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No matter how many times Venti gets poisoned, it still strikes him as addictive. This is a thought that Venti keeps to himself, of course. He wouldn’t dare to imagine what the reactions of the people close to him would be if he told them he thought Abyss poison was addictive to him. Or if he told them that he had been poisoned more than once. This is the first time that he has been impaled through his chest, though. So even though, the poison soothes something in his brain, it still hurts to breathe.
Not the first time the Abyss Order has tried to poison him, but the first time they have tried to murder him. Maybe they haven’t really tried. Stabbing the Anemo Archon with something resembling one of Dvalin’s claws, near the city, is a rookie mistake; the easiest way to not kill the Anemo Archon and to get yourself killed, actually.
Luckily for everyone involved, the Anemo Archon can teleport easily out of sight and he doesn’t mind if someone is trying to murder him in the middle of the day. Venti might add that he minds his assassination attempt was in the middle of his stroll to get some apples. It was kind of rude, even.
What Venti minds more, though, is that a mysterious shade bashes his head against the ground the second he gets to Windrise.
Venti knows is the Abyss poison that makes his body more human. More mortal, more real.
The smell of blood is something that Venti pretends he isn’t familiar with. But smell has always been tied to memories. Dandelion wind, cecilias, apples, and sea salt. Arrows across the chest, child’s blood, nosebleeds, a strike against the head. Venti is glad he is bleeding on the ground of Windrise, maybe Vennessa will finally look down on him. Maybe Celestia will wake up. Maybe his Mother-
The mysterious person steps on his clavicle, hard enough to crack it in half, something that doesn’t help with the whole getting air into his lungs situation.
Venti tries to focus his eyes on the person in front of him to no avail. Shapes and black dots plague his view. After all, it was no rookie mistake.
The pain the poisoned claw makes after leaving is worse than when it was inside him. His blood is desperately trying to go somewhere, and Anemo particles try to mend everything unconsciously; it’s not their fault the Abyss poison is trying to stop Venti from healing.
It’s too early, someone inside Venti’s head keeps repeating, I should have had more time.
The hole in the middle of his chest stays open, and Venti feels his ribs poking out. His heart beating in open air, sending his blood directly into the ground. Venti doesn’t think blood will be the best fertilizer for the oak tree.
“Your blood is clear as the water in Springvale,” the mysterious person says, their voice an echoing one. An entity that doesn’t belong to this world. “You are a fountain of holy water, Barbatos.”
They search through his cape's hidden pockets. It seems absurd to break through his thorax with a poisoned claw and give him a concussion, just to perform a robbery.
“I don’t have a single mora on me.”
The person scoffs and doesn’t say anything else. The prior words prove to be just musings to themselves.
The next thing they scavenge is the insides of Venti’s thorax.
Venti screams, fingertips feeling up his lungs and making a space in between his muscles. He struggles, throwing punches to get them off him. It burns to breathe, his screams being torn out of his throat. The fingers scratching for something inside of him, something Venti doesn’t own anymore.
Two steps ahead of everyone. The Archons are Archons for a reason. Venti is glad the Cryo Archon had sent proper instructions to retrieve the gnosis. Being kicked around a little was better than whatever this is.
An assault, an assassination.
“You won’t find it,” Venti grumbles and spits some blood. Blood that shouldn’t be escaping his mouth. His body is but a mirage, not a vivisection exhibit, but Venti has always proved to give people what they want from him.
The person tears their hand out of Venti’s body and grasps his face. The blood stains everything, and it’s not until now that Venti regrets wearing his best blouse.
His rib bones free themselves from his vessel, growing and twisting around the person, making sure to push them away from Venti without actually hurting them. It’s the first time Venti has tried this, and he can’t help but whine; this will consume so much of his energy. Still bleeding on the ground, Venti decides to make his escape. No one would expect someone who is bleeding to death to grin in the way Venti does, but the Anemo Archon is a sucker for the theatrics.
With the little energy that Venti has left, he shoots a last glance at the person and disappears in thin air.
One of the first things that you learn while teaching yourself how to run away is that you should know where you want to escape. Anywhere but here, is a command that could get Venti fractioned in little wind currents. But choice is not something he gets when he has an open cavity in the middle of his body. Home sounds way better; sadly, Mondstadt is too big, and he might as well be dropped off in Windrise again. If he thinks about golden eyes, he will be dropped in the middle of Liyue Harbor, and Venti doesn’t think Liyue needs another God dying in its streets.
Venti thinks about his bed, the small room he’s renting in the middle of the city. If he’s any lucky, he will materialize in the middle of his room and not at the door of the building.
Of course, today is not Venti’s luckiest day. Collapsing against a wall, Venti touches his chest, feeling the gaping wound and checking if he remembered to materialize his ribs with him. Finally sighing with relief at being complete, Venti looks around him. His sense of direction might have been shaken a little, but the warm lamps can still guide him back to his place.
At least, the rain seems to be approaching the city. By morning, all traces of blood Venti leaves will be washed out of the cobblestone.
The loss of blood makes Venti dizzy, which is to be expected from a mortal vessel. The elemental energy can’t be concentrated and doesn’t flow properly enough to heal Venti’s wounds. It would be hard for Venti to die just like that, but probably a long nap is in order. Two months? Maybe a year. He just hopes whoever comes to check on him isn’t terrified of his healing process.
Heavens, hopefully, Jean doesn’t come to check up on him.
The light rain becomes a downpour when Venti finally reaches the door. Another mysterious person is standing in front of it, seemingly waiting for him.
Venti’s thoughts go back to the person he left at Windrise, but they don’t seem threatening. He thinks of Rosaria and her taking him back to the Church. Oh, all the answers he will have to give. Alas, there’s not much of an option, is there? He’s in his city after all; he’s home again.
With that thought, Venti resigns himself to unconsciousness.
*
What wakes Venti up is the sound of water.
For a second Venti fears he has fallen asleep on the street, still bleeding on the cobblestone for everyone to see. But what he feels next is warm water, so he’s not on the street.
A hand brushes his hair out of his forehead, probably washing the blood still on his face.
Blinking once and twice, Venti realizes his sight has come back, albeit not completely. Dark spots still plague his view, even if for just a few seconds. Taking a deep breath makes him realize that the hole in his thorax is nearly closed, and an itch is growing more now that he is regaining consciousness. He didn’t know that having someone search within his organs like that would make him so itchy. Venti wants to reach out inside and fix them himself, maybe do a little cleanup. That would be nice.
Venti doesn’t know what the washrooms inside the Church are like, but the ceiling in the room doesn’t seem to belong to the Church at all. He hasn’t spent much time in the place he’s renting, but this place does look like his place after all. At least he has that.
The next inquiry Venti’s confused mind conjures gets answered when golden eyes enter his view.
“Zhongli,” Venti manages to murmur. His throat still hoarse from the screams and probably the cold that he will get after this.
Golden arms fix him on a stool, and Zhongli refuses to look at him.
Warm water pours on Venti’s head, making his hair cover his eyes again. Venti is sure that blood is dripping from his hair, too. Everything is reeking of coagulated blood, a remark of the familiarity of it dies in Venti’s tongue. Zhongli hasn’t said a single word since Venti woke up; it’s better not to bother him. The stars know what would happen if Venti said the wrong thing. If it were Venti who saw Zhongli stumble upon him with a hole in his chest, his reaction wouldn’t be a pretty one.
Water washes his back, cleaning all traces of sweat and blood. His blouse is basically in pieces but still sticks to his body. For all this helping, Zhongli also refuses to touch him too much, something that Venti appreciates.
Zhongli’s shirt sticks to his body, too; that suit of his looks silly now. It’s a shame that Zhongli doesn’t come to Mondstadt enough for him to have a least a couple of shirts in Venti’s place. Although he’s probably carrying his teapot around somewhere, so clothes are not necessarily an issue. Still, it would be awkward to have nothing for Zhongli to wear, especially after what he’s doing for Venti.
After all the blood goes down the drain, Zhongli looks Venti in the eyes. A silent question to which Venti can only answer with a nod.
(Who knew that gods would get so shaken by such an incident; enough to leave them wordless and worried, enough to get them in a washroom with diluted blood around them.)
Zhongli takes out what remains of Venti’s blouse and the rest of his garments, pouring the last bucket of warm water on him. Finally, clean, drowsiness wins over Venti again.
*
Venti gets up so fast when he wakes up that it gets him dizzy. The hole might be closed, but the ache is still there. The blood loss is felt, too, even though he doesn’t need it. It must be a lack of elemental energy and the Abyss poison.
The only thing Zhongli does is push Venti back to the bed. A frown on his face, because when is he not frowning? Something twists inside Venti’s chest; he has always feared disappointing Zhongli. Not that anyone would be able to tell, with the many ways Venti has come to disappoint him. However, it’s good that he looks at him again.
Venti brushes it off. He could pretend that Zhongli came around to visit him while Venti was blackout drunk. Maybe if they don’t talk about it enough, that can be how this awkward anecdote gets written off. They set on a day to go out and get some drinks, Venti went ahead to get started and then he forgot! Zhongli found him outside of Angel’s Share, drunk out of his mind, and got angry.
And…accompanied him home. Because no matter what Venti did, Zhongli always stood by his side.
The itch in his organs gets worse. Venti doesn’t know what to think about Zhongli seeing Venti bleeding out from a hole the size of a fist in the middle of the street.
A cup of something pungent is set on the bedside table, and Zhongli insists on remaining silent. Something that smells like chicken soup is cooking on Venti’s small stove.
If Venti doesn’t say anything, that will be that. Zhongli is too committed to let Venti do whatever the fuck he wants, and if he doesn’t want to say anything about nearly dying, then that will be it. Zhongli will go back to Liyue as if nothing had happened, and Venti will avoid him until something really bad happens. And they won’t talk about it because Zhongli is obtuse and Venti is an imbecile.
There are many questions Venti wants Zhongli to ask him, and he wants to ask a couple of those back. He wants Zhongli to reach inside his chest and rearrange his organs. Venti wants him to scratch all the itches in his heart and to keep his hand inside. To keep the molten golden warmth that is his hand inside of Venti, as a second heart.
Venti wonders if it’s pride that stops them from talking with sincerity.
“They were searching for my gnosis.”
Zhongli turns with a ladle in his hand; if he didn’t have such a distressed expression on his face, Venti would have found him cute.
“They poisoned you and cut you open for a gnosis?”
There it is, the disappointment again. “Well, I’m not sure!” Venti tries to sound reassuring, but it’s difficult in his current state, “they started searching up inside-”
“…Inside.”
“Yeah…”
Zhongli turns around and turns off the stove. Venti mourns the soup that will be wasted; either he will have to eat it by himself, or Zhongli will take it to feed the street dogs.
Golden eyes search for something in him.
“Something else happened.”
He will leave, Venti knows. Zhongli has patched him up already; there’s no risk for Venti to die alone in some deserted alley. Venti will wait a couple of days to try and go back to his routine again, maybe stay more hours at Windrise. Going alone doesn’t sound like the best idea, but he doesn’t have what they are searching for. Being vivisected again doesn’t seem like a possibility.
The frown is back there again when Venti explains this isn’t the first time he has been poisoned. The attempts on his life have been growing in number in the past months. It’s targeted, of course. Someone is searching for something that escapes Venti’s understanding. Opening him up like a chicken for a grand meal was new, at least.
“You didn’t tell me,” is what Zhongli takes from it, and no, Venti didn’t want to. “When you said you had an important gig, you lied to me.”
And there’s that tone again. Truth be told, Zhongli should have known Venti was lying to him. It wouldn’t be the first time.
At least Zhongli is not leaving.
“You don’t trust me.”
At least Zhongli is not taking his things and leaving, and refusing to speak to Venti until everything gets too dire. Zhongli says Barbatos in that tone of his that doesn’t give Venti any room to speak. And does Zhongli even trust him? How many things has he kept a secret just to protect Venti?
Getting up in this condition is difficult. Luckily, the mysterious person left Venti’s legs alone. A couple of scratches and the loss of blood make it difficult to stand up, but Venti manages. No matter what he says, Zhongli won’t understand, so this is necessary.
The feeling of molten gold inside Venti is new. Venti pushes his body towards Zhongli, more than the other way around. I trust you, he wants to say, would you still be here if I didn’t trust you?
Geo energy pulsates inside Venti’s chest. Blood is no longer blood, and organs are replaced by elemental energy. Maybe, if they were in another situation, Venti would complain about feeling heavy, but now he just feels grounded.
And Zhongli doesn’t leave.
*
Zhongli sleeping in a dingy bed in Venti’s place is not something one sees every day. If Venti had seen earlier how it was to have the great and magnificent Geo Lord, shining like gold, in his small bed, then he would have bothered Zhongli more to spend more time in Mondstadt.
Pressing his face against Zhongli’s back, Venti feels like he can finally let out a sigh of relief.
The downpour outside doesn’t do anything but get heavier. It feels like it has been night forever. How long has it been since he was assaulted? Some hours or maybe a week, Venti can no longer tell. Everything around him has been reduced to Zhongli’s heartbeat and the breathing of someone who’s obviously awake.
“Why did you decide to come at this precise moment?”
Zhongli turns around and kisses him. After everything that happened, Venti feels like crying.
Kissing him on every available surface he can, Zhongli holds him with intensity, and what Venti assumes is a reassurance that he’s alright. Venti lets him, of course, it’s been a while since he has been held like this.
“I always choose the more inconvenient moments to come visit you.”
Venti laughs. “This wouldn’t happen if you cared to warn me beforehand. I would have made sure to move my assassination attempt to Monday,” Zhongli bites him, “or perhaps on Wednesday. Streets are always emptier in the middle of the week.”
Groaning, Zhongli bites him again. “Why do I even try to talk with you?”
Like a cat, Venti presses against Zhongli’s chest. If he concentrates enough, he will be able to meld into Zhongli. No one will attempt anything when he’s but a small part of Zhongli’s body. Nobody will realize either.
Zhongli can just pretend that he’s taking care of Venti’s place in his stead. He looks good in between Venti’s things after all. Roaming around the kitchen, mumbling something about there not being enough ingredients for a proper meal. Not Venti’s fault that Zhongli likes to cook with special ingredients that you wouldn’t be able to get, not even in the most specialized of Liyue’s grocery shops.
Living on borrowed time is tiring Venti out. He wishes they had the brains to appreciate their time together before. Decades of nonsensical fights and centuries of dancing around their feelings. Venti mourns all the time wasted not doing this.
For a change, Zhongli is the one doing the singing. Humming a song that Venti thinks he recognizes for some seconds, but sleep is calling to him, so everything around him moves like the waves in the sea.
“Thank you.”
“…you are welcome.”
*
Whoever was trying to murder Venti stops after a while. The end arrives, and Venti still finds time to invite Zhongli to sleep on his bed again.