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Xingqiu was in love with Aether.
He knew it as clearly as he knew his own name, knew it with the same certainty he knew of his own love to Xingqiu, knew it with desperation and sorrow lodged in his throat, spoken with the same breath that he would call Xingqiu’s name, alone, hidden in the darkness of his room, as if it was a prayer to be answered, as if he was merely an archon which Chongyun was praying to.
He saw it everyday, between the soft, wistful smiles that Chongyun had finally stopped hoping for him, between the ways his eyes wandered, through the crowd, as if meaning to search for the familiar figure, that braid of blonde hair, those golden eyes, so perfectly alike to Xingqius, yet so earth shatteringly different.
Xingqiu was in love with Aether.
It was almost painful to watch his silver-tongued, sharp witted best friend dim, almost painful to see his eyes light up with the hope he scorned in his stories, painful to see the flush cross over his cheeks as he fell victim to attraction, as he was just another one of the idiots who were so hopelessly, utterly in love.
It was painful to watch, as Xingqiu became almost hypocritical, as ‘love holds no physical control over us, merely a trend of society that makes us nothing but senseless addicts, following with the desire of discovering something deeper’ folds into void as he catches the eye of his crush, as the words ‘my liege’ became swaddled with adoration.
It was certainly pitiful, that he would fall for a man like Aether, who surely had many conquests, who was humorous and handsome, who sailed around the world in search of his sister, who the locals loved for his chivalry, who always helped—
In some of his more truthful moments, he could certainly admit it was jealousy.
He knew it was selfish, certainly.
Selfish, that in the face of his own emotions, he was nothing more than a thorn in the side of Xingqiu’s happiness, selfish, in that he knew if given the chance, Chongyun would choose to pursue him over encouraging a relationship with Aether, selfish, in knowing that by loving him, he was prioritizing himself.
Still, he loved Xingqiu.
He hated when Aether visited, hated the smug, insufferable smile on his face that Chongyun consciously knew had no malintent, hated the way his hand would rest so casually on XIngqiu’s back, hated the bounce in Xingqiu’s step as they walked alongside him.
He hated when Aether spoke, when his tales about other men would make Xingqiu wilt like flowers come winter, when his rejection of his advances made Xingqiu’s eyes dim as if a candle had been snuffed out inside him, when he made absentminded remarks about Xingqiu’s love of reading.
He hated when Aether fought, when Xingqiu’s eyes would latch onto their companion, when Aether proved yet and yet again, that he was better, more competent, than Chongyun. He hated it when Aether laughed, when the melodic sound would cause pink to flood Xingqiu’s cheeks, beautiful and vibrant. He hated that it was Aether, and not he, who captured XIngqiu’s attention so.
He hated himself, when at the news of his best friend’s happiness, he became miserable.
It was nothing more than bitterness that caused him to avoid Xingqiu, knowing that news of his and Aethers coupling would spill from his lips, knew that he would reply something scathing and cold, knew that he would watch that lovely joy seep out of his face and mold into confusion at his best friend’s distaste.
It was nothing less than courtesy that kept him from punching Aether, when they ran into each other at Wanshuu inn, understanding that despite his own dislike, the man had done nothing wrong, that through Chongyun’s unpleasant attitude and resultant coldness towards him, Aether had still remained polite, remained kind.
It was nothing but regret that drove him back to Xingqiu, his apologies tucked into the folds of their friendship as he took it in stride, filled with the understanding that though Chongyun was very much in love, Xingqiu was not his, and he had no right to become jealous, no right to feel as if he was being sliced by the blades of betrayal.
In the end, neither were the factors that caused him to hate Aether.
Perhaps it was his words, cruel and cutting, intoned by his floating side chick, saddled with insults and barbed comments about his habits, words that made Xingqiu sag, duller and put down, as if they held truth, a small frown twisted on his face as Chongyun stood to his side, desperately wishing he could pull him into an embrace.
Perhaps it was his attitude, flippant towards traditions XIngqiu held dear, ceremonies he scraped together from bits of his books, rituals with lovers that he so desperately wanted to try, just to be brushed off with a few stray words and neeming it nothing more than nonsensical fantasies that held no weight.
Perhaps it was his schedule, busy and filled as it was, leaving no space for his lover, denoting Xingqiu to a husk that sat in Chongyun’s kitchen, alone, his hands fidgety and his eyes desperate as he searched the clock, as he made up excuse after excuse as he waited for his prince to arrive.
Of course, he never did.
Perhaps, he hated Aether for it all.
For the way that no matter what he had done, how late he had been, Xingqiu would spring from his seat like an overexcited puppy, drawing himself up, letting Aether embrace him, coddle him, whisper never to be fulfilled promises in his ear as he fell once more, deep and utterly in love with a man that could never give him anything.
For the way that he touched Xingqiu, so casual, as if never having suffered the burden of wanting, as if from the every beginning, all of XIngqiu had been in his hands, as he took for granted what Chongyun would kill to have, as his hands explored regions of Xingqiu that Chongyun knew that he could never, not even in his dreams, imagine.
For the way that he, thoughtless of the boy he was supposed to love, committed infidelity as if it was a mere game to him, as he bedded people from his travels, boasting the stories to a Xingqiu that would run, enraged, straight into Chongyun’s arms before Aethers words would coax him back, would draw him into his arms.
Those arms, that didn’t deserve what they were holding.
Arms that would never understand that the trust Xingqiu gave to them, the little place inside his heart, the precious gem he had stowed away for safekeeping, was priceless, was worth everything in the world, was never to be harmed, was to be kept, polished gently, and loved.
Still, he watched as Aether explained his time with the bard of Mondstadt, watched as his pleas broke through Xingqiu’s shell, watched as the boy he loved fell, deeply, inescapably, back in to a trance that this final straw should have pulled him out of, while he stood to the side, helpless, as his heart shattered on the pavement once more, as if it was a glass chalice that had fallen, never to be repaired again.
Amongst the shards of lies, the half understood pieces of truth and the delusions he had coated them in, amongst his shattered chalice, the parts of himself that had been crafted, faked and filled with lies, lay a single piece of truth.
Xingqiu was in love with Aether.