Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chongyun supposed he always loved Xingqiu.

Maybe he hadn’t harbored romantic feelings the entire time he had known Xingqiu-- in fact, he had been carefully closed off to the renowned second heir to the Feiyun buisness when he had first met him. Young, not quite nine years old, and still unsure of how to make friends.

Xingqiu was annoying, to say the least. Saying stuff and doing things to push Chongyun’s buttons, though not necessarily in a mean way. Since that fateful day the two found each other on the docks of the harbour one summer evening, Chongyun had known that the boy he would soon come to associate himself with would be mischievous. What he wasn’t prepared for was the nest of crystal flies that would eventually find a home in his stomach, coming to life whenever the boy with the blue pearled and tassel earring neared.

The affection was always there. When Chongyun had shared his dreams to become an exorcist-- a real one, where he could actually put his hard training of thaumaturgy and martial arts in practice-- Xingqiu had praised him. He supported Chongyun in a way that was so passionate, so different from the simple “Oh you’ll get there soon” comments he often received from his clan.

He’d come home to Liyue, battered and tired from a journey to some place where there were rumored to be evil spirits. Xingqiu would smile a soft smile, brows furrowing at his friend’s discouragement and gently brush a hand over his shoulder, arm, eventually softly finding his hand to lead him to Wanmin Restaurant. He’d cheer Chongyun up, to put it simply. And Chongyun appreciated it more than anything else. Xingqiu made him feel wanted. And, as Chongyun slowly learned through the free fall of his emotions, he loved holding Xingqiu’s hand.

Somewhere along the lines, however, Chongyun found that these things meant a lot more to him than just friendly gestures. Even before he had his Vision, Chongyun had blocked off the rest of the world with an icy stare and an even icier outward appearance. Xingqiu, however, managed to worm into Chongyun’s life, and then, almost just as quickly, strutted his way right into his heart without even trying.

They were little things, really. Tiny. Insignificant details to those who hadn’t had the pleasure of falling in love with Xingqiu. Because that was it, wasn’t it? Chongyun was in love with Xingqiu. He was in love with his best friend and couldn’t, for the love of the Sevens, stop falling.

Feelings were found in the way Xingqiu would bob his head while they walked, as if he was humming a tune inside his head only he could hear. It was in the way he would pivot on his heel to turn to Chongyun, a daring smile tugging at his mouth and eyes narrowed with a certain look that almost always promised a mischievous act.

Feelings were found in the way Xingqiu would paint his nails. Delicate blue polish, though clearly having been brushed on by someone of inexperience, would coat the tips of Xingqiu’s fingers and never fail in successfully making Chongyun stare, stare, stare at that wonderful color. His adoration only swelled when Xingqiu quietly offered to do Chongyun’s own nails one day, a slight frown creasing the swordsman's face at how “a light purple would look so much better,” but alas, the shop Xingqiu had visited only offered a faded blue.

But Chongyun didn’t care. Xingqiu could paint his nails a rainbow of colors, smear the thick liquid all over his skin and arms and Chongyun wouldn’t mind at all because it would mean Xingqiu would hold his hands, gently cradling them in his own and Chongyun would be able to feel the pulse of the other boy through the pads of his fingers.

Feelings were found in the way Xingqiu would scrunch his brows together ever so slightly, bottom lip moving back and forth as teeth nibbled away at it, hands folded neatly behind his back as he examined the shelves at Wanwen Bookhouse. It was ridiculous, really, with how Chongyun was left in awe at how delicately Xingqiu would reach out to find the bindings of a book in his grasp, slipping it off of the safety of the wooden shelves and holding it as if it were made of glass, the most precious thing to exist.

“Here,” Chongyun would say when he noticed Xingqiu carried a few more books than he could handle. “Let me.” And he’d offer up a palm to carry some of the weight, even if said weight was only found in two measly novels and Xingqiu was more than capable of handling them all by himself.

When it had first happened, Xingqiu had raised a brow, a devious grin curving at his face and saying, “What a gentleman.”

Though his ears had run red and his gaze had immediately flicked to the floor, Chongyun had silently celebrated in the way Xingqiu’s fingers grazed his own once the book was proffered.

Oftentimes, though, Chongyun was lucky and didn't need to find an excuse to touch their hands together. The moment they would meet, Xingqiu would occasionally grab Chongyun’s hand excitedly and more or less drag him off to where only the Archons knew. That act alone never failed in making Chongyun’s eyes immediately zero on their place of contact, his stomach doing a tiny sumersault the moment Xingqiu would tug him forward.

As he would stare, dangerously indulging in the warmth found between their palms, he sometimes wondered if the way Xingqiu held his hand was the same way he held his books, gentle and soft. Caring. As if he was something precious to Xingqiu, like Xingqiu was to Chongyun.

At first, Chongyun hadn’t known what any of it meant. And even with months of mulling it over, he still didn’t. Emotions were something almost foreign to him-- and the reason as to why Xingqiu’s hand was so enticing was even more so.

They were there, of course. The feelings, that was, but the understanding of what it all truly was, was not.

Once, while sitting on the edge of the harbour together, feet dangling off the edge of the high cement wall, he had almost questioned Xingqiu about it. While playing with their linked fingers, thumb roving over the back of Xingqiu’s hand (Chongyun had made a lame excuse that they should hold onto one another so that if the other were to fall off the ledge into the water-- which was highly unlikely-- the other would be there to catch them. Surprisingly, Xingqiu accepted the offer without question) Chongyun opened his mouth to ask why in the world it felt so impossibly good to just be close to him.

He almost did say so, but the moment he uttered Xingqiu’s name, when the said boy quirked his head to the side, amber eyes latching onto Chongyun’s own, sunlight highlighting the edges of his navy hair and turning them to gold, the world seemed to spin to a dizzying stop and Chongyun had forgotten what he was going to say in the first place because-- oh. That was why.

From then on, he kept his mouth shut, scared to become a nervous wreck like that again.

When the realization of it all did strike him, Chongyun wasn’t exactly sure what to do with himself. He had been lying on his bed one night, eyes tracing the minute details in his boring ceiling when he was supposed to be asleep. It was without his consent that the thought of Xingqiu greedily made its way to the forefront of his mind. His delicate nails, the swish of his single earring, gentle eyes that seemed to have been engrafted with the sun itself and just… Xingqiu. It all caved into him in a sudden whoosh of understanding and emotion.

Xingqiu.

The mere name of his closest companion had left Chongyun blinking rapidly and an uneasy breath shaking past his lips. Though he wished he could have denied it, the heat that rose in his cheeks was very much there and he had brought his forearm up to cover it. Even with his eyes closed, the image of the boy in blue appeared to Chongyun.

That night, he had unclipped the tassel that hung by his Vision, the one Xingqiu had gifted him. With fingers roving over the carefully strung knot and threads, feelings rising high in his chest, Chongyun had wondered if the act of giving him such a thing had meant anything more to Xingqiu. He wondered if Xingqiu treasured the matching tassel Chongyun had given him. And more prominently, Chongyun wondered if Xingqiu had understood the gravity of what the matching tassel the exorcist had given truly meant.

That night, he hugged Xingqiu’s gift close to his pounding heart, allowing his body to flood with the warmth of his emotions.

————-

It was funny how much Chongyun enjoyed Xingqiu’s teasing. Though sometimes it was rather irking— like the way Xingqiu would sneak in a seed or two of a jueyun chili into his cold noodles, not enough to spark his congenital positivity, but enough to still light his tongue ablaze and make his cheeks itch with heat. However, the fire that would churn inside him wasn’t only due to the spicy vegetable— especially with how Xingqiu would bump his knee so casually against Chongyun’s own and laugh so close to his ear he could feel the breath of the other boy ghosting his neck. And his mind would reel and his heart begin to rocket within his chest because Xingqiu would always be so, so close.

Thankfully, Chongyun would be able to blame the chili remnants on whatever furious color would blanket his cheeks at the time. And, even with Xingqiu’s never ending prodding, Chongyun silently kept to himself how much he truly enjoyed it all.

When a group of three girls had stopped Chongyun on his way to the Feiyun residence once, smiles wide on their faces and giggles bouncing between them, Xingqiu had promptly asked about it.

“Well, weren't they lovely,” the Guild heir had teased, a smirk finding its place on his lips when Chongyun ascended the stairs to meet him. It took Chongyun a moment to register the words coming out of his mouth, mind having unhelpfully become distracted with the way Xingqiu tucked the longer strand of his hair behind his ear.

Pretty, was all he managed to think.

“Uh… I suppose,” Chongyun replied slowly, distantly, hand subconsciously finding the back of his neck.

For a moment, Xingqiu had been quiet, gaze analyzing as he stared at his friend for a moment. Though he might’ve been mistaken, Chongyun thought he had found a slight frown between Xingqiu’s brows. But before he had the chance to question it further, Xingqiu leaned in, face just inches away and batting his eyelashes prettily and— ah. Even his eyelashes were pretty.

“So,” he begins, words dripping off his tongue like sweet honey. “Do you like any of them?”

“H—Huh?” Chongyun’s eyes blow wide.

“You know,” Xingqiu says, shrugging his shoulders rather nonchalantly. As if what he said was just basic conversation between them. “Are you interested in any of them? Because they were rather keen on you, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Um…” Chongyun glances over his shoulders to where the girls had been moments before. When he fails to find them, he turns back to face Xingqiu with a questioning look, but the expression falls as his eyes tratoriously find Xingqiu’s lips hovering much too closely to his own.

“No?” Chongyun chokes out, ripping his gaze away to find interest in a lone weed poking out of the concrete. “No, I don’t… Why would I?”

Xingqiu’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “Oh? Well that’s surprising. They seemed… nice.”

“Well, I don’t know them. How could I like them if I don’t know who they are?” Chongyun asks, his own eyebrows coming to knit together in puzzlement.

“Hm?” Xingqiu’s smile only widens. “Are you implying that there’s someone you do know and are lucky enough to have caught your eye, dearest Chongyun?”

When Xingqiu leans forward more so, finger coming up to poke at the tip of Chongyun’s nose, the exorcist takes a startling step backwards, almost slipping off the stairs.

“I—I… That’s not—“ Chongyun splutters, his heart leaping into his throat when Xingqiu takes a step closer to cup his face, his hands cold against the burning skin found there.

“Ah, so you do like someone!” Xingqiu says happily. He softly squeezes the other’s cheeks, nose scrunching up in a way Chongyun had come to associate with mirth and a laugh finding a way to his ears. “Your face is so red.”

At that moment, Chongyun is sure his soul leaves his body.

“It’s not…” Chongyun begins, voice lost under Xingqiu’s playful (though also incredibly intimidating) stare.

Instead of continuing, he simply lets his eyes fall to the ground, hands coming up to reluctantly pull Xingqiu away from him. When Xingqiu’s touch is no longer cradling him, Chongyun bites the inside of his lip. It takes all his willpower not to fall right back into Xingqiu, to allow himself to be enveloped by gentle arms. Instead, he glides his grasp down Xingqiu’s arm to hold his hand.

“It’s not…” Chongyun repeats, forcing interest on the same weed from before. “It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Xingqiu is silent before a soft and quite uncharacteristically quiet, “I see,” breezily slips through his teeth. For some reason Chongyun can't identify, Xingqiu sounds almost disappointed.

But that might’ve just been his imagination indulging himself.

————-

Chongyun wasn’t exactly sure if the way he would lay with his head on Xingqiu’s lap was entirely platonic. It was a normal occurrence for them both, Chongyun having even done it prior to his epiphany regarding his feelings towards his best friend. So that was something to note. But given his recent heart flutters, he came to question it more and more.

It would be hot on some days, so the two would find a place to sit underneath a tree, or take a rest on their way back from an expedition together. Nothing weird.

The grass was nice, to say the least. It didn’t bother Chongyun much to lay his head on the dirt. But, one day Xingqiu had simply said he would probably find more comfort laying his head on something softer than the hard earth. It was also fair to say that Xingqiu’s legs were much, much nicer to lean on for more reasons than one-- not to say that Chongyun had gone home that night thinking about the bare legs he had been nestled on. Nope. Definitely not.

“Just don’t allow any of your popsicles to drip onto my clothes, dearest,” Xingqiu had said with a huff of laughter when Chongyun materialized one of his signature sweets.

As Chongyun would settle himself perpendicular to the swordsman, head finding its “rightful place,” as Xingqiu once put it (that occurrence had set Chongyun into an erratic mess, but the embarrassment was worth it when he saw a winning smile come from Xingqiu), he’d sometimes nap, lulled into a slumber by the weight beneath him, or sometimes the feeling of fingers threading over his scalp in a very addicting manner.

Sometimes, he’d pretend to sleep, listening to the oh so adorable sounds Xingqiu made when he was reading a particularly interesting book. And when those times came, knowing that Xingqiu was distracted with the intriguing text he held, Chongyun carefully-- and somewhat selfishly-- indulged himself by slipping his hand over to Xingqiu’s free one and loosely wedging their fingers together. If Xingqiu ever noticed, he never voiced it. And if he didn’t like it, he didn’t seem to do anything about it, either.

————-

Feelings were also found in the quiet, fragile moments the two would share. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would know, but some nights, Chongyun would be overcome by a nagging that Xingqiu needed him. When those times came, he’d slip out of his bedroom and into the dark streets of Liyue Harbour, scaling the Feiyun building to knock on the window of Xingqiu’s bedroom. And each time he did so, Xingqiu would still be awake and welcome him in.

Some nights were better than others, in which Xingqiu would simply be unable to sleep and want Chongyun’s company until he grew tired. Some nights, Xingqiu would be fired up about a novel he had spent reading that evening and be in dire need to talk about it, explaining how the protagonist really should have ended up with the handsome anti-hero instead of the helpless and boring princess he had saved. He’d throw his hands about him in a wild manner and occasionally bump his shoulder against Chongyun’s, smile so wide it was contagious.

And each and every time Xingqiu would rant, he’d apologize after for his incessant rambling. Chongyun didn’t mind, though. He would grin in a dumb little way, secretly craving Xingqiu’s long monologues and finding himself expectant on listening to them everytime the bookreader had finished a story. This was especially true when it meant Xingqiu would pull Chongyun to his feet and lift him off the ground to show him how the princes always carried their princesses.

“It’s called bridal-style,” Xingqiu had announced triumphantly one time, grinning at his ability to carry Chongyun.

Chongyun had only nodded for a reply, trying not to commit the way Xingqiu’s arms had felt wrapped around his body to memory, but failing miserably.

On the nights Xingqiu would feel more rebellious, he'd take Chongyun on a tour through the seemingly never ending and dark hallways of his home. He’d grasp Chongyun’s hand excitedly in his own and, as if they were little children again, giggle while being careful to not step on a loose plank in the floorboards lest they wake someone up. And while he knew he should’ve really paid attention to not knocking into anything, Chongyun couldn’t help but be entranced by the ethereal glow in Xingqiu’s eyes under the moon everytime they did so.

Some nights, though, they’d simply laugh quietly and plan grand adventures for the days to come, with Chongyun taking the extra futon and staying over because “why go home when you could just stay here?” He wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but he prayed to the Archons for Xingqiu to invite him to stay every time he visited.

And when he couldn’t find it in himself to fall asleep, just a few feet below Xingqiu and lying on the floor, only a thin bed sheet spread out across him, Chongyun would silently rise to his knees. With Xingqiu breathing quietly, head resting against silk pillows and eyes closed peacefully shut, Chongyun would guiltily rest his head on the edge of his friend’s bed and gaze, an ache in his chest that could only be described as longing throbbing in his chest.

Other nights, however, when Xingqiu would receive the bad end of his father’s judgement, Chongyun would know it the moment he stepped foot into the bedroom. Delicately, he’d lift himself over the ledge of the window and sit silently across from Xingqiu on the thick duvets. Sometimes, Xingqiu and him would just sit, knees and ankles bumping together and no words being shared because, really, just the comfort of Chongyun’s presence was all that was needed.

Other times, with shaking shoulders and red rimmed eyes, Xingqiu would simply curl up to Chongyun’s chest and sob. And when that happened, Chongyun would be there, arms wrapping around him, steady and quiet, knowing that all Xingqiu needed in the moment was someone to lean on rather than another speech.

It was during these moments, when Xingqiu was broken and vulnerable, a side Chongyun rarely got to see, that he came to understand the dips and curves of his companion’s hands. Whether tears were shed or not, Chongyun would always know when Xingqiu needed him most by the way the boy in blue would reach over and grasp at Chongyun’s hand— a steady anchor in the raging sea of emotions. Everytime, Chongyun would immediately reciprocate the gesture and give a light squeeze, eyes lifting to search for the other’s gaze in a silent saying of don’t worry, I’m here.

Chongyun would speak up some nights, however. He wouldn’t say much, only occasionally murmuring an “It’s okay,” softly into Xingqiu’s disheveled hair, palm steadying the back of his head. And because he felt brave, and because Xingqiu needed the comfort, Chongyun would brush aside choppy bangs from Xingqiu’s head and press a gentle kiss to the skin found underneath.

With shying eyes, Xingqiu would also request with a raspy voice sometimes, “Stay with me?”

And without hesitation, Chongyun would never cease to say, “Always.”

One evening, however, when the same events had transpired, with Xingqiu desperately clutching at the exorcist’s hoodie, nose buried in his shoulder, and eyes watering, Chongyun had pulled back to meet his gaze.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, one hand rubbing small circles at Xingqiu’s lower back, the other one doing similar motions over his hand.

“Mmm,” Xingqiu hums in a pathetic assurement, eyes shrouded with the usual shadow that came with crying. He cracks a wry smile, looking down at their hands popped in Chongyun’s lap. “Just embarrassed.”

Chongyun brings his free hand to Xingqiu’s chin, lifting it slightly. “Don’t be. It’s just me. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

But that only seems to make Xingqiu more uncomfortable, his shoulder nudging against Chongyun and the tips of his ears turning a shade darker.

His voice cracks with previously shed tears. “Yeah, well, it isn’t exactly proper for someone of my status to be a sobbing mess in front of anyone.”

“Xingqiu.” Chongyun frowns, hand moving once again, this time finding the swordsman’s shoulder. “When have I ever cared about your status? Do you really think I’m going to run out to the city and announce for all of Teyvat to hear that the one and only second heir to the Feiyun Commerce Guild was being human? That… that you were experiencing emotions?”

Chongyun tilts his head, trying to find Xingqiu’s eyes which seem to be very pointedly avoiding him. When all Xingqiu does is blink at the bedsheets, Chongyun lifts a hand to tuck a rogue strand of blue behind the other’s ear. The motion finally manages to make the broken boy in front of him look up.

“Do you think that’s a crime?” Chongyun whispers almost silently.

Xingqiu just shrugs, sniffles a bit. Swallows thickly. His gaze finds the bed again. After a moment, he replies with a very defeated, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t let your father dictate your life. Don’t give him that control,” Chongyun says, squeezing Xingqiu’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to feel like this.”

Chongyun sighs, bringing his hand to the back of Xingqiu’s head and pulling him closer. Xingqiu allows him, simply falling forward and wrapping his arms loosely around Chongyun’s waist.

That really shouldn’t have made Chongyun’s heart jump, but it did. It was rather inappropriate of his feelings to emerge at a time like this, he supposed. Xingqiu was vulnerable, caving into himself and shattering like glass right there within Chongyun’s arms, but even still he couldn’t help but recognize how much he loved Xingqiu. The tiny insecurities that never seemed to breach the surface of Xingqiu’s forefront now crashing down like a tidal wave, the hiccups that came with uncontrolled sobbing, the anxious way in which he’d bend his toes into his socks, the desperate gnawing of his teeth against his lips— it made Chongyun’s heart ache.

And it made his chest throb more so with the fact that Xingqiu had chosen him— Chongyun— out of everyone else to find comfort in.

Chongyun tightens his grip around Xingqiu. A desire to stay there and comfort him, to hug Xingqiu close and never let go, to storm down the stairs to whatever room Xingqiu’s father currently resided in and demand an explanation to his critical judgements overwhelmed Chongyun all at once.

“Would you like me to stay over?” Chongyun softly questions instead, mouth full of Xingqiu’s unkempt hair.

With a nod he can feel against his shoulder, Chongyun begins to pull back so he can prepare his futon.

“Wait,” Xingqiu croaks as Chongyun’s legs swing over the edge of the bed. His arms tighten around Chongyun’s waist, a shaky breath finding passage past his lips. Fingers curl into the fabric of Chongyun’s shirt.

“Don’t…” Xingqiu’s voice breaks. “Can you please just— just stay here?”

Chongyun nods. Without delay, Xingqiu pulls back to guide the both of them further up the bed, slipping under the covers and heads finding rest on silken pillows.

Both of them are silent, Xingqiu staring at the empty space between them, the sheet dark with the shadows of the room. His cheeks are painted with the paleness that comes with moonlight, a red staining them that might be from something more than just rough tears.

Slowly, Chongyun reaches out to brush the back of his hand across Xingqiu’s cheek, the amber orbs he loved so much flicking up to find his eyes. When Chongyun offers a small smile, Xingqiu provides another just as minute.

With a soft sigh, Chongyun’s arms come up once again to wrap delicately around Xingqiu and bring him closer. Xingqiu slumps against him, lips brushing gently against the dip of Chongyun’s exposed shoulder and Chongyun realizes that maybe words aren’t needed. That maybe feelings didn’t need to be expressed with the boldness of sound or the reverberations of sentences when actions alone spoke volumes.

Thank you, is what Xingqiu says without speaking, his arms rising to mimic Chongyun’s actions, squeezing lightly.

I love you is what Chongyun says as he kisses Xingqiu’s forehead.