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Chapter Text

Grey, frozen landscapes flew past the taxi window and Xiao’s breath left a white cloud of condensation on the cold glass. His ears hurt from the loud music blaring through his headphones, the singer screaming at the top of his lungs about some girl who left him. It was a stupid song in subject matter, the music and mix were nice though, and it was a better alternative to listening to another type of screaming which was his younger sister oohing and ahhing over the new sights of Inazuma. In the passenger seat next to the taxi driver sat their father, contemplating something.

The first droplets of rain dribbled onto the taxi window and Xiao sighed, dejected.

Inazuma was supposed to be a new start for them. His father’s company - casket, coffin and urn manufacturing - had recently branched out into this new frontier and following their mother’s death, he had decided to follow suit. Yet Xiao felt none of the enthusiasm his sister and father harbored.

The neon-lit skyline of Inazuma City hid behind the drizzle, its massive body spread out over the wide horizon. Already, Inazuma City was different from Liyue Harbor, a lot bigger and more spread out. It, too, was located near the sea as Xiao knew from geography class but it wasn’t too focused on sea trade like the capital of his homeland which was the closest thing to a big city he had seen.

At least their new house was a relief, located in a quieter, suburb-like part of the city. It wasn’t quite like the quiet town they lived in before but at least it wasn't a cramped urban apartment like he had feared.

His whole life Xiao had lived in a small town where he went to school with all the other kids, his father would go to Liyue Harbor for work in the morning and return in the evening.

The taxi pulled up to their new home, a modest yet cozy house with a small garden in the front. Xiao's sister bounced out of the car, her excitement palpable as she raced towards the front door, already planning where to put her stuff and which room would be hers.

Xiao followed more slowly, his steps heavy with reluctance. As he stepped into the house, the familiar scent of fresh paint mingled with the musty odor of still-packed boxes. It was a stark reminder of the life they were leaving behind and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

🍃

When Xiao left Liyue it was the middle of the school year. Inazuma was just about to start theirs.

He had never been a bad student, he was diligent if a bit quiet. Some would even call him borderline antisocial.

When he started his new school everyone was new, too, finally getting to attend high school, eagerly making friends with each other. If Xiao hadn’t been an antisocial person before, the language barrier would’ve made it a reality. It wasn’t that Xiao didn’t speak Inazuman at all, he had learned the basics as an elective in school but being confronted by actual native speakers was a different thing compared to “Inazuman for dummies”. He often resorted to just using Common Teyvatian instead.

Xiao found solace in the familiarity of his textbooks, burying himself in his studies to escape the awkwardness of social interactions. The teachers were understanding, but the students' curious glances and attempts at conversation only served to deepen his sense of isolation.

During lunch breaks, while his classmates chattered away in groups, Xiao found refuge in the school library. Surrounded by rows of books in languages he could understand, he lost himself in tales of distant lands and forgotten heroes, finding companionship in the characters within the pages.

As days turned into weeks, Xiao's isolation became his norm. He resigned himself to the role of the quiet observer, content to watch the world unfold around him from the sidelines.

Even on his way home after school, he tailed after his sister and her new friends from junior high.

🍃

“Sho, is it?” the teacher approached him. She was a petite, middle-aged woman with dark hair and kind eyes. Xiao shook his head, bristling at her pronunciation. “It’s Xiao,” he corrected, not willing to be called the Inazuman reading of his name. The teacher's eyes flickered with brief surprise before softening again. "Xiao, of course. My apologies." Her tone was gentle, as though she understood the significance of names, the weight they carried, especially when you were far from home. Xiao nodded, his face warming with embarrassment despite himself.

"You're settling in alright?" she asked, clasping her hands in front of her, her voice lowering so only he could hear.

Xiao shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to respond. Was he settling in? He supposed he was, at least physically. His body was here, in Inazuma, in this new school with its buzzing halls and unfamiliar faces.

The teacher waited for a moment before she realized there would be no answer. “Well, I figured I might forward this to you,” she said warmly, handing him a flimsy flyer, “It has helped quite a few new students before you. I also think it’s a neat thing.”

Xiao’s amber eyes flitted down to the paper, reading the words on it. “Foragnier Support Gruop”

He frowned at the clumsy attempt at Common. ”Well, their spelling isn't perfect,” the teacher said softly, “But the group itself is helpful. They meet every Wednesday after school in 3-B.” 

The teacher looked at him expectantly, so Xiao hesitantly nodded and folded the flyer neatly into his pants pocket. He had no intention of attending, he just wanted the teacher to leave him alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the offer - it was just that the thought of sitting in a room with strangers, trying to piece together another language and forge connections, filled him with more dread than curiosity.

🍃

Wednesday came too quickly for Xiao’s liking. The flyer remained tucked in his pocket, crumpled now from days of absently fingering the edges as he debated whether to go. His logical side told him he didn’t need it. He had his books, his routine, and that was enough. But another part of him, quieter and harder to ignore as the days passed, whispered that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try.

He stared at the clock as the last bell rang. Students spilled out of the classrooms in noisy throngs, their laughter and chatter filling the halls. Xiao lingered in his seat, pretending to check something in his bag as he waited for the corridors and classrooms to clear.

You don’t have to go. Just go home. The thought looped in his head, tempting and persistent. And yet, his feet began moving - slowly, reluctantly - toward room 3-B.

He lingered around the area, watching students of so many heritages walking into the room chatting and laughing around in languages he didn’t understand or in Common.

“Are you here for the club?” a cheery voice in Inazuman spoke up behind him, making Xiao jump and whirl around. A girl with ashy blonde hair looked up at him with a feline-like smile, waiting for an answer.

For a moment Xiao couldn’t get a single word out which made the girl’s eyes widen and clear her throat. “Ahem, sorry,” she said, switching to Common (although with a slight Inazuman accent), apparently assuming that Xiao didn’t understand her, “Are you here for the Support Club?”

“I understood you,” Xiao said clumsily, then straightened his shirt, “I- uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Great!” she beamed, “The more the merrier!”

She excitedly grabbed his wrist and pulled him along into the room, not letting Xiao protest at all. “I’m Kirara,” she chirped as she tugged him further into the room, “Don’t be shy, everyone here is new to this, too. I mean, not me, I’m Inazuman but I know that moving to new places is scary. I’m the club president by the way. Did I already mention that?”

“You didn’t,” Xiao mumbled.

“Well, I am!” she chuckled, “Nice to meet you,... ummm…”

“Xiao,” he said slowly, already dreading the mispronunciation.

“Xiao,” she said with a smile, correctly.

He blinked, taken aback by how effortlessly she said his name but before he could even say a word about that she was already pulling him deeper into the club room. Inside, multiple desks had been pushed together to create a smaller group of tables where a few students sat, chatting in various languages and eating snacks they had brought. “Where are you from, Xiao?” Kirara asked as she scanned the room for a seat where he could sit. Xiao awkwardly cleared his throat, “Uh… Liyue.”

“Oh I love Liyue,” Kirara cooed, “I loved living there.”

“You’re from Liyue?” Xiao asked, cocking his eyebrow up, “But-”

“Oh, no no,” she shook her head, “I just lived there for a while. My dad gets transferred places a lot. I came back to Inazuma to finish my education.”

“Ah, I see.”

“But!” she said quickly, sensing the edge of disappointment in Xiao’s tone, “We do have an upperclassman who is Liyuean in the club!”

She stopped looking around for a seat, changing her objective visibly before she gasped and pointed. “There!” she pointed at a tall, brick wall of a guy with box-bleached blonde spiky hair sitting off to the side, listening to something with black headphones, “Jiahao, third-year upperclassman.”

Jiahao…

Xiao followed Kirara’s gaze to the upperclassman, his stomach twisting slightly with apprehension. Jiahao looked nothing like the students Xiao had grown up with in Liyue - his bleached hair was spiked in messy tufts, his uniform shirt was slightly wrinkled, and he wore a chain necklace that glinted under the fluorescent lights. He had an air of nonchalance, one foot propped on the edge of his chair, nodding along to whatever was playing in his headphones.

Kirara, undeterred by his intimidating presence, marched right up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. Jiahao blinked, slow and almost lazy, before pulling down his headphones. "What?" he muttered in Inazuman, his voice deep and raspy.

Kirara beamed, gesturing at Xiao. "New recruit! From Liyue!" she announced proudly, as if she were introducing Xiao to his long-lost family.

Jiahao’s dark eyes flickered to Xiao, scanning him up and down. He didn’t smile, didn’t frown either - just studied him, then let out a breath through his nose. “Huh. What part?”

Kirara walked away with a wide grin.

“Guili,” Xiao said hesitantly, already wishing Kirara was still here, “You?”

Jiahao grinned and Xiao wasn’t sure what part of what he said was amusing. “Inazuma City,” he then snorted. “But… I thought you were-” Xiao asked, confused and embarrassed. “Shhhh,” the taller guy shushed him, looking around to see if they had been heard, “My old man was Liyuean.”

“So you… Have you ever been to Liyue?” Xiao asked hesitantly, trying not to sound too confused or irritated. “Nope, never been,” Jiahao waved him off, switching to Common,“I speak a basic bit of Liyuean though.”

He then gestured to Xiao to sit. Unsure about this whole interaction, Xiao pulled out the chair across Jiahao.

“So then why are you…” Xiao asked with a frown. 

“Here?” Jiahao completed his question, “I need to have taken part in an extracurricular for a year to graduate. So I thought I’d pull the foreigner card ol’ daddio left me with.” This rubbed Xiao somewhat the wrong way. It was so… lazy.

Xiao didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this. He had assumed that the Foreigner Support Group was full of people struggling like him - people looking for a place to belong, people who had to claw their way through each day in a country that felt just a little too unfamiliar. But Jiahao… he didn’t need this. He was using it as a shortcut.

Something about that gnawed at Xiao. He should’ve just gone home like he originally planned.

Jiahao must have noticed the way Xiao tensed because he tilted his head, smirking slightly. “What? You mad?”

Xiao’s jaw tightened. “I just… don’t get why you’re here if you don’t care.”

Jiahao let out a short laugh, drumming his fingers against the desk. “Who said I don’t care? I mean, sure, I don’t need this club, but it’s kinda fun. People bring snacks. I get to mess around without getting in trouble. There's cute foreign girls. It’s chill.”

Jiahao studied Xiao's tense face for a moment, “Oh you’re one of those try-hards, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” Xiao protested.

“So, how good is your Inazuman, Xiao?” Jiahao changed the subject, leaning forward to be on an eye level with the much shorter Xiao.

“I studied it in school,” Xiao provided, “I get by.”

“So what you’re saying is that you don’t know how to talk to the other kids in a way that isn’t Grandpa’s Inazuman.”

“I get by,” Xiao repeated, firmer. And then Jiahao said something in Inazuman that was so fast and so foreign Xiao couldn’t even start deciphering it in his head… Which made Jiahao grin even wider. “Sure, you get by,” the older boy said.

“I’ve only been here for a few weeks,” Xiao protested.

Jiahao nodded with pursed lips before he popped a piece of gum into his mouth. He chewed the gum with a half-open mouth before he looked Xiao over again. He was a lot shorter than Jiahao - maybe about two heads. A lot skinnier too. His eyes focused on his choppy jet-black hair and then the mole on his forehead between his eyebrows before they landed on his amber eyes.

“You’re a first-year, right?” he asked, his tone contemplative.

Xiao hesitated, wary of where this conversation was going. “Yeah,” he admitted, watching Jiahao closely.

The upperclassman hummed, leaning back in his chair as he continued to chew his gum. “Man… first-year. Must be rough,” he said, almost mockingly, but there was something else beneath his words - something Xiao couldn’t quite place.

Xiao frowned. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah?” Jiahao arched a brow, “Then why are you here?”

Xiao bristled. He didn’t have an answer. Or rather, he had too many. Because his teacher gave him the flyer. Because his little sister had already adjusted, but he hadn’t. Because he was sick of feeling like an outsider in every conversation. Because he was kind of tired of eating lunch alone.

But he wasn’t about to admit any of that to Jiahao.

Instead, he said, “Why do you care?”

Jiahao grinned at that, sharp and amused. “I don’t,” he said easily. “Just curious. You look like you hate it here.”

Xiao clenched his jaw. “I don’t hate it.”

Jiahao held his gaze for a moment before he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Liar.”

Xiao scowled. He was beginning to regret sitting down.

Jiahao, however, seemed entertained. He stretched his arms behind his head and propped his feet up on the desk, completely at ease. “Tell you what, kid,” he said, “I’ll help you out.”

“Help me with what?”

“Inazuman,” Jiahao said simply “You’re probably not bad at grammar and vocab, but you talk like a textbook, don’t you? Bet you struggle to keep up when people talk fast.”

Xiao stiffened. He hated how right Jiahao was.

Jiahao smirked at his silence. “Thought so,” he said “I’ll teach you how people actually talk here. You know - slang, shortcuts, the stuff you won’t learn in class.”

Xiao eyed him skeptically. “And what do you get out of it?”

Jiahao shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe it’ll be funny watching you. Maybe I’m just really, really bored.”

Xiao didn’t trust him. But he couldn’t deny that Jiahao had something he needed - fluency, familiarity, an effortless way of fitting in that Xiao lacked.

“…Fine,” Xiao muttered, crossing his arms.

Jiahao smirked at that and popped his gum.

🍃

So Xiao didn’t actually know when or how Jiahao planned to tutor him in Inazuman. Gods knew he had never even given his number to him or tried to negotiate a time slot for it. He just left Xiao hanging and anxious about seeing the upperclassman again.

Well, he did see him again. Like, a lot, actually. Jiahao was always hanging out at the school gates with a group of guys who were all breaking the dress code in multiple ways; from dyed hair to piercings to straight up not even wearing the uniform. Whenever Xiao saw him he was smoking or kicking around trash.

It wasn’t like Xiao was stalking his senior - at least not on purpose - but he couldn’t help it when his eyes drifted to the group of rowdy boys as he walked in or out of the building.

One afternoon, as Xiao was heading out of the school gates, he caught sight of Jiahao again. This time, the upperclassman was lounging against the fence, arms crossed, a lollipop stick dangling from his lips instead of a cigarette. His usual group was there, laughing loudly over some joke, but when Jiahao spotted Xiao passing by, he straightened slightly.

"Yo, Guili-Kid," Jiahao called out, making Xiao halt mid-step.

Xiao exhaled slowly before turning his head. He could already hear his father’s voice scolding him for associating with delinquents. He should just keep walking. Pretend he didn’t hear. But Jiahao was watching him expectantly, his smirk lazy but his eyes sharp, like he was testing something.

Xiao hesitated, then stepped toward the fence. "What?"

Jiahao grinned. "Damn, took you long enough." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of crumpled paper, shoving it into Xiao’s hand.

Xiao frowned as he unfolded it. It was a list - no, a vocabulary sheet.

Slang 101, for the foreign baby bird was scrawled at the top in messy handwriting. Below it, a list of Inazuman words and phrases with their Common Teyvatian equivalents, along with pronunciation notes written in the margins.

Xiao stared at it. "You wrote this?"

"Nah," Jiahao said, waving a hand. "Made my buddy do it. My handwriting sucks."

Xiao’s grip on the paper tightened. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or… touched? This was the first time since moving to Inazuma that someone had gone out of their way to help him without him having to ask.

“Thank you,” he decided to say, his voice quiet, and bowed his head politely.

“Yeah, whatever. Study it or something,” Jiahao waved him off before he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one between his lips, “I’ll find you one of these days and you better talk more casually by then.”

Before Xiao could even say anything back Jiahao had already turned on his heel with a click of his lighter and walked back to his posse, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke.

🍃

That night, Xiao sat at his desk, the crumpled slang sheet laid out before him. He traced his fingers over the messy handwriting, his brow furrowed in concentration. The phrases felt foreign on his tongue - rough, unpolished, completely unlike the proper, structured Inazuman he had studied back in Liyue.

Why am I even doing this? he thought, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his temples. Jiahao hadn’t exactly given him a choice. I’ll find you one of these days, he had said. The thought made Xiao bristle. He didn’t like being told what to do, much less by someone who barely seemed to care.

And yet, here he was, flipping through the list, mouthing out each word under his breath.

Xiao wasn’t sure if he wanted to impress Jiahao or prove him wrong.

🍃

The next week, Xiao didn’t seek Jiahao out, but it didn’t matter - Jiahao found him first.

For once Xiao had decided that the weather was nice and that he wanted to enjoy the sun during lunch. So there he sat all alone, pushing around his rice in his lunch box when suddenly a big shadow loomed over him.

Xiao looked up, a little startled, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Jiahao stood there, towering over him with that lazy grin on his face. His usual group of misfits was nowhere in sight, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two in the bustling courtyard.

“Don’t look so shocked, Baby Bird,” Jiahao snorted, “I did say I’d find you.”

Xiao swallowed, his mouth dry despite the rice in his mouth. "I didn't think you actually meant it," he muttered, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Jiahao’s grin only widened. “What, you thought I was just fucking with you?” he asked in words that Xiao now magically seemed to understand, “Hell no, you’re my project.” Xiao grimaced at the word, his discomfort evident. He wasn’t anyone’s project, and yet here he was, caught in the web of this disinterested, smug senior. He tried to ignore the slight rise in his heartbeat, the strange mix of annoyance and curiosity that swirled in his gut.

"I never asked to be your project," Xiao muttered, trying to sound firm, though his words felt like the rising heat of embarrassment was swallowing them up.

Jiahao leaned down, resting his arm on the edge of Xiao’s table, blocking his view of the courtyard. "Yeah, well, too bad. So tell me a story from home. In Inazuman.”

🍃

Something was wrong with Xiao, he was sure of it.

Jiahao was meeting him in the courtyard fairly regularly now and Xiao was starting to look forward- no, anticipating it. 

Jiahao would come find him in the quiet corner he was sitting in at the time, and he would practice conversation with Xiao in exchange for stories from Guili and Liyue Harbor. It was a strange arrangement that sometimes felt more like a facade than something they were actually invested in. It wasn’t just the annoying part of him - the teasing, the cocky attitude - that kept Xiao coming back. There was something else. Maybe it was how Jiahao could switch from lazy indifference to a strange kind of sharp focus when they spoke, the way he seemed to intently listen to Xiao recount his experiences and stories he heard from his cousins back home. It felt like Jiahao genuinely wanted to know about his father’s home nation.

Xiao couldn’t quite place the feeling. It wasn’t just the language practice, or Jiahao’s strange ability to make everything feel like a joke while still somehow being present in the conversation. No, it was more than that. He began to notice that Jiahao wasn’t just a lazy, indifferent senior who found him amusing. There was something softer there, something fleeting in the moments between the teasing.

And maybe that’s what bothered Xiao the most. He had grown used to being the observer, the one who stayed distant and aloof, and Jiahao, with his unpredictable presence, had forced him into something… closer. For a fleeting moment, Xiao even found himself enjoying their exchanges, laughing at something stupid Jiahao said or being annoyed in a way that didn’t feel like total annoyance, but more like a challenge. It was a routine that felt safe.

Until Jiahao suggested something that shook this balance up.

Technically, he didn’t suggest it - Jiahao didn’t suggest things. He made up his mind alone and Xiao either followed along or shied away.

“My buddy told me they put a new game in the konbini,” Jiahao suddenly said, making Xiao look up from his baozi. “The… Konbini?” he asks with a slight frown.

Jiahao sat up straighter, a smirk spreading on his lip, “What, have you never heard of the konbini? The konbini down the street, just perfectly located between the high school, junior high, and the girl’s school? The one that has arcade machines?”

Xiao paused mid-bite, his chopsticks hovering in the air. He wasn’t sure why, but the mention of arcade machines made a strange knot form in his stomach. A konbini, sure, he knew what that was - a convenience store. But the idea of an arcade tucked into the corner of one was… well, new. 

"Arcade?" Xiao repeated slowly, setting his baozi down. "You’re serious?"

Jiahao raised an eyebrow, as if he’d just caught a glimpse of something rare. “Yeah, well, it’s like, one machine. They switch it out now and then. Come on, Baby Bird, you need to loosen up. We should totally hit up the konbini after school.”

Xiao found his gaze lingering on the way Jiahao casually spoke, his laid-back demeanor at odds with the suggestion’s routine disrupting nature. He wanted to decline - his usual instinct was to avoid the crowd, to stay in the quiet spaces where he felt more in control. But for some reason, something about Jiahao’s half-formed challenge made him hesitate.

“No,” Xiao muttered, shaking his head, "I’m walking my sister home after school.”

Jiahao’s eyes had a weird glint, “We’ll take her with us.”

Xiao’s innards recoiled and he wasn’t sure why but… “Definitely not. Tao is not coming.”

“Fine, she’s not. But you are,” Jiahao groaned and Xiao felt like no really wasn’t an answer the older boy would accept.

🍃

Tao’s brunette pigtails swayed with her step as she approached the high school’s gate, her face in a happy smile. To Xiao, her pace still wasn’t fast enough. Every second longer that he idled at the gates was a second Jiahao could finish hanging with his friends and ambush Xiao, dragging him off. Sure, he could’ve just walked toward Tao himself and cut the time home down by that many moments but he didn’t want to unnerve his younger sister or worry her. So he stayed, stood by the gates, watching his sister’s figure get closer, tapping his foot impatiently. His eyes kept flickering to the side, scanning the courtyard for any sign of Jiahao. He knew the older boy’s tendency to appear out of nowhere, as if he had a sixth sense for Xiao’s exact location.

As Tao reached his side, she beamed up at him, oblivious to his sudden tension. “Hey, Xiao! What’s up? You look… intense.”

“I’m fine,” Xiao muttered, brushing a hand through his hair. “Just, uh… ready to go.”

“So this is Tao then?” Jiahao’s voice suddenly appeared next to Xiao, making him jump. He had been too slow.

Tao looked up, her rich reddish brown eyes focusing on the tall guy, “Yeah? And you are?” Her tone was light and friendly, if a bit wary.

“Big brother’s friend,” Jiahao said with a smirk and Tao’s eyes flicked over to Xiao.

Xiao’s heart thudded in his chest, his hand twitching at his side, wanting nothing more than to shove Jiahao away. But he didn’t. Instead, he forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and glanced at Tao, who was now studying Jiahao with something between curiosity and wariness.

“Yeah, uh, Jiahao,” Xiao said, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears. “He’s the one I was telling you about. The one I... uh, practice Inazuman with.”

Tao raised an eyebrow, her playful grin softening into a knowing smile. “The one you complain about all the time?”

Xiao felt his face heat up, and he quickly glanced away, hoping that his sister’s sharp perception wouldn’t dig any deeper. Jiahao, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He gave Tao a wink, the smirk still playing on his lips.

“Well, big brother and I are going to the konbini together to try out the new arcade machine,” Jiahao said, “Do you want to come with, Tao?”

Tao looked at Jiahao for a moment, her smile widening as she gave Xiao a sly glance. Xiao felt the heat creeping up his neck as he shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know…” Tao began, her voice playful as she toyed with the idea. "Doesn’t sound like your thing, Xiao." She looked at him, her head tilted slightly as if waiting for him to protest.

And protest he did. “No, Tao is going home,” he said firmly, something uncomfortable coiling in his stomach. Something about the way Jiahao was talking to Tao was strange and all Xiao wanted for some reason was to shut this down and remove his sister from this situation.

Jiahao let out a dramatic sigh, dragging a hand through his already-messy hair, "Damn, Baby Bird, you really are no fun." His tone was light, teasing, but Xiao didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered, analyzing the situation in that sharp, unreadable way he sometimes did.

Tao, on the other hand, seemed completely amused. “Xiao-ge’s really protective,” she said in a sing-song voice, nudging Xiao’s arm, “You should be flattered, Jiahao.”

Xiao shot her a warning look, but it was useless. His little sister thrived off pushing his buttons, and now, with Jiahao in the mix, it was two against one. “Tao,” he warned her, “Go home. Dad’s waiting.”

“What? So you’re going?” Tao asked, eyebrows pulled up in surprise. Xiao opened his mouth, then closed it. He hated how trapped he felt, like he’d walked straight into a snare without realizing it. Jiahao was watching him with that infuriating smirk, and Tao was staring expectantly, as if she’d caught onto something even Xiao himself didn’t quite understand.

“I-” Xiao started, but Jiahao clapped a hand on his shoulder, cutting him off.

“Of course he’s going,” Jiahao said smoothly. “He owes me for all those Inazuman lessons, don’t you, Baby Bird?”

Xiao stiffened under the weight of Jiahao’s hand. “Yeah.”

🍃

The Konbini was about a block away from the Boba place Xiao had recently taken Tao to. It was small, on the ground floor of a traditional Inazuman town home with an adjacent two apartment complex. The inside was lit with bright fluorescent lights, selling vegetables and fruit along with canned drinks at the front. 

A teenage girl sat at the counter, reading an insanely thick tome, not even looking up as the bell chimed over the door and just hummed a distracted “Welcome”. Xiao nodded in her direction as a polite greeting, taking in the strange liminal atmosphere. There were almost no people in the store, despite its popularity among students.

Jiahao grabbed Xiao’s wrist before he could wander off or get too involved in looking around and pulled him down a small aisle towards a low-hanging curtained-off area.

Xiao barely had time to react before he was dragged past the shelves of instant ramen and neatly stacked snack boxes. The thick blue noren, faded with time and probably years of greasy fingers pushing past it, swayed slightly as Jiahao shoved it aside. The moment they stepped through, the air changed. The fluorescent lights from the store barely reached this corner, making the glow from the arcade machine stand out even more, its screen flickering with pixelated movement.

It was a fighting game - one of those old-school ones with dramatic character portraits and a countdown timer at the top. The controls were worn, the edges of the buttons slightly chipped from overuse. Xiao had seen arcades before, of course, but he had never actually played on one. It was an indulgence, something he had never considered spending time or money on.

Jiahao released his grip on Xiao’s wrist, stepping forward with an air of casual confidence. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a few crumpled mora bills, and exchanged them for a handful of coins at the nearby machine. He turned back, tossing one of the coins at Xiao, who caught it instinctively.

“Ever played before?” Jiahao asked, sliding a coin into the slot with a satisfying clink.

Xiao hesitated, turning the coin between his fingers. “No.”

Jiahao gave him a look, somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “Seriously? Not even once?”

Xiao huffed, crossing his arms. “Liyue doesn’t have arcade machines in the corner of every store.”

Jiahao snorted, “Tragic. Well, today’s your lucky day, Baby Bird. I’ll even go easy on you.”

Xiao didn’t like the way he said that. Something about it felt condescending, like he was being talked down to. His grip on the coin tightened as a flicker of something - maybe irritation, maybe determination - rose in his chest.

Jiahao was already selecting his character, his fingers moving over the buttons with practiced ease. Xiao could hear the low hum of the machine, the soft clicking of the joystick. He exhaled slowly, then stepped forward, sliding the coin into the second player slot.

The screen flashed. Player 2, Select Your Fighter.

Xiao didn’t recognize any of the characters, but he picked one at random - some masked warrior with a long spear. It didn’t really matter. He just had to figure out how to play before Jiahao completely wiped the floor with him.

The game started with a dramatic zoom-in on their characters, the background shifting to what looked like a ruined temple. A countdown began. Three… Two… One…

Jiahao moved first.

Xiao barely had time to register what was happening before his character was hit with a flurry of attacks, his health bar dropping rapidly. Jiahao’s fingers moved effortlessly, executing combos that Xiao had no idea how to counter.

“I thought you were going to go easy on me!” Xiao gasped, his voice cracking as he frantically fiddled with the joystick. “Oops, I lied,” was all Jiahao said before Xiao’s character was already down.

“That was so unfair!” Xiao grunted, sounding a bit like a petulant child, “Did you only drag me along to bully me in a stupid video game?”

“Well you gotta learn, dude,” Jiahao shrugged, entering JIA into the leaderboard quickly before he was already pushing the next coin into the slot, “And you gotta learn quick.”

Xiao huffed, anger boiling in his veins. He wasn’t a sore loser - he could take it on the chin easily - but this was infuriating. His senior was wiping the floor with him and even if it was only in a video game he wasn’t just going to let him do it over and over. Jiahao, with all his infuriating smugness, was right; he needed to be quicker on his feet.

Xiao slammed his coin into the machine, picking the masked warrior again and Three… Two… One…

This time Xiao managed to move first, going on the offensive, attacking head on. His warrior dashed forward, thrusting his spear forward and if the machine had audio Xiao would probably hear something like HIYA or a cool grunt. Yet the attack never actually managed to give Jiahao’s character - some trenchcoat-wearing blue-tentacled abomination - an inch of damage. Not even a paper cut. The thing countered Xiao’s spear in the blink of an eye, momentarily staggering the masked warrior which was enough of an opening for Jiahao. Xiao couldn’t even properly comprehend what happened before- K.O.!

Xiao stared at the screen, dumbfounded. His character had barely lasted a few seconds before being knocked out again. 

Jiahao’s annoying cackle broke the silent hum in the konbini. The older boy held his stomach as he laughed at Xiao.

This was humiliating.

“Again!” Xiao grunted, feeling his face go numb and hot, “You’re an asshole! Again!’

Three… Two… One.. FIGHT!... K.O.!

“Again!”

Three… Two… One… FIGHT!

Xiao gritted his teeth, his fingers stiff on the joystick. The arcade machine hummed as he threw his character into the fray again, more determined this time. He couldn’t let Jiahao win, not this easily. He refused to be made a fool of - especially by someone who had that smug grin plastered on his face.

The round started, and Xiao’s character, the masked warrior, lunged forward with a flurry of spear strikes. This time, Xiao was faster, more calculated. He aimed his attacks carefully, keeping his eyes on Jiahao’s character, waiting for any sign of weakness.

But Jiahao wasn’t fooled. His ridiculously-overpowered character dodged Xiao’s blows effortlessly. It was like trying to strike at smoke. The game almost felt unfair, like the odds were stacked against him from the start. But Xiao refused to give up. His grip tightened around the joystick as he pressed forward.

Just as Xiao thought he might have the upper hand, Jiahao’s character retaliated with a brutal counterattack. His warrior was thrown back, the health bar slamming down as Jiahao executed a combo that Xiao couldn’t even begin to follow.

The screen flashed: K.O.

Xiao’s fingers twitched, his chest heaving with frustration. He slammed his hand down on the machine’s frame, barely resisting the urge to yell. “This is bullshit!” he muttered under his breath. He was losing so badly, and Jiahao was just standing there, grinning like a cat that caught the canary. Jiahao was clearly enjoying the spectacle. He stretched, arms behind his head, leaning back casually, “You should probably stick with the gachapon, Birdie.”

The tall guy sauntered over lazily to the bright capsule machine, pushing his last coin in and cranked, making the machine spit out a bright teal capsule. Jiahao whistled impressed as he opened the ball and pulled out the tiny, fluffy ducky plush, looking over at Xiao with an exaggerated appreciative expression.

“Not funny,” Xiao muttered, his jaw clenched. His fingers were still twitching, aching to take his frustrations out on something. It wasn’t just the game - it was everything. Jiahao had somehow managed to worm his way into his life, and Xiao wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It was like a constant itch he couldn’t scratch, a nagging presence that threw him off balance every time he thought he had it all figured out.

“Oh, it’s funny,” Jiahao said, tossing the ducky into the air and catching it without even looking.

“Be honest,” Xiao pressed out, “Did you only take me here to make fun of me? Is this like… An attempt at bullying me?”

“Maybe a bit,” Jiahao snorted, taking a step closer and pressing the plush duck into Xiao’s trembling hand.

The bleach-blonde towered over Xiao, forcing him to look up humiliatingly.

Xiao’s hand clenched around the plush ducky, his face flushed with a mix of frustration and confusion. His heartbeat quickened, and for a moment, he almost wished Jiahao hadn’t been so insufferably calm about everything. It was like nothing mattered to him, as if Xiao’s frustration and discomfort were just another game to play.

But then Jiahao leaned in, crowding Xiao against the console. “It’s just a game, lighten up,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking down, “Arcade games are meant to be fun.”

Xiao’s breath caught in his throat, and he tried to force his thoughts into some semblance of order. He hadn’t expected this, not in the slightest. It was just a game, after all, just a stupid arcade machine in a quiet corner of a konbini. But the way Jiahao was looking at him, the way his presence seemed to fill up the small space between them, made Xiao’s mind race.

The plush ducky in his hand felt strangely heavy, its soft form at odds with the tense atmosphere now hanging between them. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to make sense of what was happening. This - this moment - didn’t make sense. He didn’t understand Jiahao, didn’t understand why this was so… different from all the other interactions they had.

Jiahao’s grin softened just a little, and he stepped back, giving Xiao a bit more space.

Chapter Text

Xiao just couldn't free his mind from Jiahao anymore. Every waking moment, at home or at school, he was thinking about his senior. He couldn't stop staring at him at the school gates where he smoked, he couldn't stop himself from going right to him at the support group and he couldn't stop thinking about how close Jiahao had gotten to him at the arcade machine - about the warmth radiating off his body. 

He was so confused. What was this? Why was this happening?

At first he had been so annoyed that Jiahao wouldn't just leave him alone already, always approaching him, teasing him. But now he couldn't even be rid of him in his own thoughts.

Xiao pressed his face into his pillow, letting out a frustrated yowl before he turned his head to look at the framed photo on the wall next to his bed.

“Ughhh… Mama, what is this?” he groaned, looking at the picture of his mother as if it could answer.

The photo, of course, didn’t answer. His mother’s gentle smile remained frozen in time, untouched by the mess of emotions currently twisting in Xiao’s chest. He groaned again, rolling onto his back, pressing his hands over his face as if he could physically shove the thoughts away.

This was ridiculous. This wasn’t normal.

Jiahao was annoying. He was loud and cocky and pushed his way into Xiao’s space like he belonged there. He called him stupid nicknames, laughed at him, made him feel small and - Oh, gods. Did he like Jiahao? 

…

….

….. Did that mean he was gay?

Xiao sat up abruptly, his heart suddenly racing.

No. No, no, no. That couldn’t be it. That wasn’t it.

He was just… frustrated. That was all. Jiahao was annoying, and when people were annoying, they got stuck in your head. It was natural. Logical.

Xiao took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. His room was quiet except for the faint sounds of the city outside, the occasional car passing, the hum of cicadas in the distance. He tried to let it ground him.

He wasn’t gay.

He just needed to stop thinking about Jiahao so much. Stop letting him take up space in his brain. Maybe if he avoided him for a few days, things would settle down.

Yes. That was a plan.

Tomorrow, he’d take the long way to class. He wouldn’t eat in the courtyard. He’d ignore Jiahao at the support group, and if the older boy tried to start something, Xiao would shut it down.

He just needed space.

🍃

Xiao found himself standing just a few paces away from Jiahao's group at the gate. He had failed his mission and couldn't help but go and see him as he tried to exit and go home after school.

His hands were balled into fists and gripping the edges off his blazer - he must’ve looked ridiculous. 

One of the guys in Jiahao's group noticed him and nudged Jiahao with a smirk, making Jiahao look over at Xiao as he exhaled his lungful of smoke. 

Xiao gulped, his heart racing. And then his heart decided he needed to have a heart attack right there when Jiahao let the cigarette bud fall to the ground, stepping on it as he sauntered over.

“Yo,” Jiahao said, remnants of smoke cascading from his nostrils.

Xiao felt frozen in place, his mind screaming at him to move, to look away, to do something - but all he could do was stare as Jiahao came closer, that lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Jiahao mused, tilting his head. His voice was smooth, almost teasing, and it sent an annoying shiver down Xiao’s spine. “You following me now, little guy?”

Xiao’s fingers twitched where they gripped his blazer. “Shut up,” he muttered, trying to sound annoyed. Trying to sound normal.

Jiahao only chuckled, stepping even closer. The scent of cigarette smoke clung to him, mingling with something else - something Xiao could place.

Xiao hated that he noticed that.

“Seriously, what’s up? You look like you’re about to pass out,” Jiahao said, peering at him with those sharp eyes, too perceptive for Xiao’s liking.

“I was just - ” Xiao started, but his mouth went dry. What? What was he supposed to say? That he had tried to avoid Jiahao all day only to end up right in front of him like an idiot? That he couldn’t stop thinking about him, no matter how much he wanted to?

Jiahao raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“…Nothing,” Xiao muttered, looking away.

Jiahao let out a low hum, amused. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He stepped even closer, forcing Xiao to look back at him. “You know, if you wanna hang out, you can just say so.”

Xiao's face felt like it was on fire and he bit his tongue, refusing to talk.

The older boy sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fuck it,” he said and then gestured for Xiao to follow.

Like a dumb sheep following its shepherd, Xiao followed Jiahao until they arrived at a beat down car parked at the curb the street down.

He reached through the gap of the rolled down window, pulling up the peg of the lock before he opened the passenger door. “Get in,” Jiahao said, holding the door open.

This was a bad idea. Years of stranger danger were screaming in Xiao's overflowing head.

But Jiahao wasn’t a stranger. That was the problem.

Xiao hesitated, staring at the car’s interior. It smelled faintly of smoke and something artificial - probably one of those cheap air fresheners trying to mask it. There were old wrappers in the cup holder, a few empty cans on the floor. It wasn’t exactly inviting, but Jiahao stood there expectantly, one hand resting on the open door, waiting.

Xiao could still turn around. Walk away. Pretend this never happened.

Instead, he swallowed and got in.

Jiahao shut the door behind him and rounded the front of the car, slipping into the driver’s seat with an easy, practiced motion. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, tapping one against his palm before sticking it between his lips. “Relax, will you?” he said around it, glancing at Xiao as he grabbed his lighter, “You’re wound up like a damn spring.”

Xiao scowled, pressing himself against the seat as Jiahao lit the cigarette and exhaled out the window.

“What are we doing?” Xiao asked, crossing his arms. His heart was still hammering, but he refused to let it show.

Jiahao smirked, “Going for a drive.”

Xiao blinked. “You - do you even have a license?”

Jiahao let out a short laugh, taking another drag. “What do you think?”

Xiao groaned, leaning his head back against the seat. “Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“Nah,” Jiahao said, shifting the gear, “I’m a great driver. Trust me.”

The engine roared to life, and before Xiao could second-guess his choices, the car lurched forward, rolling smoothly onto the road.

Jiahao's Corolla was the shittiest car Xiao had ever had the displeasure of sitting in.

The pleather of the seats was slowly but surely flaking off, the carpets had undoubtedly not been vacuumed since at least a decade and the passenger side window was permanently stuck down with that little gap that Jiahao's had reached through. Plus the radio was stuck on an awful enka station.

The entire car reeked of cold cigarette smoke and Xiao was sure it would cling to his uniform, forcing him to wash them immediately unless he wanted his dad to have an aneurysm.

But despite all of that, there was something strangely comfortable about it. Maybe it was the way Jiahao didn’t seem to care about the state of the car. Or maybe it was the way he didn't seem to care that Xiao was squirming in the passenger seat, visibly uncomfortable, while he drove. He was relaxed, laid-back, like he had all the time in the world, and Xiao couldn't quite figure out why it made his chest tighten.

The suburb slowly turned into a more downtown area as it flew by.

“Where are you even taking me?” Xiao croaked, his eyes pointedly trained at the outside and not the reflection of Jiahao's side profile in the glass. “Karaoke,” Jiahao shrugged, “You like Karaoke, Birdie?”

Xiao scowled at the nickname but was too preoccupied with the absolute absurdity of the situation to argue about it.

“Karaoke?” he repeated, like Jiahao had just told him they were driving straight into the ocean. “No. Why would I like karaoke?”

Jiahao snorted, taking another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke out the half-open window. “Dunno. You just seem like the type.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Jiahao shrugged, flicking ash into the cupholder like it was an ashtray.

“Kids like you love karaoke, don’t lie,” he then groaned, gesturing vaguely.

🍃

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to a seedy-looking karaoke place squeezed between a convenience store and a laundromat. The neon sign, Planet Superstar, flickered ominously, as if one more power surge would send it into an early grave.

Xiao stared at it. “This looks like a front for illegal activity.”

Jiahao shrugged as he stepped out on the pavement.

"Probably is," he said, stretching his arms above his head before slamming the car door shut. "But they don’t check IDs, and they’ve got a decent song list, so who cares?"

Xiao remained frozen in the passenger seat, gripping his knees. He absolutely should not be here. He should be at home, studying, or at least anywhere that didn’t reek of cigarettes and bad decisions. But instead, he was sitting in Jiahao’s busted car outside a karaoke joint that looked like it had seen at least three gang fights in the last month.

Jiahao knocked on the window with his knuckle, making Xiao jump.

Xiao took a deep breath before he stepped out of the car.

The early summer air was thick with humidity, carrying the faint scent of fried food from the convenience store next door. The sun was standing low by now and Xiao hesitated on the curb, shifting uncomfortably as he eyed the flickering neon sign again. This was stupid. What was he even doing here?

Jiahao, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He exhaled the last of his cigarette smoke and flicked the butt onto the pavement, grinding it out with the toe of his sneaker. Then he clapped a hand onto Xiao’s shoulder, startling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Come on, Birdie. You gonna stand there looking like you’re about to piss yourself, or are we going in?” Jiahao’s smirk was sharp, teasing.

Xiao scowled, swatting his hand away. “Stop calling me that.”

“Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that, but I don’t see you not answering to it.” Jiahao shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his head toward the entrance. “Let’s go.”

Xiao exhaled sharply, trying to summon what little dignity he had left, and followed because that was apparently what he did now.
Inside, the air was even thicker - stale cigarette smoke mixed with cheap air freshener and whatever alcohol had been spilled onto the carpet over the years. The place was dimly lit, red and purple neon casting strange shadows across the cracked vinyl booths. A bored-looking guy behind the counter barely spared them a glance as Jiahao slapped some cash down.

“Two hours,” Jiahao said, and the guy grunted before handing over a laminated songbook and a room key.

Xiao blinked. “Wait - two hours? We’re going to be here for two hours?”

“Yeah, that’s like, pretty standard,” Jiahao said as he took the key that the clerk slid to him.

Room 3 was cramped, furnished with furniture that looked like it hadn’t been switched out since the 2000s. The sofas were a faded, light cheetah print, the lights dim with a whirring floor disco light projecting colorful dots onto the ceiling and walls. Jiahao casually stepped up to the karaoke machine, bringing it to life with a few button presses. “You can pick a drink, it’s on me” he said as he kept fiddling with the machine.

Xiao finally stepped into the booth, carefully letting the door click closed behind him. The noise sent a shiver down his spine, accompanied by the feeling that he was essentially trapped here with Jiahao. He padded over the dirty carpet floor to sit on the sofa, a bit grossed out but he picked up the faded, laminated drinks menu.

The drink menu was suspiciously sticky, and Xiao grimaced as he flipped through the options. Everything was overpriced and vaguely sketchy - fruit sodas, mystery-colored slushies, and an extensive selection of canned beers that he was definitely too young to order.

He could feel Jiahao’s gaze on him, expectant.

With a sigh, he muttered, “Peach soda.”

Jiahao snorted. “Figures.”

Xiao bristled, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Jiahao said, waving him off as he pressed the call button for the staff, “Just that it’s cute.”

Xiao nearly threw the sticky menu at his head.

Instead, he crossed his arms and sank deeper into the couch, watching Jiahao select the first song. The machine beeped as he scrolled through the options, one hand lazily spinning the dial. Xiao didn’t know why he was surprised that Jiahao knew his way around an old karaoke machine.

The guy seemed to fit into places like this. Places Xiao had never even considered stepping into, yet he did because he was following Jiahao.

The thought made something twist inside him.

The staff guy showed up a minute later, barely sparing them a glance as he placed the drink on the table before leaving again. Jiahao grabbed his own can of something that definitely wasn’t soda and cracked it open with a low hiss.

“What’s that?” Xiao asked with a frown. 

“Beer, obviously,” Jiahao said, licking off the drop sliding down the side of the can. 

“Aren’t you driving?”

Jiahao shrugged.

“Yeah, absolutely not,” Xiao protested, “I’m not getting in a car with you if you’re drinking.” He didn’t even mention the fact that Jiahao definitely wasn’t of drinking age either because that would’ve just earned him more ridicule.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Jiahao asked, challenging him with his look.

Then his eyes scanned Xiao in a way he normally did when he was about to drag Xiao into something for his own amusement. Xiao gulped.

“I won’t drink alcohol if you switch drinks with me,” he said, a smirk forming on his lips.

Xiao blinked, his heart jumping into his throat. Jiahao was leaning back in his seat, one eyebrow raised in amusement, clearly waiting for him to respond. Xiao’s mind scrambled to make sense of the situation.

"Wait - " Xiao started, unsure if he'd heard correctly. "You want me to trade drinks? You’re serious?"

Jiahao grinned, his teeth flashing in the low light, "Yeah, I’m serious. You said you’re not getting in the car with me if I’m drinking. So I guess you’re stuck here then because I’m not telling you where we are.”

Xiao stared at Jiahao, his thoughts a blur. Was this some kind of weird power play, or was Jiahao just being his usual cocky self?

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He had never expected this kind of situation to unfold, not in a million years. The idea of sitting here with Jiahao, of being stuck in this filthy karaoke booth, suddenly felt like a game he didn’t want to play anymore.

But Jiahao just stared back at him, those dark eyes gleaming with mischief, like he was daring Xiao to take the bait.

It was so stupid. So utterly stupid.

And yet, something about it made Xiao’s pulse race.

“Fine,” Xiao finally muttered, dropping his gaze to the sticky drink menu as he reached for his peach soda. He twisted the cap off and pushed it toward Jiahao, who gave him a satisfied grin. “Atta boy, so brave,” Jiahao chuckled, handing Xiao the can of beer.

Xiao hesitated for a moment, his fingers curling around the cold can of beer, feeling its weight as though it carried all of his indecision and doubt. He didn’t want to drink it, didn’t want to be any more entangled in this ridiculous game, but now that he was holding it, he realized there was no going back. He couldn’t just hand it back. Not with Jiahao watching him like that, with that gleam of amusement in his eyes. Plus… He kind of wanted Jiahao’s approval.

The older boy was the closest thing he had to a friend now and if his friend wanted him to drink the beer and sing karaoke then he might as well do it. He wanted to be cooperative. He wanted Jiahao to be impressed by him. He wanted to feel more in power.

Xiao clenched his eyes shut and took a long swig of the beer. The taste was awful - bitter, sharp, and far too strong for someone who had never had a drink in his life. His throat burned as he tried to swallow, and he grimaced, fighting the urge to cough. Jiahao watched him, laughing under his breath as Xiao tried not to grimace.

“All right,” Jiahao said, stretching his arms before he reached over to start the song he had picked out, “Warm up song.”

He handed Xiao a mic.

Xiao watched as the screen loaded up an old Liyuepop classic, something so cheesy that it made his ears burn just from recognition.

“You’re kidding.”

Jiahao raised his eyebrows expectantly. The music was blaring over the old speakers and Xiao recognized the cue for the vocals, the lyrics appearing in his brain. His mother had loved these old Liyuepop songs, always screaming along with Tao when she was still a lot younger and smaller. He knew the lyrics to this song by heart.

“Well are you gonna sing?” Jiahao asked loudly, trying to out-yell the music, “Sing, Birdie, Sing!”

“Why aren’t you singing?” Xiao asked, his face burning.

“I don’t speak Liyuean,” Jiahao retorted.

Xiao looked at the screen which showed the lyrics in both Liyuean and Inazuman, yet he couldn’t bring it over himself to complain further. He waited a few beats, trying to still his heart before he finally started singing the Liyuean lyrics.

The moment Xiao's voice hesitantly broke in with a crackle of the mic of the karaoke booth, a strange heat rose to his cheeks, his fingers clenching around the microphone like it was the only thing holding him steady. His voice was awkward at first, stumbling over the words, as if he were reading the lyrics for the first time. But then, as the music swelled, something shifted inside him. The familiarity of the song - the words, the melody - began to ease the tightness in his chest, and for the briefest of moments, Xiao forgot about the noise in his head, forgot about the way Jiahao was watching him with that teasing smirk.

Jiahao had leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, watching Xiao with something more akin to interest than mockery. He had a look of genuine amusement, eyes glinting in the dim light.

🍃

Xiao felt woozy, his stomach aching a bit but exuding a warmth. He had never drunk before but he could recognize that this was probably what it felt like to be at least a little tipsy. Obviously, he wasn’t shitfaced just from one can of beer but he was comfortable. Loose.

His throat was a bit hoarse as the song he was singing ended. It was probably the tenth song… or more, he stopped counting. Once his first song had ended Jiahao made him sing a few more of the available Liyuepop songs in their original language and at one point he found himself enjoying it. He was still embarrassed to an extent but it also felt somewhat good. His family hadn’t listened to most of these songs since his mother’s passing and he felt oddly closer to her again. Even with Jiahao and his shit-eating grin across the booth.

After they had exhausted all the songs that were originally Liyuean they went over to more known songs from all over - mostly Fontaine - and even Jiahao found it in himself to join in with Xiao.

Jiahao didn’t have a single musical bone in his body, that much was clear, and he sang like he was reading off the ingredients of shampoo. He wasn’t putting in any effort and he obviously didn’t give a shit about what Xiao thought at all.

But that was the part that kept Xiao coming back. Despite how much Jiahao seemed to mess with him, despite how effortlessly he could make Xiao feel like a fool, there was something disarmingly honest about him. He wasn’t pretending to be something he wasn’t, wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He just was.

Xiao found himself laughing at some point, his lips still tingling from the beer, his body growing looser with every song that played. Jiahao was just as bad at singing as he was - but that made it fun. They were terrible together, but in a way that made everything lighter, like the weight on Xiao’s chest, the confusion, the frustration, was slowly evaporating into the clattering of the karaoke machine and the half-laughs between the two of them.

For once he felt like Jiahao wasn’t laughing at his expense. He clearly wasn’t the type who would normally go out to sing karaoke and Xiao knew he probably only knew his way around the place because it was cheap and he brought girls here.

The strange thing, though, was that despite how awful Jiahao sounded, despite how much Xiao wanted to cover his ears, he couldn’t stop laughing. The sound of Jiahao’s voice - raspy and off-key - was so ridiculously bad that it was somehow endearing. His smile, crooked and unbothered, was contagious, and soon Xiao found himself caught in a fit of giggles, snorting every time Jiahao missed a note. It wasn’t the kind of laughter that came from mocking someone - it was genuine. It felt like they were in their own world, separated from everything outside of this worn-out karaoke booth.

For once, the tension that had been building up in Xiao’s chest, the anxiety about Jiahao and the strange feelings swirling around him, was forgotten in the wake of something simple: laughter. Just laughter, shared between two people who shouldn’t have even been here together.

Xiao sank into the passenger seat of Jiahao’s Corolla, leaning his head against the grimy glass as he listened to the motor come to life. His ears rang a bit from the volume of the music inside. 

The quiet enka music drifted into his sore ears now. It was dark and his heart felt so weird as he grappled with the thought that he might actually be gay for Jiahao.

Xiao shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands curling around the seatbelt like it was some sort of lifeline. The car hummed softly beneath them, the steady rhythm a dull contrast to the mess of thoughts swirling around in his mind. His gaze wandered out the window, watching the blurry street lights flicker past, their yellow glow making everything feel surreal.

He’d never really thought about it before - not like this. Now that he thought about it at all, it made sense to him.

It made somewhat sense that he never noticed it before. He had never had any close male friends, only ever a few. Most of his friends were female back at home - his cousins and their friends - but he never really felt attracted to them. Obviously not his cousins, that would be weird, but not even their friends. Now that he thought about it he wasn’t sure if he’d ever liked anyone before. If he had ever felt attraction.

It was not that far off that he could actually be into guys.

Jiahao was attractive to him, tall and broad with a casual swagger that seemed effortless, like he owned every room he walked into. There was an arrogance to him, something Xiao would never have. It was like confidence was a part of him, something that didn’t need to be flaunted, something that just was.

Xiao rubbed the back of his neck, fighting the rush of warmth that spread through his chest. His fingers grazed the collar of his shirt, wishing for something to do with his hands to distract himself. The night was quiet now, the karaoke booth a distant memory fading with every mile the car put between them and the neon lights.

Did Jiahao know that he felt this way? Was Jiahao gay too? Was that why he paid attention to Xiao this much? Or was he just trying to be Xiao’s friend…

Do gay people know if someone else is also gay?

Xiao’s mind spun with questions, each one spiraling faster than the last. His grip on the seat belt tightened as the car glided through the streets, Jiahao’s casual presence beside him doing little to ease the turbulence in his chest.

He glanced over at Jiahao, his jaw set in that familiar, half-smiling way, one hand casually resting on the wheel. It was like he hadn’t even noticed Xiao’s internal chaos, like nothing was different between them - like they were just two guys driving home after a night out. And maybe that’s what made it worse. The fact that Jiahao wasn’t acting any different made Xiao feel more exposed, more unsure.

Xiao quietly guided Jiahao toward his house, the car stopping a few houses before they were in front of where Xiao lived. With a slight tremble Xiao unbuckled his seat belt, pointedly not looking at Jiahao lest he make anything awkward.

Jiahao’s eyes were trained on the rearview mirror. “Hey,” he spoke up as Xiao opened the car door and Xiao paused mid-step out.

Xiao’s hand hovered over the door handle, his heart rate spiking as Jiahao’s voice cut through the quiet. For a moment, he thought maybe he’d misheard him, or maybe Jiahao was about to say something completely unrelated - something about the night, the karaoke, the beers, anything else but this. But when he looked back at Jiahao, their eyes briefly locked, Xiao could see the quiet sincerity there, as if he’d been waiting for the right moment to speak.

“Yeah?” Xiao answered, his voice betraying him with an edge of hesitation. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the sudden shift in the air. It felt like everything that had been left unsaid was hanging between them now, heavy and waiting to be addressed.

Jiahao didn't immediately answer. Instead, his thumb tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel, eyes still fixed on the mirror but his mind clearly elsewhere. Xiao’s pulse was still loud in his ears, competing with the low hum of the engine. Every passing second felt like it stretched longer than it really was.

“Look at me?” Jiahao asked and Xiao was unsure but he thought he heard a hitch in his voice.

Xiao gulped and sat back inside before he turned towards Jiahao.

His senior’s fingers were white knuckled on the steering wheel for a moment before he himself tore away his eyes from the mirror to look at Xiao’s nervous but expectant face. He breathed in audibly as his hand let go off the wheel to touch Xiao’s chin.

Xiao froze. The touch was soft, almost tentative, like Jiahao wasn’t sure if he had the right to do this. His thumb brushed gently over Xiao’s jaw, and for a split second, Xiao couldn’t breathe. The air between them felt too thick, charged with something that he wasn’t sure how to name.

His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind was a whirlwind of confusion. What did this mean? Was this some kind of joke? Was Jiahao messing with him again?

“I want to kiss you,” Jiahao said quietly, his eyes flicking down to Xiao’s dry lips, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Xiao’s breath hitched, the words crashing over him like a wave he hadn’t seen coming. His chest tightened, the pulse in his neck quickening as he sat there, caught somewhere between frozen and flight. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out - not even a squeak.

Did he want this?

He met Jiahao’s gaze, his throat dry, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. Xiao’s breath caught again, his thoughts scattering like marbles across a floor. His mouth felt dry, his lips tingling as though they were already preparing for something they didn’t know they were ready for.

“I think I want you to kiss me,” Xiao said, almost in a daze, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

And then, without another word, Jiahao leaned in. There was nothing shy about the way Jiahao kissed him, like he had had countless first kisses before - unlike Xiao, whose first was this. Xiao’s first instinct was to stiffen, but then his eyes fluttered shut, and everything else faded into the background: the hum of the car engine, the godawful music from the stuck radio, the flickering street lights outside, even the pounding of his own heart. Jiahao’s hand slid from Xiao’s chin to the side of his face, his fingers curling against his jaw, holding him there like he was afraid he’d pull away.

It was strange, how natural it felt despite how foreign it was. Xiao had never kissed anyone before, never even thought about what it would feel like, but the second Jiahao tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, Xiao realized he didn’t need to think. His body just followed. His hands twitched at his sides before hesitantly reaching out, fingertips brushing against Jiahao’s blazer.

Chapter Text

Xiao hadn’t meant for it to happen again.

But somehow, over the past few weeks, it had.

It wasn’t like he and Jiahao had talked about it - not really. There had been no deep conversations, no whispered confessions in the dark, no grand declarations. That wasn’t Jiahao’s style. Instead, it had been… whatever this was. A string of stolen moments, a pattern forming between them like an unspoken agreement neither of them had bothered to put into words.

Jiahao would text him at odd hours - just graciously before his curfew at least - usually with something infuriatingly vague.

"You up?"
"Got time?"
"Come outside."

And every time, against his better judgment, Xiao went.

He wasn’t even sure why. Or maybe he was, and he just didn’t want to admit it.

It wasn’t like they dated. Jiahao still acted like the same guy in public - loud, cocky, always surrounded by people, always with a girl or two hanging off his arm. If anything, he seemed more obnoxious now, like he was overcompensating for something. Like he was making sure no one got the wrong idea.

Xiao told himself he didn’t care.

But then nights like this would happen.

Jiahao’s car was parked at the curb again, engine running low and steady, headlights cutting through the damp evening air. The text had come twenty minutes ago, and now Xiao stood there, hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, staring at the familiar silhouette of the beat-up Corolla.

He should go back inside. He should.

Instead, he opened the passenger door and slid in.

Jiahao didn’t say anything at first, just glanced over at him with that lazy smirk, like he had been expecting this all along. Like there had never been any doubt that Xiao would come running.

“You look sufficiently pissed off,” Jiahao snorted as he put the car into drive, pulling away from the curb with the same reckless ease he did everything else.

Xiao rolled his eyes, sinking into his seat, arms crossed over his chest, “I have like, thirty minutes before curfew.”

“Well, let’s make it count then,” Jiahao shrugged as he pulled into the parking lot of some business that was undoubtedly closed by now. 

Xiao didn’t say anything, but his chest tightened slightly, like he was already anticipating what was coming next. He’d been here before, too many times now, but somehow, each time felt a little different. A little more charged. More dangerous, in a way he didn’t quite understand.

Jiahao always knew how to push him, just enough to throw him off balance but not enough to make him run. It was an art form, really. Xiao could feel the pull, the tug-of-war inside him between wanting to resist and not wanting to leave. Not when it felt this... comfortable, even though it shouldn’t have.

The car slowed to a stop near the back of the lot, where the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above. It wasn’t a place anyone would expect to find them. Not with the silence of the night settling in around them. But somehow, it felt just right. It felt like the kind of place where things could happen without anyone watching. A perfect hideaway.

Jiahao shifted into park and turned the engine off, leaving the car to settle into the quiet. The faint scent of stale air and burnt rubber lingered in the cramped interior, the silence between them growing heavier with every second that passed. His hand left the gear shift to rest on Xiao’s thigh instead.

“I-” Xiao started, “Jiahao… What is this?”

“What is what?” Jiahao asked, sounding genuinely confused for once.

“This… thing. Between us,” Xiao asked, fighting the urge to shake Jiahao’s hand off.

Jiahao’s hand lingered on Xiao’s thigh for a moment longer than it should have, fingers warm and solid against the cool fabric of Xiao’s jeans. He didn’t move it, didn’t pull away, and for a second, Xiao could feel the heat radiating from it, the pressure that seemed to shift the air around them.

“What is it?” Jiahao repeated, this time quieter, almost teasing, as if Xiao’s question was something that amused him. Or maybe it made him uncomfortable. Xiao couldn’t tell, and that made the whole thing worse.

Xiao swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest. He was confused, irritated, all at once. He’d asked himself the same question a hundred times already - what was this? Whatever they had, whatever he kept coming back to, it was beginning to blur the lines between what was real and what was just... fleeting.

“I don’t know,” Xiao muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands, which had been fidgeting in his lap, tightened into fists, “We keep doing this, and you keep acting like... like nothing's different. But it is different.”

Jiahao’s gaze shifted, the smirk fading slightly as he leaned back in his seat. His hand finally slid off Xiao’s thigh, leaving the space between them colder than it had been. The momentary warmth was gone, and with it, Xiao’s pulse seemed to slow.

“You’re overthinking it.” He said in what almost sounded like a sigh. Xiao watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

Xiao felt a jolt of frustration, “That’s not an answer, Jiahao.”

“What do you want me to say?” Jiahao groaned, closing his eyes.

“Am I anything to you?” Xiao finally asked what has been tormenting him since the evening after karaoke.

Jiahao shifted in his seat, his gaze turning toward the windshield, his fingers tapping absently on the wheel. He didn’t meet Xiao’s eyes, and for a moment, the silence felt like it was swallowing them whole.

Then, with a sigh that seemed too heavy for his usual carefree attitude, Jiahao finally spoke.

“You’re not nothing to me.” His voice was quiet, the edges of it rough, like he wasn’t used to saying things like this. “But I’m not… I’m not good at this shit, dude.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

Xiao felt a flicker of something - hope, maybe, or frustration - but before he could process it, Jiahao continued.

“I don’t do relationships. I don’t do labels. Hell, I don’t even do feelings half the time. You know that.” His voice was rougher now, more self-deprecating. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” He trailed off, like he was searching for the right words but couldn’t find them.

This was probably the most honest and open Jiahao had been with Xiao.

Xiao was still frozen in place, his heart a tangled mess of relief and doubt. Jiahao cared? That was… something. But it wasn’t enough. It never seemed to be enough. He wanted more, wanted something that was more than just these moments, more than just the half-assed answers that left him more confused than ever.

“What do you want from me, then?” Xiao’s voice was quieter now, barely above a whisper, but the question was there, hanging in the air between them, “Because whatever this is by itself… It makes me feel unwanted."

“Would you feel better if I was your boyfriend then?”

Xiao’s breath hitched at the question, the words floating between them like an explosion in slow motion. For a moment, everything seemed to pause, the world outside the car fading away, leaving just the two of them suspended in the quiet tension.

Boyfriend. The word tasted strange on his tongue. He hadn’t even allowed himself to entertain the idea, and yet, now that Jiahao had said it, something inside him stirred, something that felt both terrifying and like an answer to a question he hadn’t even known how to ask.

“No, I - ” Xiao started, his voice faltering, unsure how to handle this. The way Jiahao had phrased it, so casually, made the whole thing feel like a joke. Was this really what Jiahao thought he wanted?

“Well?” Jiahao said, his voice softer now, quieter. The smirk was gone, replaced by something almost… vulnerable. “I’m not asking for that, not really. I’m just saying, maybe it would be easier if I was. If I could just... make this simpler for you.”

Xiao felt his chest tighten again. "You think I want things to be easy? I just want some clarity, Jiahao," he snapped, his frustration finally spilling out, raw and unfiltered, “I feel like you’re messing with me again.”

“If I was messing with you I wouldn’t be suggesting this at all,” Jiahao retorted, “So I am asking you: Would you feel better if I was your boyfriend?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but his throat felt tight, his words tangled in a mess of emotions. What was he supposed to say? Did he want this? Did he want Jiahao to be his boyfriend? The idea was both thrilling and terrifying. The thought of having that kind of certainty, of something real, was appealing, but the truth was that nothing about his relationship with Jiahao felt like it could be pinned down to something so neat and tidy as a label. It wasn’t easy; it never had been.

“I…” Xiao faltered, his fingers curling into his hoodie sleeve, clutching at the fabric like it might anchor him. He wanted to say no, wanted to tell Jiahao that he didn’t need any of this to be simplified. He just wanted the truth, whatever it was.

“Yes,” was what he ultimately said.

🍃

Xiao had a boyfriend now…

…

…

Now what?

That was the question he asked himself, his face stuffed with chao mian, sat on the tiny concrete ledge of the school fence. He was barely half a meter next to Jiahao and his posse.

It had been a week since then, and yet…

Xiao couldn’t help but feel like something was off. The world hadn’t shifted in the way he expected it to. He had a boyfriend now - Jiahao, the person who had been nothing but a frustrating enigma, a puzzle he could never quite solve. But somehow, even now, as he sat next to him, there was still that distance between them, that strange tension that hung in the air like an unspoken rule.

Jiahao was the same as always. Loud. Confident. Surrounded by his usual crew, laughing and joking, effortlessly pulling everyone into his orbit. Xiao now sat with these people because that was expected of him.

But it didn’t feel real. Not in the way Xiao had imagined it would. The title, boyfriend, was supposed to mean something, wasn’t it? He had thought that once they’d labeled whatever this was, things would become clearer. That he would somehow have a map for all these feelings, a guide that told him where he was supposed to go next.

But right now, sitting next to Jiahao, chewing on his chao mian like it was just another regular afternoon, Xiao couldn’t help but wonder if he was still in the dark.

Jiahao, oblivious to Xiao’s internal turmoil, cracked a joke with one of his friends, sending the group into a burst of laughter. His smile was easy, his charm effortless, and Xiao found himself staring at him, unable to tear his gaze away. The same old Jiahao, the same old showman. But Xiao wasn’t sure if that was enough anymore. Was it enough to be caught in the orbit of someone who was always performing, always pretending to be someone else, even around the people closest to him?

“Hey, shorty, what'schu moping about there?” one of Jiahao’s friends spoke up. It was the brunette one, the only one of the group who hasn’t bleached his hair. Xiao tried to remember his name.

“Nothing,” Xiao said, his chopsticks clinking against the side of his lunch box. 

The guy clicked his tongue in annoyance. “You’re fucking boring,” he scoffed, “Iehiro, your boyfriend is boring.”

Iehiro - Jiahao’s Inazuman reading, he reminded himself. The way he said boyfriend made it obvious on how all of these people actually viewed them. 

“Shut up, Genki.” Jiahao scoffed, “Get your dick wet for the first time before you talk like that.”

Xiao looked down at his lunch, poking at the noodles with his chopsticks, trying to keep his thoughts from spilling out of his mouth. Boyfriend. He kept repeating the word in his head, testing it out in different tones. Boyfriend, affectionate and giddy, like the girls in his class talked about their boyfriends. Boyfriend, with a hint of disgust and mockery, like Genki had spat it. Boyfriend, this one clinical, like a dictionary. 

“I still don’t get it though,” Genki pointedly didn’t shut up, “Are you a gay now? Why drag the guy around like you do girls. It’s disgusting, dude.”

Xiao felt his stomach twist at the words, the sudden weight of them hitting him harder than he’d expected. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, the way his cheeks burned in a mix of embarrassment and anger, the shame flooding his chest in a rush. His grip on the chopsticks tightened, but he didn’t look up. Didn’t want to.

This sucked. It sucked so bad. Xiao didn’t even know he was gay a week ago and now he was being picked on for it. Worse - Jiahao was picked on for it by his supposed friends.

“He’s objectively not even hot,” Genki went on, fully in his element, “Look at him, he’s a shrimp. A complete emo loser.”

“Ugh, Genki,” one of the only girls in the group whined, “Shut up, you oaf.”

She stomped her foot like a child, “You’re gonna make Iehiro angry and then where will we be?”

“No, let him talk,” Jiahao interjected, “Let it out, fuckface. You got more issues?”

Jiahao pumped his broad chest up as he stepped into Genki’s personal space and gripped him by his collar. Xiao jumped up nervously, his lunchbox almost falling into the mud.

The tension crackled in the air like static, and for a moment, everything froze. Xiao stood there, his heart pounding, staring wide-eyed at Jiahao, who was now towering over Genki with his fingers curled tightly around the collar of his shirt. The joke that had been floating lazily through the group just moments before now felt like a serious confrontation, and Xiao wasn’t sure what was happening.

Genki blinked, stunned by the sudden shift in Jiahao's behavior. The others at the gate had stopped talking, too, all eyes flicking between Jiahao and Genki, their laughter dying in the wake of the unexpected tension.

Xiao's stomach twisted, the frustration and discomfort of the last few minutes bubbling to the surface. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, the anger at Genki’s words mixing with the confusion of everything he had been feeling lately. This wasn’t supposed to be the reality, he thought, the weight of it sinking in.

“Let him go, A-hao,” Xiao muttered under his breath, but his voice was strained, unsure. He wasn’t sure whether he was telling Jiahao to back off or just trying to stop the whole mess before it spiraled even further. But it didn’t feel right. None of this felt right.

Jiahao's jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed in that dangerous way that made Xiao feel like he was witnessing something he shouldn't. His posture was aggressive, like a lion protecting its territory, and it made Xiao’s chest tighten. This wasn’t the version of Jiahao he’d gotten to know - the easygoing, playful, sometimes confusing guy who never let things get too serious.

“I told you to shut up,” Jiahao growled at Genki, his grip tightening just enough to make the other guy wince. Genki’s face twisted in a mixture of surprise and annoyance, but he didn’t try to pull away. His friends were all staring at the exchange, uncertain of how to react, and Xiao could feel the weight of their eyes on him, too. The reality of it - his reality now - was settling in.

“Seriously, stoooop,” the girl whined again, now shaking Jiahao’s arm, “Knock it off you two! Iehiro, please?”

Jiahao stood there for a moment longer, staring down at Genki like he was considering whether to do more than just hold him by the collar. His chest rose and fell with every breath, his fists clenched at his sides, but eventually, he let go of Genki’s shirt with a shove.

“Fucking idiot,” Jiahao muttered under his breath, stepping back and spat on the ground for good measure.

“Fuckin’ sensitive,” Genki mumbled as he too stepped back.

Jiahao whirled around and threw a punch right to Genki’s jaw. A sickening crunch echoed in the circle accompanied by gasps and the shrieks of the only two girls.

Xiao flinched at the sound, his stomach turning. The impact of the punch sent a ripple through the group, and for a split second, time seemed to stretch, the stunned silence of the moment drowning out everything else. Genki staggered back, clutching his jaw, eyes wide with a mix of shock and pain.

"Jiahao!" Xiao blurted, his voice strained and full of disbelief. His chest ached, a knot tightening in the pit of his stomach. This was not the guy he knew. This wasn’t the carefree, cocky Jiahao that had dragged him out of his house at night for laughs and reckless driving. This was a version of him Xiao had never seen - angry, unpredictable, dangerous.

Jiahao stood there, breathing heavily, eyes blazing. He didn’t look at Xiao right away, his gaze still fixed on Genki, who was now nursing his bruised jaw, looking furious but too taken aback to retaliate.

"That’s enough," Xiao insisted, his voice shaking now. He stepped forward, unsure if he was trying to pull Jiahao back or stop him from making the situation worse. "This is insane. Why did you do that?" The words tumbled out, more desperate than angry, as if he couldn’t understand how this escalated so quickly. How had they gone from laughing, joking, to this violent standoff?

Jiahao finally turned to face him, his features hardening again, but there was a flicker in his eyes - something soft, something vulnerable, hidden behind all the bravado. He didn’t answer Xiao immediately, just stood there with his fists clenched, chest heaving.

Xiao took a step closer, his heart racing. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. "You can’t just hit people because they’re assholes, Jiahao," Xiao said- no, scolded,"That’s not how this works!"

Jiahao’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t looking at Xiao now, still staring at Genki like he was going to gut him where he stood. “No, that is exactly how this works,” Jiahao retorted, “He didn’t stay in his fucking lane, getting into my business, insulting me and what is mine and I’m going to kill his fat ass for it.”

Xiao's chest constricted at Jiahao’s words, the intensity of them leaving him momentarily frozen in place. What is mine - the phrase struck a chord deep inside him, the implication hanging in the air like a threat, or maybe just a warning. He had heard the possessiveness in Jiahao's tone before, but this was different. It wasn’t playful, it wasn’t flirtatious - it was raw, possessive, and frightening. Xiao’s stomach churned as he tried to process the weight of it.

🍃

Jiahao leaned against his car on the passenger side where Xiao’s head rested on the metal where the window pane was fully sheathed now. His body thrummed with remnant dopamine and oxytocin as it circulated through his body. Despite the pleasure, his calves still ached and his back did too from how crammed into the car they had been.

The all too familiar smell of smoke surrounded him, new and old weaving into each other. Cold smoke buried deep in the car seats’ leather and the hot smoke cascading from Jiahao’s cigarette. He didn’t want to think about the other smell he was still conflicted about, eagerly awaiting the moment the fresh air dispersed it fully.

It was just starting to get dark, around seven in the evening and they still had two hours before Xiao’s curfew.

“You smoke a lot,” Xiao rasped, cushioning his head on his hands.

Jiahao didn’t respond right away, the tip of his cigarette glowing in the dimming light as he took another drag. The faint scent of burning tobacco swirled between them, mixing with the night air and the lingering tension that had yet to dissipate. “What, never heard of the cigarette after sex?” Jiahao snorted, “Do you not watch movies?”

“I watch movies sometimes,” Xiao muttered, “I just never got that trope. What’s the point of it?”

“It like, stirs your brain around and junk,” Jiahao sighed, “Makes it feel different. You should try it.”

“I should?” Xiao cocked an eyebrow, glancing over at Jiahao in his still unbuttoned shirt.

“You wanna?”

Xiao shrugged and Jiahao chuckled with a small cough before he held the cigarette to Xiao’s lips, “Knock yourself out, Birdie.”

Xiao hesitated, his eyes flickering between Jiahao's face and the glowing ember of the cigarette. He’d never smoked before, never even considered it. But the way Jiahao was looking at him, the faint smirk tugging at his lips, the way the moment felt like something inescapable… It was just like the beer at the karaoke place or the countless times Xiao kissed him.

He wrapped his lips tentatively around the filter and inhaled.
The first drag was sharp and bitter, filling his lungs with the taste of ash and chemicals. It burned, hard and unfamiliar, making him cough. He quickly pulled it away, his eyes watering as he exhaled a thick plume of smoke, which mixed with the cool night air. 

Jiahao laughed at him. “Maybe leave the smoking to me.”

A fruit truck drove past the familiar parking lot and Xiao’s lungs still burned - both from the smoke and those conflicting feelings that's been his companion for nearly three months now.

“You know, you could at least take me to a love hotel,” he croaked, “It’s classier than the parking lot of a hardware store.”

Jiahao snorted, taking another drag of his cigarette as he leaned back against the car, “Do I look like I have that kind of money?”

“Then take me to your house,” Xiao tried instead. He felt ashamed at the feeling of hope that dared to enter his chest.

Jiahao shook his head. "Not my house either, Birdie," Jiahao said, his voice flat, with a hint of something unidentifiable. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and leaned back, arms crossed as if this conversation - whatever it was - had already ended before it had really started. Xiao's stomach twisted again, a familiar discomfort creeping in, but this time it felt worse. It felt like the kind of moment where something important could have been said, but neither of them was willing to say it.

"Why not?" Xiao couldn’t help but ask, his voice small and almost lost in the space between them, “You know where I live. It would only be fair.”

Jiahao didn’t answer right away. He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the night air like it might carry away whatever it was he didn’t want to say.

Xiao waited. His fingers curled into the fabric of his pants, trying not to let the silence get to him. He had gotten good at waiting when it came to Jiahao - waiting for texts, waiting for explanations, waiting for something solid to hold onto. But right now, he wasn’t sure he could keep waiting.

Jiahao finally sighed, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. “It’s just not a good idea,” he muttered.

“That’s not an answer.”

Jiahao clicked his tongue, tilting his head back like he was weighing whether or not he should even bother. “My mom’s there,” he said eventually.

“That’s an issue why?” Xiao tried. He was getting sick of having to pull basic information out of Jiahao - inch by painful inch.

His boyfriend groaned, flicking the ash from his cigarette, “Fine? You want to come to my dump of a house? You come to a party with me in return.”

Xiao frowned, his fingers tightening where they rested on the edge of the car door. "A party?"

Jiahao smirked, tapping the cigarette against the side of the car, letting the ash fall into the wind. "Yeah. A party."

Xiao stared at him. "What kind of party?"

"The fun kind," Jiahao leaned in a little, his voice low, teasing, "What, scared?"

Xiao scoffed, crossing his arms, "No. Just wondering what kind of mess you're trying to drag me into this time."

Jiahao chuckled, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it under his shoe. "Relax, Birdie. It's just some friends hanging out, drinking, having a good time."

"Your friends?"

Jiahao gave him a look like the question was stupid. "Yeah, my friends."

Xiao knew what that meant. The kind of people who called him Jiahao’s little boyfriend with that mocking lilt in their voices.

“My Dad won’t let me,” Xiao said, trying to sound disappointed.

“Just tell him you’re having a sleepover with… What did your little sister think I am? Bestie? Yeah, your bestie Jiahao.”
Xiao huffed, glaring at Jiahao like that alone would shut him up. "She doesn’t think you’re my bestie," he muttered.

Jiahao grinned, leaning down so they were face to face - Jiahao outside the car and Xiao inside. “Oh yeah? What does she think I am then?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes held something else. Something sharp.

Xiao looked away, suddenly too aware of the space - or lack of it - between their faces. He wasn’t going to answer that. He knew Jiahao would just laugh.

"Thought so," Jiahao said, like he had won something. He reached out, brushing a thumb along Xiao’s jaw, light and fleeting before he stepped back. "So, what’s it gonna be? A little party in exchange for a peek into my sad little life?"

Xiao frowned. It wasn’t a fair trade, and they both knew it. But that never stopped Jiahao before. Never stopped him from dangling things in front of Xiao like a cat with a string, just close enough to touch but never enough to hold.

And the worst part? Xiao always fell for it.

He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Fine," he muttered. "I’ll go."

Jiahao's smirk widened, cocky and triumphant. "That’s my Birdie."

Xiao rolled his eyes, shoving at Jiahao’s chest, making him laugh. “Don’t call me that.”

But Jiahao just caught his wrist, pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles before letting go. "I’ll pick you up Friday night," he said, "Wear something nice."

Xiao had a feeling that "nice" meant something entirely different to Jiahao than it did to him.

Chapter Text

Friday night came faster than Xiao expected. Too fast. One second, he was rolling his eyes at Jiahao in that empty parking lot, and the next, he was standing in front of his mirror, trying to figure out if he looked like someone who belonged at one of Jiahao’s friends' parties.

He didn’t.

Everything in his closet felt wrong - too neat, too safe, too obviously not the kind of thing people at these parties wore. He didn’t even know exactly what they did wear, but he knew it wasn’t pressed jeans and a sweater his mom had bought on sale.

A knock on his door startled him.

“Are you still getting ready?” His sister’s voice was muffled through the wood.

“Yeah, so?”

There was a beat of silence before she snorted. “You never care this much when you hang out with your bestie.”

Xiao groaned. “Go away.”

She giggled as she walked off, and he heard her yell something about how their dad was getting suspicious. Xiao quickly yanked off his sweater, trading it for a black t-shirt that clung a little too much to his frame. He hesitated before adding a denim jacket over it, like that might balance things out.

He barely had time to fix his hair before his phone buzzed.

Jiahao: Outside.

Xiao swallowed, gave himself one last look, and grabbed his things.

🍃

Jiahao pulled his Corolla into the parking lot of an apartment complex Xiao had only seen in passing. It was the typical concrete block one could find in the outskirts of Inazuma City, three stories tall with rows of doors and an outdoor hall with metal banisters.

Jiahao killed the engine and leaned back against his seat, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the wheel. “Alright, Birdie. We’re here.”

Xiao exhaled slowly, peering out the window. The place wasn’t much different from the other apartment complexes in this part of the city - slightly worn-down but still lived-in, the kind of place where laundry lines sagged under the weight of drying clothes and someone’s bicycle left haphazardly against a railing.

He glanced at Jiahao. “Whose place is this?”

Jiahao smirked. “Some guy I know. Don’t worry about it.”

That didn’t reassure Xiao at all.

Jiahao shoved his door open and stepped out, stretching his arms behind his head. Xiao followed hesitantly, his shoes scuffing against the pavement as they approached the stairs leading up to the second floor. Somewhere, a dog barked. The faint sound of a TV playing leaked out from an open window. The stairs snaked up the side, built from rusty metal mesh and pipe. 

The apartment they were invited to was on the second floor, the door slightly ajar, the bass-heavy thump of music spilling out into the night air. Laughter echoed from inside - raucous, unrestrained, the kind that came from people who had been drinking for a while. Xiao hesitated at the threshold, the unfamiliarity of it all settling uneasily in his stomach.

Jiahao glanced back at him, eyes glinting under the dim yellow light above the door. “You coming, or are you gonna stand there looking scared all night?”

Xiao scowled but stepped inside.

The apartment was cramped, filled with more people than it was probably meant to hold. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and something else - weed, maybe. A couple sat cross-legged on the floor, their knees knocking together as they passed a joint between them. Someone had sprawled across the couch, laughing too hard at something playing on a TV mounted crookedly on the wall.

Jiahao slid through the crowd like he belonged there, pulling Xiao along by the wrist.

“Iehiro! Bro!” A voice cut through the noise.

A guy pushed his way through the crowd, tall and broad-shouldered, his grin wide. He slung his muscular arm around Jiahao’s shoulder. 

“Didn’t think you’d actually bring your little boyfriend,” the guy drawled, eyes flicking to Xiao.

“Arataki,” Jiahao huffed out a laugh, “Told you he was real.”

“So he is!” Arataki laughed but there seemed to be no disgust or animosity in his tone. Or anywhere in his big body for that matter.

Arataki was thick like a bodybuilder with his shirt open, his eyebrows bushy and his hair long and in a light color Xiao couldn’t make out because of the bright LEDs. He was obviously older than him or Jiahao - probably in his twenties.

“Where’s Umeda?” Jiahao asked, looking around lazily.

“Kitchen,” Arataki shrugged, “Someone brought a new girl along and they really hit it off.”

“I’m surprised you came at all,” Jiahao then frowned, “What, did you bring Shinobu, too? She’s moving in with you, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t bring her here, man,” Arataki said, almost scandalized, “That’s my baby sister. I got enough trouble with the old folks because she wants to live with me.”

Xiao felt out of place as Jiahao and Arataki bantered, laughing like they were part of some unspoken inside joke. He hung back, his hand still in Jiahao's grip, unsure of what to do with himself in the sea of unfamiliar faces. People glanced his way occasionally, their eyes flicking over him with varying degrees of curiosity, but no one seemed particularly interested in engaging him, which only made him more self-conscious.

Jiahao, on the other hand, was like a shark in water. He moved through the crowd effortlessly, exchanging high-fives and slapping backs with a few people as though he owned the space. His arm still draped casually around Xiao’s shoulders, pulling him along like some sort of accessory that couldn’t be ignored.

The dim lighting flickered as another song blared through the speakers, a slow RnB song Xiao vaguely recognized from Tao’s impromptu karaoke sessions in her room.

Xiao felt out of place between these people and Jiahao’s presence offered little comfort.

He sat on the armrest of a camping chair that Jiahao had claimed for himself, balancing uncomfortably as Jiahao held him by the waist. His boyfriend talked to a group of guys who Xiao knew to various degrees.

Xiao shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers tapping nervously on the plastic armrest of the camping chair. He tried to focus on the conversation Jiahao was having with the group of guys but found himself losing track of the words, the beat of the music blurring the conversation into an unintelligible hum. His eyes kept flicking over to the people around him, trying and failing to make himself blend in. A couple of people were smoking, and the sharp, acrid scent of weed curled into his nose, making his throat tighten uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to this - this constant hum of voices, the alcohol, the laughter that felt like it was aimed at something, though he couldn't tell what.

Jiahao’s hand on his waist was warm, familiar, grounding. Still, Xiao couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t just the noise or the chaotic energy around him - it was the way Jiahao looked so at home here, as if this was where he belonged. Xiao was just the odd one out, the quiet one in the midst of it all.

"...And I told him, man, you can't just go throwing around stuff like that, not in this neighborhood." Jiahao's voice cut through the chaos as he leaned back against the backrest of the chair, his tone casual, like this was all just another day. His arm was still around Xiao, pulling him closer, but Xiao stiffened, caught in the weird space between being a part of something and knowing he wasn’t really.

Arataki, who had been laughing heartily, slapped Jiahao’s shoulder. "Man, you’re wild. But hey, if anyone can get away with it, it’s you. Everyone in this town knows you’re trouble." His deep laugh rumbled through the air, loud enough to make a few heads turn.

Jiahao grinned, clearly enjoying the attention, but then his eyes flickered over to Xiao. He shifted his position slightly, pulling Xiao into his side even more, as if to remind the crowd that he wasn’t alone. Xiao’s breath caught in his chest, his heartbeat quickening in response to the touch. There was something possessive about the way Jiahao kept him close, something that both calmed and unnerved him at once.

He felt somewhat like an accessory.

“Birdie, go get yourself something to drink,” Jiahao offered oh-so graciously, gesturing towards the kitchen.

Xiao hesitated, feeling the weight of Jiahao’s words settle uncomfortably in his chest. It was as if he was being gently nudged away from the circle, like he was a stray dog Jiahao had picked up and was now figuring out where to place. He had come here with no expectations, but now that he was here, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and blaring music, he felt smaller than ever.

“I’m fine,” Xiao muttered, his gaze flickering toward the kitchen but not quite making it. The idea of walking through that crowd, being just another face in the blur, felt daunting.

But Jiahao was already standing up, pulling his arm away from Xiao’s waist. “Go on. Don’t be a buzzkill,” he teased, his voice light but with an edge of command.

Xiao’s eyes narrowed, feeling the pressure of being in his presence - the sense of all eyes subtly trained on him, waiting for him to do something. Maybe it was all in his head, but the more Jiahao insisted, the more the pressure built.

With a resigned sigh, Xiao stood up, trying to shake the sense of being shoved aside. He ran his fingers through his hair, hoping that the motion would somehow loosen the tightness in his chest, but it didn’t help.

The kitchen was tucked away at the back of the apartment, a narrow space with a few cabinets that were barely held together by their hinges and a small fridge that hummed quietly. Xiao glanced at the scattered cups and half-finished bottles on the counter, an awkward feeling washing over him as he spotted a couple of people talking in low voices at the far end of the kitchen.

He grabbed a can from the fridge, unsure of what it was, but too tired to care. He twisted the tab, and the hiss of the metal breaking the seal was like a loud announcement in the otherwise muffled conversation.

The beverage was putrid, some kind of beer-mix but Xiao doubted that he would find anything non-alcoholic anywhere in this place.

And he also was starting to feel pissed off.

Xiao’s grip tightened around the can as he tried to force down the bitter taste. The crowd outside the kitchen felt a world away, and for the first time since walking into the apartment, he felt the full weight of his alienation. The noise from the living room had faded into a distant buzz, but the air in the kitchen was thick with something else - tension, maybe, or just the heavy weight of him being out of place. He leaned against the counter, staring at the sticky residue of someone’s spilled drink and trying not to let the feeling of being sidelined get to him.

Stupid, Jiahao, Xiao boiled inside, treating him like he was little more than an accessory. No, worse. Arm candy.

Xiao’s grip on the can tightened until his fingers ached, and he found himself glaring at the stained counter in front of him. The metallic tang of the beer-mix burned in his throat, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t here for the drinks. He wasn’t even sure why he was still here at all.

The low hum of laughter from the living room made his jaw clench. He could almost hear Jiahao’s voice cutting through it all - loud, confident, surrounded by people who probably got this scene. It was the kind of thing Xiao never quite understood, the casual way everyone just belonged here, as if they'd been doing it for years. Meanwhile, he was fumbling through it, out of sync, wishing for some kind of excuse to just slip out unnoticed.

He hated this feeling.

He slammed the drink back.

🍃

Xiao felt dizzy as he gazed at the empty cans of cheap cocktail mixes he left behind.
The dizziness crept in slowly, the buzz of the alcohol mixing with the tight knot in Xiao’s chest. His head felt light, like he was floating just slightly above his body, watching himself from a distance. The weight of the situation settled on his shoulders like a heavy cloak, suffocating and too hot for comfort. He hated this feeling - both how the alcohol made him feel and how Jiahao treated him.

He stumbled out of the kitchen, the room spinning around him as he walked to where Jiahao still sat, right where he left him god knows how long ago.

He stood next to his chair for a while. And then he poked him. 

Xiao weakly kicked his ankle to get his attention. “What?” Jiahao then finally looked at him.
“A-hao, I wanna go home,” Xiao whined. His stomach ached as much as his head did from all the cigarette smoke.
Jiahao’s eyes narrowed as he glanced up at Xiao, who was swaying slightly beside him. The music thumped louder, the low bass vibrating in the floorboards, but the space between them felt too thick with tension, too heavy to ignore. Xiao had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face flushed from the alcohol - or maybe just from everything. His gaze darted around the room, but he wasn’t really looking at anyone. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the walls.

“Damn,” Jiahao muttered, a flicker of annoyance passing through his expression, though he didn’t make any move to get up. “You’re acting like it’s the end of the world, Birdie.”

“A-hao, I don’t feel good,” Xiao tried again.

“Then take a walk, goddamn,” Jiahao grunted as he turned back to his friends.

Xiao’s chest tightened at the dismissive tone, the words stinging more than he expected. He stood there for a moment longer, caught between the urge to scream or just disappear. His fingers gripped his jacket, the cold fabric grounding him for a split second before the weight of the situation bore down on him again.

He couldn’t keep standing there like some extra piece of furniture.

"Alright, fine." Xiao muttered, his voice barely rising above the thumping bass.

He didn’t wait for Jiahao’s response. He wasn’t sure what hurt more - the fact that Jiahao hadn’t bothered to stand up or that he was so far gone in his own little world that he couldn’t see how uncomfortable Xiao was. Xiao turned, his feet stumbling a little as he made his way to the door. The noise and the people faded behind him, but the tightness in his chest didn’t.

The night air hit him like a slap in the face as he stepped outside, cold and biting. It was a relief, really - being out in the open, away from the smoke and the noise, where the city lights flickered and the quiet hum of traffic was the only thing that filled his ears.

Xiao felt bile rise up in his throat both from how much his stomach hurt and because he was so upset. He stumbled a few steps down the metal corridor, fully intending to go down the stairs and walk home by himself if he had to.

But his body had other plans for him, making him slide down the white, dirty wall next to the neighbor’s door.
Xiao's back hit the wall with a soft thud, his knees too weak to hold him up any longer. He sat there for a moment, staring at the concrete floor beneath his sneakers, trying to breathe through the knot that had settled deep in his chest. His fingers shook as he clutched at his jacket, the cold air cutting through the fabric, but it didn’t do much to soothe the tightness that had settled around his ribs.

He had never felt this small before. Even in his own skin, surrounded by his family and friends, he had never felt like a stranger in his own life. But here, in this apartment with Jiahao, among people who all seemed to know each other and fit effortlessly into their roles, Xiao was just... out of place.

The dizzying swirl of alcohol in his veins didn’t help. His head was still spinning, but it was the bitterness in his stomach that gnawed at him the most. He’d never been good at this - socializing, fitting in, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He wasn’t like Jiahao. Jiahao moved through this world with ease, slipping in and out of conversations, never feeling like an outsider. But Xiao? He was the odd one out. He always had been.

Xiao swallowed hard, his vision blurring for a second as he closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, but the cold seemed to crawl deeper into his bones. He needed to leave. Needed to get away from the noise and the pressure that hung over him-

“Ah!” a startled yelp rang out next to him and the first thing he saw was mismatched, colorful socks on a dusty welcome mat.

Xiao blinked slowly as he looked up at the person. His vision blurred for a moment as it focused against the overhead light but then he saw a pale, round face and dark hair going into bright, sky blue braids in a style he had never seen before.

The person, a boy- or girl? - spoke to him, but Xiao couldn’t register any coherent speech.

“Sorry?” Xiao asked, in Liyuean.
The stranger blinked at Xiao, their mouth hanging open slightly as they processed the unexpected language. 

“Uhhh,” a less muffled, sweet but slightly nasal voice sounded again, “Ah.. Um… Hello. How are you?”

Xiao rubbed his temple. That accent was horrible and he was lucky he even understood that question. He slowly shook his head, his throat constricting again.

The person in front of him tilted their head, clearly noticing the discomfort in Xiao's posture. “Ummm… Do you… speak… Common?”

Common?... Common… Ah, Common.

“Yes,” Xiao croaked finally, in Common. 

The person sighed in relief before they crouched down and Xiao was met with big, sea green eyes at his level. “You startled me,” they chuckled lightly, “Are you from the party next door?”

Xiao stared at them, his thoughts sluggish, his stomach twisting. The stranger's voice was soft, lilting in a way that felt entirely out of place in this grimy apartment complex, like a song played too gently for the harsh surroundings.

"Yeah," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face, “I… needed air.”

The stranger leaned over a bit to glance past Xiao at the door he had stumbled out of before they rocked back on their heels. “You look horrible, have you eaten anything?” They then asked, assessing Xiao’s condition.

The stranger had an accent that Xiao couldn't quite place - something on the line of Mondstadtian - and on second look Xiao could see it was a guy. A guy with pretty braids and lashes, dressed in a pastel green shirt and black shorts.

Xiao swallowed against the dryness in his throat, his stomach still twisting uncomfortably. The stranger's concern, however casual, sent an odd warmth through him - one that clashed with the exhaustion weighing him down. It was strange, being noticed. Not as Jiahao’s accessory, not as an afterthought, but just… as a person slumped against a dirty wall, looking like absolute shit.

“I-” Xiao paused, blinking sluggishly. Had he eaten anything? Probably not. He tried to think back to the last time he had, but all he could remember was the bitter taste of alcohol and the stale air of the apartment.

The guy sighed, rocking back on his heels before pushing himself up. “Wait here,” he said, like Xiao was in any state to go anywhere. Before Xiao could respond, he had already disappeared through the doorway next to him, leaving Xiao to sit there, light-headed and miserable.

His head throbbed, the alcohol doing a poor job of numbing the emotions simmering beneath the surface. He didn’t know what he was more pissed about - Jiahao’s dismissiveness, his own inability to blend in, or the fact that he let himself get dragged into this mess in the first place. Maybe all of it.

The door creaked open again, and the stranger reappeared, crouching down in front of Xiao once more. “Here, eat up,” the guy chirped at a volume that was just about bearable, holding out a bottle of water and… A plate with three hideous cupcakes with teal colored frosting.

Xiao stared at the abominations that had apparently escaped straight from an Instagram baking fails post.

“They’re homemade,” the boy coaxed with a bright smile, “Go ahead.”

“I’m fine,” Xiao declined, as politely as possible, just taking a big, desperate gulp of water. It hit his stomach, both like a punch and a blessing.

“Tsk, tsk, You need to eat something,” the guy shook his head, “Something needs to soak up the alcohol and then you’ll feel better. I promise they are completely edible!”

Xiao hesitated. On one hand, he felt so sick he didn't want to eat a single bite, but on the other hand he also felt like he needed to eat right now.

Xiao sighed, rubbing his temple as he stared at the lurid teal frosting. They looked awful. Not just regular bad, but radioactive. Like something that had no business being inside a human body.

But the guy was still holding the plate out expectantly, his sea-glass eyes bright with something that might have been genuine concern.

Xiao sighed again, deeper this time, and picked up one of the cursed cupcakes. “…If I die, I’m haunting you.”

The stranger laughed with surprised delight, plopping down on his butt as he watched Xiao take a bite. 

The cupcake was as horrible as Xiao had believed it would be - the texture was simultaneously grainy and mealy, an artificial tang of apple leaving his tongue a bit itchy. The frosting was the only bearable part of the monstrosity this guy had created but it was something in his stomach at least.

“These are warm,” Xiao grumbled between bites.

“Yeah, I just made them!” The guy said proudly.

“What time is it even?”

“Two in the morning,” the guy hummed without a care, resting his head on his propped up hand.

Xiao blinked, the cupcake still crumbling in his mouth, his brain sluggish from the alcohol and the unexpected kindness of this stranger. "Two?" he muttered, eyes unfocused as he looked out over the apartment complex parking lot. The world outside seemed to spin slightly slower than it had before. “Who bakes cupcakes at two in the morning?”

“I do,” the guy shrugged, “Got nothing else I could do with all the noise from next door. Seriously, I love a good party, but that guy is unbearable. I’ve barely been here for a week, and he’s already thrown at least four parties.”

“It’s not even a good party,” Xiao mumbled into his cupcake. Not that he liked parties in the first place.

“Why not go home then?” The stranger asked, pushing another horrific cupcake into Xiao’s hand, “It’s no use staying if you’re not enjoying yourself.”

“I can't exactly just leave,” Xiao groaned, leaning his head back on the naked concrete wall, “My boyfriend’s in there. He told me to just go on a walk or something.”

“On a walk?” The guy cocked his head to the side, “In this condition? No way.”

“I was being a buzzkill all night, so I get it,” Xiao mumbled, “It’s just not my scene.” Why was he suddenly spilling his problems to some stranger? He bit into another cupcake, immediately regretting it.

The stranger considered his words with a contemplative hum. “I wasn’t there but I doubt you were a buzzkill,” he then said, fiddling with a colorful woven bracelet around his thin wrist, “If it’s not your scene, then it’s not your scene. But it's also very irresponsible of your boyfriend to just send you off on a walk when you’re like this.”

Xiao felt the stranger's words linger in the cool air between them, the unexpected empathy like a balm against the cold ache that had settled deep within him. He wasn’t sure why, but hearing someone call out Jiahao’s behavior made the tight knot in his chest loosen a little. "He doesn't really get it," Xiao muttered, rubbing his thumb over the surface of the cupcake wrapper, the plastic crinkling beneath his fingers. 

“Well, it’s not my relationship and I don't know you two, so I won't jump to conclusions,” the stranger said, “But I don't think you did anything bad.”

Silence settled between them for a few moments as Xiao sipped his water. He felt a bit better now, less dizzy and sick but also a bit lighter.

Then the stranger hastily stood up from where he sat on the concrete. “Eat the last cupcake, too. For good measure,” he said with kind eyes, “I will be right back. I was gonna take out the trash before you gave me a heart attack.” “Sorry,” Xiao mumbled, eyeing the last cupcake.

The stranger waved it off with a playful grin, “Don’t apologize. I’m just messing with you.” He turned and pulled out the black trash bag he had probably readied at the door before he found Xiao, then he hurried down the stairs, still in his socks.

Xiao stared down at the last cupcake, the teal frosting almost glowing in the dim light of the corridor. His stomach had settled slightly after the water and the first few bites of the horrible monstrosity, but the sour taste of alcohol still lingered on his tongue. He stared at the cupcake, and for a moment, he thought about just throwing it away. But something about the simple act of eating, of doing something so mundane when everything else felt like a whirlwind, anchored him. It felt like the stranger had given him a tiny sliver of stability in this chaotic mess of a night.

With a resigned sigh, Xiao took a bite, trying not to gag. It wasn’t the worst thing he had ever eaten, but it sure as hell wasn’t something he would ever willingly go back for. 

Xiao slowly stood up from the floor, too, his joints aching from the cold that had seeped into them. He was going to go look for Jiahao.

🍃

Apparently Xiao had already forgotten just how choking the air inside was because he immediately fought a bout of lightheadedness. Still, his eyes scanned the room, filled with bleached blondes, for his bleached blonde.

He spotted him in the same chair he had left him, in the same position with drink in hand surrounded by his friends. He approached him, suddenly feeling guilty for how whiny he had been and climbed onto the armrest again, taking his designated position, and leaned into Jiahao.

“Cooled down?” He asked, wrapping his arm around Xiao again.

Xiao barely nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him as Jiahao pulled him closer. The familiar weight of his arm around him should have been comforting, but it only reminded Xiao of how much he hated how easily Jiahao seemed to slip in and out of these moments, so effortlessly indifferent. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away, to keep his distance, but the warmth from Jiahao’s embrace seeped through his jacket, and it was the only thing that felt solid in the shifting mess of his emotions.

"Yeah," Xiao muttered, unsure if he was convincing himself or Jiahao. His body felt heavy, still caught in the pull of the alcohol, the cupcakes, the hurt.

“Where’s the cupcake from?” Jiahao asked, a tinge of confusion in his voice as he spotted the cupcake Xiao was still holding.

“The neighbor.”

“It looks like shit,” Jiahao huffed.

“Yeah,” Xiao said, already removing his mind from the situation, and took a bite from the cupcake.

Chapter Text

The apartment Jiahao lived in was a dump.

There was just no nicer way to say it and it’s what Jiahao himself had called it.

Xiao always knew that his family was well off - they had a house back in Liyue, his father had a growing company and even now he lived in a good home. He knew that many people were not as fortunate as them.

The apartment was on the first floor of another concrete block apartment complex with a single room that led right into a cramped kitchen. The room itself was filled with litter and there were no beds, just naked mattresses.

Xiao already had an inkling that something like this was the case when Jiahao over and over refused to invite him.

The air in the apartment was thick, the kind of stale air that clung to furniture and fabric, settling into the walls like an unwanted guest. It smelled like cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and something vaguely metallic, like rusted pipes. Xiao exhaled slowly, the weight of Jiahao’s arm pressing into his stomach, grounding him and suffocating him all at once.

He should sleep. The exhaustion was settling into his bones, making his limbs feel heavier than they should. But his mind wouldn’t shut off. His eyes traced the ceiling, trying to pick out the faint outlines of water stains and cracks, mapping them like constellations.

Suddenly, he heard the front door open quietly and his breath hitched. He held it in anticipation as he watched a woman stumble in, kicking off her sandals before she fell face first onto the empty mattress.

“My mom,” Jiahao mumbled against Xiao’s shoulder. He must’ve woken up to the noise, too. “Just ignore her. She’s drunk.”

Xiao didn’t say anything. He just stared at the woman sprawled out on the mattress, her dark hair a tangled mess, one arm hanging limply off the edge.

She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge them. Just breathed, slow and heavy, the kind of sleep that wasn’t restful, just unconscious.

Jiahao’s grip on Xiao’s waist tightened slightly before he exhaled, shifting to get comfortable again. “Go back to sleep,” he muttered, voice still thick with drowsiness.

But Xiao couldn’t.

The apartment suddenly felt even smaller, the walls pressing in around him, the weight in his chest growing heavier.

This wasn’t what he thought Jiahao’s life was like.

Jiahao always talked shit about his dad, called him a coward for not coming back after he was deported. He called his mother worse things - useless whore, dumb bitch.

He turned his head slightly, catching the faint glint of Jiahao’s bleached hair in the dim light. His eyes were closed, face relaxed, but there was something tense about the way his fingers curled into the fabric of the hoodie he had lent Xiao.

Xiao swallowed, his throat dry. He wanted to say something, but what? I’m sorry? That felt stupid. Why didn’t you tell me? That felt selfish.

So he said nothing.

Instead, he stared at the ceiling again, tracing the cracks with his eyes, mapping constellations that didn’t exist.

🍃

On Wednesday Xiao couldn’t stand the thought of skipping the Foreigner Support Group meeting again just to hook up somewhere unorthodox and then be treated to something stupid like an ice cream cone which Jiahao then would call a date.

He just wanted to see someone else for once, even though he knew Jiahao would be on his back about it later.

Xiao was early like usual, just ghosting around the 3-B while feeling awkward. He knew that Kirara was probably going to ask why he and Jiahao hadn’t come in a while and she would be really respectful about his privacy at the same time which then would make Xiao in turn feel incredibly guilty because he knew Kirara really cared and-

“Ah! Xiao!” A voice squeaked behind him, making him whirl around to face Kirara, “You came this week!”

Xiao nodded, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jacket. "Yeah," he muttered. His voice came out rougher than he intended, and he cleared his throat, "Didn't want to miss again."

Kirara's wide, golden eyes softened as she tilted her head slightly.

She wasn't the kind of person to push, but Xiao could already feel the unspoken question hanging in the air.

Instead of asking, she simply smiled. "I'm glad you're here."

Xiao forced a small smile back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The warmth in Kirara's voice made his chest tighten.

She gestured for Xiao to come along and they walked into the room together, making it feel less awkward.

The usual faces were in attendance; the group of girls from Fontaine and the girl whose mother was from Natlan… the two guys from Sumeru…

Xiao set down his book bag at the table he and Jiahao normally sat at, honestly just planning to do homework while listening to Kirara’s chatter.

A loud dramatic gasp rang out in the room and Xiao turned around with a frown. “You!” A somewhat familiar voice called out and Xiao caught a glance of a guy with strange braided hair suddenly pointing right at him, “It’s you again!”

Xiao's widened as he recognized the guy who fed him those awful cupcakes.

Xiao’s heart skipped a beat, his gaze flicking nervously over to the guy standing at the entrance of the meeting room. He wasn’t sure why, but the sight of that brightly braided head and those sea glass eyes immediately made the knot in his chest tighten again. He had almost forgotten about the encounter - almost. But now, seeing him here, it all rushed back with vivid clarity: the ridiculous cupcakes, the unexpected kindness, the strange, almost effortless comfort the stranger had given him when he was feeling so small and lost outside the apartment.

The guy grinned, a wide, delighted smile as he pointed at Xiao with a finger. "You’re that guy, right? The cupcake guy!" He hurried over, his colorful braids swinging with the motion. "I didn’t expect to see you here!"

Xiao blinked, feeling a flush creep up his neck as the whole room suddenly seemed to focus on him. His mind scrambled for something to say, anything to break the awkwardness, but the words seemed to slip away, tangled with the weight of his thoughts. "Yeah... I - uh, I guess I am," he muttered, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“You just disappeared!” The guy then huffed, bracing his hands on his hips with a disapproving expression, “No goodbye, no nothing.”

Xiao blinked at him, caught off guard by the accusation. "I - " he started, but nothing came out.

What was he supposed to say? Sorry I didn’t thank you for your radioactive cupcakes before going back inside to let my boyfriend pretend I don’t exist?

The guy let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head dramatically. "Unbelievable," he muttered, but the amused lilt in his voice betrayed any real annoyance. 

“You two know each other?” Kirara asked, tilting her blonde head curiously.

“Sort of,” Xiao mumbled sheepishly.

Then, as if remembering something, the guy clapped his hands together. "Oh! Right! We never introduced ourselves properly."

He extended a hand toward Xiao, his grin lopsided and easy, “I’m Venti, I’m from Mondstadt.”

“...Xiao,” he looked at Venti’s hand awkwardly, confused even, before Venti seemingly remembered himself and bowed frantically instead.

Venti straightened up from his frantic little bow, still grinning like he'd just found a long-lost friend rather than a guy he'd force-fed terrible cupcakes at two in the morning. "Xiao, huh? Nice name," he mused, stumbling over Xiao’s name for a split second, "Liyuean, right?"

Xiao just nodded, still feeling weirdly off balance from this whole encounter. He wasn't used to people like Venti - people who just barged into his space with no hesitation, no awkwardness. People who acted like knowing him was some sort of exciting event.

Venti seemed perfectly comfortable in the silence Xiao left hanging, though. He spun on his heel, taking in the room. "Man, I didn't realize you'd be here! This is great. Now I don’t have to sit alone."

Xiao frowned slightly, "You come here?"

Venti shot him an exaggeratedly wounded look. "Of course! I'm a foreigner, aren’t I?" He gestured at himself, as if his entire being should’ve made that obvious. "I only moved here recently, and my Inazuman is still garbage - so my homeroom teacher suggested I come. Good thing, too, or I wouldn't have met you again, Xiao."

“It’s great to have you here, Venti,” Kirara chirped, holding her hands together in delight, “You’re going to bring some spunk into this little group, I’m sure.”

“I live to entertain,” Venti winked playfully at her, prompting her to chuckle before someone else pulled her away.

Venti took this as the perfect opportunity to sit down in the chair Jiahao normally occupied.

Xiao watched as Venti plopped into the chair, his bright smile still unshaken despite the way the room had subtly shifted around him. For a moment, it felt like the world was spinning slightly off-kilter.

“So, what do you do for fun, Xiao?” Venti asked curiously, propping his head up on his hands, squishing his round cheeks a bit in the process.

Xiao blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. He glanced at Venti, who was still grinning with an almost mischievous gleam in his eyes, like he was daring Xiao to come up with some fun, exciting answer. But the truth was, Xiao wasn’t sure what counted as fun anymore. The days blurred together in a mess of school, brief moments with Jiahao, and long hours spent just staring at walls or studying.
There wasn’t much "fun" to be had in his life, at least not in the way Venti seemed to mean it.

"I don’t really - " Xiao hesitated, awkwardly shifting his gaze to the floor. "I don’t do much."

Venti raised his eyebrows together with his head, surprised, “Really? Nothing comes to mind?”

The boy seemed genuinely taken aback.

Xiao bit his lip, fingers drumming against the edge of the table. He wanted to say something - anything - to make it sound like he had a life, like he wasn’t just a passing shadow in someone else’s world. But the words stuck in his throat, tangled up in the heaviness of everything he hadn’t said.

"I... I don't know," Xiao muttered, shrugging, his gaze flitting between Venti’s expectant face and the worn-out table before him. "I guess... school, mostly."

Venti tilted his head to the side, clearly unconvinced. "School," he repeated, as though the word itself was a riddle. He didn’t press further though, content to watch Xiao squirm just a little longer, his curious eyes never leaving him.

“Well, what do you do for fun?” Xiao asked in turn, trying to steer the conversation away from himself. Venti seemed like he could talk about himself more anyway.

Venti tapped his chin in though before he answered, “I like baking… And going outside… Watching movies.” Then he paused and breathed out deep, his face adopting a wistful smile, “And I make music whenever I get the chance.”

Xiao couldn't help but stare at Venti, momentarily caught off guard by the nonchalant way he spoke about things that seemed so distant to him - baking, going outside, making music. It was like a foreign language, one Xiao didn't quite understand but was strangely fascinated by. His life was defined by routine and discomfort, but Venti spoke of these little joys as if they were the very threads that kept his world together.

"Music?" Xiao asked, his voice almost a whisper as the word lingered in his mind.

Venti’s smile softened, and he nodded, his eyes gleaming with a quiet passion. "Yeah. I love music so much, it’s like… My lifeblood,” he smiled, “I play five instruments, I signed up for choir, orchestra, big band and-”
Xiao blinked, momentarily stunned. Five instruments? Choir, orchestra, big band? The idea of someone being so deeply embedded in something like music felt so alien to him. It was a far cry from the numb rhythm of his days, spent just getting by.

"That's... a lot," Xiao said, his voice quieter than he'd intended. His fingers tapped the side of the table nervously, as if trying to anchor himself back into something familiar.

Venti laughed, a rich sound that echoed around the room like a burst of wind. "Yeah, I guess it is," he admitted, leaning back in his chair.

“I play the cello, guitar, piano, flute and horn,” Venti listed.

Xiao stared at him, his mouth slightly agape, as though trying to process the sheer abundance of what Venti had just said. Five instruments? He barely knew how to play one musical instrument, let alone juggle five.

“What kind of music do you like?” Venti then turned the conversation towards Xiao again.

"I… I don’t really listen to music much," Xiao replied quietly. Not anymore, he didn’t say.

Venti didn’t seem fazed by the response. Instead, he just smiled brightly and leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with something that might’ve been curiosity or something more - he couldn’t quite tell. "That’s alright," he said with a little shrug, as if it didn’t matter in the slightest. "But if you ever want to try listening to something, I’ve got tons of recommendations. Maybe I could even play you something."

Xiao blinked, taken aback by the offer. "You’d play for me?" He asked, trying to imagine what that would be like.

“I play the Dihua Flute,” Venti then said conspiratorally, “Well, a bit.”
Xiao blinked, his attention snapping back to Venti at the mention of the Dihua Flute. He hadn't expected that - of all the instruments Venti could have named, this one felt oddly personal, like a quiet little secret shared between them. The Dihua Flute, with its delicate yet resonant tones, was something he knew well. It was a symbol of his homeland, the kind of instrument that evoked memories of tranquil mountain evenings and the ethereal soundscapes that seemed to belong to another world.

"You play the Dihua Flute?" Xiao asked, his voice softer than before, as if the mention of that instrument carried more weight than he’d anticipated.

Venti chuckled, the sound light and carefree. "Yeah, I’ve been meaning to get better at it," he said, running a hand through his messy bangs. "But you know, time and all that. Not enough of it."

His eyes scanned Xiao’s face, catching the homesickness that was spreading through his body, even if he tried to hide it. “You know what? I’ll bring the Dihua Flute to school this Friday,” Venti suggested, trying to sound casual, “And I’ll give you a private concert.”

Xiao’s breath hitched at the unexpected offer. He hadn’t expected someone like Venti - so carefree, so full of light - to suggest something so personal, something so... intimate. A private concert? Just for him?

"Uh… you really want to do that?" Xiao asked, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He couldn’t help the disbelief that crept into his words. The thought of someone so willing to share something so personal with him felt strange, foreign, even though the offer was genuine.

Venti grinned, undeterred by Xiao’s hesitation. “Why not? I think it’d be fun,” he said, his voice light but with an edge of sincerity beneath it. “Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to actually practice it properly.”

Xiao couldn’t help but smile - just a little. “You’re serious?”

Venti shrugged, his expression as carefree as ever. “Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

🍃

Xiao was ditching Jiahao again to see Venti for his private concert and he wasn't sure how he should feel about this…

Probably guilty.

And yet anticipation curled in his chest, worming itself around his heart and lungs, as his feet carried him quickly toward the music room. He clutched his bookbag closely to his side as he hurried, both from the nerves and also because the speed he was moving at was making it smack uncomfortably at his side.

He wasn’t sure he had ever been in the music room, he didn’t take any musical education this year but he knew where it was and that it was almost always booked by some music club after school. Because of this he was quite surprised that Venti could even get his hands on it - so nonchalantly too. 

The classroom door was slightly ajar when Xiao arrived. He gulped, his heart racing as he reached for the wooden door before he heard quiet humming.

It was soft at first, barely audible over the distant noise of students lingering in the hallways. But as Xiao hesitated outside the door, the humming grew clearer, weaving through the air like a melody carried by the wind. It wasn’t a song he recognized, but there was something familiar in the way it rose and fell - effortless, light, as if the sound itself was dancing.

He swallowed, gripping the strap of his bookbag tightly. For a moment, he considered leaving. He could tell Jiahao he got caught up in homework, that he lost track of time. It wouldn’t be the first time he made up an excuse.

And yet, instead he cautiously pushed the door open, as to not startle the person inside.

Venti was facing away towards the row of windows looking out at the football field, perched on a chair like a song bird. A sleek flute laid in in his lap, his scores set up already on a stand.

Xiao hesitated in the doorway, his fingers curling against the strap of his bag. The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the windows, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor, dust motes swirling lazily in the glow. Venti was still humming, oblivious to Xiao’s presence for the moment, his fingers absently tapping against the flute resting on his lap. His braids caught the light, their colors more subdued in the quiet atmosphere of the music room.

Xiao swallowed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t even sure why he was nervous. But something about the way Venti sat there, so at ease, so utterly absorbed in whatever tune was playing in his head - it made Xiao feel like he was intruding on something delicate.

Before he could overthink it, Venti suddenly turned his head slightly, as if sensing him, and grinned. "Ah! There you are!" His voice was bright, effortlessly warm, like he had been waiting all day just for Xiao to show up, "I was starting to think you ditched me."

“That would be rude,” Xiao mumbled, finally moving out of the doorway into the room, closing the door behind himself.

“Well, you’ve ditched me before,” Venti snickered as he patted the piano bench for Xiao.

Xiao blushed, embarrassed that Venti kept bringing it up. “I was drunk,” he huffed as he sat down on the black leather, “And I had to get back to my boyfriend.”

Venti's grin faltered for just a second - so quick that Xiao might’ve missed it if he wasn’t already watching him so closely. But then it was back, just as easy and mischievous as before, like a mask slipping back into place.

“Right, right,” Venti hummed, adjusting the flute in his hands, “Your boyfriend.” His tone was light, playful even, but there was something underneath it that Xiao couldn’t quite place.

Xiao wasn’t sure why his own stomach twisted at the way Venti said that word. He just nodded stiffly, like he had to confirm it - to himself, to Venti, to the empty room around them.

Venti didn’t say anything more about it. Instead, he twirled the flute between his fingers and gave Xiao a lopsided smile. “Well, since you didn’t ditch me, I guess I better make this worth your while, huh?”

Xiao exhaled, tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying leaving his shoulders. He gave a small nod, watching as Venti lifted the flute to his lips.

For a second, everything stilled.

Then Venti played.

The first note was soft, almost hesitant, but then the melody unfurled, filling the room with something light and wistful. The Dihua Flute had a distinctive sound - clear, pure, like wind threading through high mountain peaks - and in Venti’s hands, it felt almost effortless. He swayed slightly as he played, completely absorbed, his fingers moving with a skill that was both precise and free, as if the music was a part of him rather than something he was creating.

Xiao felt it in his chest, that strange ache again. He didn’t know what he had been expecting - maybe some sad and clumsy tooting. Venti did make it sound like he was an amateur. Whatever Xiao had expected, it sure as hell wasn’t this.

It reminded him of home. 

He could hear the distant sound of water from the Bishui River, the rustling of the reeds surrounding the marsh behind his house. The laughter of people on the cobblestone in Guili’s center, the smell of zongzi in the air and the sound of drums for the dragon boat festival. He heard his mother’s voice calling him and Tao over for pictures.

Xiao swallowed hard, gripping his knees to keep his hands from shaking.

Venti’s eyes were half-lidded as he played, lost in the melody. He didn’t seem to notice the way Xiao was gripping onto himself like he might break apart. Or maybe he did notice, and that was why he kept playing, letting the song say whatever words neither of them had.

When the last note faded into silence, Xiao let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Why can you play the Dihua Flute?” He rasped, doing anything he could to steer attention away from himself.

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” Venti bit the bait, resting the instrument back on his lap, “I can already play the flute but… Well, I got really into Liyuean Dramas and I learned this flute on top.”

Xiao blinked. “Liyuean dramas?” He echoed, like the words themselves didn’t quite make sense.

Venti laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, you know, the historical ones with all the fancy costumes and tragic love stories? I got obsessed.” He paused, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “The main character always plays the Dihua Flute when he’s heartbroken and staring at the moon, so I thought - why not learn it myself?”

Xiao stared at him, speechless. The image of Venti dramatically playing the flute on some balcony, lost in heartbreak over some fictional nobleman, was so ridiculous it almost made him smile. Almost.

“That’s… stupid,” Xiao muttered, though there was no bite behind it.

“Yeah,” Venti said wistfully, “It is.”

Xiao let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I can't believe you actually learned it because of a drama."

“Hey, music from dramas is still valuable music,” Venti chided, “Don’t tell you’re one of those people who think anything not made by old, white guys from the 18th hundreds is not art?”

“I never said that,” Xiao raised his hands defensively, “It’s just strange. I guess I never thought people would pick up an instrument just because of a show.”

Venti grinned mischievously. "You’d be surprised. A lot of people get into things because of shows, movies, or even games. You’re just a little more practical, huh?" He leaned back, looking at Xiao with a knowing glint in his eye. "You don’t have time for silly things like that, do you?"

Xiao’s gaze dropped to the floor, fingers still wrapped around his knees. He couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that escaped him.

Venti shook his head with a good-natured chuckle, “So, Xiao, do you play any instruments?”

“Ah, the piano,” Xiao said clumsily, “But not that well.”

“Well enough to accompany?” Venti asked with a sudden glimmer in his eyes.

Xiao blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. “Accompany?” His mind scrambled to catch up, a part of him wishing he hadn’t even mentioned the piano, “I’m rusty-”

“Oh! Let’s play together! You play the piano and I play the flute,” Venti clapped his hands, “Pick a song on your mind and I’ll join in.”

Xiao’s heart was racing but he spun around on the bench and his hands found the cool ivory keys.

His fingers hovered above the keys for a moment, uncertainty gnawing at him. The last time he'd played, it was with his mother sitting nearby pointing out his weaknesses and gently guiding him through the sections of pieces. But there was something in Venti's eyes - something light and encouraging - that coaxed him forward. He inhaled deeply, pushing past his hesitation, and his hands came down, a soft, tentative chord filling the air.

“Something simple," he murmured to himself, his fingers weaving through the familiar, quiet pattern of Canon in D. It was a song that had always comforted him, even if his skills had dulled over the years.

Venti stood across from him, flute in hand, a playful glint dancing in his gaze. “Ah, a classic!” He exclaimed, his voice like wind rustling through the trees, “I’ll follow your lead.”

Xiao’s breath quickened as he played, the notes gently lifting his spirits. It wasn’t flawless, but it was enough. The soft trill of Venti’s flute joined in, delicate and free, winding around the piano like a breeze threading through leaves. The music, though simple, felt like a bridge between them, something unspoken but understood.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Xiao allowed himself to be carried by the rhythm. The room seemed to fade away, the outside world quieting to nothing. It was just the two of them, the music, and the quiet pulse of something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing - a connection.

Venti's melody danced, playful and light, as if the flute was laughing in tandem with the piano's more serious tone. Xiao found himself smiling without even realizing it, the sound of the flute a sweet echo to the steady chords he played.

As the song drew to a close, the final notes hanging in the air like a soft sigh, Xiao paused, his hands resting on the keys.

Venti sat there in silence for a moment, too, not daring to break the atmosphere.

“I loved that,” he whispered, “You did so great.”

Xiao's fingers stayed on the keys, but his body was still, as if the air had thickened with the weight of Venti's words. The praise settled in his chest, unfamiliar but warm. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had said something like that - genuinely, without any obligation.

“You... really think so?” Xiao's voice was quiet, almost uncertain, though the surprise in his tone was undeniable. His gaze shifted to the floor, away from Venti’s open, sincere eyes. He wasn’t used to hearing words like that, especially not about something as personal as his playing. Music had always been his escape, something him and his mother did together. She had always been a lot more passionate about it - an engineer wishing she had more talent and skill for music.

They had tried a variety of ways to make music together; singing, instruments… mixing tracks-

“I used to mix music,” he blurted unceremoniously, riding high on Venti’s praise.

Venti tilted his head, a curious spark lighting in his eyes. “Mix music? Oh, now that sounds interesting! You never mentioned that before.”

Xiao’s fingers nervously drummed against the side of the piano, his mind still processing his own words. He hadn’t meant to share that detail. It was so distant now - just another thing from his past that felt more like a forgotten dream than a memory he was willing to revisit.

"Yeah, well… it wasn’t anything grand," Xiao muttered, his gaze lingering on the piano keys as if they could offer him some semblance of grounding. "My mother was… passionate about music. She was always finding new ways to combine things, to… make something that spoke. I just followed along. But I never thought I was any good at it."

Venti waved him off, “I’m sure you’re fine! But I would really love to hear some tracks.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes wide in anticipation. “Please show me some.”

“T-They’re on my laptop,” Xiao croaked, leaning away from Venti, “... Which is at home.”

“Okay then, here again next Friday? You bring your laptop and I’ll bring another instrument to serenade you with,” Venti nodded with enthusiasm.

Chapter Text

“You’re ditching me again, Birdie?” Jiahao scoffed, grinding out his cigarette under his heel.

“Sorry,” Xiao rasped, “I promised to meet him.”

Jiahao narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s with you and that cupcake dude,” he asked, not accusingly but it still felt like it.

“I told you, we played music together last week,” Xiao said, trying to soothe his boyfriend, “Just music, A-hao.”

Jiahao’s expression shifted, a skeptical eyebrow arched. “Just music?” He scoffed again, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Xiao breathed, “He’s interested in the… tracks I made back in Liyue.”

Jiahao sneered, there was an irritated surprise in his eyes. “Tracks you made back in Liyue?”

“Yeah… I used to-”

“Go off then,” he shrugged, turning away like a pouting kid.

“A-hao, don’t do this…” Xiao sighed guiltily, “I’ll go somewhere with you tomorrow, just…  please don’t be offended.”

Jiahao let out a sharp breath, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was physically trying to keep himself from saying something stupid. His jaw tensed, and for a second, Xiao thought he was just going to walk away without another word.

Then, finally, he turned back, arms still crossed over his chest. “I’m not offended,” he muttered, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. “Just don’t like the idea of you suddenly getting all buddy-buddy with some guy I don’t even know.”

Xiao hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He knew Jiahao wasn’t the jealous type - at least, not usually. But something about this was clearly bothering him, and Xiao wasn’t dense enough to ignore it.

“He’s just… different,” Xiao admitted, struggling to find the words. “It’s not like that, A-hao. He’s just easy to talk to.”

Jiahao let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, so now you talk to people?” There was no real bite in his words, but Xiao flinched anyway.

Xiao exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re making this into something it’s not.”

Jiahao's gaze flickered over Xiao’s face, searching for something, before he exhaled and dropped his arms to his sides. “Alright, fine,” he said, voice quieter now. “Go meet your flute boy or whatever. See if I care.”

“A-hao, please-”

But Jiahao fished a fresh cigarette from his pocket and lit it. “I’ll just go see how Arataki and his sister are fairing, I guess. But tomorrow. Tomorrow you owe me.”

Xiao sighed, his chest tight with something he didn’t know how to name. “I know,” he said, softer this time. “Tomorrow, I’m all yours.”

Jiahao gave a small, humorless chuckle, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Damn right you are.”

Xiao hesitated, watching the way the smoke curled around Jiahao’s fingers before disappearing into the air. Then Jiahao stood up from where he leaned and gave Xiao a lazy wave before he walked off to his car.

Xiao stood there for a moment, staring at the ground as the scent of Jiahao’s cigarette lingered in the air. His fingers curled at his sides, tense, restless.

Why did it feel like he’d done something wrong?

He didn't. He knew that.

And yet, the weight of Jiahao’s words - his tone, the tightness in his jaw - sat heavy on Xiao’s chest, something unspoken pressing between them like an unfinished chord.

He exhaled, trying to shake it off.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d make it up to Jiahao. But today - today, he had somewhere to be.

With one last glance at the space Jiahao had once occupied, Xiao turned on his heel and started toward the school building again.

🍃

The music room didn't smell of old sheet music this time but of fresh air. Almost all windows were ripped wide open, letting in the brisk early autumn wind.

Venti sat perched on the piano bench this time, letting the breeze caress his slightly pink cheeks, his braids swaying ever so slightly. This time he didn't hold a flute or any instrument but there was a case for one set down on a desk.

Xiao wasn't sure why he was going through with this, he wasn't particularly interested in sharing the music he and his mother made - especially not now after the interaction with his boyfriend.

Still, he gently rapped his knuckles against the wood of the door frame before he pushed inside.

Venti spun around, grinning as soon as he saw Xiao. “You didn't ditch me this time either!” He chirped with a genuine happy tone in his melodic voice. 

Xiao let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, stepping further into the room. “Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I said I’d come.”

Venti beamed, rocking forward on the piano bench. “And here you are! Right on time, too.” He patted the empty space beside him invitingly. “Come sit. I was just listening to the wind, but I think I’d rather listen to your music.”

Xiao hesitated for a second before moving toward the bench. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this - if he even wanted to open up this part of himself.

He set his bag down and pulled out his laptop, fingers lingering on the cool metal before he opened it. His hand hesitated, as if it was unsure if he should open the folder.
For a moment the room seemed to sit still, even the wind that played with Venti’s dyed braids. “You look like you’e walking to the slaughter,” Venti suddenly said, not mocking or joking, just neutral. The boy hopped up from the bench and walked over to the desk where his instrument case rested and unlatched it with a Pop!

Xiao looked at him, puzzled. “Let’s play a bit before we listen to your work,” Venti said casually, pulling a beautiful cello out of the case, “It’ll feel better. Our ears need to attune!”

That was bullshit, Xiao knew that, but he somewhat appreciated the extended olive branch.
His arms were tense when he sat his old laptop down on the floor and his back felt like it was creaking as he turned on the piano bench and rested his fingertips against the keys.

“Do you know any Schubert?” Venti asked, plucking and tuning his cello.
“A few pieces,” Xiao murmured after a second of thought back to his piano lessons.
“Ständchen?” Venti glanced at him, “Pardon- Serenade”
“Uh…. Yeah. It’s rusty, though,” Xiao answered after a brief moment of bewilderment.

“Who cares? I don’t. Schubert wouldn't either,” the other shrugged, “And I’m not classically trained. It’s still music.”

“You’re not?” Xiao was starting to reel.

Venti snorted, pulling up a chair to sit in, “Do I look like I have that kind of money?”

Xiao blinked at him, momentarily thrown. “I… I don’t know. You play like you do.”

Venti chuckled, resting the cello between his knees and adjusting his grip on the bow. “Nope. Self-taught, mostly. Picked up things here and there, but I’ve never had a real teacher.” He shrugged, a wry smile playing at his lips. “Guess I just listen well.”

Xiao watched as Venti absentmindedly plucked one of the strings, the deep, resonant sound filling the room. It was strange - Venti always had this effortless confidence, as if nothing ever truly weighed him down. And yet, something about the way he said it, the casual way he dismissed his own lack of training, made Xiao wonder if there was more beneath the surface.

Xiao cleared his throat and played the first few chords of Serenade, approaching clumsiness. 

Venti listened for a moment before the cello weaved itself between the clumsy gaps of the Piano with its deep, warm tone.

“Schubert died young,” Venti mused as he played, as if it was effortless to play a duet, “He tried all his life to become a respected composer. 600 compositions became his legacy and his peers only recognized him after he was gone.”

Xiao felt the weight of those words settle in the space between them, his fingers faltering on the keys for a brief moment. It wasn’t the first time he had heard of Schubert's struggle, but the way Venti spoke - so casually, yet with an undertone of something deeper - made it feel different.

He wasn't sure why Venti brought it up but it felt meaningful to him because it was no doubt meaningful to Venti.

Xiao played hesitantly again for a moment, despite his muscle memory, anticipating if Venti would say anything else but he didn't. He just played, coaxing a deep melody from his cello.
Venti’s bow glided smoothly over the strings, his expression soft with concentration. There was something about the way he played that made Xiao feel strangely at ease. Even though Venti claimed not to be classically trained, his music wasn’t lacking - it was full of life, raw and untamed in a way that Xiao had never quite heard before.

As they moved through the piece, Xiao found himself relaxing. He wasn’t thinking about Jiahao’s sharp words anymore, or the uneasy weight in his chest. He wasn’t thinking about the past or what it meant to share his music. He was just playing.

When the last note faded, Xiao’s hands hovered over the keys for a moment before slowly withdrawing. The air in the room felt lighter, like the tension had unraveled itself between the chords.

Venti leaned back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. “Man,” he murmured, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips, “Schubert really knew how to make a guy feel things.”

Xiao huffed a quiet laugh, glancing down at his hands, “Yeah.”

Venti chuckled at that, poking Xiao’s back with the bow of his cello, “Feeling any better?”

“…Yeah,” he admitted, the word coming out softer than he intended.

Venti’s grin widened. “See? Music always knows how to fix things. Even if it’s just for a moment.” He rested the cello on the floor, resting its bow on its lacquered body before he stood up and climbed back next to Xiao on the piano bench. “Now, are we ready to dive into the legendary, mysterious tracks of Xiao from Liyue?”

Xiao rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched slightly, “They’re not legendary.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” Venti sing-songed, leaning forward eagerly, “Because someone hasn’t let me hear them yet.”

Xiao exhaled through his nose, reaching down for his laptop. The hesitation was back, creeping up his spine, making his fingers stiff. But Venti was watching him - not impatiently, not pressuring - just… waiting.

Xiao swallowed. “Alright,” he murmured, opening the folder.

The screen glowed faintly as a list of old files appeared. Some were unfinished, half-forgotten projects he’d tinkered with in stolen moments. Others were full tracks, pieces he’d actually been proud of - once.

Venti hummed as he peered at the screen, “Ooh, cool titles. Falling Sky? Glass Wings? Very poetic.”

Xiao’s ears burned, “They’re just names.”

“Sure,” Venti shrugged, eyes scanning more titles.
Xiao clicked one of the titles - Shattered (WIP). 

It was nothing special, nothing professional. Just a standard beat he had found on the internet and some layers of synths and effects but it was one of the few tracks he made alone without his mom and actually liked it somewhat. 

Venti listened intently, tapping his foot as if this track was honestly something worth paying his undivided attention to. Xiao’s finger hovered over the spacebar, ready to pause the song as soon as Venti showed an inkling of boredom or distaste.

But Venti didn’t. His eyes fluttered shut, head tilting slightly as he absorbed the sound, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the wood of the bench in rhythm. He didn’t speak, didn’t interject with some teasing remark - he just listened.

Xiao felt strangely exposed, like Venti was hearing something more than just the layers of synth and beats. It was unnerving. He wasn’t used to people listening like this. Usually, people nodded along politely, maybe offered a passing compliment, but Venti was really listening.

The track played out, the last notes fading into the open air of the music room. Xiao reached to pause it, but Venti’s hand shot out, catching his wrist.

“Don’t,” he murmured. “Let it breathe.”

Xiao froze, blinking at him.

Venti’s eyes opened, and he exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding something in. “That was good,” he said, his voice showing satisfaction.

Xiao pulled his hand back, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s unfinished.”

“Yeah?” Venti grinned, turning fully to face him. “Then finish it.”

Xiao huffed. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Because it was old. Because it was tied to things Xiao wasn’t sure he wanted to dig up. Because every time he thought about going back to it, he felt like he’d lost the version of himself that had created it in the first place.

But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he just muttered, “I don’t know.”

Venti reached over, rewinding the track to a seemingly random part before he pressed play again. “This part for example,” Venti pointed out, “It’s good, it blends well and contributes to the rise you’re trying to make. But something is missing like…”
He tapped the leather of the bench in a rhythm, entering the beat himself. Then he hummed a sequence of notes that startled Xiao badly. Because they were like song bird’s call.
“Do you get what I mean? There is something missing right before the drop.”

Xiao stared at Venti, stunned into silence. His heart stuttered in his chest - not just at the accuracy of the observation, but at the way Venti had casually, effortlessly, plucked something from Xiao’s subconscious and given it shape.

The missing element. The one Xiao had never quite been able to place.

“…That’s…” Xiao trailed off, his throat tight. His fingers twitched against the keys. “How did you…?”

Venti tilted his head, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “You wrote this. Your music is already telling you what it needs. You just gotta listen.”

Xiao swallowed, turning his gaze back to the laptop screen. He clicked back to the same section of the track, playing it again - this time, his mind filling in the space with the notes Venti had hummed.

And damn it - Venti was right.

Xiao’s hands hovered over the keyboard, something electric stirring in his chest. The feeling he hadn’t had in years - the itch to create, to fix, to finish. His world had been quiet for too long, buried under the weight of everything that came after Liyue.

“There is something missing there,” his mom tapped her chin, “Maybe a chime?”
Xiao waved her off.

No, that wasn’t what was missing.

“You’re so good at this,” Xiao stammered stupidly.
“Well, do you want my help finishing it?”

🍃

Venti was a true prodigy. A musical genius.

He pulled melodies out of the ether effortlessly. He weaved instruments together as if they were physical strings in his calloused fingers.

The way he spoke had with it a resonance of deep knowledge, experience and an unparalleled passion.

His motivation was utterly contagious. He was undoubtedly hellbent on actually finishing the song - but he never hijacked it.

Instead, he poked and prodded Xiao to pull ideas from him, then he took them between his skilled hands and molded it carefully until Xiao could recognize his own thoughts and feelings behind them with a clarity that hadn't been there when he just came up with it alone.

Working with him was exhilarating in a way that Xiao had never felt before in his life.

No, Xiao couldn't help but think, Venti is exhilarating.

That day - on that day alone - they already stayed until the janitor had to kick them out. But it felt good, even if he was pushing his curfew by the time he arrived home.

🍃

Jiahao was lying on his stomach, spread out over the mattress that was his bed, scrolling through his cracked phone with a bored look. Just a glance to the screen that was covered in spidersilk-thin scratches and fractures told Xiao that he was just mindlessly scrolling through Twitter and looking at his notifications that hadn't changed in at least thirty minutes.

All that and meanwhile Xiao was just sitting there, tense as all hell, fiddling with his corded headphones in his lap. All that drama about being ditched and then they were just dying of boredom in Jiahao's filthy apartment while Xiao was ignored by his own boyfriend in what was either some strange punishment or just genuinely what Jiahao wanted them to do.

Xiao hated this apartment. He regretted ever asking to come to Jiahao's home. Not just because it was filthy, but also because sometimes his mom was also there when she wasn’t at work and he was supposed to just ignore her.

He felt bad for Jiahao's mother, he truly did. The poor woman obviously had a lot of issues and worries that she felt like she needed to drown in substances. But she seemed sweet. Quiet.

Jiahao talked a lot of bad about her, calling her horrible things and not just behind her back. Xiao understood his anger for her in some way but he also couldn't help but think at least you still have a mom.

Xiao unlocked his phone, just to glance at the mp3 export he made of the track’s current state.

He had listened to it over and over the night before while he stared at the framed picture of his mother pasted on his wall. He tried to grasp that feeling he felt when Venti said he liked the track. With a slight tremble in his chest he whispered to her that she was right about something missing and that he would finish it for the both of them.

He figured it would only be fair to show it to Jiahao, too. He wanted to be more involved with Jiahao’s life. He needed to be if he wanted Jiahao to do the same. Maybe if he was more open and honest, Jiahao would try harder, too.

“Hey,” Xiao said softly, almost tentative, like he was interrupting something sacred. Jiahao didn’t look up.

“Mm?”

“I, uh…” Xiao twisted the headphones in his lap again, his fingers tangling in the cord. “I worked on something yesterday. Music. I thought maybe you’d want to hear it.”

That got Jiahao’s attention, or at least part of it. He glanced sideways at Xiao, one brow arching lazily. “Something with the cupcake guy?”

Xiao tensed. “Yeah, but it’s mine. One of my old tracks. I’ve had it for years. Just never finished it.”

Jiahao rolled onto his back and tossed the phone to the mattress beside him. His eyes finally met Xiao’s. “You finished it now?”

“Almost. It’s… getting close.”

Jiahao made a noncommittal noise, halfway between interest and indifference. “Alright. Play it.”

Xiao’s chest squeezed at the lack of ceremony. He nodded and plugged in his headphones, then offered them to Jiahao.

“Just- listen to the whole thing, okay?”

Jiahao snatched the headphones and slipped them on without another word. Xiao hit play and waited.

It was surreal watching someone else listen to it - especially Jiahao, who never quite gave anything his full attention unless it was fast or loud or scathing enough to demand it. Xiao watched his face, tried to read something from the tiny changes in his brow, the way his lips pressed together.

At around the midpoint, the drop came. Xiao was holding his breath.

To his credit, Jiahao did actually listen to the whole thing. But his face looked no different than before. No reaction at all.

“Well?” Xiao tried. He felt like he was dying inside.

“Eh,” Jiahao said with a shrug, “It’s okay.”

“Just okay?” Xiao asked before he could think. This hurt.

“I mean, yeah,” Jiahao answered, raising his eyebrows at Xiao like he was challenging him, “I don't know what you expect me to say.”

“I don’t know,” Xiao rasped, “I guess I hoped you would enjoy it.”

The older guy snorted, turning back on his stomach with a shake of his head.

There was a moment of silence where both of them thought about what else to say before finally Jiahao spoke up, “To be frank, I think it’s a waste of time. But you do you.”

Xiao paused as he processed his words. Did Jiahao just not like music or did his song - which he came up with - really just kind of suck?

“Right,” he murmured. “You said that before.”

Jiahao let out a breath, then flopped back on the bed with a groan. “You’re taking this too seriously. It’s just a track. Don’t be all dramatic about it.”

Xiao flinched. Just a track.

He looked at the floor, lips pressed into a tight line. A part of him wanted to defend it - to defend himself - but the rest of him was already folding inward.

He stood up.

“Where you going?” Jiahao asked, not even glancing at him.

“Home,” Xiao muttered. “I forgot I still have homework.”

Jiahao snorted. “Lame.”

Xiao didn’t respond. He picked up his bag, slipped the phone into his pocket, and walked out without saying goodbye.

🍃

On Monday Xiao stood in front of the music room because Venti had once said that if he wanted a guaranteed place to find him it would most likely be there as he was in multiple music clubs and classes. 

And he really was there, having choir rehearsal. 

When Xiao peeked through the glass panel of the door, the sound of layered harmonies rolled over him muffled like a tide over plastic wrap. Venti was at the center of it all, unmistakable in his fluid, unhurried gestures as he swayed with the rhythm, mouth open in a wide, bright arc as he sang. His voice was clear and light - almost too light for the echoing acoustics of the room. He had never heard Venti fully sing, just hum and whistle some runs and tunes but now he knew what angels probably sounded like.

He wondered if there was anything musical that Venti couldn't do.

Miraculously Venti seemed to notice him peeking in as his face lit up with a mixture of delight and surprise.

It wasn't Friday and Xiao never came to look for him casually, so this must’ve been a special occasion for him.

It was only half a minute more before the teacher closed the song and Venti clambered from his spot to exchange a few words with her. Then one more heartbeat before Venti bowed his head slightly and was already hurrying out the door towards Xiao.

Xiao stepped away from the door to let Venti out. “Hey,” Venti said in a strangely breathless voice, trying to hide his surprise and excitement, “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Xiao’s grip on his bag tightened as he stepped half a step back, “I just… I was just wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me tomorrow. I didn't know where else to find you.”

Venti's face split into a grin at that, “Silly, why didn't you ask me per text? I gave you my number so you would text me when you feel like it. Like friends.”

“Well, I didn't want to presume or… bother you or…” 

“So you staked me out at choir practice?” Venti raised his eyebrows.

Xiao looked away, the tips of his ears burning. “You said this was the best place to find you,” he muttered. “I didn’t think it’d be weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Venti said quickly, stepping closer, his voice softening. “It’s not weird at all. It’s a bit quirky but… look it’s fine. I’d gladly have lunch with you, Xiao. And really, don't be shy to text me. I’ve been dying to text you myself but I didn't want to spook you by spamming memes and such… so I’ve been kinda waiting for you to break the seal.”

Xiao blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty in Venti’s words. “You were waiting for me to… break the seal?” His voice cracked on the last word, a mix of embarrassment and something warmer he couldn’t quite name.

Venti laughed softly, “Yeah, I wanted to leave you your space and such.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to hang out with me outside of our Friday program,” Xiao admitted to his own horror. He had never wanted to tell Venti that, it felt too open and vulnerable. “Since you’re so busy and all,” he added quickly.

“I am busy,” Venti nodded, “But not so busy that I wouldn't make time for a friend who wanted to hang out. So lunch tomorrow?”

Xiao hesitated, the sudden attention pressing in on him like a spotlight. His eyes flicked to Venti’s expectant smile, and then back down at the worn strap of his bag. “Yeah… lunch tomorrow,” he said, voice quieter than he intended but steady.

“Great,” Venti smiled, “I can't wait. Ah- I should probably think of what to eat tomorrow then. And also probably get back to practice before Ms Watanabe chews me out.”

“Yeah,” Xiao said bowing his head apologetically, “Sorry for the intrusion.”

Venti huffed, waving him off, “We needed a break anyways. So, see you tomorrow!”

🍃

Xiao unclasped and then clasped the closure of his tupperware container again as his eyes scanned the cafeteria. It had been kind of hard to find a free table, he never usually ate inside but today he felt like he didn't want Jiahao to see him.

This one was in the back, evidently unpopular because of the little natural light it got. Still, it was an okay seat.

He’d wiped it down with a napkin before sitting, out of habit more than necessity, and now he sat with his shoulders hunched, fingers still toying with the lid of his lunch like it was some kind of worry stone.

The minutes ticked by slowly, punctuated by the low murmur of conversation, trays clattering against tabletops, and the occasional outburst of laughter from louder corners of the room. Xiao kept his eyes down, only glancing up once or twice, scanning for a familiar mop of teal braids.

What if he forgot?

He told himself not to be ridiculous. Venti didn’t seem like the type to forget something he’d been excited about. But the anxiety slithered in anyway, coiling quietly in his chest. He poked at the rice with his chopsticks and sighed, deciding that if Venti wasn’t there by the time the long hand hit the six, he’d just - 

“Xiaooo!” Came the sing-song voice just before a box thudded down across from him, and Xiao flinched so hard he nearly dropped his chopsticks. “Sorry, sorry,” Venti laughed as he dropped into the seat, his hair slightly windswept, a little breathless like he’d run here. “Math went over by five minutes, I swear it’s not because I forgot.”

Xiao blinked, slowly setting his chopsticks down. “I didn’t think you forgot.”

Venti gave him a look that suggested he totally did, but chose not to call him out. Instead, he popped the lid off his own food - convenience store sushi.

“So what’s for lunch?” Venti asked, peering over into Xiao’s lunchbox with no shame.

“Um…” Xiao cleared his throat, sitting a bit straighter. “Just leftover stir fry. And rice.”

“Comfort food,” Venti nodded approvingly, spritzing his soy sauce on the sushi, “Did you make it yourself?”

“My dad did,” Xiao said, trying to relax as he picked up a piece of vegetable, “He usually cooks. And you…? Konbini Sushi?”

“Ah… well, my mom is too busy to cook. So I usually do but… Well, you have experienced what it’s like when I try to make something,” Venti chuckled sheepishly, “But! Don't think that I'm giving up.”

Xiao shuddered at the memory of Venti’s radioactive cupcakes.

“They were… memorable,” Xiao said delicately, trying to be diplomatic, though the image of blue-green frosting and the faint chemical aftertaste when he’d bitten into one still haunted him.

“Memorable,” Venti echoed, a hand over his heart like Xiao had just given him the highest culinary praise. “I’ll take it.”

Xiao huffed a laugh under his breath before quickly lowering his gaze again, trying to hide the way his lips betrayed him.

Venti sighed, leaning his head on his hand as he pushed a roll in between his lips. “We should have lunch together more often,” he then said, “This is fun.”

Xiao’s chopsticks paused mid-air, a sliver of carrot dangling from the tips. He glanced up, caught in the middle of chewing, and blinked at Venti like he hadn’t quite registered the words right.

More often?

He swallowed, too quickly, and reached for his water. “You think so?” he said once he’d downed enough to speak again, voice just barely above the cafeteria hum.

Venti tilted his head, a piece of rice stuck adorably to the corner of his mouth. “Of course. You’re nice to be around. Quiet, yeah, but not in a boring way. It’s kind of… grounding.”

Xiao looked away, unsure what to do with the compliment. His default response would’ve been to argue - but Venti didn’t say it like he was teasing or flattering. He just meant it. As if Xiao’s presence, in all its stillness, actually added something to Venti’s day.

“Well,” Xiao said softly, returning to his food, “I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

“Good,” Venti said, brightening instantly. “Then let’s make it a habit. Tuesdays. Lunch. Fridays, music.”

Xiao didn’t nod, but he didn’t disagree either. Venti seemed to take the silence as agreement, because he beamed and shoved another piece of sushi in his mouth.

“So,” Venti said after a moment, wiping his hands with a napkin, “I’m curious. Did something happen that made you want to hang out with me today?”

Xiao stiffened slightly. He should’ve expected the question.

He thought about brushing it off. Saying something vague like “no reason” or “just felt like it.”

“I showed Jiahao the song on Saturday,” he said instead, his mood dipping again.

“Oh? Well, what did he say?” Venti asked curiously.

“He said it’s a waste of time,” Xiao said sheepishly.

“That's so rude!” Venti gasped, “It is not a waste of time!”

Venti’s voice rang out, indignant and dramatic, as if Xiao had just told him someone insulted the sacred art of music itself. “That song is awesome. You worked so hard on it. And anyway, even if it wasn’t - which it is - doing something you love is never a waste of time.”

Xiao looked down, nudging a grain of rice to the corner of his tupperware with the tip of his chopsticks. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s right.”

“Do you genuinely believe that?” Venti cocked his head to the side with a frown.

Xiao hesitated, then gave the tiniest shake of his head. “No. Not really,” he admitted, his voice so quiet Venti had to lean in to catch it. “But… it still kind of sticks, when he says it like that.”

Venti made a sound of frustration, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “People say a lot of dumb things with too much confidence. Doesn’t make them right.”

Xiao gave a faint, noncommittal shrug. He didn’t want to talk about Jiahao anymore. Not now, not with Venti right there. And even that thought made him feel guilty. Who knows, maybe Jiahao was actually right. Maybe he was wasting precious time he could be spending with his boyfriend instead.

“We should write a song together next,” Xiao said without meaning to, “Like, from scratch. Not just finish something I started with my mom.”

Venti’s eyes sparkled as he nodded eagerly. “Yes! A song just for us.” He tapped his fingers on the table, already imagining the melody.