Unlike his own, Chongyun's room was quaint and cozy. His bed huddled in the corner to accommodate the ice box, which sat dutifully beside it like a makeshift nightstand. In the past when he suffered from yang induced fevers, Chongyun could simply reach over to cool his forehead. The mist flower-preserved ice packs provided instant relief, and during those times Xingqiu would read aloud to quell the silence. Now, the box really only held back up popsicles; occasionally it held ice cream, but it was familiar.
Xingqiu fixed his eyes on it as he spoke, if only to prevent himself from getting distracted while Chongyun intently listened. He saved this expression for two things: anything to do with exorcism, and any task that required focus.
"I met with Zhongli after you left. We had met once before, but not in any great depth. After he placed his order, I thought for sure he hated me." So far he was doing a great job of summarizing. Xingqiu hit all the major story beats from his idiotic midnight escapade to the climactic fight with his brother. Although Chongyun probably wasn't surprised by the latter.
He excluded the part where he insulted him, and of course this led to the encounter at the Yuehai Pavilion, which he rehearsed but to no avail. He hid his hands in Venti's sleeves, which were not nearly voluminous enough to hide the trembling of his fingers.
"My father was there. I saw him in the common area before, and to be honest I don't even know why I went there. I guess it was exhaustion from the night before? He must have been waiting for me, because he left the moment I saw him." Chongyun folded his arms against the wall,
"You shouldn't have to avoid areas of the house to feel comfortable."
"I know, I just…common sense failed me at that moment."
"I-that wasn't a remark against you, but I interrupted. Please, continue."
"Right," he cleared his drying throat, suddenly aware of the chili's after taste, "When I arrived at the Pavilion, he was waiting with the Millelith. They quickly handcuffed me and took my vision. I don't quite understand the legality of it, Zhongli has evidence while he has none, well…he did forge my signature rather poorly. But that's the extent of it. None of that stopped him. He, um…"
"Take your time." It didn't matter how long they had been friends, he couldn't manage another word. Something about his patience broke him, and something about saying it aloud made it more real. He didn't want to look at him, but he also couldn't hide. After all the worrying he undoubtedly caused, Chongyun deserved the truth, and he wanted to tell him.
The curtain on his facade finally closed. He couldn't fake his emotions any more, even if he desperately wanted to, but he could keep his composure. His voice croaked to his chagrin,
"It's been so long, but he hit me again. Like when we were younger. I don't really know why I care so much…I mean I don't care about anything else he says or does. It doesn't make any sense. I can witness death and nearly die myself; I can meet an actual god. But this is what I can't get over. I was stabbed! A few slaps to the face hurt so much less than that, so why can't I get over it?" He hid his face in his arms, and as he pushed his bangs around his forehead Chongyun didn't say anything.
He took a deep breath, "Xingqiu-"
"Don't worry, Z-zhongli managed to stop him. He caught his wrist, and then- and then we escaped. I went to Mondstadt with Venti…"
"Xingqiu." The sternness of his voice made him look up. "Take a minute." He laughed and took a raggedy, shaking breath that didn't accomplish much. If he could just power through to the end of the story, then he could be finished talking. The tears spilled without his consent, and they were messy like any tipped glass.
"We went to a domain that I guess showed us the past? I think I saw Venti's past, or Barbatos' past. It doesn't matter. Or now that I think about it, he might have seen mine. Ha, that's an awkward conversation waiting to happen." He flinched,
"S-sorry. It's just, you're shivering so I thought you might want this." Chongyun slept without blankets, but at some point he had tried using weighted covers. He held it against his forearm for a moment before he decided to set it down. "Nevermind. Can I-" Before he could finish his question, Xingqiu nodded and his arms were around him. He forced himself to relish it. Hugs didn't come very often, because he couldn't bring himself to ask. This one was free.
He didn't have to overthink it. As Chongyun pulled him closer, he repositioned himself and rested his chin on his shoulder. His entire chest was against him.
"It's over now." Xingqiu couldn't bring himself to do anything but sink into it, even if his skin prickled he wanted to stay there forever.
A knock sounded at his door, and he shuddered. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he froze, suddenly like a pathetic faun.
"Chongyun dear, I know you two had dinner at Xiangling's but your father and I are making lotus flower crisps. Do you boys want any?" The subtle warmth that began blooming beneath his sternum shattered; Chongyun must have felt the way his heart raced and the way his shoulders locked. At least, that was the hope.
"That's alright!"
"Are you sure? Xingqiu you don't have to be so polite, do you want some?"
"He's really invested in his novel right now. Something about dragons…or something." His mother laughed,
"Alright. I'll leave them on the counter then." She padded down the hall mindlessly.
"A'qiu?" His lungs compressed like a broken pair of bellows. He heaved, like someone held him in a chokehold, no matter how many times he reminded himself he wasn't home. His friend released him, "This is just a panic attack. I get them all the time. But you know that," he quickly pulled open the ice box, "hang on." The box clapped shut and he returned with a chilled cloth.
"You can hold onto this if you think it will help." He nodded. His chest burned. For the briefest of seconds his friend ducked out of sight.
When he turned to look his way, there was the familiar sound of flipping pages. A dogeared, familiar cover.
"'Twas on a deserted moonlit night that the hero approached the vile dragon's limpid lair."
Apparently, Venti understood more than he let on. That, or this was a particularly lucky guess. Although it didn't really matter; he knew enough about this place's significance to know it would be a comfort, and in a way he was right.
The decrepit old temple had been replaced with a shimmering new one; the once eroded tiles now gleamed a deep green as they shielded the statue of Pervases. It brought him peace despite his previous encounter with "Starsnatcher." He didn't care to remember the custodian's name, but apparently he was a man of his word. As they crossed the entrance's threshold, the dish of incense ran low and the smell of it pervaded through the sweating walls.
He was so enamored with the improvement that he forgot about Barbatos' presence. The wind sprite stared at him from behind the pile of match sticks, and he pretended like his mind never wandered. Instead he lit the altar. Neither acknowledged the other as he offered his silent prayer, and they exited.
Wherever the yaksha was now, Xiao wasn't about to tarnish his memory with the karma that followed his sticking footsteps.
And in light of that, his steps were growing more strenuous with each pace. As he looked back to Venti he wondered if they hadn't been in there longer. He moved lethargically too, almost pathetically so, and Xiao intended to express sympathy. Really he did, but of course his tone rarely grew softer than a clipped word or two.
"Do you even know who that was?" Venti shook his head in surprise, as if he nearly fell asleep on a wayward breeze. He nodded and gestured to the mask on his hip, and he whistled a few off-key notes. The song written for Pervases, which he had long since forgotten the name of. Apparently he still took his role as the god of music seriously, and he remembered it.
He wasn't quite sure what to say in response.
"Well, there's no use dwelling on it." Rather than return to the inn, he continued walking. An exasperated chirp reminded him he had his polearm in hand again. He dismissed it. He hadn't meant to summon it. "Sorry…um. Here."
Venti looked at him confused.
"I know you prefer to rest in trees. You mentioned Vannessa's tree in Windrise. We…don't really have an equivalent in Liyue. Unless you count the inn. Which is noisy." Understanding dawned on his face, and he seemed to smile. "I'll keep watch."
Now he frowned.
"Do you really think it's a good idea to lay completely vulnerable in an empty field when there are unknown adversaries at large?"
"I wasn't sleeping anyway. I don't need it," he mumbled as he sat against the trunk of the larger than average sandbearer tree, "besides I doubt I could at this point." The leaves rustled overhead, and as he extended his senses to the wider area, he didn't detect anyone. Not even a stray hilichurl.
He felt a tap on his shoulder, as if someone tried to get his attention, but it was just Venti sitting there. He rested his head against his neck and he quickly became still.
For a moment, he felt peace.
