prove your point, assessing the bed situation with every shed garment trying to figure out how you were going to move Venti. It'd be a cold day in hell when you slept on the floor in your own bar.
Each time you came up blank and got a little closer to waking him up. Was he a light sleeper? You found it hard to imagine. Not when he had slept through the noise your patrons made.
You linger over him after shrugging into a night shirt. Even if he wasn't, you didn't have it in you to wake him. Venti looked too peaceful to disturb. The ends of his hair glowed faintly and the air around him was a little too unstill. Like this, there was something otherworldly about him. Knowing the source of that gut feeling did a lot to put your mind at ease.
Venti stirs slightly, his hand searching for the blanket that half covered him. He cracks an eye open, a familiar, easy smile coming to his lips. He stretches shamelessly, nestling deeper into your bed. "Master Diluc, I must say you have excellent taste in bedding." His voice with thick with sleep and partially muffled by the pillow.
You roll your eyes, collecting the quilt from the bottom of the bed and drawing back the sheet. "Move." You wave him closer to the wall. For once Venti obeys without protest, letting you fix the blankets around him before you claimed the side closer to the edge.
The bed was scarcely big enough for two people, though you had pulled a similar stunt with Kaeya enough growing up that the proximity of another person was more of a comfort than a deterrent. Now you were both too old for such things and it was a less than pleasant reminder of something else that had broken between you two.
Venti shifts closer to you, latching onto your arm. "Nothing like a soft bed and a pyro wielder to keep you warm at night." He nuzzles your shoulder, making quick work of breaking down the respectable few inches of distance between you.
"Don't."
"What?" You flick off the light, the smell of kerosene lingering in the air. "That's a compliment. It means your exterior is just as warm as your interior."
You didn't like the energy that was seeping into his words. You wanted to sleep not have him talk your ear off thanks to his second wind.
You turn onto your side, loosely pinning him against you. "Then you better make the most of it while you can because this is never going to happen again."
Venti pouts, wriggling around a little too much for you to consider all of it him getting comfortable. He eventually settles with one of his legs draped over you and his chest pressed against yours. You could feel his breathing and his heart beating, both a little too fast but appropriate considering all the manhandling of you he had just done. He felt a little too small, if you wanted to you were certain you’d be able to shake him off. But you would be lying if you said there wasn’t some small part of you that was enjoying having another person in such close proximity. When was the last time you had been held like this? You weren’t sure, and that in itself had to be another problem you were putting off solving. “I think you've been itching for a reason to put your hands on me. I'm simply providing you with the opportunity. Consider this a mutually beneficial exchange."
"What exactly am I gaining from this?"
"Some much needed skin to skin contact." You feel Venti edge his hand to your head, and start working his fingers through your hair.
You stare blankly at him, his eyes seeming to glow as much as his hair. "Can't you use your divine foresight for something more useful?"
"Making one of my most unfaithful citizens have a shred of confidence in me seems very useful to me."
"Shouldn't you be turning water into wine at the church?"
Venti tugs at your shirt, feigning shock. "Master Diluc if i could do such things, do you think I would request humble offerings from you."
"I hardly consider the close to a dozen kegs I've allowed you to slip out from under my nose humble nor offerings. I'm choosing to be the bigger man instead of keeping track of your tab of...fourteen thousand three hundred and twenty...eight? Seven? I'll be generous and estimate down, mora."
"Yknow at a certain point numbers stop losing their meaning. I find anything that can't fit in a bushel absolutely incomprehensible." The incredulous tone he took had a little too much sincerity in it for you to think he was lying. Though if you were being honest even to you that number sounded ridiculous.
Still you had nothing better to do right now than beat a dead horse. Sleep was evading you, picking with him would probably be enough to drain what little energy you had left. "Hmm... that'd be what...four bushels?"
"Two."
"Absolutely not. Three at least."
"One and a half."
"We aren't haggling this is a basic capacity assessment. Knowing how much space something should take up is important in the shipping business. Though if we're actually talking about transporting that much mora it’s a pain. Either you get some study horses and do it slowly in one cart which is easier to protect or you spread it out in a caravan. It's faster but a logistical and manpower nightmare..."
Venti hums, wrapping some of your hair around his index finger. "You sound like you’re speaking from experience."
"Naturally. Getting things from point a to point b is half the job."
"And the other half?"
"Don't think you can distract me from the 4 bushels of mora I expect on my doorstep preferably before I'm in the ground but I'm sure you'd have no problem worming your way into the family crypt to leave it on my coffin in the next century or two."
"Three."
"You're trying to haggle the number down as if you wont run it up to at least ten. Or that I'll see a single coin."
"I'll have you know I have five mora in my pockets right now."
"That you found on the floor."
"I did not!"
"I watched you pick it up."
A long silence followed. You supposed somebody who dealt in dandelion wishes and whispers spoken in the wind didn’t receive a lot, if any, monetary offerings. Did he even get the things left on the statues?
You shift into him, resting your forehead against his chest. His skin was soft, and he smelled of grass and sunshine. The moments between closing your eyes and actually trying to sleep it was easy to imagine you were napping in the sun and not in the attic of Angel's Share. You weren't sure if it was his doing or your own overtired imagination.
Venti kisses the top of your head, still working his fingers through your hair. "Does it truly bother you that much? That I've taken a liking to you and your craft?"
You exhale sharply. The act of speaking again felt like it required too much effort, but not doing so essentially confirmed him as an unwelcomed burden. As troublesome as he was, there wasn't a part of you that genuinely wished he would leave and never come back. The vast quantities of product he consumed was the only think you could understand in absolutes. It was easier to rack up the amount of 'debt' he had accured than pick apart his inner workings. Especially when he so clearly spent so much time shuffling them around and burying them. It reminded you too much of Kaeya, but at least with Kaeya you had decades of proximity to point you in the right direction. Venti came and went with the wind and each time you were acutely aware that you were more of a blip on his timeline than a fixture in his life. Letting yourself get attached would harm you more than help you. "No." You squeeze him, gripping the back of his borrowed shirt."Would it even matter if it did?"
His fingers stop momentarily, you feel his breath hitch before he speaks again. "Of course it would. It can scarce be called charity if it's not out of the goodness of your heart. I don't want to be another burden you carry."
"Who says I'm burdened?"
"Some things don't need to be said. "
You close your eyes again. There was a time when you could say that you were. Now you weren't so sure. Day by day things were getting easier. You weren't sure this weight in your chest would ever go away but it was bearable and that was enough.
Though right now, Venti being here certainly lightened the load.