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Xiao was not one to open up to anyone, not even to himself. Perhaps he knew his own mind least of all, because he refused to stay in his own head for long. His life was a practical one. A body fighting evil, serving its purpose for a greater cause. Yet his mind protested. It would not allow itself to be forgotten. Whenever he refused to give it time in his waking hours, it would show itself to him in dreams.
He had not expected it, however, for his sleeping mind to be so much kinder to him than his waking one. There was one dream, the same dream, which repeated itself so often it had become Xiao’s truth, canon in his own fictional ideal reality. A safe haven and oasis amidst the chaos of his existence.
A dream had materialized in his mind and become as solid as his bones It also made it quite hard to prefer the waking truth to dreaming fantasies.
Xiao’s attempt to sleep longer than he had ever before did not fail to catch Ganyu’s watchful eye. The half-adepti still hoped to learn from him and seeking out instruction was a useful excuse to check on the Yaksha every now and then and Xiao knew it. They both knew Morax appreciated the effort as well.
Through time she had become something akin to a friend. Especially when the one Xiao considered his closest friend was often not around. A friend who was off saving nations that were not his own. Nations that were definitely not Liyue, not this time around.
For ageless creatures friendships built up as slowly as trickling water breaking through stone; but the day came at last when the lone Yaksha found his words spilling forth as a broken dam. The reason was beyond his grasp, but before he knew it, the thoughts had been made into sounds, to inhabit the world.
“I have a recurring dream from which I always pray I’ll never wake up from.” The words sounded tetric, but Ganyu was likely used to the tone. It was not so out of place when it came from Xiao.
“I spend my waking hours waiting for the moment to close my eyes and welcome those scenes. It is the greatest moment of my day and my most cherished memory, though it has never come to pass.” Xiao was not one to reveal so much of himself, but Ganyu knew him well.
She had found him slumbering in the shade of a tree that day. His fingers twitched slightly as she observed him, as he tried to hold something invisible and intangible in his hand. Had he known of the vulnerable moment she had witnessed, Xiao would likely retreat into his isolated fortress once more.
“In my dream, I am lying under this tree.” He carried on after prolonged silence. “This exact tree, and my hand is holding someone else’s. In the dream our hands are old, even though I know I will not age. And matching rings adorn our fingers.”
Ganyu smiled. “Such a peaceful dream. It is the first time I hear you speak of such things.” Perhaps she felt honored to be the one he confided in, but her smile made the Yaksha shy, second-guessing his decision to speak up. It was too late now, though and he knew she would keep his words to herself. He had to remember, he was safe with her. With them, his friends.
“I feel a sense of belonging and home when I hold that hand. But when I turn to look at the person, the sun obfuscates my vision. I can see nothing but a golden halo by my side.”
Ganyu leaned in, seeming driven by curiosity, a spark in her eyes. “But you know whose hand you are holding, don’t you?”
“I do.” Xiao admitted, different hues of pink and red staining his face and neck all at once. “And it is what makes the dream all the more important to me.” He shook his head, feeling at a loss at his own behavior. It was entirely unlike him to open up and to give into dreams and daydreams so easily. “I crave to relive that moment every night. I wake up in relief when I do, but aso in fear the dream won't repeat itself again.”
Ganyu was quiet for a time. Long enough to make the Yaksha regret exposing himself to ridicule. Who was he to be having dreams of a special person? How pathetic. And yet, the words he heard from her were far from judgemental.
“I think you should try to reenact your dream. Perhaps then it will become real, and there will be no need to wait for it in your slumber if you can hold that hand with your eyes wide open.”
Those words had sealed his fate.
–
On any other day such hopeful words should not have been enough to encourage the Yaksha to such reckless behavior. But the dream…was both a blessing and a curse. It filled him with warmth and hope and left him empty and cold once he woke up every day. The hand he longed to hold was often too far for him to reach, but when it was close enough he would often be the one to swat it away, afraid of his own feelings.
And life was not perfect. He dreamt of holding that hand under the shade of a tree after basking in sunlight, but now the veil of velvety darkness covered the skies, with its myriad stars and a round, clear moon. Although it was not Lantern Rite anymore, a lone Xiao lantern had been released in the sky to wish Xiao blessings on his birthday, by the very owner of the hand he longed to hold.
The little picnic set under the moonlight seemed to be a collection of their past memories. Aether had said his name, just as Xiao had once asked him to. The Adeptus had found the elusive traveler standing before the humble basket and towel set over the grass, right next to the tree. His tree. Their tree. The one where they would hold hands day in and day out in Xiao’s realm of fantasy.
How?
He had materialized under the leafy boughs of the anchor of his dreams to find Aether standing alone, a golden crystalfly in his hair. It was such an old wish, but the fact that it was answered now, made the Yaksha’s chest churn with unfamiliar feelings of joy. The happiness was so strong it almost made him sick from the excess sweetness.
The image from his dreams came back to him, the pair of slender, wrinkled hands entwined with gentleness and affection. He remembered the callouses, the little white and brown spots over the weathered skin.
None of it existed over the smooth and endless youth he and Aether shared, but the history that coursed beneath the taught and firm flesh was there. He was a worn out soul, while Aether seemed to be a constantly flourishing one.
Xiao looked to the side, observing the seemingly young man next to him, the smile on his lips and the wonder in his eyes.
The Conqueror of Demons was not given to displays of affection, not because he found them meaningless or beneath him, but for the immense fear he felt of them. Fear of offering himself so vulnerable and being rejected.
Fear of causing harm. Fear of not being able to live without that affection again after he knew what it felt like. He would not dare to entice an innocent person to remain close to the putrid karma he carried.
He wanted to reach out, the temptation as strong as that to scratch an infuriating itch, but his fingers tensed, stiffened and paralyzed. He knew he was about to miss out on another chance. It was his fault and it would always be.
He knew this moment held meaning. He was not foolish enough not to see tenderness reflected in golden eyes that were much purer than his own. But the fierce warrior who defeated demons as if they were no more than paper theater monsters, was a coward.
It was Aether, of course, who was the brave one. It was he who laced his fingers with Xiao’s, the move so fluid and confident that it took the Yaksha’s breath away. His hand was being held as if it was nothing new, as if that touch had always existed between them. As if there had never been a moment when they had not held hands before.
He barely had enough time to absorb the wonderfulness of feeling that touch in the flesh, of trying to hear the sounds of the night above his thundering heartbeat, when his world was tossed upside down once more the next second. Fireworks froze midair, breath caught in his throat, heart beat off rhythm, all because he heard a few simple words spoken into the shell of his ear.
“I dream of holding your hand too. Every night.”
The soft gasp of surprise was not lost to the quiet night. Xiao’s widened pupils and parted lips translated his heart better than words ever could.
He found recognition and affirmation in the eyes that met his own. Aether knew his dreams. All this time, Xiao had already been holding the hand he longed to feel in his own.
It all fell into place. Those were their dreams. Perhaps he was a cowardly Yaksha, but once being given a treasure to protect, he would become a fierce hero once more. His hand closed firmly around the one holding his. The dream was not complete, they were still missing the rings and the wrinkles, but Xiao silently vowed to himself that they would, one day, have both. If the one next to him would have him, they would watch stars burn and be reborn until the sky was gone and the ground was dust. He would not let go this time.
And he would not wake up from the dream alone anymore.