#Nameless Number | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reilliane · 2 years

Text

Withering ✤ 4NEMO

A/N: [cough] it's officially here - welcome! withering >:) ready to be thrown into childhood angst? let's go!

✤ "This indicates a dialogue in flashback."

Read: Prelude to Withering - Fleur - Epilogue

Words: 13k

Fairytales, an invitation to a whole other world.

Those collections, stacked and compiled in parchment are what keeps you up at night. It’s a miracle that your eyes haven’t gone bad what with the number of times you’d read them even when the lights are out.

Can you be blamed?

In an orphanage, where a ‘mother’s’ attention cannot linger on a single child for so long, what else is there to accompany you but the fantasies in a book?

For as long as you can remember, the twins have been a part of your growing years. It didn’t start off with a nice footing, but not everything starts off well, doesn’t it?

What matters most is the journey that is shared ahead.

You’re delighted to say that the venture is a one of a kind—a wonderful one.

Oh, if only it stayed that way.

Kaeya is the first one to depart your splendid fairytale, the boy older by a couple of years, the one who had nothing but an array of tricks up his sleeve.

He may be infuriating to be around with and he may often steal your snacks away, but he’s the best older brother figure—the only brother figure—you can ask for.

Ah, woe, for he was as transient as a passing traveler who aided a hero.

Promises entwined by pinkies are left empty, forgotten along with the light of the setting sun as he’s whisked away in a black [carriage] vehicle.

Though he had gotten a brother that day, one with hair and eyes as pretty as fires and rubies, he always said you will be his first ever sibling.

He’s always been sappy, that Kaeya. Sometimes it is too much, but nowadays you wish you can see him again if it establishes the chance to chat in retrospect of long ago.

With his departure, however, comes the arrival of a pair of boys you didn’t expect to be so fond of. It had been a terrible meeting, but you believe that if it didn’t happen, if you weren’t feeling so lonely in the orphanage and thus ran away… you wouldn’t have met them, then.

Enclosed in a world of your own, within the playground you used to frequent with Kaeya ever since you were maybe three, you remember whimpering atop the slide.

You weren’t particularly loud and you were certain that there wasn’t anyone, but all of a sudden you had been pushed off the slide.

A brusque shove that was, one that resulted in scrapped knees and a damaged pride.

Looking back, you can only wince when you recall being reduced to twice the number of tears you’ve been pouring. It had been a vulnerable moment of yours—yet it still ended up being a time that grew to be one of the most memorable, nevertheless.

The noises and shouts were scary, so you rushed to hide in one of the colored tubes in an attempt to salvage what’s left of your dignity. And maybe continue your tears in peace.

But the universe hadn’t planned for that. Not at all.

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I? Stop cry—ow!”

Bearing the same face, eyes, hair—even their voices are the same. They’re identical twins.

So similar.

“That’s no apology!” chided one, “Sorry about him. You can play with us if you want!”

“What?!”

Yet coincidentally different at the same time.

It’s like looking into a crystal pond, or a magical mirror. You have been captured by fascination at first glance that your tears have stopped.

You’ve never seen twins before—how can it be possible, for them to act as though they are one, but are actually split into two?

“What’s a better way to say you’re sorry then, hm?”

They bickered back and forth, adding kindling to an already growing fire, but as young as you were back then—you could tell that they didn’t really hate one another.

Somehow, they resurface the memory of Kaeya and how he’d engage in harmless squabbles with you.

Trembling lips and muffled sniffles took their attention, quick to defuse whatever argument they were having, and started to introduce themselves. One less eager than the other.

“I’m Venti, that’s—hey come on.”

A radiant stare, you’d describe it as sparkly then.

“Zephyrus.” Then came a much more mellow shine, yet brilliant all the same. “Just call me Zeph.”

They weren’t the sun and the moon, those two.

No, they’re both a single star, bedazzling in their own way. One does not and never outshine the other, they attune and coalesce as a singularity with such perfection that sometimes, you forget that there are two of them.

That day, for the first time, you’ve befriended children your age. Those at the orphanage always deemed you too eccentric or mischievous, so ever since Kaeya left, you tend to yourself alone. It isn’t a problem, but you can’t deny the loneliness.

The twins’ arrival eased said lonesomeness, but you don’t see them again after that fateful day. At least not until a year later, when the pages elapsed into a brand new chapter in your little fairytale.

“Congratulations on finally getting adopted, cookie.”

You were seven when he returned, that lopsided smirk still beheld by his visibly older visage. His hair was longer and for some reason, one of his eyes were bandaged, but he was still Kaeya, and he came with a pack of cookies.

The same brand he used to steal under your pillow when you were four.

Try as you may to hold a grudge, it was impossible—not when someone was about to take you in and Kaeya finally appeared after so long.

“You didn’t come visit.”

“Aha, my bad, my bad. It turns out that we live so far from the orphanage,” oh how you wish to relive the feeling of him ruffling your already messy hair. “But hey, I’m here now, aren’t I? Are you sending me off?”

“No.”

What you’d give to see the brother figure who knew and held you at your worst.

“Kaeya,”

“Will I see you again?”

Until the present day, you think of his possible whereabouts, but sometimes people just don’t want to be found.

“Why not, cookie?”

And you eventually learned to accept that.

It was a difficult feat, for Kaeya was such a figure in your childhood, but you managed to pull through. Besides, it wasn’t like he dropped off the face of the earth. A text or two drops in your inbox when you least expect it.

They are filled with the same, empty promises of a reunion, but you learned not to care as much as you initially did—Kaeya had always been like that.

And so came his final leave, never will he show up inked in the pages of your tale again. With the surcease of the first few chapters is the departure of your very first friend.

That’s fine—after all, weren’t some people meant to be deciduous?

They come and go, adding meanings that lasts the entirety of the book’s plot. Perhaps Kaeya is just the same… even if you refused to accept it in the beginning.

But maybe you simply thought of him as such to cope with the fact that not once had he ever appeared again. It was only letters in a screen, it wasn’t him.

And so, you continue to saunter about your tale.

A new chapter, a new premise, a new beginning.

A new family.

And, excitingly enough, a new place to live in!

The house was nothing like the ones you’ve read and seen in picture books. Not in Cinderella’s story nor Rapunzel’s, no, it appeared more like the castles where they got their happily ever afters.

You remembered thinking if you jumped several chapters ahead—surely, you weren’t supposed to live at a pretty castle so quickly, right? Ah, but you were young and were a dreamer.

Fairytales were called as such for they were imageries of a dreaming writer.

You were not a princess-to-be. Or so you thought.

You were just a child who refused the growing straits of the world, locked in a world of her own. Perhaps if you had chosen to wake up earlier from your petty phantasm, reality wouldn’t hurt as much as it does now.

Sure, there had been some cushion to soften the impact of falling into the real world, but your point still stands.

Even when multiple crucibles have befallen when you were a child, you remained an optimistic dreamer.

“Father!”

The idea of having a father—a parental figure that hopefully pays attention—was comforting.

Though there weren’t many descriptions and narrations of parents in the protagonists of the stories, they always end up having someone to rely on in the end.

Maybe, you thought then, the one who adopted you would be that pillar of support?

“No.”

Yes, no.

“No need to call me father.”

You couldn’t understand why he told you that it wasn’t necessary to refer to him as one—after all, wasn’t he your dad?

He looked the part, he even looked like a modern king! Adorned in a navy suit, oh, how you could imagine the crown atop his head and the scepter on the other!

His office would be decorated with elements of antiquity, quill pens, scrolls, banners… and the minty scent will instead be one of woody musk and parchment. Granted, even without imagination, the whole room looked as if it was out of a modern fairytale, you simply could not help but envision everything in an older fashion.

“Are you sure she’s the sharpest tool in the shed?”

“Certainly, sir,” assured a woman at his side, his [page] secretary. “Personally recommended, as well.”

You didn’t know what that saying meant then—you weren’t a tool as far as you were aware, but you did do well in the monthly tests the orphanage hands out.

Golden stars adorned the back of your notebooks and it was something you weren’t shy of showing!

“Alright, then.”

Excitement was meant to be felt.

Weren’t you about to greet the parent you’ve been hoping to have ever since you figured out what the word ‘orphan’ means?

Kaeya was indisputably glad when he saw the family who took him in—and he was smiling when he left. You were the same. You finally fulfilled one of your early dreams! You have a parent.

You have a home.

“Hello there, [Name].” though his smile was genuine, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Welcome home.”

Home—is it truly a home?

It’s more than what an orphan could ask for, that’s for sure.

Although it doesn’t seem like one at all [a home]. You’ve read about this in books, what’s the tale again? The Little Mermaid? No, Cinderella? That sounds more likely.

Ah! But Cinderella lived in a house where she was unwanted, living only to serve as a maid, whereas you were tended to your every whim. With a servant at your beck and call, and sweets to eat whenever you so desire. It needn’t be said that you’ve taken advantage of the latter.

Sweets!

But oh, you realized one day however, as you were eating a cookie in a room that was thrice as big as the one you had in the orphanage. There’s no one to share it with.

But nevertheless, they are good things—blessings, privileges that not all have the luxury to claim.

You’ve been promised leisure, all for a single duty in exchange; to take over the seat of chief executive officer when you’re right of age and to merge with a business partner.

You did not know what that entailed for you weren’t even at the appropriate age to discuss ‘diplomatic affairs’, but someone said that a whole life was planned ahead, jotted in notes and pinned in boards for you to view and embed in your mind.

It sounded magical, for to merge with another business implied the need for marriage.

‘Was it the happy ending those princesses got? Marriage, is that the word?’ Yes.

Contracts were feasible, but for some reason, a ‘tying-the-knot’ sort of action is preferred by current head of both companies.

They’re so old-fashioned. Now, you’re rather perturbed by it, but when you were just a child confined in her faux world, it was heavenly. [And later stifling].

Because marriage… does it not lead to a happy ending… most of the time?

You should be happy. You’ve seen photos of the boy you’ll soon call husband—though you’ve never really met him face to face. He was older, around Kaeya’s age, maybe. Blond with pretty blue eyes, like Cinderella!

In front of the huge mirror in your room, dressed in frills and ribbons that you asked for and received without a moment’s delay, you were a soon-to-be princess. Sometimes a maid would indulge in your play and even place a crown on your head and play tea party.

By the end of the day, that crown would lay askew and would find itself among the rest of the toys you were bought—but sun after sun, it was almost like you could still feel its weight.

It was the weight of responsibility—but such a fact remained unknown years ago.

Yes, perhaps your glorious father—you heard he rules over a kingdom [company]!—may not be as attentive to your whims and everything, but you were vowed an ending in which it would reflect the ones you’ve dreamt of.

In a decade and years’ time, you would be the princess you sought yourself to be.

Oh how you can laugh. It isn’t wrong to dream, per se—for little girls do dream of bejeweled crowns, pretty gowns, and a prince charming.

But if you are to say something to your seven-year-old self, it would be to stop indulging in hopeless fantasies… even if it was difficult to do so. [It was in a child’s nature to think of the impossible].

Truth be told, albeit you were a child, the logistics and intended plan for your whole life made it impossible to remain naïve even if you were trying to.

Affection may not be your father’s strong suit, but he was kind and he never failed to be munificent. That said, he was stern in your upbringing, meticulous down to the tee. He made sure that you were aware of what you were meant to do when the time came.

Who you were meant to be.

And the more you were exposed to these responsibilities- these prides, and sensibilities, no matter the age… the less inclined you were to be in the lull of a fantasy.

That was until you were officially allowed to go to school… and so, your worlds collided for the second time.

“Haaaah!” they were just as surprised as you were and to be honest, you didn’t know if they even remembered you—a solid year or two had passed.

But after your pretty teacher told you to go pick a colored table you liked—there were plenty; red, blue, violet, yellow, and green—one of them was already beckoning you over. Bright, he was still bright and beaming that he put the yellow paint of the table he’s at to shame.

“[Name], here, here, come sit here!”

Ah, so they did remember you.

There were no other children at the mansion of your father—despite him saying that what’s his are yours, you still feel a bit reluctant to do so—which means there was no one to entertain and play with you.

Except for some maids and servants, of course, but it wasn’t like they could just drop their obligations and responsibilities to play dolls with you.

Venti was more than welcoming to your arrival, erupting into excited blabbers about miraculously becoming classmates after having not seen each other in so long. He talked as if you were close—which, in truth, wasn’t really the case.

You had only met once the year prior.

“Fate’s—um, design! Don’t you think?”

Zephyr was pragmatic for his age, scoffing at the fatuous idea of his twin chalking it up to fate that you ended up being a part of their class.

“That sounds silly.” He chided.

Long, long ago, you were offended by what he said—there was nothing wrong with dreaming and choosing to believe in fate, right?

There was something indescribably beautiful in such a concept that eight-year-old you were more than peeved about his answer.

Yet, in the present, you just wish that you could’ve been more realistic like him. Alas.

Those twins may be each other’s parallel—and you may have unexpectedly cut in their life without warning, but the match wasn’t particularly awful. In fact, you got along with them well. Terribly well.

Zephyr may be rough on the edges and was marginally a bully but Venti always was there to keep in check with a giggle and a harmless knock to the head.

The latter always mentioned that the behavior stemmed from their frequent clashes with their cousin who lived in the countryside.

You never met that cousin—not until years later—but if Zephyr’s attitude was told to be almost similar to that relative of theirs, then they’re without a doubt a rowdy bunch.

It wasn’t difficult to overlook the common jibes given that he didn’t mean to be rude, and besides, you three were mere children back then who only knew how to have fun.

There were times when scuffles happen, of course, such as when Venti chose to steal your [c] crayon and you almost cried.

His twin—ever the mischief himself, too—told you to simply do the same, so you did, and stole all of Venti’s crayons, leaving only the ugly brown one in the box. You had a good laugh at the expense of your cheeks being pinched until they were as red as apples.

That, and the secretary of your father had to be called to the principal’s office because that tiny scuffle ended up being a tear-jerking argument.

For some reason, the principal apologized on Venti’s behalf, saying that it wouldn’t have started if the ‘troublemaker simply stayed put’.

You learned something that day after wondering why it was only your guardian who showed up.

The twins’ parents were working overseas, so they were being cared for by a different person—you heard it was their aunt. But she couldn’t go since she was hospitalized.

The principal mentioned that it was the lack of proper ‘guidance’ that led to Venti’s trouble-seeking nature, something that Zephyr thrashed around for in denial. He said it wasn’t true, and that the both of them have always been pesky troubles even before their parents went abroad.

You could tell back then that the principal wasn’t having it, though.

You later understood why; and it was because the pair have pulled a devious prank on said principal. Understandable.

In the end, much to your surprise, the twins weren’t the least bit irked—perhaps a little while ago, but that was in the moment itself—, saying that they were used to the treatment. They tell you about their wonderful aunt, however, and said that she’s a godsent angel for them.

She intrigued you, so it was unfortunate that you couldn’t meet her a lot of times.

The first time you did was at the end of the year during the accepting of certificates for a student’s job well done. She was practically glowing, incapable of wearing a frown and the way she carried herself was so, so much like a—

“Pretty princess!” your guardian could only smile in secondhand embarrassment as that woman stared, pretty eyes blinking in recognition.

Zephyr choked and Venti grinned. He was mirroring your enthusiasm and all but squealed, “I know right!? Auntie Gui is the best!”

How was it possible for someone so perfect to be in this world? She was everything you were striving to be that you found yourself copying most of her mannerisms.

It was only a matter of time until you learn of ‘noble etiquette’ as she certainly did!

Albeit it was a childish thing to do that would annoy most at worst, but for that cherubic woman, she was only flattered.

You couldn’t remember much of her or how she even looked like, but it was her words that struck a chord within; they were nothing short of inspiring. It needn’t be said, too, but it was obvious that the brothers were truly fond of her, as well.

“If you believe and put your heart into it, I’m sure whatever you dream of will come true.”

What if you wished to find happiness? Getting married to a stranger [prince] sounded magical and terrifying at the same time.

You were getting old enough to understand that maybe… maybe, you would not feel that fairytale spark when you meet him for the first time like in those books and movies. What happens then? You would be robbed of a happy tale.

Confined in an ending that was chosen by fate.

All of a sudden, the idea of an arranged marriage was no longer appealing—and you began to show more reluctance.

Of course, you hid it to the best of your abilities. But the fact remains that you were but a child, still [one who has turned nine] and children were translucent like glass.

In the midst of the adults whose experiences have shaped them to be shrewd and discerning, you were no match under their scrutiny.

Mainly, your father’s.

You felt bad. Really.

It wasn’t in your intention to think so heavily of a future yet to come, but ignoring it otherwise was impossible. The moment you arrived in that stellar mansion, your story had already been written and planned ahead.

One should be happy that your life was so carefully arranged. It meant absolutely no worries about which path to take and which option to choose, but for some reason, it was so… stifling.

Were fairytales meant to be like that?

The question stayed in the headspace for a long amount of time, lasting the coming years and creeping in when you lost yourself in a reverie.

If those princesses knew that their lives were planned, would they feel trapped?

One time, you were playing dodgeball with the whole class and you made the mistake of seeing an older pair of students walking together in the path by the courtyard.

Yeah, you were hit by a ball that day and had a rather painful bump since your fall was nothing short of excruciating—but it was nothing too serious.

Funnily enough, it was Zephyr who had hit you and of course, being Zephyr, chided you for daydreaming instead of giving an apology. It only took a good smack at the back from his older brother to get him to say ‘sorry’, though, even when you insisted that it was truly your fault.

They didn’t believe any of it—which was understandable, given you were crying your eyes out from the pain and embarrassment of it all.

It only took a cheeseburger to calm you down, one that Venti could not comprehend why. Apparently, he disliked anything too cheesy, which was hilarious, since he was an avid lover of cheesy lines and flicks but couldn’t stomach cheesy food.

Digressing, ever since then, dodgeball fights consisted of the three of you in the same team, never being split. The twins were known for being utterly merciless with their throws and you could vouch for that any day, any time.

They were, however, merciful enough to graciously pull you to their side of the team—something that the rest of the class said was favoritism! And were they wrong? Nope, not at all.

“[Nickname]’s a very precious friend, that’s why! Bleeeeeh!” Venti reasoned one time as he stuck out his tongue, only to be met with a ball to the face.

A very precious friend.

It was the first time you were referred to as one, let alone ‘very precious’… oh how touched you were—and oh, how touched your face was from the ball that slammed against it, too! What did you say about daydreaming being dangerous?

That was obviously forgotten. Of course, for children were prone to making the same mistakes twice.

Rest assured, though, for you were both avenged by a tunnel-visioned Zephyr, who took out the opposing team without any difficulty. Seriously, he could’ve been a star athlete.

“There you two go again, lost in your heads! You’re lucky your noses didn’t bleed. You know how Tighnari is with his throws!”

A brusque star athlete, but it counts. It’s cliché, but deep down he’s a worrywart, you’ve lost count of the times both his aunt told you that; how what one twin lacks, the other fills in.

They are complementary siblings, though they do butt heads a lot.

They never outgrew their differences and similarities, sticking to what made them each to their own yet still retaining that ‘oh yes I’m definitely this guy’s twin’ vibe.

People around them had incredible difficulty trying to discern who is who, for the pair had a knack for impersonating the other—and they were good—but you never had any complications with it.

That was another thing you could flaunt to your peers, you supposed. Or well, you thought you were good—you didn’t know.

It wasn’t every year that you were their classmate, and it wasn’t always that the twins were in the same class, too. That did not deter the three of you from hanging out, however. Everyone knew that you were all attached to the hip.

There were things you could only disclose to them and vice versa, ergo the continuous bloom of fragile trust. It only grew with age.

And with the development of your ages and mentalities—so came the inevitability called adolescence.

A time of utter frustration in your case, for when you were prepubescent, the unloading of obligation and responsibility increased.

All of a sudden, the stack of fairytale books in your shelves lessened, replaced by tomes and subjects that were for adults; business management, communication—things that an eleven-year-old shouldn’t be studying that early!

The additional tutoring given by your father was spartan. It only ever flourished the seed in your mind, a mix of frustration, dubiety, and anxiousness. Was it possible to ignore? No.

Not when it was revealed that you would be wed at the young and tender age of twenty-five.

Twelve years away—it was twelve years away. [Presently speaking, five.]

If you were still eight, you would be bursting in excitement—because look! The fairytale ending you so desire was set in stone, you only ever need to prepare for it.

But you were no longer eight, but eleven.

Young, a child, still, but one whose eyes were already opened to the sense of duty. It was too fast, you were growing up too fast and you weren’t ready at all.

You were at a bad place at that age, constantly debating with your conscience who was no older than your mind, attempting to reason if your guilt was warranted or not.

Was it bad if you didn’t want your life to be scripted? Was it bad if you wanted to make your own tale and search for your own prince?

It was cringeworthy at worst, but boy, how you feel those questions resonate within.

You never spoke to your father about it—how could you, when he had done and given everything? You gained so many things an orphan could ask for and he only asked for one thing in return; cooperation.

Would you dare then tell him that you didn’t want to follow his plan when he had been nothing but good?

You were helpless. [You are helpless.]

You were torn—and you were trapped.

You shouldn’t be so dramatic over it, heavens above, you should be grateful! But you were only human, you were only a hopeless dreamer, you could not refrain from feeling even if you so tried.

It was only when you were in the presence of the twins that you’d forget the looming responsibility over your head. An invisible crown, resting on tresses of [c] as you once so desired when you were four.

But when you were four, you did not know that the crown was heavy not because of gold.

But because it carried an obligation; a duty to serve.

Maybe you weren’t a ‘princess-to-be’ because you’ve always been a princess all along, a royal with an intransigent future, a dreamer with a crown that could not be removed.

It was heavy and it still is, because at each waking moment you would be reminded of the day your tale will meet its end.

Pre-written, pre-ordained, something out of your control.

The twins were pretty scrupulous for their age then, being able to notice that you were under the weather for most of the time.

You supposed it was only natural for they’ve known you for years—and you liked to imagine that you knew them just as much.

What kind of best friend would you be if you don’t?

Venti was, understandably, the first one to ask you about it one afternoon, but you were much too irate then so you blew off his concern.

It was a terrible thing and although you felt awful and apologized, he brushed it off with his usual laughter, saying that you could just spill your problems when you were ready.

They didn’t pester you about it as the older twin promised—and you didn’t think it was possible to drown in shame and guilt until that very moment. Wasn’t it unfair?

You knew practically everything about the two but they, on the other hand, knew very few things about you in the years that you’ve become friends. Most they were aware of was that you were wealthy and that was it!

But you were scared.

If you told them your problems, won’t they think of you as selfish, too?

The three of you were at the age when you start to become more aware of the notion of morals, what’s right, wrong—what’s good and bad.

If you told them that you were just an orphan taken in by a man who wanted someone capable to take over the company and merge with another, that you didn’t really like the idea of being made to do things… won’t they think ill of you?

What if your friendship ended? What if they said you were a spoiled brat?

It did not help that these intrusive thoughts ate you from the inside out, gnawing without rest even when you were at the safety of the mansion—your home.

There was no one to talk to about it lest they start their critiques and you most certainly couldn’t tell father.

The chances of being returned to the orphanage… being abandoned… you couldn’t risk that.

You finally had a home, you had a family and everything you’ve wished for! All you had to do was suck it up and cooperate as your father wished. Surely, you would not give up everything that you were blessed with.

So, you kept those to yourself, those thoughts that knew nothing but to badger you day in and day out. Continuously beleaguered for the passing years, you persevered—and you thought, really, you thought that you could continue on like it.

Continue pretending that you favor the arrangement written by fate.

Come the age of twelve, you tried to breach the surface, tried to subtly tell your father about it—but his immediate displeasure caused you to refrain from proceeding.

The answer was as clear as day; though he gave you the freedom to choose which to study and what degree you’ll pursue in college, your life was settled.

It’s not like pursuing a different career would affect the plans—you would be reeled back in to take the seat of the head and the hand of a stranger in the end, anyway.

The more you grew, the more you became painstakingly aware of the ticking time. Like the clocktower in Cinderella’s tale, slow and gradual in the arrival of the golden hour, and when it comes, all magic will disperse.

Ah… maybe you should try to be like her, enjoy the time while it lasts.

That was the plan.

Well, until it was time to graduate from middle school, that is, for you had become thirteen, and when you rose to the stage with your father’s secretary, you saw the number of people in the crowd.

It had been a passing comment, innocuous and without any intent to perturb you. But it still did.

“Soon, you will face a crowd like this one. With your husband. Sir will be so proud of you, he will live to see his dream come true… and he’ll get to give you an even more secured life.”

You were wordless as you took your certificate, a simple word stamping in your mind as the teacher shook your hand.

Dream—it was your father’s dream to have a child and shape them to be the perfect heir to continue his legacy and to entwine with another powerful venture. Additionally, he had thought of your life along the way.

It was for his wish and at the same time, for the security of your life.

What was this? An endeavor to bring an orphan happiness?

“The Master grew to be very fond of you, mistress. He could not see you much, but he always asked about you.”

You knew your father wasn’t the most expressive about familial love, still, hearing someone divulge his true thoughts and intentions wrecked you.

Just a few years ago, he stated that it was not necessary to refer to him as ‘dad’, or ‘father’, or anything—but now he looked at you as his daughter. Someone he had learned to cherish and planned to give the best life to.

With those added reasons, how could you even begin to think of going against his wishes?

Guizhong mentioned once that parents plan a good future for their children, who would dislike them, unaware that it was for the best.

Was it not the same case with you?

You would embody the dream of your parent. That was fine.

So, even if you disliked the plan for your life… even if you wanted to write your own tale… you should just endure it. For the best, right?

It was all that could be returned to your parent.

You were in tears that afternoon, hiding away from the secretary and not returning to your seat so you could be alone with your thoughts.

The ceremony was far from being done but you could not risk bursting out into hiccups and sobs in the middle of hundreds of students.

In isolation only would you permit the weight of the invisible crown to drag you to the earth.

In the nearby playground by the swings, you hid. No one would think to look after you there.

And there at the swings, you thought about everything.

It was for you—and it was for your father.

If it was for the greater good and for your future, why must you run away from it? Teachers also did state that best of outcomes could only be attained through hardships and trials, through disdain and perseverance.

Was yours a similar case? Most probably.

Then… would it be possible to still be happy? Of course.

Life leads someone through ups and downs—surely, you would not remain down.

Surely, the invisible crown on your head would eventually be as light as a feather.

There were sacrifices to be made, but they were all for the greater good.

Stomaching that fact was hard… but it wasn’t impossible. If you looked at it in a different angle, it wasn’t so bad.

Who knows? Maybe the person you’ll marry would end up being the prince you’re searching for—maybe you’ll learn to be happy with the arrangement.

It wasn’t a concrete ‘yes’, it was just a ‘maybe’.

But ‘maybe’ is still a chance.

So, okay.

You’ll accept it—you’ll accept that you’re a character planned for a specific purpose. After all, ‘maybe’s still exist.

You still don’t like the arrangement, but you’ll tolerate it.

You’ll have to one way or another, anyway, you were simply resigning to it as early as now. Deep down, you knew you’d still long for the magic of writing your own story, and that was fine.

It wasn’t wrong to be a dreamer—no matter how hopeless one may be.

So there, you wept for the loss of the future you desired, you wept for the possibility of a crestfallen you in the years to come. You wept for the little confined princess within.

Ah.

What would Kaeya say if he was there?

Would he tell you to raise your concern to your dad? It sounds like him, he always had been confrontational and didn’t like beating around the bush.

He’d say that it was fine to feel selfish—he’s pretty selfish himself! Always stealing your cookies and promising to gift you when he visits, but those were empty.

But still—still, you wished he was there. Because even if he was a big bully of a brother figure, he was someone you found comfort in.

That time of twilight, you prayed—you wished for him to come.

It didn’t matter if he’ll tease you for crying, you just wanted to remember the way he’d do silly things to get you to stop crying.

And as if the heavens were listening, someone came.

“[Name]?”

But it was not Kaeya.

Your vision might be blurred from all the tears you had been spilling, but it was clear enough to discern that the blue hair of the brother you had been seeking was different. It was black—a friend’s.

“… Zephyr?”

The younger twin was openly gaping by the time your sight had cleared.

It was an uncharacteristic look on his face and he was pointing at himself—until he was shaking his head and heading to sit next to you.

“What’s wrong? You didn’t go back to your seat. V-“ he almost tripped, though he caught himself a quick moment later and sat on the swing. “Very worried. We were very worried.”

It was a simple question, ‘what’s wrong’. What was wrong?

So many things, so many things were wrong—but mainly, you felt that you were in the wrong the most. If only that selfish desire of yours would leave, then everything would be okay, wouldn’t it?

It was a simple question, but you couldn’t even answer.

“It’s okay,” his voice was surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to say it.”

Ah they were so, so alike, weren’t they? They truly were twins.

All of a sudden, you were remembering the time you blew up on Venti for asking what was wrong—and your tears were bursting again.

You couldn’t bear to keep silent and confine them in the dark any longer, so as your tears spilled, so did the truths. Not a fraction was left unsaid; from your origin as an orphan, to being adopted and told of your planned life—everything.

Time was not an issue when you revealed all that you previously couldn’t, it was as if the setting sun was holding itself from dipping under the horizon so that the truths could proceed unveiling themselves.

At that moment, you did not care about what he’d think of you next. It was just too much to keep bottled inside.

You’ve overestimated your strength. You were still a child, and children were more vulnerable to breaking apart.

When all had been revealed, it felt as though you have flown into the open skies, unchained. In a way, it was true, for you had decided to break the thread that sewed your lips shut.

What was left now was to await the reaction of your friend. Oh, he’ll hate you for sure—he’ll say you’re asking for too much, that you should be grateful for what you already have, and-

“Eh? That’s constricting, isn’t it?” he grunted, “It sounds awful!”

To top your surprise off, he started going about how he thought of the situation; about it being unfair since it was technically thievery—that you were being robbed of a life.

His words faded in the background as you stared, eyes as wide as an owl’s.

He… doesn’t like it either? It was bizarre.

You didn’t expect such an outward expression from him at all, too—almost as though he feels the same conflicting emotions you’re holding.

With a shake of your head, you stammered out an apology, having lost once more to the enclosure of your thoughts. It must’ve been too silent though, because Zephyr was looking at you with a frown and a raised brow.

“Ah, I didn’t hear you. What were you saying?”

For a moment, it seemed like he was about to scold you—as always—for not speaking properly, but he just shrugged and started swinging back and forth on his seat, waiting for your answer.

He was being more considerate than usual.

Looking down at your twiddling thumbs, you repeated your apologies and chipped in a few of your own opinions. It felt safe to say more—not once has he judged you for speaking out, so…

“I said it plays a little differently from the fairytales I used to read.” You murmured, moving your hands to grip the rope on the swing before kicking off in the air.

“Wasn’t it Cinderella having a spontaneous Prince Charming? Snow White being rescued by a passing Prince? No arrangements, you know? And they get to live their lives however they wanted to.”

Love at first sight, was that what it’s called? It sounded impossible.

A story where it ends with the character gaining control of how they want to live afterward, it’s such a dream.

“It just feels… strange to have your happy ending planned. You get to live, but does it really matter?” the wind caressed your face and carried your whispers as you continued to swing, nearly straying from reality’s hold once more.

There was no response. His silence was prolonged for a while—then he snorted, bouts of stifles evidences of restrained laughter.

“Meaning, you want a stranger to sweep you off your feet or something?”

You spluttered at it.

To be fair, the one you’re to be married remains mysterious, no meetings whatsoever—you wonder why. Technically, that guy was a stranger… so the question was if he could ‘sweep you off your feet’.

You flushed red, digging your feet at the ground to stop the movement of the swing. But now that he puts it that way, doesn’t it sound a little scary?

“No,” you played again with your thumbs, voice small as you puffed your cheeks. “Just… I don’t know..”

Was it too selfish for you to want to search for someone on your own? To discover the mirth of finding someone you want to be with?

You don’t know why you’re worrying over this so much—you’re only thirteen! And you already accepted your fate!

You would carry your dad’s dream and live it out solely because it was his wish and it benefited you too. A life of power and stability. Really, the only thing you would lose along the way would be freedom.

It’s the fairytale book. Argued your conscience. Definitely.

Hah! So, it’s your fault for loving fairytales so much to the point that you are actively seeking it out in real life, something far from being magical? Ah yes, you can see where the fault lies—but still!

“I’ll take you away.”

“Huh?” you whipped your head toward him in astonishment.

The tips of your friend’s ears were red.

It was something thrown haphazardly into the fire. A sudden appearance that neither of you expected to surface.

Were you hearing things? You were, weren’t you?!

“I said I’ll take you away!” he all but exclaimed, kicking harder off the ground so he would be swinging a lot more. You wondered if he did it so you’d be unable to get a proper look on the expression on his face.

“Isn’t that what you want? For- for something spontaneous.”

No, you were not hearing things at all.

“You’re—” a lump was swallowed in your throat, palms starting to get sweaty you began to rub them away at your lap. “Doing it for show, right?”

Zephyr—the one child who loathed the idea of fantasies and was inarguably the sane, level-headed, pragmatic one out of the three of you- actually suggested such a thing?

Though yes, he had times when he indulged—involuntarily—in them, but-

He stopped swinging, giving you a dead set look in the eye that had you zipping your lips.

“It doesn’t have to be. Where’s the magic in that fairytale if it’s fake?”

Thump, thump.

All of a sudden, staring into his turquoise eyes felt suffocating, it felt heavy—surreal, flustering. It held a weight in your chest. You could not believe that he…

“You’d do that?” you whispered, breathless. For me?

“Well, why not? It’s like,” he hummed, “Saving Princess Peach or something.”

Ah.

It was as if the magic had snapped away in that instance.

Did he really just say that?

You were seconds away from laughing but the goofily serious expression he was wearing made you bite on your tongue. He always did carry a stern face but the way he mentioned that…

You didn’t expect… him to propose those things, but…

“You mean it?”

“You think I’m lying?” he countered.

You flinched, eyes widening again. He.. Zephyr… never really lies.

But—this was all still so…

For the second time, you tore your eyes away, head in a frenzy. Your palms were sweating like mad and your heart was racing as if you had just ran!

Was it normal to feel so shy when minutes ago, you were as normal as, well- usual?

A sigh.

“Take your pinky out,”

“Eh?”

He groaned, standing so he could position himself at your front. Then, he reached and yanked your wrist closer so he could align your fingers properly with his own. He kept ignoring your squirms.

“You’re slow.”

Without an ounce of visible hesitance, he linked your pinky with his.

Ah! Your eyes brightened, embarrassment forgotten, replaced by nostalgia and the memory of the similar action you used to do a lot with Kaeya.

A pinky promise… that’s what this was, wasn’t it? One to take to the grave.

“There, it’s a promise,” he gave your fingers a tug before letting go. “Now we’ll just have to wait for like, a decade and some years.”

“…”

Your cheeks started to grow warmer than usual… oh… was this alright?

Staring at the pinky finger that still clung unto the warm vestiges of another, your lips twitched, forming a shy, giddy smile.

It was useless—you know it was, that promise, but you believed in it anyway.

You have already accepted the future to come, you have resigned, even if it wasn’t favored. Nonetheless… the relief that he hadn’t judged you at all and even went out of his usual comfort zone to appease you was nice.

It felt nice.

It felt like you had someone to catch you.

“What promise?” came a voice, alerting the two of you about the newcomer.

“Venti!” he looked confused asyou beamed, hopping away from the swing so you could tell him all that had gone down, failing to register the frantic look that Zephyr wore.

There was nothing to be afraid anymore, you were certain that he’d react similarly—and he did! In one way more than one.

“He promised what?!”

Venti was thunderstruck in his exclamation, gaping widely as he shot a look at you and his twin back and forth. All attempts to construct a coherent sentence were met by failures.

You were too relieved to bother reading between the lines.

The twins were acting odd that day—perhaps they just woke up at the wrong side of the bed or something?

Still, when you parted ways with them, dolor was forgotten, and you met up with your father’s secretary wearing huge smile on your face along with a heart that felt full.

It was amazing how the littlest of comfort and most kiddish of promises could uplift your spirits. Perhaps all you needed was just a tad bit of assurance.

Deep in your bestrewed heart, a seed was planted. One of admiration.

Certainly, that promise stuck with you for days and for nights—you were happier, too.

Two of your best friends were in total support of how you felt and although it wouldn’t really help your future situation, it lessened the weight of your invisible crown.

It was bearable.

The bleak monochrome became less, replaced by heaps of color that spawned vibrancy in a life that you first thought would continue to be in a single bland hue.

Melodies of a waltz music you’ve memorized from hours of listening to—because what else was magical than envisioning a ballroom waltz?—were on an encore in your head.

After that encounter at sunset, the word ‘magical’ was certainly applicable to the prosaic reels of your everyday life.

One afternoon, when you were heading out of the school with a skip to your steps, painting every modern scenery into a grander medieval setting, you overheard the delicate sound of strings.

In a moment, you ludicrously thought that the music in your mind had manifested in reality and who knows? Maybe you have gotten a super power.

But that was much more impossible than your dad saying that your future marriage is called off, so you followed the source of the sounds—and you weren’t dismayed.

“Woah, you guys can play! That’s so cool!” how could you not been aware in all the years you’ve known them?

The music stopped.

Venti eased away from the chinrest of his violin, waving at you with the bow still held in his other hand. On the other hand, Zephyr kept his fingers at rest on the piano keys, expression blank.

“We usually play at some events! Hehe~” informed the older twin as you approached with a smile, one that was quick to dwindle in contrast to the speeding race of your heart.

For some reason, you felt a little shier than usual—was it because of that promise? You were kept awake the first few nights, unable to get some proper sleep because of it. This wasn’t normal at all, wasn’t it!?

“I heard the violin, it was amazing! And you play the piano really well, Zeph!” you grinned, pairing it with a clap. Oh, it felt like your heart was going to—

“Yeah.” He answered.

—… Burst.

Well, that was a bland response.

Your face fell, along with it your smile—he’s… being gruff. Not to find any fault in it since he always had been the personification of austereness, but- it felt like you were maybe hoping for something else.

You didn’t really know what.

A lightbulb flicked into life in your mind.

Oh, could it be that maybe he was thinking twice about what he said about that promise? It had been some time after that… It’s saddening, but you knew not to get your childish hopes up-

“Ow-! I mean, thank you.”

He corrected himself with a harsh pout. He still refused to meet your eyes—he was glaring at a snickering Venti—but even so, the smile was coming back on your visage full force.

Before you were even aware of it, you’re bouncing in place, giggling.

What was there to worry over?

“Why do you both play, though?” you beamed, curiosity genuinely piqued, “A hobby?”

You had heard Venti sing a couple of times in passing but not a time when he took it seriously. Because of it, you always thought that he just liked doing it as a pastime, so his answer caught you off-guard.

“We plan to be singers one day! Up there on a stage!”

He wore the brightest of smiles you’ve seen as he said this and though you were merely thirteen—you could feel it.

The genuine excitement, his adoration for a dream he yearned to achieve.

His twin also shared the same sentiment, though he evidently showed less avidness, there was no mistaking the sheen of eagerness over his eyes. It was sort of enviable, if you were going to be honest.

To have a dream so grand.

You only dreamt of being free and that was that.

“As a pair?” you pressed on.

You’ve heard of musical duos and even trios, so will it just be the two of them? They did operate blisteringly well together, so you wondered if they will stay as is or form some sort of band.

Venti was obviously more open to the notion of working with others, and Zephyr, not so much—however they would work around the possibility of being in a group was still unknown.

Venti shook his head, smile still on his face. “Nope! We have Xi—”

Riiiiiiiiiing!

The sound of the bell drowned and cut him off.

To this, Zephyr stood from his seat, pulling down the fallboard after a split-second skim of his fingers against the keys. “It’s dismissal. Time to go home.”

He was curter than usual—almost as if he was on edge, nervous- or maybe even upset. You didn’t know why, though he had been like so ever since you met up with them at lunch break.

You tried not to let the bad, bad thoughts insist that it was because of what he promised you.

He pushed past Venti, who called out for him to wait—to no avail.

“Um, maybe a cheeseburger will help him?” Guizhong often gave him one whenever he was being under the weather… and a lot said that food is a wonderful remedy to a bad mood!

Venti scrunched his nose at the mention of the food, mulling his thoughts about how his twin could tolerate the sticky, icky cheese.

At first, it was baffling how he—Venti—couldn’t bear to stomach anything cheesy, but now it was simply amusing.

Regardless, he did not set aside your suggestion about the ‘awful’ food, and invited you along in his little mission to brighten his brother’s spirits. You would’ve gone if you didn’t have an agenda after school, which was to take more private lessons according to your father’s orders.

It was sad but understandable.

You had only gone at least seven times at their house.

On the other hand, the times they had gone over to yours couldn’t be quantified even if one tried to.

That day, you parted ways with another seed, now of dismay, rooted in your heart. Try as you did, you could not abate the growing fear in your chest.

It was hard to convince yourself that promises could be taken back and that was fine—Kaeya had done it so many times—and though you were able to, it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Fortunately, you were already used to those, so, albeit you subtly hoped that the promise would see fruition years from now, you did not continue abiding by the thought of it. It was cataclysmic.

Besides… the marriage was like, a ‘whole decade and some years’ away, so you had all the time in the world to continue being merry.

Well, that was what you thought.

If you can turn back time and tell younger you about the future, you’d warn yourself about the chapters to come. You’d tell yourself to be stronger.

But you were just thirteen then.

You had all but explored the ups and downs of becoming an adolescent with the twins, through the reigning awkwardness and the flustering shenanigans.

It was a journey destined to be embarked by a group of three.

Highschool was even larger venture that you thought would be roamed with your arms linked with theirs, and it was. Albeit, for a short while.

Most friends often deviate come highschool, they said it was a new chapter with new characters, but this failed to be the case with you.

Sure, you were not in the same classes any longer, but it wasn’t like that changed anything.

Only, they were getting more perceptive of the future they wanted, and yours was getting murkier.

Oftentimes, you felt like being left behind. Whilst they were moving forward, prepared like knights atop their horses, you were stuck in a prison cell.

In that dark confinement, you had all the time in the world to think of things—many, many things a thirteen-year-old would stew in. From the faraway future, to pesky puberty, and emotions.

You were growing up with a heart that you wore on your sleeve—and it knew only how to race in the presence of one. The seed of admiration had grown, blooming into a shy bud that seized your heart with its roots and caused it to tighten whenever you’d see him.

When you figured it out, you were deathly afraid, but understood that things such as feelings were one of the least serious factors that could strain your relationship with your friends.

It was a bond that could stand the test of time. You were that confident in it.

Everything may not be as transparent as it was before but it wasn’t like that was a major change.

At the oddest of times, you still would find out interesting things you wouldn’t know about them—like a novel that contained bits of details that one would only catch upon repeated readings.

“What flower is that?”

You asked one time during a festival hosted by the school, a rare occasion when you could leave classes and bond with the pair.

Everyone was in charge over different things, so it was a miracle that you were able to find the time to see them.

Venti was found in the school greenhouse, tending to the plants the gardening club had asked him to bring out.

There were pretty flowers all around—but the one he was trimming the stem of was the loveliest of them all.

A stark white, dipped almost with a shy gradient of viridescent. It appeared to belong in the lily family—you weren’t too sure, you weren’t an avid learner of plants and floras.

Instead, you were growing up to be adept with management and communications, as your father liked. It wasn’t bad, you sort of liked it, though you were influenced by the twins’ love for art.

The flower put a halt in your steps, bringing about an extra sense of awareness; specifically, the blooming flower of adoration that had started to grow in your chest.

It wasn’t something you expected to have nurtured over time.

You couldn’t even begin to recall how you grew to be so fond of him.

“A cecilia! Isn’t it pretty?” Venti looked up at you before he stood, aligning the flower to your ear with a grin. “Yup yup! My favorite, indeed.”

You chuckled, agreeing with a nod as you took the flora from his hand and giving it a look over. It really was pretty.

“Does Zeph have a favorite flower?” Venti shifted his stare from you to the patch of cecilias planted in their respective pots. Hands on his hips, he smiled a wistful smile.

“He likes these, too.”

Nothing to be surprised over.

Though you did wonder about the other’s whereabouts, they were usually together. You didn’t question it, but it seemed as though your friend was aware of the stewing question in your head.

“He’s busy running an errand for the student council so he wouldn’t be here until later.”

Ah, you nodded. I see.

Venti nudged your side, winking. “The festival doesn’t really start until four, I can come accompany you later after I finish these? You should go get some lunch. It’s midday.”

Ever the worrywart, this twin.

You appreciated his thoughtfulness, though. He probably saw you scampering around the hallway a while ago during recess with nothing but an apple in hand.

As if on cue, your stomach growled and you flushed, smacking your friend’s arm when he burst out laughing.

“Shut up! I’m going, I’m going.” You spun on your heel with a snort, “I’ll see you later!”

“Uhuh!”

You hadn’t seen Zephyr that day—not even the morning earlier. But that was fine, the three of you did agree to spend the festival together.

It was one of the few events that could be spent together in the school, an opportunity not to be missed.

You didn’t worry much.

But oh, you wish you did.

Come the strike of four in the afternoon, you were seated outside on a bench, reading a book that a good friend had suggested.

Almost avid in his quest to read all the materials in the library, Xingqiu had bestowed a very good book with the theme you were all over the moon for.

It wasn’t until later when Venti showed up, plopping onto the bench and throwing his head back with a sigh—almost as if he was out of breath. It was honestly funny.

The greenhouse wasn’t too far and he was that tired already?

You ought to tease him about it, but you were too engrossed in reading that a different question popped up instead.

“What do you think of fairytales?”

Without a wasted breath, he answered. “They sound stupid..”

Your head shot up, not expecting the answer at all. His head was still thrown back as he rose his hand and did a series of stiff motions, adding, “And by that, I meant stupidly romantic, you know what I’m saying? Hehe!”

Voice turning mellow, he sighed. “It sounds impossible to happen, but it still does, anyway. It may be cliché and all, but I guess that’s where the magic is… I think?”

You blinked—once, then twice.

It’s true—that magic can be found in incessant clichés, but that’s what makes them lovable… desirable.

Digressing, you had known that Venti was the sappy one out of the twobut not to this extent. It was admirable as it was funny.

That could only mean that he was serious about serenades being his form of future courting, emphasis on future.

“… Pfft- ahaha!” You playfully punched his arm, to which he yelped and straightened up to display a vexed pout. “What’s with you today and being so strangely gloomy all of a sudden? Are you still hung up over that brown crayon?”

He scoffed, though it couldn’t hide the lifting curves of the lips on his face. “Yeah! It was so uncool of you.”

It had been a running joke for years now to bring up the topic of the stolen crayon whenever either of you was under the weather.

It was definitely a naïve topic to reminisce, Zephyr would’ve lost his eyes from rolling them time and time again whenever it was brought up.

“It wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t take my [c]!” you stuck your tongue out only to shriek at the unexpected assault that came afterward.

“You deserved it!”

Venti ruffled your hair with a grin, ignoring your shriek and flailing limbs as he continued messing up your hairdo—which wasn’t anything fancy, but still!

It was a hectic day and it was a miracle in itself that your hair wasn’t sticking on ends… until now.

Other students’ eyes were naturally drawn to the both of you, a pair of chaos incarnates that huddled at a bench, but no one bothered, far too occupied with their duties for the afternoon.

It wasn’t until a passing teacher had come to scold and tell you to quiet down did you both apologize, sheepish in your mannerisms.

Now facing quietude with only the background noise of seniors and juniors running about the place, you slumped on the bench, glancing at your watch. It was half an hour until four, half an hour until it was time to reform the group of three.

Needless to say, you were both excited and nervous.

A glimpse towards the boy beside you as well as an agitated swallow was all it took to summon the courage to speak up again. You cleared your throat.

“Hey, Ven, I think I’m going to talk about something to Zeph later.”

He chuckled. “Don’t you always talk to him?”

Oh the woes of being a thirteen-year-old. You could do this.

Or not.

Your voice faltered, emitting a barely heard whisper. “I mean…”

That was more than enough for him to turn at you, eyes wide as saucers. With the heat spreading to your cheeks and ears, you didn’t need to look at a mirror to be aware that your face was becoming as red as an apple.

The twiddling of your fingers was another evident factor that spoke of your nervousness.

“… Oh.” He answered, just as silent.

He knew of what you thought of his brother because, as dumb looking as he may be, he was truthfully rather discerning. In fact, Venti was the one who was able to spell out how you felt with only a couple of questions.

When he first found out, he was excited.

“What do you think?” you asked, concerned.

So why was he acting off now?

He blinked, eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment. “What do you mean by that?”

What did you mean?

Perhaps you were looking for some moral support? The same one he had expressed come the initial revelation? Or… you didn’t know.

But it felt like you were going to burst the more you kept it inside—you cared not about the answer you would receive, you just needed to let it out.

“Well…” you looked down at your hands, “I think…“

How were you going to say that?

For someone who was taught rigorously in communications and management, your tongue sure loved to twist itself when it came to sentimental stuff. Dear heavens, was this another setback of puberty or something?

You’re just making up excuses now.

With a sharp exhale, you turned your head to look at him again, only, he was beating you to it with a troubled sigh. Fingers ran through his messier than usual tresses, giving them a firm tug as he gnawed on his lip. He looked more nervous than you were.

“Listen, [Name]-“

The ring of his phone startled the two of you into jumping, to which he curtly apologized before taking a peek at it.

It was concerning—how you saw his pupils dilate and his lips part open- until the colors were draining from his face.

Then came another ring—and another ‘till he was being spammed with calls that he was yet to pick up. His head and phone were angled away at the slightest, but you could see the panic rising to his face.

You rose a tentative hand to his arm.

“Venti?”

As though your voice was a wake-up call, he jerked upright, slotting his device in the pockets of his jeans before you could take a look at it.

His fingers were shaking as he regarded you with the palest face you’ve seen him wear.

“I—have to go.”

Already? What about the festival? It’s only a few minutes away from starting-?

Your visage must’ve already been showing the questions that were just about to roll from your lips, because he was already backing away—afraid, panicked, you didn’t know how to describe his retreat.

You hadn’t seen him looked so white.

“I’m sorry, it’s an emergency!” he called before sprinting, leaving you alone at the bench.

That afternoon, you may had felt worried, but it wasn’t too much.

Whatever the occasion, either of the twins never failed to let you in an update. Yes, the festival wasn’t that festive anymore because they both weren’t there with you… but that was fine.

It wasn’t.

You went home when the clock read seven and you were certain that neither were going to show up. That was the time you began to worry. Such a delayed response, but it was better to fret than never.

Not one of them picked up the calls, so you assumed that they were handling it well… hopefully.

They weren’t.

Even when the moon was already high up in the sky, there were zero replies.

It was then, that you truly began to be concerned. It was not normal, this duration of no contact, you weren’t used to it at all. You needed to know what happened.

You should’ve chased after him a while ago—but what if it was personal? No, it was okay, they would understand- right?

Sleep evaded your consciousness.

As you tossed and turned on your bed, gazing at the dark sky littered with tiny specks of white, you endeavored to bring yourself to a magical dreamscape—but it was an otiose try.

Not even reading the bunch of fairytales and storybooks in your shelves could allay the twist of trepidation in your chest.

You wished to receive a sign—a good one, or anything!

And lo, receive you did.

Your phone lit up on the bedside table before it started to ring, not like it mattered, for you were already swiping it to answer in a span of a second. Pressed against your ear, you called out the name displayed on the screen.

Breathlessly, anxiously.

“Venti?”

Nothing—just the distant sound of repetitive beeps and labored breaths.

It was a night to remember.

“[Name],”

And it wasn’t because it was good.

You can remember the way he responded to your second call of his name, so frail—so lost.

He’s crying.

He hadn’t said anything yet, but as if the organ keeping you alive was in tune with his, your eyes were already watering. The coldness of your room was becoming too much.

“I, he-“ a choked sob. “Zeph.”

You forced yourself to choke out an agitated, “Yeah?”

The quietude was deafening, the constant zoning out, the ceaseless beeping in the background- you were going to go insane in the darkness of your prison cell.

You debated saying his name again lest your words would tumble in with his, but he wasn’t saying anything and you were getting frustrated by the minute.

The tight grip you had on your duvet hadn’t even been registered until you felt a subtle stab of pain digging into your palms and you released it with a disgruntled, shaky exhale.

The roots of the flower you’ve nurtured within grasped away at your chest, seizing traces of air that you had trouble trying to wring in.

“Venti?” you try again.

And again.

And again—over and over and over until it was enough to snap him out of whatever had held him captive and-

“[Name], he—”

The world slowly began to still along with your freezing heart. Something slammed and the sound was loud, thundering in the ears like a judgement had befallen for all to hear.

So destructive, when in truth, it was only your phone that had rolled out of your grasp.

But it’s the same phone that heralded the terrible news—news you wished should be false, but alas. It wasn’t.

The tale you called life was warping into a nightmare.

It was his turn to say your name, reverberating in the walls of your room. But, just like he had been a while ago, you were too stunned to speak.

Far too gone, you were, that you didn’t bother to catch the phone that eventually slipped out of your bed.

Thud!

It’s cold.

“Hello, miss?” you blink with a shiver, turning to the voice with a confused look.

An old woman is handing you your—ah! Your phone!

“You dropped this.”

You take it from her aged hands and quickly placed it in your bag, a much safer location than your jean’s pocket. “Thank you…”

How long have you been standing out here?

You’ve arrived at your destination with a newly purchased flower and a semblance of fortitude to go along with it, but not even a step further and you are already gone.

Away, in the tides of a time irretrievable.

Goodness, here you go again, getting lost in your head… if Venti is here, he would’ve already started another motherly sermon.

He isn’t, however, so there is only your subconsciousness to tell you off for being an airhead.

“Are you alright, dear? It looks like you’ve come from a nightmare.” And you’ve forgotten that there’s still someone in front of you.

Resisting the impulse to slam a hand to your face, you wring up a strained smile, one that is swift to sway come the understanding of what was mentioned.

A nightmare?

You fight down the urge to laugh and admit that—yes, in some way, you did just resurface from a nightmarish memory. She isn’t wrong at all. Far from it, actually!

For the sake of preserving whatever mettle you have remaining, however—you like to think you’ve grown some resistance in reminiscing the bitter past—you chose not to reveal your true sentiments. Instead, you laugh it away.

As you learned to do over the years.

“I’m fine, granny, but thank you.” You grin, “It’s appreciated.”

The old woman coos, caressing your hand and giving it a firm shake, as though aware that you are lying—for her sake or yours, she doesn’t know. You don’t know either. “Dear girl, whatever it is, do not worry.”

Her wrinkled visage presents a knowing smile, olden with wisdom and experience that one can’t possibly forget. Before she departs down the white halls of the building, she presses faintly on your knuckles.

“When dream ends, so do nightmares. You’ve awoken from one, and you will for so many to come.”

Her words resonate in your mind, bouncing off memories in an endeavor to get it to stick—maybe even to console the conscience of your younger self. One that is mislaid in the oscillating enclosure of a bogey known as history.

Ah, but she has mentioned that you have awoken from that now—and, though still hurting, you daresay that you have in fact, woken from it.

Awake from a fairytale-deemed-reality, for now you are older and not younger.

Accepting, for now you are mature and no longer naïve; the moment you’ve decided to open your eyes, you have emerged past the pages of your storybook.

She’s right, you sigh, entering a room and shutting the door as silently as possible. I’ve awoken.

For it’s just as she said.

Your dreams have ended—and so have your nightmares. What lays before you now are nothing but the afterthought, the one that lingers, never to leave. You’ve awoken… but deep down you still wish to succumb to that slumber, to that pleasant wonderland where there are only pleasant dreams and nothing more.

The steady sound of a beeping machine stings your eyes as you place down a single cecilia on the vase, taking the old one out.

Oh, how you still wish for fairytales, for don’t they reach happy endings? Alas.

There is no time to hope for magic.

Ginger with your mannerism, you feel the petals under the pad of your finger, trembling lips tugging down to a frown.

It’s soft, despite nearing its death.

Beep

A long time ago, with the entrance of twin stars in your fairytale, comes the planting of a seed. Born of a promise you’ve held onto, but eventually let go.

Beep

A long, long time ago, you nurtured a flower, too—it grew with your heart, grew with your emotions.

It has blossomed into a beautiful one, never closing back into a bud. It knew not rain nor shine, for whatever the weather, it still kept its petals open, dancing to the presence of one.

The journey of it blooming. The dread of falling. The beauty of loving…

Beep

And the acceptance of withering.

A natural cycle, yet one you dreaded all the same.

Weakened, you fall to the nearby chair, feeling the twists and turns of your heart as you drop the wilted cecilia onto your lap.

In the end, deep down, although you’ve woken up, you are still the child yearning for an impossible fairytale.

Beep

Is it selfish for you to want to see it be fulfilled? That naïve wish? That childish promise?

Hand on the white sheets, near unmoving fingers, you sigh. With the last reserves of your strength, you bring your eyes to gaze upon someone’s profile. So strikingly similar, a mirror to a friend. Peaceful and undisturbed.

Beep

Your eyes are stinging—it’s impossible to keep them from hurting.

“When, just when,”

Your laugh comes out bittersweet, though it begins to form into restrained sobs.

Beep

“When will you stop dreaming, Zeph?”

The monitor proceeds to show and sound out the timid beat of a sleeping heart, as it has been doing for the past couple of years. It’s yet to show a sign of change, yet to show the sign of a hopeful awakening.

It drowns out the quiet weeping, lost in the coldness and the whiteness of the hospital room. A space stuck in the stasis of time.

Beep

It makes you look away at the face of a dear friend—

Beep

—Unable to see the stray tear that rolls down his cheek.

a/n: so :))) [passive smiling intensifies] we have a sleeping beauty~ at long last, namelessbard (zephyr) is finally- officially introduced! LORE! HOORAY! and the angst! ..not so yay?

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @yasunamilk @alana5021 @coco-goat-milk @uwu-dreams @nomnom21 @milksnake-tea @layla240 @normalisthenewnorm @abbynxisys @ghostlystudentvoidbat @meinoballs @lost-in-alula @aryllechan @xiaosalmondtaro @yetchann @rayskyee @lunavixia @estelwrld @nightfloweruponahill @o0soup0o @little-fiinch @blueberrysauce @iineikoo @aestherin @hakobuns @monicahar @sirinxei @mundanenights @minitao @randomweebly @bluebeomz @emperatris-rinaka @durptwit @shioriryke @crapimahuman @cianalikesbeans @feverish-dove @sassyglassesbunny @m1chijou @galacticmei @dollpoetwriting @yamtwt

#m-fleur #venti x reader #venti angst #nameless bard x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #female reader #i apparently like to test tumblr's limits #i reached the max amount of blocks per post- 1000 #tumblr can you maybe please up that number JHDAJHDSAJD #so i can- yakno.. add more spaces between paragraphs for dramatic suspense KJSHDJASDHA

171 notes · View notes