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Zhongli looks out over the sheer drop at the edge of Starsnatch Cliff and says, "I'm getting old."
From beside him, Venti giggles. "You got a muscle cramp, you old dragon?" he teases.
When Zhongli doesn't respond, Venti sits up. Zhongli looks at him, eyes sweeping over pale skin bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. No matter how many times Zhongli reminds him that they have very comfortable beds which are designed for activities such as this, Venti refuses to visit his home. He will admit there's a certain romance to making love under the stars, but he's quite certain that isn't what Venti has in mind.
For a long time, Zhongli didn't take Venti's pestering seriously. He's the god of wind and freedom, after all—it's in his nature to be playful, impish even. He propositioned Zhongli a number of times before Zhongli finally decided to ask him, "And what would you do if I were to actually take you up on that invitation?"
Venti's eyes gleamed. He'd leaned in with his palm over Zhongli's heart and said, "I'd give you a night you'd never forget."
And Zhongli was… intrigued.
He's had a handful of lovers over the long years. Not as many as Venti, sure, but there have been mortals who've caught his eye. They were satisfactory. They quelled his fleeting urges, and Zhongli continued to go about his business.
It's different with Venti. It's different because he's not mortal at all, and that means they've had centuries to get to know one another intimately. It's different because Zhongli doesn't just desire him—Venti is a friend. And somewhere along the way he became much, much more than that.
"I only meant…" He trails off, considering his words for a moment. "Momentary pleasures do not seem to satisfy me anymore."
"Aww," says Venti. The wind shifts, and he is clothed again. "That's a shame. You've always been a good tumble."
Zhongli looks over at him, saying nothing.
"What is it?" Venti asks him. "Something else on your mind, Morax?"
He considers saying it. Voicing the words that have lived in his head all these years. But he knows Venti does not want to hear them, and Zhongli tries his best not to be selfish.
With a flicker of golden light, Zhongli dresses and stands. "May the earth be steady beneath you 'til next we meet."
Venti stands as well, pulling Zhongli into a soft embrace. "May the wind ease your burdens," he whispers into Zhongli's neck. "Don't spend all your time on the ground, Morax. Don't you remember when you had wings?"
Zhongli holds him close and says, "I will always be with you where sky meets earth."
Venti huffs against him. "Well, then I guess I'll never have the chance to miss you."
Zhongli pulls back, holding Venti at arms' length. He stares for a long moment, drinking in the sight of him like he knows it's the last time.
Venti's eyes shift away. "This is goodbye, isn't it?"
"It doesn't have to be."
A sad smile lifts Venti's lips. When his eyes meet Zhongli's again, they shine. "Goodbye, Morax," he whispers.
Zhongli purses his lips. "Goodbye, Barbatos," he returns.
He sinks into the earth, where Venti will never follow. How could Zhongli ask him to come down from the sky? It is where he belongs, wild and free, untethered from anything that might seek to ground him.
***
The centuries pass, and Zhongli doesn't see Venti at all. He stays in Liyue, and Venti in Mondstadt. In the beginning Zhongli aches for him every day, but eventually his heart settles. There is still pain at times. Zhongli thinks of what could have been and mourns the many futures that will never exist, but he does this with everyone from his past. Venti is a part of that past now, and Zhongli must leave him there.
And then one day he finds Venti drunk in his wine cellar.
"Moraaaax!" he calls, clutching the neck of a bottle. "I was wondering when you'd show up. I thought to myself, 'Doesn't he live here? Won't he notice me pilfering all his wine?' And you did. Clever old man."
Zhongli blinks as he takes in the sight of him. Cheeks flushed, braids askew. He wants nothing more than to ravish him right here. All those old feelings come rushing back, the want and the desire and the overwhelming fondness. His friend. His lover. Just his, if fate were kinder.
"Ooh," Venti coos. "I know that look. Get over here and punish me, why don't you?"
He clenches a fist. "Barbatos-" he starts, a reprimand.
"Mmm, just like that." Venti sets the bottle down and gets to his feet, stumbling into Zhongli's arms. Zhongli catches him. Venti looks up at him with those big doe eyes. "Did you miss me?"
"Immeasurably," Zhongli replies. When Venti leans in, Zhongli holds him back. "You're drunk."
"Pfft, so?" He winds his arms around Zhongli's neck. "I want you. Take me, Morax."
"I can't," Zhongli protests. "And you know exactly why."
Venti slumps in his arms. "Come on," he whines. "You always wanted me in your bed. So pick me up and carry me there."
Zhongli sighs and says, "I am not having this conversation with you while you are intoxicated." He releases Venti and steps back. "If you wish to stay and sober up, you may. Otherwise, please see yourself out."
"Cranky dragon," Venti huffs. "I was just trying to have some fun."
"Really?" Zhongli asks him. "Is that what you came all this way for?"
Venti pouts. "You know what I'm here for."
Zhongli's heart flutters in his chest. He does know. But he doesn't want to hear it when Venti is drunk. It counts for nothing if he's drunk. "If you can't say it without the wine, then you don't really mean it." He inclines his head toward the door. "There is a guest room on the second floor. You are welcome to stay. It is your choice."
He releases Venti and leaves.
He occupies himself around the house, dusting and reorganizing with a frantic energy. There is only one reason Venti would come here like this, but Zhongli doesn't dare believe it. He will not hope just for that hope to be crushed.
Zhongli wants him to stay with his whole heart, but he will not be the one to ask. He cannot ask that of Venti. He does not want there to be any resentment between them. If Venti wants this—if Venti wants him, in the way Zhongli has wanted him for some thousand years—then he will have to say the words himself. Zhongli has already told him a hundred different ways, and Venti knows where he stands: with his feet planted firmly in the earth, as steady as the ground beneath him. He will not be moved. If Venti wants to meet him there, then the decision is his to make.
A few hours later Zhongli settles down to read, trying to calm the anxiety bubbling under his skin. He mistakenly thought himself to be long past such feelings. But now that this is so close, now that it's a possibility, he can think of nothing else. What will Venti choose?
There's a shuffling in the doorway. "You just had to make this difficult, didn't you?" Venti asks him.
Zhongli regards him calmly over the spine of his book, saying nothing. Venti sighs.
"You're so stubborn," he complains, dragging his feet over to the couch. He plucks Zhongli's book out of his hands and sets it aside, settling into his lap.
Zhongli places his hands on Venti's hips and looks into his eyes. Venti looks away, twirling one of his braids.
"I missed you," he says quietly. "I'm allowed to miss you, aren't I?"
"Of course," Zhongli agrees. He tugs Venti's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "You know what I want from you."
"Maybe I don't," Venti insists. "For all your yapping, you've never said it in so many words."
"Then allow me to make myself perfectly clear." He moves his hand to Venti's cheek and says, "I love you like I love the earth beneath my feet. I think of you with every breeze that ghosts over the back of my neck and every time I see a pair of wings take to the sky. My love for you is the bedrock of my entire life, the ground I have built my kingdom upon. Is it the deepest part of me, a part I thought buried long ago." He reaches down, taking both of Venti's hands in his. "My heart belongs to you. It has for such a long time that my empty chest has forgotten its rhythm. It will always be yours. It is an eternal shrine to your beauty and grace, and no matter how the storms may batter it, it will continue to stand long after this world and everything in it has faded into dust."
Venti's eyes search his. He breathes in hitched gasps. "I'm yours," he whispers. "I have been for centuries now."
Zhongli squeezes his hands. "Are you sure?"
"I didn't ask you if you were sure!" Venti protests.
"Because you already know that I am," Zhongli says calmly. "Do you know what it means to say such things?"
"I want you," Venti whines. "I want you like I've never wanted anything or anyone, and I can't stop. Believe me, I've tried! No matter where I wander I always come back to you. I want to come back to you every day and tuck myself into your side, and I want you to tell me you love me every night and promise you'll never let me go."
"I will let you go whenever you ask."
Venti shakes his head and says, "I won't ask. I love you, you stupid, stubborn blockhead."
A smile appears on Zhongli's lips as warmth rises in his chest. "There," he says, "was that really so difficult?"
"Shut up," Venti growls, and covers Zhongli's mouth with his own.
Zhongli chuckles into the kiss. They go to bed for the first time, and when it's over, Zhongli holds Venti to his chest and says, "I do remember when I had wings. Perhaps we could fly together sometime."
Venti's eyes sparkle. "You'd leave the ground for me?"
"I would do anything for you, my little bard," Zhongli tells him.
He sighs happily, burying his head in Zhongli's neck. "This will make a lovely ballad."
"Will you sing it for me?"
"Every song I sing is for you," he murmurs.
They lie wrapped up in each other until dawn breaks over Teyvat, a world where gods reign—and occasionally, fall in love.