Work Text:
I'm hanging
Take my hand,
from a fraying rope.
don't let go.
If I let go,
I'm here.
will you let me fall this time?
And this time, I won't let you fall.
If he had to let go of one thing, it would be his past. Or maybe the memories that tormented him every time he closed his eyes. Though if he really thought about it, he'd probably choose to let go of everything that made him who he was.
The fear, the hatred, the insecurity, the constant belief that his existence meant nothing to anyone.
After all,
my life is a grave,
and I dig it.
I dig it.
Or at least, that's what he used to believe until finally, everything he'd once been disappeared with a simple snap of fingers.
He'd gotten his wish. But… was that really how he'd expected it to happen?
Because even if you erase the past, even if you make the very essence of your existence disappear, what's left? A mistake? A coincidence? Or just the certainty that you can't really make disappear what was always meant to belong to this world?
After all, someone once told him that fate puts you exactly where you're supposed to be.
If that was true, wasn't fate just a mocking bastard that had fun making him believe he could write his own future with his own hands?
When did everything change?
Maybe the moment his eyes stopped dwelling on the distant past and started looking toward the future instead. Toward that warm, soft sun shining over his head, accepting every ugly, unpleasant part of him.
Or maybe the moment he realized he didn't want to be just a moon chasing after it through the night.
✧✧✧
But I'm not the sun
I'm not the moon.
I'm not a light
Not even a star,
That could shield you from the dark.
That could shine above your head.
But…
Even so…
At least I can promise you,
I just want you to look at me
That you don't have to be afraid
Like you would one of them.
Of freezing to death.
"Hey…" the Traveler rested his hand on the notebook and pushed it gently down.
Wanderer looked up and met those gold eyes, close and intense, watching him.
Why do you always look at me
like you want to devour me?
"What do you want now?" he asked, feeling a faint heat creep into his cheeks.
Aether set the notebook aside and pressed his hand against his cheek, dragging his thumb softly over the reddened skin.
"I think I might die if I don't kiss you right now," he confessed, his own cheeks flushed.
Wanderer placed his hand over the Traveler's and looked away for a moment.
"So what are you waiting for? An invitation?"
The blond brought his forehead to rest against his and leaned in a little closer, just enough for their noses to brush.
"No. I just… want to respect you a little."
Wanderer smiled sideways, challenging him with his eyes.
"Ehhh~? The legendary Traveler is trying to be a gentleman? Isn't it a little late for that?"
"Ah, I…" his cheeks flooded with color and his eyes wandered, a little nervous. "Yeah… Any problem with that?"
"I think you lost the right to act like a gentleman after you stabbed Dottore in the back," Wanderer pressed his forehead against his. "Or does being a gentleman mean doing that kind of indecent thing to me too?"
Aether opened his mouth and closed it again before going completely red. Then he let his forehead drop against Wanderer's shoulder, defeated.
✧✧✧
If you could change the past,
tell me,
would you choose to meet me again?
Or would you rather fix
everything you hate about yourself?
It's simple.
I'd choose you, over and over again.
There was something growing in his chest. Something strange, uncomfortable, that nagged at him every now and then. It wasn't like he wasn't aware of it — he just did everything he could to ignore it. That wasn't too hard, considering that this something only showed up in those small moments when he ran into the Traveler.
He'd tried to kill him, of course he had. Repeatedly. After all, what sane person would want to live with a feeling this stupid and annoying growing inside their chest?
But every time he was around the Traveler, that feeling became almost pleasant. Almost comforting. And he hated it. He hated how much he seemed to enjoy every goddamn second he spent by his side, like every problem, like the simple mistake that was his existence, didn't mean a damn thing.
Shit.
Since when had he made him feel this way? At what point had they gone from being two old enemies who hung around each other every now and then, only because Buer made them? Lie. And why the hell had he gotten so far under his skin when Wanderer was supposed to be an expert at burying what he actually felt? No, screw that. The truth was he was terrible at it. Shit.
If he were actually good at feeling nothing, his life wouldn't have turned out this way. His creator would love him, he'd be fulfilling his purpose, he'd be living as a God guiding Inazuma toward eternity, just as his mother had wanted. But like this… would he have ever met Aether? If his heart were the Gnosis… could he even be feeling all of this for him?
No… right?
Because if he'd been born perfect, would there have been any need for a name and a heart from the start?
Murasame never would have been born. And Aether's heart… would it belong to someone else?
Maybe. Yes, no. Ugh, he didn't know. He didn't want to picture that son of a bitch with someone else, damn it. His head hurt just thinking about it.
He narrowed his eyes.
So… if he looked at the past, if he really thought through everything that had happened… if he had the chance to make a wish and undo all of this… would he take it?
No, of course not. He'd already made that stupid mistake once and here they were. What the hell would happen to him if he dared to do it a second time?
He didn't want to find out. He'd rather be dead first, damn it. Oh, but he could die if he wanted to, couldn't he? Nothing stopping him from putting an end to this right now, before he had to keep living through this humiliation… but…
"Your life is just as important as mine."
UGHHHHH.
He buried his red face in both hands.
Stupid Traveler.
Damn it. How was he supposed to stop feeling like this?
Should he punch him? Or should he just kiss him hard the next time he saw him?
You miserable son of a bitch.
But he'd figure it out. Of course he would.
✧✧✧
Tell me, do you like the stars?
No.
I just like you.
Aether lay on his back staring up at the night sky, his gold eyes wide and bright with fascination. Wanderer was stretched out beside him on his side, head propped on his forearm, watching him in silence, not quite noticing that he'd spent the last five or so minutes taking in those strange, otherworldly features of his.
The night sky was impressive, sure, but he'd seen it nearly a million times since he could remember. And it never changed because even when a star died, a brighter one appeared to outshine it. What beauty could you find in something like that? What was so special about a few hundred million glowing dots on a dark canvas? He'd thought it before, back when the sky and the moon were fake, and he still thought it now, watching the moon glow with a soft rosy halo.
Maybe for Aether the stars were a mystery, or maybe an adventure. His home was up there, after all, and Teyvat was just one more stop on a long list of destinations. Even so… wasn't that more reason to feel indifferent toward them?
But who knew, really. The Traveler was weird as hell. If he asked, he'd probably get some stupid answer, or something ridiculously sappy that he didn't want to hear.
Wanderer narrowed his eyes and reached out his free hand to brush an annoying strand of blond hair from Aether's cheek.
Hpmf.
Now he could actually see him properly.
Aether turned his head, surprised.
"Everything okay?"
He nodded.
Aether smiled softly before taking his hand and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. Wanderer wanted to be horrified, wanted to hit him — of course he did — because this son of a bitch had no right to keep humiliating him like this. But then the Traveler took his hand between both of his and held it carefully, running his thumb over it like it was the most precious thing in the world. And whatever was left of his common sense packed its bags and got the hell out.
UGHH, DAMN IT.
How was he supposed to stop wanting to kill him when he pulled this stuff? Did he not realize that if he kept doing things like this, Wanderer's processing core was going to melt?
And of course he couldn't just stop there — whatever that even was — he also had to scoot closer, until the space between them was no bigger than the length of his arm.
You shameless idiot.
"You're so clingy, you bastard," he complained. He had to.
The blond ignored his jab and turned his eyes back to the stars.
"Do you like the stars, Murasame?"
The dark-haired boy pressed his lips together.
Now you're going to ask that, idiot? Could you be any less considerate?
"No."
Because they were stupid. Because he was stupid.
"But… I like you."
The Traveler's eyes went wide before a huge smile spread across his face. Wanderer froze and a few seconds later, literal smoke started coming out of his ears.
✧✧✧
What color is your soul?
Probably blue.
And I'm sure yours is white, right?
Or that's what you want everyone to think.
I love blue.
But I see it as yellow.
Every time I look at the sky,
I think of you.
Because to me,
you're like the sun.
Aether was strange. He'd thought it a million times, and had probably told him to his face even more than he could remember, but the thing was, it was true. He wasn't even remotely like any of these generic people in Teyvat. His tastes, the way he connected with others, the stupid mystery surrounding him… Even that clever way he disguised the level of emotional distance he kept with everyone, including his closest friends. Anyone would think he was a very kind and reliable person who was always there to help, someone who could never have an excuse to feel lonely because he was always surrounded by people — which technically wasn't a lie, but… it wasn't quite true either.
What? Why was he thinking that?
Wasn't it obvious that all of it was a defense mechanism? Well, maybe not that obvious. It took Wanderer a while to know him well enough to understand that he wasn't as naive as he wanted everyone to believe. The thing was, he wasn't from here. He was alone, with no idea what had happened to his sister. He didn't even know how to speak the language at first. What the hell was he supposed to do to survive? Wanderer knew his personality firsthand. With enough trust, he could be a real son of a bitch or an incredibly endearing idiot. Would that win everyone over? Probably not. It might have closed a few doors for him, or surrounded him with real friends. Who knows.
Besides, he knew firsthand what it felt like to wake up in a new world, alone, with no idea what to do. Kunikuzushi had very good and very bad experiences, met incredible people, and lived through his greatest betrayals before becoming what he was now. Maybe, with a little less luck and without Paimon's guidance, Aether could have ended up on a path very much like his own.
Maybe the Fatui or Dottore would have found him first… Who knows. That would've been a disaster.
Though he couldn't picture it. He didn't want to picture it.
Maybe that's why he kept pushing himself to know him better. Because Aether had as many layers as a goddamn onion, and every time he managed to peel one back, he found more and more underneath. How many secrets could someone who'd been alive for probably thousands of years possibly have? Probably not enough. Like he was some kind of treasure map.
Still, he wanted to find all of it. And maybe also find out whether that feeling of perpetual loneliness Aether carried eased up a little when they were together. The same way it did for Murasame.
But there was no way in hell he was going to ask him. He'd rather die wondering.
"What are you doing?" he asked, watching him scribble in one of his notebooks.
Paimon was snoring loudly by the campfire. Aether was half inside his sleeping bag, leaning against the trunk of a tree. They hadn't made it back to Sumeru City after the commission, so they'd ended up camping in the forest. They could've gone into the Serenitea Pot for more comfort, but that idiot still liked sleeping outside and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, so they stayed.
He'd definitely be complaining about all those bug bites tomorrow.
"I'm practicing."
Ah. That.
Ever since Aether found out he wrote poems and free verse as therapy — and by now, out of habit — he'd decided to join in and write a response to every one he made.
So sometimes they asked each other questions and the other one answered. Aether wasn't great at it, probably because Wanderer had a lot more practice and had been doing it since practically the day he was born, but he tried hard, so he kept everything he wrote, no matter how stupid it turned out.
He sat down beside him against the trunk and looked at the scribbles.
Tell me,
if I died,
would you go to hell with me?
Ah. He was thinking about weird things again.
Hell? Dying? Not on his watch, damn it.
He took the pen out of his hands and started writing.
Why are you thinking about hell, idiot?
You're a hero.
Don't you think you deserve something more ridiculous,
like heaven?
Yeah, I know it's wrong, but…
tell me,
knowing all that, would you follow me?
Of course.
I'd kick you out myself
if you even thought about leaving me behind.
Aether let out a small laugh.
"What's so funny, idiot?"
He shook his head, still smiling.
"Nothing. It's just that you always find a way to surprise me."
Wanderer raised an eyebrow.
"How so?"
"Just… I've been having a lot of nightmares lately," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I keep thinking about what would've happened if you hadn't saved me from Dottore."
Oh.
So that was what was bothering him.
"Nothing happened. Nahida and I weren't going to abandon you, no matter what that bastard tried. You're here now."
Though he knew that wasn't going to be enough to clear his doubts. He knew what Dottore did to the minds of people who'd had contact with him. Aether hadn't talked much about what happened that time in Nod Krai, but he'd started acting differently since then — even more so since that bastard finally burned along with the Irminsul.
"I know. That's not the problem."
He frowned.
"Then what?"
He pressed his lips together for a moment.
"What would you have done if you hadn't made it in time?"
He stayed quiet, not sure what to say.
What would he have done if he hadn't reached him? He didn't know, because honestly… the idea of not being able to had never once crossed his mind.
He wasn't going to let Aether die, least of all at Dottore's hands.
"Oh," he murmured, looking away.
What? Was he misreading his silence?
Damn it. Stop thinking stupid things, idiot. Do you want to keep screwing with your own head? They'd promised they were both getting out of there alive. So why was this idiot the depressed one?
"But I made it, didn't I?" he said, shrugging. "You and I are both here."
He lifted his head and looked at him with those intense gold eyes.
"Besides… I'm pretty sure it never even crossed your mind that I wouldn't make it, right? We promised we'd come back together this time. And you know perfectly well I've never broken a promise."
Aether's eyes went wide before they filled with tears. And then he smiled — hugely, from somewhere deep — like he'd just had a weight lifted off him.
"Yeah. You're completely right," he murmured, with a small laugh, wiping the first tears as they started to fall. "Damn it, I'm such an idiot…"
Wanderer pulled his head against his shoulder and held him there, letting him cry as much as he needed.
"Of course you are," he said, amused. "Now close your eyes and get some sleep. You've had too many nights of nightmares, haven't you?"
He shifted a little to get more comfortable against him and looked up, eyes bright.
"I love you so much, Murasame."
"Yeah, yeah. Me too, sweetheart," he said, mocking. "Now close your eyes and sleep, before your idiocy makes me lose my patience."
Aether nodded with a small laugh and let himself be wrapped in Wanderer's arms as he gave in to exhaustion.
"Get some rest, idiot."
Because he really needed it.
If this time you need the certainty,
I'll give it to you. Just…
Don't look away again,
it really doesn't suit you.
I'll still be here, taking care of you,
so…
Trust me a little more.