Work Text:
“You’re the only one who still does this.”
The voice appeared like a breeze on a hot day: light, fresh, almost playful, carrying that carefree tone that bordered on gentle sarcasm. Even so, Aether did not open his eyes. He remained kneeling on the soft grass, feeling the green blades bend beneath his weight while his fingers rested carefully against the cold surface of the Anemo Archon’s statue. There was something ritualistic about it, something intimate, almost too silent to be shared with anyone else. He offered yet another anemoculus with the same devotion as always, allowing the energy of Anemo to envelop him once more — an invisible current, soft and pure, like the breath of wind crossing mountains and carrying ancient memories.
Only when he finished his brief prayer, when he felt the familiar power of Anemo return to the tips of his fingers like a comforting presence, did he open his eyes. Slowly, unhurriedly. His gaze lifted, amber crystals immediately meeting the vivid blue of shimmering sapphires — cheerful, attentive, as though they had already been there for a long time.
Venti was smiling.
He slid down from the tree at the Symbol of Mondstadt’s Hero, at Windrise, with an almost unreal ease, as though his body were far too light to obey gravity. He looked more like a leaf carried by the wind than someone actually descending.
When his feet touched the ground beside Aether, there was no sound besides the soft rustling of leaves around them. The blond still looked up at him from below, caught for a brief moment in that kneeling position, as though the scene before him was far too curious a contrast to ignore.
Barbatos’s eyes smiled even before his lips did. There was something alive there, something no statue could ever reproduce. After a few more seconds, Aether finally rose, stepping away from his reverence. He cast one last glance at the stone figure — so serene, so perfect, almost ethereal — and could not help but compare it to the god standing before him.
Because Venti… did not look like someone worthy of devotion at first glance.
Perhaps only afterward. After hearing him sing stories that carried centuries within them, after seeing him act when it truly mattered, when he cast aside the wine, the cat-escaping, and his habit of getting lost in carefree songs. Only then would someone understand the weight hidden behind that far-too-light smile.
“It’s a form of gratitude toward the Archons”, Aether replied, his voice calm yet firm. “In a way, I’ve been blessed by all of them, regardless of the relationship I had with each one.” He smiled faintly when he saw the bard lean toward him, curious as always. Venti’s eyes gleamed with genuine interest while his hands hid behind his back, rocking lightly on his heels; an almost childish gesture, yet completely natural on him. “But… Anemo is still the beginning of my story in Teyvat, after awakening from half a millennium of slumber”, he continued, quieter now, as though confessing something important. “I’ll be eternally grateful. Even offering every existing anemoculus still wouldn’t be enough.”
Venti puffed his lips in an almost theatrical pout, his brows furrowing slightly as he tilted his head. A curious sound escaped his lips:
“Eh~?” He looked more intrigued than touched, as though all that devotion was something difficult to take entirely seriously. Or perhaps he simply did not want to, since he had never demanded devotion from anyone and yet had an entire cathedral praising his name. His eyes narrowed with a mischievous gleam, and soon he shrugged, letting out a soft little laugh, as light as the wind that followed him. “You talk as though you’re writing an entire ode just for me… you’re making me embarrassed”, he commented, though he clearly was not. “But, you know, I always thought freedom suited you more than any kind of debt.”
And then, as though the very thought had become too heavy to hold onto, he simply let it go.
“Anyway, forget about that, Traveler”, he said, changing the subject as easily as the wind changed direction. “You took quite a while to return to Mondstadt this time.” He stepped to the side, spinning lightly on his own axis as though he were merely wandering aimlessly, though his eyes remained fixed on Aether. A mischievous smile appeared at the corner of his lips. “Where’s your tour guide?” he asked, pretending to look around dramatically. “It’s been far too long since I’ve heard those very… affectionate insults directed at me. I must confess, I was beginning to miss them”
Aether let out a quiet laugh, the sound escaping lightly as he began walking toward the city of winds. He gave a small motion with his head, almost automatic, signaling for Venti to follow him — not that much insistence was needed. The bard quickly lengthened his stride with that typical carelessness of his, drawing closer until he was walking side by side with him, as though no distance had ever existed between their meetings.
He was happy: as simple as that, in a way that was almost painfully intense. It had been at least seven months since the last time he had been in Mondstadt, and the longing had piled up inside him in silent layers. Every stage of the journey back from Liyue had carried a growing anticipation, his heart beating faster with each passing day, with every landscape that became more familiar. It was there that everything had begun. The people he met, the roads he traveled, the choices he made — everything seemed rooted in that land of free winds.
He had missed the open fields stretching as far as the eye could see, the ever-green grass dancing at the slightest breeze, the towering cliffs that seemed to long to touch the sky. The ancient trees, broad and welcoming, offering cool shade while the wind filled his lungs with an almost forgotten sense of lightness. He had missed the gentle weather, the smell of rain when it came, and how afterward shy rainbows would appear, painting the horizon like small promises. The simple yet delicious food, the windmills in the distance slowly turning while the sunlight passed through their white cloth blades, illuminating everything with a golden, peaceful glow.
But above all that, above all the beauty and affection he held for those lands, there was Venti.
His presence occupied its own place within Aether’s memories. The light voice, always carrying a humor that was difficult to fully decipher; the eyes, as blue and green as the sky and the fields; the way his fingers danced across the lyre, pulling melodies that seemed to cross time itself and touch something deeper than mere songs. There was something about him no one else could replicate — a mixture of freedom, carelessness, and a quiet melancholy that surfaced only in the rarest moments.
And yet, it was comforting. Familiar.
Like the wind itself.
Something essential, invisible, yet impossible to ignore. Something whose absence left behind a longing that could not truly be explained.
The blond turned his gaze toward him, a smile appearing effortlessly, almost betraying everything he kept buried in silence. For a brief instant, he felt as though all his thoughts were written plainly across his face, ready to be discovered. But then he realized: Venti was already watching him too, walking beside him with that same calm smile as always.
“I asked her to go first” he replied, shaking his head lightly. “It was a little difficult to convince her… but the fact that she was hungry helped.”
Venti let out a small “humph”, puffing his cheeks slightly in an exaggerated, almost theatrical expression before allowing an amused smirk to slip through.
“How cruel, sending away your faithful companion… Even I grow sensitive to Paimon’s voice sometimes, but making her go alone is still terribly mean. Liyue truly teaches questionable habits; I warned you not to return there again”, he commented, placing a hand against his chest as though genuinely concerned, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes betrayed otherwise.
Aether merely let out a quiet breath of laughter, glancing away for a moment.
“I had to. I was eager to see you first.”
The words came out more simply than he expected, yet they carried a weight that did not go unnoticed.
Venti raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as though evaluating the statement with renewed interest.
“Oh?”, he sang softly, stepping a little closer, his light footsteps almost dancing beside the other. “And how could you possibly know I’d be at the Windrise tree specifically?” He crossed his arms, feigning suspicion. “Seems someone was very lucky with such a 'mere coincidence’, wouldn’t you say, Traveler?”
Aether did not answer.
Instead, he simply nudged him lightly with his shoulder.
Venti let out an exaggerated complaint as he lost his balance for a second, stumbling in a manner entirely unworthy of an Archon — arms spreading a little too much, posture completely unsteady — before quickly recovering as though nothing had happened.
“Hey! That was rude!” he protested, though he was already laughing.
“Forget about it, Venti” Aether said, continuing forward without looking back. “Come on. I’m eager to see the others.”
The other smiled easily, returning the shove with the same lightness before soon quickening his pace to walk beside him once more.
“In that case, we have to celebrate!”, he declared, raising a hand as though proclaiming something grand. “Tell me, Traveler, how much mora did you bring? I hope you didn’t forget to finance such an important occasion…” He leaned in slightly, wearing an almost conspiratorial smile. “Let’s drink until the last man falls! Or better yet, until someone starts singing… and I win, obviously.”
Aether smiled, feeling once again — unsurprisingly — his heart fill with something warm and constant, an affection that always seemed far too large to fit inside him.
[...]
A few days had passed since his return to Mondstadt, and little by little, Aether began to feel the subtle weight of something he could not immediately name. He was happy — genuinely happy — to see familiar faces again, to walk once more through streets that carried so many memories, to hear voices that, somehow, always welcomed him as though he had never left. Even so, amidst all of that, he realized he had not spent enough time with Venti.
His days had been filled with reunions, long conversations, and easy laughter, along with small requests for help that emerged from every direction. As the Honorary Knight, there was a silent expectation resting upon his shoulders — and he accepted it without hesitation; it was not a burden, far from it. Helping, giving back, being present… it all felt almost natural. But between one task and another, between one familiar face and the next, time slipped away too quickly. And before he realized it, Venti had become merely a constant thought lingering in increasingly shorter intervals.
It was only after a few more days like that that he finally found a moment for just the two of them.
That night, the statue of the Anemo Archon stood majestically at the heart of Mondstadt, softly illuminated by the moonlight and the distant glow of the stars. The world seemed quieter there, as though it respected the presence of that place. Only the soft sound of the wind and the occasional clink of glass disturbed the stillness — coming from the bottle of cider resting between them. It was a simple scene, yet heavy with meaning. Almost too intimate to be shared with anyone else — aside from Paimon, of course.
Hours earlier, however, the day had been very different.
Beneath the golden sunlight, with the pleasant weather enveloping the city, Lisa had introduced them to a curious device made from materials imported from Sumeru. With an enigmatic smile, she explained that the artifact allowed one to “see what normally cannot be seen” — imaginary friends, as she herself put it, amusement glimmering faintly in her eyes. Naturally, that led them to Jack and… Stanley.
Aether could still remember clearly the moment everything changed.
The way Venti stepped forward, abandoning, if only for an instant, his usual carefree demeanor. The way his voice, still gentle, carried something deeper — something ancient. He called Stanley by his true name: Hans Archibald. And in that instant, there was no doubt whatsoever about who he truly was.
Barbatos.
The breeze that followed felt unlike any other, carrying distant echoes within it — as though they came from a place forgotten by the world itself. Aether could not explain what he felt at that moment; he merely became aware of the air in the room when Venti asked, with an almost painful gentleness, for Hans to release Stanley’s soul. Not as a demand, but as one final act of compassion.
He allowed the spirit to depart in peace.
Worthy of a god, Aether thought, his chest tightening in a strange way. Kind, even after uncovering the lie, even after everything. There had been no judgment in his voice — only understanding. And that… that affected him more than he cared to admit.
Perhaps that was why he accepted without question when Venti suggested they meet again at their “usual place.”
And that was how Aether ended up learning more.
About Old Mondstadt, about a time when the wind was not free, when even the skies themselves seemed imprisoned beneath the will of a tyrant god, Decarabian. He learned how voices, fragile and human, had managed to defy something so absolute. How freedom had not been born from strength, but from desire, from resistance.
And above all, he learned more about Venti.
About who he had been before becoming who he was now. Before taking on that human form, before becoming the Archon everyone knew. A spirit without a name, without a face — until he chose to carry with him the memory of someone important: a bard, his very first friend.
Aether longed to know more.
And yet, he did not insist.
Some stories did not need to be complete to be understood. And somehow, he already knew that the absence itself said just as much as any words ever could.
.
“Do you feel like a human, tone-deaf bard?” Paimon asked, with her usual questionable delicacy and absolutely no fear before the Anemo Archon, who raised an eyebrow in response. “You know, you have this human form, you get drunk… Can you get sick too?”
The question lingered in the air for a moment, light yet curiously direct. Venti lifted the bottle of cider to his lips and took another sip, this time with an almost resentful sigh. He still had not recovered from being deceived — yet another of Hans’s exaggerated stories, which had promised Dandelion Wine and delivered something far less memorable instead. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head as he thought, as though genuinely considering the answer with care.
“For some things, yes… for others, not so much”, he replied vaguely, spinning the bottle between his fingers. “I’ve never gotten sick, for example, despite having a mysterious allergy to cats. But I can get drunk… though it takes a certain amount of effort, which is a personal tragedy very few understand.” He sighed dramatically before continuing with a faint smile. “I feel cold, heat… I can get hurt in battle too. However, normal injuries usually don’t last very long.”
There was something almost casual in the way he said it, as though he were describing trivial details about a body that, deep down, did not entirely belong to him.
“And can you love?”
The question emerged abruptly, breaking the light rhythm of the conversation like a stone thrown into calm water.
The silence that followed was immediate.
Aether shrank into himself slightly, as though only then realizing what he had said. His mind took a second to catch up with his own words, and when it did, a wave of hot, uncomfortable embarrassment followed close behind. Perhaps he had been speaking too much. Perhaps how much he missed Venti — constant, silent, persistent — was beginning to slip out through places he could no longer control.
Paimon blinked in surprise at first, but her expression quickly transformed into pure curiosity, her eyes gleaming with renewed interest. Such a gossip…
Venti, on the other hand, merely watched him.
For a brief instant, his expression softened — something gentler, less theatrical — before a smile appeared, light as always yet difficult to fully read.
“Everyone can, Traveler”, he replied, tilting his head slightly. “What kind of silly question is that?”
He laughed, a soft sound almost carried away by the wind, and raised the bottle to his lips once more. Aether followed the motion unintentionally, his gaze lingering a second longer than it should have. He watched the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed, the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple — and suddenly, his mouth felt dry. For a fleeting, unconscious moment, he nearly reached out to take the bottle from him, simply to do something with the strange feeling growing in his chest.
“I love Mondstadt and its people”, Venti continued, as though nothing had happened. “I love Dvalin… and everything we’ve shared. I love being able to live in the present, without chains.” There was sincerity there. Light, simple, but real. “So yes, I can feel that sort of thing, like love.”
Paimon, however, made a dissatisfied sound, crossing her arms with an unimpressed expression.
“Eh? That’s not really what I had in mind…” she muttered, puffing her cheeks slightly, clearly expecting a more… interesting answer.
.
Paimon clearly did not like the idea when, moments later, Aether suggested — with a somewhat forced casualness — that she go look for something to eat. She crossed her arms in midair, puffing her cheeks in protest, ready to complain, but hesitated when she noticed the tone in his voice. It was not merely a casual request. There was something there, more restrained, more serious.
“Hmph… fine”, she grumbled, glancing between the two of them suspiciously. “But don’t do anything interesting without Paimon, got it?”
Even so, she did not insist.
Perhaps she understood.
With one last curious — and slightly resentful — look, she flew off, disappearing among the illuminated streets of Mondstadt. Aether watched her for a moment, following her small silhouette until it vanished completely. He knew she would be fine, that she would probably find Jean or Diluc… or anyone else willing to feed her. That was enough. So he let himself stop worrying about it.
Because suddenly, there was something far greater occupying his chest.
The silence that settled after Paimon’s departure was not uncomfortable — but it was not light either. It was dense, heavy, as though the very air around them had grown weightier. Being alone with Venti there, that night… hit him all at once, without warning.
Aether tightened his grip around the cider bottle, feeling the cold glass against his skin as though he needed something solid to anchor himself. He did not dare look at the bard immediately. Venti remained beside him, calm, drinking in silence while gazing up at the sky — as though the stars had something to tell him.
And perhaps they did.
A breeze passed between them, soft yet alive, making the leaves around them murmur ancient secrets. The wind danced through Aether’s golden hair, brushing against his skin with an almost conscious touch. And for one strange instant, he felt as though he could understand it. As though the world itself were whispering something he did not know how to translate into words.
“Venti…?” he called softly.
His voice came out more fragile than he expected, hesitant.
Almost as though he feared breaking something invisible between them.
His heart skipped a beat when the Archon turned his face toward him, because in that light — beneath the pale glow of the moon and the distant shimmer of the stars — Venti’s eyes seemed more intense. Deeper. Like the night sky itself, vast and impossible to reach.
“What is it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone gentle yet attentive. “You seem… hesitant. That’s not very like you, Traveler.”
He smiled.
And that smile, light and carefree, only made everything ache a little more.
Aether looked away for a moment, bringing his free hand to the stone of the statue they sat upon, feeling the cold texture beneath his fingers. The contrast stole his breath for a second, because beside him, so close… was Venti.
His fingers rested only a few centimeters away from his own.
So close.
The warmth radiating from the other’s body seemed to cross that tiny space, as though the very air carried his presence.
And suddenly, it all became too much: the silence, the closeness, the feelings he had been trying to push away ever since he returned.
Before he realized it, he was already moving, his body acting before his mind could stop it. He leaned toward Venti, closing the minimal distance that still remained between them. His lips touched his — a soft contact, almost nonexistent, too brief to truly be called a kiss.
But it was real.
So real that it made his chest tighten in a painfully gentle way.
There was tenderness there.
There was something he did not know how to name.
When he pulled away, still far too close, still trapped in that moment that seemed frozen in time, his eyes met Venti’s.
And they were… lost.
There was no laughter.
No teasing.
Only something silent, distant — like the wind before a storm that never arrives.
“And this… can you feel it too?” Aether asked, his voice low, almost a whisper that barely dared to exist.
For a second, the world seemed to hold its breath.
And then, the wind came.
A sudden gust, stronger than any other that night. The leaves around them lifted, spiraling through the air as though torn from the ground by an invisible force, rising all the way to the statue’s hands. The sound filled the space between them, drowning out any response that might have come.
And in the very next instant…
Venti was gone.
Only the echo of the wind remained, along with the warmth that still lingered stubbornly on Aether’s lips.
And the sudden weight of regret sinking into his chest like something far too inevitable to avoid.
[...]
Venti had been gone for two weeks. Or rather: he had been avoiding Aether for two weeks.
The difference was subtle, but impossible to ignore. Because despite the physical absence, Aether could still feel him. In small details, in moments far too fleeting to grasp clearly. It was as though he were constantly being watched, as though a pair of curious, restless eyes followed him from afar, hidden within the movement of the wind. Through the streets of Mondstadt, amidst the soft murmur of conversations and the creaking of wooden doors; in the green fields stretching beyond the walls, where the grass danced beneath his footsteps — there too.
Always there.
A strange weight began settling upon his shoulders, something he could not fully name. It was not exactly discomfort… but neither was it peace. It was a silent, constant presence that left him overly aware of everything around him. And every time he felt it, his heart reacted before logic ever could.
Hope.
It came quickly, igniting within him like a sudden flame, warm and desperate. His chest tightened, his heart pounding hard against his ribs as he turned around — almost always too fast, almost always without thinking.
But there was never anyone there.
Only the wind. Always the wind.
And the emptiness it left behind.
It did not take long for others to notice as well.
Venti, who once seemed to be everywhere at once — singing in plazas, napping beneath trees, appearing without warning with a bottle in hand and a song at the tip of his tongue — had simply… vanished. Like a breeze that suddenly decided not to blow anymore.
Paimon was the first to comment on it.
“Hey… don’t you think the bard disappeared?” she asked one day casually while floating beside Aether.
His reaction was almost immediate: a slight stiffening of his shoulders, a silence too brief to ignore. He looked away, pretending interest in something distant, anything other than that conversation, but he did not convince even himself. Paimon narrowed her eyes suspiciously, though she eventually let the matter drop — for now. Still, barely.
Then came Varka.
They met at the Cat’s Tail amidst the tavern’s familiar bustle. The sound of clinking glasses, loud laughter, and the scent of alcohol filled the air, creating an atmosphere that was almost welcoming. Varka, as always, occupied space effortlessly — strong presence, even stronger voice.
“Hey, kid” he called, resting an arm on the counter. “Seen your bard around anywhere? It’s been a while since I last ran into him. One of my favorite drinking buddies just disappeared.”
Aether merely shrank slightly at the question, his fingers tightening around his glass a little harder than necessary. Beside him, Paimon seemed genuinely interested in the answer. He simply took a sip of his drink and said nothing.
Then, a few days later, came Dahlia.
Shy as always, he approached with hesitant steps, hands clasped together in front of him holding a historical bible. His face, nearly the same color as his hair, betrayed his nervousness before he even spoke.
“Aether, have you, by any chance… seen Venti?” he asked, his voice low and careful. “He hasn’t been showing up at the Cathedral lately…”
It was a simple comment. Harmless. A genuine question about a friend who had not been seen in some time. But something in Aether’s chest tightened unexpectedly. A small irritation, almost ridiculous.
Jealousy.
Brief, fleeting — but present.
He looked away once more, giving some vague response without truly elaborating. Dahlia merely nodded, grateful anyway.
And finally, there was Barbara.
“Thanks to Barbatos” she said with a relieved sigh, her hands clasped before her chest. “Maybe that bard has finally decided to calm down a little. Someone so rude and drunk all the time… and on top of that, singing blasphemous ballads about our lord Barbatos…”
There was a tone of sincere disapproval in her voice, though it was not exactly cruel. Venti had always been very creative when it came to inventing, at the very least, embarrassing things about Lord Barbatos, even if that lord was himself — to him, there was a certain mischievous humor in it.
Beside her, Dahlia pressed the historical Bible against his chest and let out a light, amused laugh, being one of the few who knew Venti’s true identity. And without realizing it, Aether ended up laughing too.
But the moment the sound left his lips, something inside him grew heavy. The laugh died far too quickly, as though it should never have existed at all. Aether looked away, his expression subtly hardening as the lightness of the moment dissipated. The surroundings remained the same — the silent Cathedral, illuminated by the filtered light through the stained-glass image of the angelic Barbatos, the distant echo of footsteps and whispers — but something within him had changed. Or perhaps it had only become more obvious now.
Because deep down, none of this felt right.
It was strange hearing those words about Venti, especially when they came from people who, in some way, were also part of his life. It was easy to judge him by the surface — by the wine, the exaggerated songs, the almost irritating carelessness. Easy to ignore what existed beneath it all.
Aether knew.
And perhaps that was exactly what made everything more difficult.
He lowered his gaze to his own hands, still feeling the echo of that laugh that did not match the weight in his chest. He thought of the last time he had seen him — the night beneath the stars, the silence broken by an impulsive gesture, the wind that came immediately afterward.
The emptiness that remained.
Two weeks.
Long enough for the absence to stop being merely strange and begin to hurt.
When he left the Cathedral, the cool air of Mondstadt greeted him familiarly. The sky was clear that day, blue and vast, with light clouds scattered like soft brushstrokes. The windmills turned in the distance, constant, while the wind crossed the city as it always had — free, carefree, untouched.
But it was not the same. Or perhaps it was.
Perhaps that was exactly what bothered him: the world had not changed. Mondstadt remained alive, welcoming, full of sounds and colors and people continuing their routines as though nothing were missing.
Only he seemed to really feel it.
Aether walked slowly through the streets, his steps guiding him almost by instinct. He passed through the plaza, where bards played simple melodies, though none came close to the notes of Venti’s lyre; past the food stalls, where warm, familiar scents filled the air; past the fountains, where children laughed without a single worry.
Everything was… normal.
And yet, empty.
Before he realized it, he had already gone beyond the city gates. The fields stretched out before him, vast and green, rippling beneath the constant touch of the wind. The sound of the grass shifting was almost hypnotic, a continuous whisper filling the silence between his thoughts. He stopped, closed his eyes for a moment, and waited as he had been doing for days. The wind passed through him, surrounding his body, tousling his hair, touching his skin with that almost intimate familiarity. For one second — only one — he thought he felt something more.
His eyes opened quickly, his heart racing once again, that flame reigniting powerfully within his chest. He turned around too fast, hope overflowing before any confirmation could come.
But there was no one there.
Aether exhaled slowly, only then realizing he had been holding his breath. The tension returned to his shoulders, heavier than before.
“…This isn’t fair”, he murmured softly, more to himself than anything else.
The wind did not answer.
Or perhaps it did — he simply did not know how to understand it.
.
Aether could not say exactly how his steps brought him to the great tree at Windrise. Perhaps it was habit. Perhaps longing. Or something deeper, quieter — as though the wind itself gently guided him to that place that had always seemed to keep a part of him. The tree stood immense, its roots embracing the ancient earth while its branches curved with an almost protective grace around the statue of Barbatos. The leaves whispered softly, stirred by a constant breeze, as though singing a song known only to that place. The sun was setting.
The sky was painted in shades of orange, streaked with soft lines of purple and gold spreading across the horizon. The light fell upon the statue, surrounding it with an almost ethereal glow, as though making it seem more alive — or perhaps more distant. More unreachable. And that hurt.
Every step Aether took toward the base of the statue felt heavier than the last, despite his movements being short, almost hesitant. The gentle warmth of the late afternoon brushed against his skin, contrasting with the cold beginning to grow inside him. And when he finally stopped before it, lifting his gaze… it was too much.
The face carved in stone — serene, graceful, untouchable — felt like a cruel memory. A hollow reflection of someone he knew so well and yet could not reach. Not in the way he wanted to.
His face twisted before he could stop it; the pain came quickly, intensely, squeezing his chest so hard it stole his breath for a moment. His legs gave out, unable to bear the weight he carried, and he fell to his knees before the statue, just as he had done so many times before — but never like this. Never so broken. His hands, forgotten without their gloves, touched the cold metal adorning the base of the divine figure. The gold, immaculate and distant, contrasted against the trembling warmth of his fingers.
And suddenly, he felt… wrong.
Small. Blasphemous.
As though those feelings should not exist there, in that place. As though loving something so far beyond his reach was, in itself, a mistake.
“Venti, please…” his voice came out low, uneven, filled with something he could no longer hide. The wind blew once more, gentle, as though listening. “I could always hear you”, he continued, eyes fixed on the stone before him as though it could answer. “Your voice singing… no matter where I was. Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru…” He swallowed hard, feeling his own breathing falter, break in the middle of his words. “Tell me… please… it was you, wasn’t it?”
The silence that followed was cruel.
Aether squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers tightening slightly against the metal beneath his hands as though searching for an answer there.
“Your voice, carried by the wind, was always with me”, he murmured, quieter now. “And after all this time, after everything… I…” The words caught in his throat. But the feeling did not. “I’ve grown so attached to you that it hurts, corrupts my thoughts, scratches against my soul”, he admitted at last, finally letting out what he had held back for so long.
His chest rose and fell unevenly, the air too heavy to fully enter his lungs. His body felt as though it were sinking beneath its own weight, as though every thought, every memory, were dragging him down. The image of that night returned to him — the brief touch, the silence, the wind carrying away any answer.
“Weeks ago, when I returned once again from Liyue…”, he continued, his voice weaker now, more uncertain. “You asked how I knew you would be here…” A humorless breath of laughter escaped him. “Wasn’t it you who told me?” he asked, almost in a whisper. “Wasn’t it you who kept calling me all this time? Whispering through the wind… saying you were waiting for me here when I returned?”
The wind passed through the leaves again, louder this time. But it still was not an answer. Aether lowered his head.
“Or…” his voice faltered, trembling slightly. “Am I so miserably in love with you… that I dream about you even when I’m awake?”
“You shouldn’t say things like that.”
The answer came suddenly.
But it was so absurdly familiar that Aether’s entire body trembled before his mind could even process it. His heart skipped a beat, then began pounding almost painfully. He lifted his face quickly, the abrupt movement allowing the last golden strands of sunlight to flash across his eyes.
Venti was there.
Sitting atop the shoulder of the gigantic stone statue, as though he had always belonged there. The wind played with his braids and cape, making them dance softly around his small, light frame. One of his hands hid part of his mouth, covering his lips in a strangely shy gesture, almost embarrassed. And he was blushing. So deeply flushed that the red across his cheeks seemed to burn beneath the last rays of the setting sun. The contrast against the deep blue of his eyes and the golden horizon behind him made Aether’s heart tighten even more.
“Venti…!”
His name escaped him like a desperate sigh. Aether stood so quickly he nearly stumbled over his own feet, desperately trying to recover some composure, any shred of dignity he still had left after that miserably honest confession. But then… they simply looked at each other for a few seconds too short to be enough, yet far too long to be bearable.
Venti slowly lowered his hand from his face, though the embarrassment was still evident in his small posture, in the slight hunch of his shoulders, in the way he looked away for a moment before meeting Aether’s gaze again. His eyes shimmered. Not with amusement, nor teasing — but with something more vulnerable, more unsteady. Emotion.
As though those words torn from Aether’s secrets had reached a place the bard normally hid very well. Not that Aether had been particularly successful at hiding his feelings.
The traveler’s face immediately warmed in response. He looked away almost instinctively, unable to hold that gaze for too long. A gust of wind swept through the tree above them, making the leaves tremble in a continuous whisper. And then Venti simply slid down from the statue like a leaf carried by an air current, light and silent, slowly approaching until he landed before him.
So close. Too close.
And suddenly, every apology Aether had rehearsed during those two weeks vanished completely. All the desperate courage that had brought him there dissolved the instant Venti stood before him again. He could not ev
en look at him properly.
It felt like standing naked before him — not without clothes, but stripped bare of everything inside him. His thoughts, his desires, his humiliating longing… all of it felt too exposed beneath those blue eyes. So, stupidly, he asked:
“Where have you been?” The words came out hesitant, weak. Avoiding me, he wanted to say. Leaving me alone. “Everyone noticed you were gone…” he added, far too quietly.
Venti remained silent for a few moments.
The wind blew between them again, gentle, carrying the fresh scent of grass and ancient trees surrounding Windrise. The sky had darkened now, the orange hues slowly fading beneath the deep blue of night. In the distance, Mondstadt began lighting its lamps one by one.
And Aether still could not look at him directly.
That was the worst part of it: having him so close again and, at the same time, feeling as though an unbearable distance existed between them. Wanting to look. Wanting to touch. Wanting only to confirm that Venti was truly there and not another cruel illusion.
“I spent a few days with Dvalin…” he answered at last. His voice came out low, full of uncertainty, almost guilty, and Aether noticed immediately, because they both knew that was not the whole truth.
Aether simply nodded, seeming too hurt to question anything. Too hurt to demand answers he perhaps had no right to ask for. After all… what could he possibly ask of Venti after kissing him like that, without warning, without permission, forcing his own feelings onto him like an impossible storm? Perhaps the distance between them was deserved. Perhaps Venti was simply trying to breathe away from the weight Aether had placed upon his shoulders.
So Aether remained silent.
His gaze drifted toward the horizon, watching the sun surrender its last traces of light to the sky before disappearing completely. Golden and violet tones blended above Mondstadt’s plains, painting the landscape with a melancholic beauty. Around Windrise, the sounds of nature slowly began to change: birds sang in the distance before retreating for the night, while small wild creatures darted through the tall grass, hiding among roots and stones. The Windwheel Asters danced beneath the breeze, red, impossibly light. They spun around the two of them like tiny lost stars, joyful in their fleeting existence, and for some reason, that felt almost cruel. As though the world itself were mocking the painful confusion in his being.
A long sigh escaped his lips, tired, almost self-deprecating.
Then he felt subtle, cautious movement. And before he could react, a hand touched his face. The contact was so gentle it hurt.
“Aether?” Venti called softly. “Could you look at me, please?” The request sounded almost pleading, not commanding; it was vulnerable. That froze Aether to the bone. Especially because it was his name being spoken in that voice soft as wind through leaves, low like a song sung only for him.
Venti’s fingers held his face delicately, guiding him slowly until their eyes met once more. Amber crystals immediately found the vivid teal of shimmering sapphires and emeralds.. So close, so dangerously honest.
“I know I haven’t been fair to you” Venti murmured, and for the first time Aether saw genuine guilt in his expression. “So… please, listen to me.” His hand slowly slipped from Aether’s face; it brushed past his shoulder in a touch too light, almost hesitant, trailing down his arm as though afraid of crossing some invisible boundary, until his fingers found Aether’s and held them.
Aether’s world simply stopped — his breath vanished suddenly, torn from his lungs as the warmth of that touch surged violently through his body. He was certain he was just as red as Venti had been moments earlier. But unlike him, there was no courage in his expression — only complete desperation. Venti, even shy, still held his gaze. Trembling, vulnerable… yet brave.
“I’ve been alive for nearly three millennia, Aether…” he began softly, gently enough that his voice nearly disappeared into the night wind. “I have loved people. Some of them for a very long time. I know how lust, desire pleasure… and love… feel within a human body.” His voice weakened slightly at the end of the sentence, as though the words themselves were beginning to weigh heavily on his tongue. “But in all my life, you were the first who…”
He stopped.
His eyes immediately dropped to the ground, and Aether felt the shy tightening of his fingers. An almost adorable contradiction — an Archon incapable of enduring his own confession. Without thinking, Aether squeezed his hand back in encouragement, in a silent plea for him to continue. Because in that moment, he seemed even more anxious than Venti himself.
“…with whom everything felt so intense” he finished at last in a breath.
The teal eyes lifted again, quick and cautious, desperately searching for a reaction on the traveler’s face.
Aether merely stared wide-eyed.
His chest filled with air, but he could not release it; every word seemed to strike directly against something fragile inside him.
“I never thought you… could want the same things I’ve desired since the instant our paths crossed” Venti continued, his voice growing even softer, more intimate. “So I limited myself to this.” A small, sad smile appeared on his lips. “To singing ballads for you. To playing my lyre. To following your footsteps through the wind… hoping that no matter where you were, you could still hear me.”
The breeze swept around them once more.
But now Aether understood; perhaps he always had.
And he should have learned something from the past, from his own mistakes.
He should have learned to restrain his heart before it overflowed through his hands, his voice, his entire body. But Aether was still human — despite immortality, despite the ages he had crossed, despite everything. And humans made mistakes. Desired. Acted before thinking whenever something far too precious finally seemed within reach.
That was exactly what happened.
His body moved first.
Anxious. Impulsive. Starving for something he had spent so long silently yearning for.
The last thing he heard before pulling Venti toward him by the firm grip of their joined hands was a small sound of surprise escaping the bard’s lips — a muffled murmur immediately swallowed when their mouths met once more.
The impact of the kiss was warm, real.
Nothing like the delicate hesitation of the first time.
Aether’s hands immediately rose to Venti’s face, holding him as though afraid he might disappear again at the slightest carelessness. His fingers slid through the dark, soft strands, tangling among the braids and knocking the bard’s hat askew until it fell behind him, lost in the grass at the foot of the statue. Venti seemed surprised for only an instant, because soon his own hands found the traveler’s hips, pulling him closer without the slightest resistance. Their bodies collided completely this time, close enough to nearly share the same breath.
The heat between them was intense, almost suffocating, like something suppressed for far too long.
It felt wrong to think they were already accustomed to each other when this was, in truth, the first real kiss they had ever shared. And yet there was familiarity there — as though their bodies knew exactly what to do, as though they were merely resuming something interrupted long ago. Recovering lost time.
Aether pulled Venti even closer against him, tilting him slightly backward as he deepened the kiss with a need he could no longer hide. The wind around them seemed to go wild alongside them, leaves spiraling above the grass while the tree at Windrise murmured softly over their heads. And Venti yielded without hesitation.
A low sigh escaped him, warm against Aether’s lips, while his fingers tightened in the fabric of the traveler’s clothes as though he needed to confirm that he was truly there.
And his taste was sweet: not only because of the cider or the Dandelion Wine that always seemed to accompany him — there was something fresh, light, and intoxicating about Venti that made Aether think of the wind itself. Freedom. Open skies. Desire.
They only pulled apart when the lack of air became impossible to ignore. Aether drew back just slightly, breathing unevenly, his lips still burning. But Venti did not seem willing to let him go so soon. The bard leaned in again, his kisses trailing down Aether’s cheeks, brushing along his jaw, lingering at his neck with an almost cruel tenderness. Every touch sent violent shivers through Aether’s body, as though the wind itself were blowing directly beneath his bare skin. A low sound escaped his lips before he could stop it.
Then he pulled away just enough to think again — or at least try to. Venti let out an audible little complaint, clearly displeased, and that made Aether’s chest tighten with such absurd affection it almost hurt.
They looked at each other once more.
Too close. Too flushed.
Their chests rose and fell quickly while the wind circled around them, tangling hair, clothes, and thoughts alike. Venti’s eyes shone so brightly beneath the bluish light of the night that Aether had the absurd impression he could lose himself there forever. But perhaps he had already been lost for a very long time.
Carefully, almost reverently, he lifted a hand to the side of the Archon’s face again, his fingers caressing just behind his ear. Venti immediately leaned into the touch, his eyes falling shut for a moment, and Aether could have sworn he heard something dangerously close to a satisfied purr escape him.
His heart nearly gave out entirely.
“Please…” Aether murmured, his voice low and vulnerable. “Keep following me through the wind. Always.”
Venti slowly opened his eyes and smiled.
Not that mischievous, theatrical smile he offered to the entire world.
This one was smaller. Softer. Almost too intimate.
“Always” he answered, as though it were the easiest promise he had made in three thousand years.