disclaimer: all the characters and most other things belong to Mihoyo, not me :))

There are times when Xiao regrets meeting Venti. Or perhaps, it is not meeting Venti that he regrets, he would never truly regret meeting the person who had brought so much light into his life, pulled him out of the endless pool of darkness and torment he had been drowning in. Who had descended upon his pitiful existence like an angel, with his snow-like wings, his eyes green as the ocean and blue as the skies, and had gladly become his saviour, his salvation.

No, he doesn't regret meeting Venti. Not at all.

What he does regret, however, is making himself known to the Anemo Archon. While he would never forget their initial meeting in Dihua Marsh, Venti hadn't been aware of him then, and he should have left it at that. He should have been satisfied with what he had had, that the archon had saved him, albeit unknowingly. That should have been enough.

He should have hidden his feelings for Venti, buried them deep down in his heart and kept them there forever, where they would never see the light.

Except everything related to Venti yearned for freedom, longed to fly freely through the breeze, and so did Xiao's feelings for Venti. They had sprouted and bloomed, like the cecilia flowers Venti loved so much, flourishing in the dark corner of his darker heart. And when he finally turned to look at them, he had been greeted with a brilliant ray of sunlight and a rain of falling white petals, as pure and clean as fresh snow.

Before, he had always believed that he was immune to the vices of human nature. He is, after all, an adeptus. He is above the grips of greed and lust that humans struggled with - or at least that was what he had once thought. But when it came to Venti, he wanted more.

He wanted more than just a distant glance, a wisp of his music, the comfort that he is well and happy. He wanted to be known to him, to touch him and be touched, to be truly blessed by the angel himself. And he had succumbed to his greed.

It was this feeling of insatisfaction that had driven him to the bard, that had made them friends and eventually forced the confession out of his mouth.

"You're a rock," Venti would sometimes complain. "I thought I would have to wait forever for you to confess your feelings," he had said one night, as they sat on the hands of his statue in Mondstadt, glancing up at the night sky, his eyes reflecting the light of a thousand stars.

"I'm not," Xiao had muttered, turning his face away, glad that it was dark and Venti couldn't see the tinge of pink that painted his ears. Venti turned his head to face him, his braid sliding off his shoulder and landing on his cape. Xiao's fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to touch it, to twirl the soft strands in his hand and run his fingers through it.

"No, you're not," Venti teased, a smile playing on his lips, "You're an apple, hard on the outside but soft and sweet on the inside." Xiao's ears turned, if possible, even redder, and Venti laughed, his voice ringing through the silent night air like a series of musical notes, brilliant as bells and just as pleasing to the ear.

In times like these, Xiao would be glad of his decisions, that he had made his feelings heard, so that this was all possible. But such moments never lasted long.

After they confirmed their relationship, Venti no longer went on long trips around Teyvat, not when Xiao still needed to carry out his duties. Instead, most of the time, he stayed with Xiao in Wangshu Inn, playing the lyre or the flute for him whenever he came back after a long night, until he drifted off to sleep. Xiao enjoyed his company, he really did, but at the same time, it filled him with guilt. It was because of him that the freest breeze of wind no longer blew freely over the lands and hills, carrying with it the stories of Teyvat. It was because of him that the freest bird no longer flew freely through the skies and over the seas, but rather willingly caged itself in this small cage and handed the key to Xiao.

More than once, Xiao had attempted to free this particularly stubborn bird. "You don't have to stay here with me," he had said one afternoon, uncomfortably, "You can go and travel, and come back whenever you miss home."

But Venti had shaken his head, claiming that he wanted to stay here, with Xiao, and that it was of his own free will.

That should have been ample reassurance for Xiao. Except the more he thought about it, the more he felt that Venti should be doing more than playing for the customers at Wangshu Inn for a glass of wine, that he should not be waiting for him at the Inn at nights, or coming along with him, should not be staying within a single area for so long. He should be travelling, going wherever he pleases, like the lightest dandelion seed in the wind, visiting every corner of Teyvat, trying every kind of wine in existence, even the specialty of Snezhnaya - Fire-water.

He had consulted others about this issue, Zhongli had been of no help - after all, Venti did often say he was an even larger and harder rock than Xiao - and Madame Ping had simply bonked Xiao on the head and called him a larger rock than the Geo Archon himself.

He wants to be with Venti, that is true, but more than anything, he wants Venti to be happy. And so, when he went up to Venti and suggested that they end their relationship, that it was just not working out, he had forced himself to ignore the distress he saw in the bard's eyes, forced the tears back into his eyes and the sob back into his throat, forced himself to finish the sentence before escaping from the Inn.

He hasn't seen Venti since.

Neither has he gone back to Wangshu Inn. For the past three days, he has simply been wandering aimlessly around Dihua Marsh, thinking about what was and what could have been. He wonders where Venti went, whether he went back to Mondstadt, or if he is still in Wangshu Inn, waiting for him to return, as he does nearly every night. He wonders if Venti would still remember the precious times they had together, thousands of years later, or if he would be forgotten, if this relationship they had would simply be an insignificant mark on their infinite lifespans. They were both, to an extent, immortal. What was a few years, compared to thousands and thousands of years?

Perhaps this is better for both of them, he thinks, as he lies down in a field of reeds and glances up at the sky, at the stars that shine as brilliantly as they had the night they spent on the statue. He is tainted, unclean, corrupted, he should not drag one pure and unstained as Venti down with him. No, his angel belongs in the sky, wings spread behind him, riding the winds with all the freedom in the world.

He has always longed for the day to come, where he will wear the mask and dance - not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amidst a sea of flowers, but he supposes that will forever remain a dream, distant and unattainable.

"Sweet dreams," he whispers, the way he always does, before he sleeps, but this time, there is no one around to hear.

He closes his eyes, and, for the first time in years, drifts off without a soothing tune playing by his ears, gentle as a lullaby.

Stop here if you prefer sad endings :)

Continue on to part two if you would like a happy ending :DD