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By the time Venti skids into the science building’s faculty lounge, Hu Tao is already halfway through her first instant ramen and looks about ready to consume two more. Venti does a weird little hop-juggle dance to balance his lunch, his folders, and his wallet, before making his way over to Hu Tao’s table.
“You started without me again!” Venti says, plopping down onto a purplish, egg-shaped piece of furniture that could generously be called a chair. “Do you exhibit this kind of impatience with your baby freshmen too?”
“Well, you’re always late,” Hu Tao responds. She pushes one of the instant ramen cups towards Venti.
“ Well , it’s not my fault the music building is all the way across campus and you always insist on meeting here!” Venti huffs in mock outrage, even though he knows the physical activity is at least good for keeping up appearances, and sets his stacked lunch box on the table. “And I brought lunch today. Keep the ramen.”
Hu Tao lights up instantly. “More food for me! Anyway, the freshmen are so clueless that I don’t think they’d pick up on impatience even if I exhibited it. You know?”
Venti does not, in fact, know, since he mostly teaches the advanced musical theory, history, and composition classes, and everyone there either knows what they’re doing or is really, really good at faking a sense of musical tone. “Right, right, I see,” he says, nodding along anyway.
“Plus, they’re going to mess up my labs no matter how impatient I am with them, so…” Hu Tao shrugs and polishes off the first ramen cup. “No labs for the freshies! Only I get lab accident privileges!”
“I think the dean would argue differently,” Venti points out. He was there for the centrifuge incident of winter quarter last year, after all. And the lost petri dish controversy of the same winter quarter, and the misplaced corrosive chemicals scare of last year’s fall lab sessions, and the are-they-aren’t-they illegal bacteria samples debate right before graduation three years ago. And that isn’t counting the ones he heard about through the grapevine.
Hu Tao balls up the paper-aluminum lid of her second cup and tosses it behind her head. Venti doesn’t even need to manipulate the winds to make it land in the trash can. She’s gotten better! Last time, it landed in someone’s soup.
“Pshaw, Ningguang?” Hu Tao scoffs. “What does she know anyway? She was a business major who never took a science class for anything past basic requirements! She doesn’t even have a proper appreciation for the excitement of labs!”
“Riiight,” says Venti, a good deal more skeptical. If there’s one thing he’s learned in his almost four thousand years of being alive, it’s that humans are simultaneously really good at survival in dire situations, and insanely squishy. Perhaps Hu Tao is just very lucky that her lab escapades haven’t injured her. “Well, don’t let her hear you say that.”
“Of course not. But holy archons, your lunch looks delicious!” Hu Tao continues, nearly bowling Venti over with the speed of her conversational redirect. “Isn’t it finals week soon? Don’t you have tons of projects to grade? When do you even have the time to cook?”
Venti pops another jiaozi into his mouth and hums happily. Now this, he can definitely talk about all day. Such is the Zhongli Effect. “Well, they’re just leftovers, but it’s actually stuff Zhongli cooked! And his cooking is the best. Want a dumpling? They’re classic pork and chives, but they’re absolutely divine, I’m telling you!”
He’s not overstating it, either. Everything Zhongli makes is divine, metaphorically and literally.
Hu Tao’s eyebrows float into her hairline. “Should have guessed it was from the mysterious Zhongli, huh! And yes, please. ” She makes grabby hands at the lunch box and grins mischievously when Venti deposits two jiaozi into her ramen cup. Sometimes it really does feel like half their relationship is built on her exploiting him for free, high-quality food.
“What, you don’t think I can cook this well? I’m hurt! Truly hurt! Oh, I cannot believe the level of faith that you have in my abilities is so low!”
“You tried to cook a ham-and-cheese sandwich in the microwave,” Hu Tao recounts mercilessly. “You once asked me how toaster ovens worked. And there was that time you thought you could chill pudding by throwing it into Mondstadt’s government-research wind tunnel and blasting it with high-speed wind! Now that’s one of your best hits!”
Venti makes a grab for the jiaozi, because someone as cruel as Hu Tao doesn’t deserve the heavenly taste of Zhongli’s handmade dumplings, but Hu Tao gobbles them up and still manages to laugh at him through the layers of wrapper and ground pork and chives. Urgh . She’s so insufferable. Why does Venti hang out with her, again?
“Okay, well, what about that one time I brought ratatouille I cooked myself to work and everyone loved it? Including you!”
“Pretty sure that’s the only dish that you can cook,” says Hu Tao, smirking. “Which basically means… you can’t cook! But hey, at least you have your handsome and competent sometimes-house husband to cook for you, right? Man, this Zhongli guy sounds awesome.”
“Haha, yeah, he’s wonderful, isn’t he…” Venti’s head snaps up. “Wait, what did you just call Zhongli?”
No. Wait. Did Hu Tao just — did she say Zhongli was — was Venti’s husband? What — how did she even get that impression?! A god can dream, sure, but it’s not like that, it never has been!
Oh, Celestia. Venti can feel the frantic, desperate beat of his heart rushing through the veins of his neck, his wrists, squeezing the hollow bones of his ribcage like the resentment that wreathed Durin’s corpse. Pulsing proof of a love older than the mountains themselves, and the terrible flicker of longing that had taken root in his heart even before the first cecilias sprouted.
It was like this four thousand years ago, and it’s still like this today. It won’t change, and nothing between them will change, because even the wind needs an unshakeable ground to rest its howling claws on, and Venti won’t disturb this one precious constant they have. Not when they’re the last two archons left, and the world is changing so fast that some days it feels like Zhongli is the only thing he can be truly certain of.
Ugh. This — these feelings, they’re precisely why Venti hates thinking about the whole thing. Thanks so much , Hu Tao.
“Your… husband?” Says Hu Tao, tilting her head innocently. The worst part is that it seems like she isn’t just trying to tease Venti like usual. She actually means it. Great. “I mean, isn’t it like that? Well, I suppose you don’t wear a ring, but some couples don’t either, and you just have that vibe, you know?”
“No, I don’t know what vibe you’re talking about!!” Venti thunks his head onto the table and wonders what Celestia’s up to now for him to be put through this kind of suffering. “And oh my archons, it is not like that at all!!”
“No? Hmm, then fiancé? Boyfriend of a suspiciously long time because you’re both too chicken to propose to each other?”
“Gods help me , ” groans Venti, even though he knows that the only gods around are him and Zhongli, and he’d rather dive into the Abyss than actually invoke Zhongli’s name right now.
“And also, you know. The vibe.” Hu Tao waggles her eyebrows and grins. “You get it? No? Okay, well, it’s the one where you always have some weirdly besotted smile on your face when you talk about your Zhongli, even when you’re complaining about him, and you pretty much reek of being spoiled silly by a caring spouse. Whew, almost made myself jealous with that description! But seriously Venti, you lucked out, since your Zhongli seems like one heck of a catch.”
Venti leaps out of his stupid egg-shaped seat and paces the length of the table, just so he has something to do with himself while he processes… well. While he Processes. Full stop. Period. Wow. He may be going slightly insane.
“Okay. O kay. So. First of all, Zhongli doesn’t spoil me, and I know you are going to point to the lunches he makes, to which I say, 50% of the time they’re leftovers and he’s just being nice by letting me eat them! Plus I am a competent and secure human who has no need of spoiling, so there. ”
Hu Tao leans back and whistles, looking amused at Venti’s messy whirlwind of feelings. “You really feel strongly about this, huh?”
“Yes!! And okay, second of all, stop calling Zhongli like that — like, like. Um. ‘Your Zhongli’.” Venti tamps down the instant flush of his cheeks when he says that and soldiers on. “Just, don’t. Please.”
“Why, what’s the problem?”
“It isn’t true! He isn’t mine. He’s never… I mean, that isn’t the problem — “ Oh, who is he kidding? That’s like 99 percent of the problem, but he isn’t going to tell that to Hu Tao because once she knows, the rest of the faculty will know within 3 to 5 business days, and after that half of the student body will know (also in 3 to 5 business days). “I’m just. Pointing out a fact. That, um, Zhongli isn’t mine, and obviously he’s his own go — erm, human-shaped person too. So you can just refer to him as Zhongli. Because that is his name. And you refer to human people? By their name? Yes? Yes.”
Hu Tao is silent for a long, crucifying moment. Then, she steeples her hands together, rests her chin on them like she’s some kind of therapist, and says, very slowly, “Woooow.”
Venti winces.
“Venti, my ally, my friend, my good bro. You are seriously in deep, which would be funny if I wasn’t more concerned about your sanity.”
“Bold of you to — “
“And before you say, ‘ooh, Hu Tao, bold of you to worry about other peoples’ sanities, what about yours,’” Hu Tao continues. “I am most definitely sane enough to call you out on your respective lack of sanity in this matter without seeming hypocritical.”
Venti doubts that, mostly because being a biology professor means you’re at least partially insane. But he doesn’t particularly feel like getting into another verbal battle with Hu Tao today, so he makes the wise decision of not responding with a witty retort.
“Well — why did you even think that we were, um. You know. Together?” Venti says instead, tamping down his blush and soldiering on bravely. “That vibe you described could just be because we’ve known each other for eons and are best friends! Which, for your information, is the actual truth.”
Hu Tao snorts. “What, are you two childhood friends or something?”
Well. Weeeeeell. The thing about that is.
The first time Venti had met Zhongli was during the tail end of the Archon War, three thousand something years ago. Venti had been a newborn god then, exalting in the feeling of a stormfront wind in his veins and the songs of his people in his heart. Zhongli had been wearing that youthful face of his, even as the tides of war eroded the smooth, peaceful curve of his cheeks. That was after a whole century of nation-wide terraforming, when Venti had popped over to Liyue for a quick check-in on Mondstadt’s geographical neighbor, drinking wine and making sure they wouldn’t invade Mondstadt, just normal godly stuff. That… wasn’t really during childhood by any means.
But before Venti, the wind had still existed. When it gave Venti his body, it also wove in tales of the eternity that stretched beyond Venti’s time, the breeze that visited the lands of Teyvat as Celestia breathed life into them. And before Venti, the earth had still been solid and unyielding, and each new layer of soil carried with it the memory of giving life. The flowers that flourished from the ground were blessed by the winds that accompanied spring rains.
Would it be fair to say childhood friends, if what they are have been intertwined since time immemorial? Hmmm. Nah, Hu Tao’s probably not up for those kinds of philosophical discussions.
“…Something like that,” Venti offers, smiling in what he hopes is a benign way so Hu Tao won’t go sniffing around for his backstory.
Her reaction is even worse. Hu Tao swoons. “How romantic!!” She sighs, sounding irritatingly sincere. “See, the reason why everyone thinks you’re dating is exactly because you two have that overly familiar and loving dynamic. Which, for your information, isn’t really something a lot of childhood friends have, but that backstory does make sense with your whole…” Hu Tao gestures at him vaguely. “Your whole thing with Zhongli.”
“Everyone?!” Venti screeches. It’s even worse than he thought. Since when did Teyvatians start intruding into their gods’ private lives? This world has truly become lawless! “That — well — you know lots of people, right? Just tell everyone we’re really close childhood friends! It’s not outside the realm of possibility!”
“Suuuure,” Hu Tao drawls. “It’s possible. There’s like, a 0.001% chance that it’s possible. But in my honest opinion, if you could just admit that you want to wife that man the fuck up, both our lives would be so much easier.”
“I,” Venti says, blinking. “Literally have no idea what that meant.”
Hu Tao throws her hands in the air. “You want to date Zhongli! And everyone already thinks he’s your mysterious husband, and the man himself sounds ridiculously fond of you, so why are you putting me through this twisted maze of a conversation when you could be confessing to him right now!”
“Where are you even getting these impressions from??” Venti groans, resolving to subtly interrogate some of his more… gossipy colleagues later. For Celestia’s sake, none of them have even met Zhongl! Tch, how daring of these modern Teyvatians to discuss their gods’ private lives with such aplomb.
“Well. Let’s see. Oh, what about the fact that you two live together?”
“That’s called roommates! It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement that conserves costs across all areas of life — “
“Pulling out the fancy words doesn’t change the fact that such a situation definitely increases the chances of romance!” Hu Tao says, interrupting Venti with a flourish like she loves to do. “And not only do you live together, he cooks for you and basically cares for you like a doting spouse.”
“Zhongli’s like that! He takes friendship seriously, unlike some people.” Venti glares at Hu Tao.
”You speak of him with at least 200% more fondness than you do for literally every other person I’ve heard you speak about.”
“Uh, he’s my best friend?”
“Best friends don’t rhapsodize about how handsome and smart and kind and competent the other is!”
Venti winces. “That was one time! I was drunk and emotionally vulnerable at the time because Zhongli had given me a really sweet gift for our — “ Ah, shit. He’s said too much.
Hu Tao’s eyes spark, half with anticipation and half with the joy of verbally torturing Venti to death by humiliation. “Hmm? What was that? A gift for your…?”
“Nothing! It was nothing! It was just a nice gift for no special occasion, because Zhongli is nice like that, nothing else going on at all!”
“If you don’t tell me what it was I’ll badger you until you do, and you know full well how annoying I can be when I put my mind to it,” Hu Tao declares.
”Ughhh,” Venti whines, flopping back onto his chair. That probably means Hu Tao blowing up his phone during class, or deliberately getting him the wrong coffee orders, or cutting off his supply of instant ramen, all of which together would be enough to make Venti go mad over the course of several weeks. And Hu Tao is both capable of and willing to do them if Venti won’t answer.
“So, what was it for?” Hu Tao says, smiling angelically.
“For our three thousand — ahem, three decade anniversary,” Venti mutters bitterly. “Of meeting each other.”
“And the gift?”
“...He made me dinner and bought a fancy bottle of oak-aged apple cider.”
Hu Tao does what the youth call finger guns and winks. “See, that’s a perfect example of how couples behave , and I am an expert in recognizing it because, well. Have you met my moms? So, Venti, my dear colleague, an expert in romance is telling you that you and Zhongli behave just like my adorably-in-love mothers, and indeed several other happily married couples I know!”
Venti stares at her. “What?”
“You’re gay, Venti, you are gay!” Hu Tao half-shouts. The other occupants of the lounge — by now used to Hu Tao’s theatrics, and also hopefully aware that Venti is not bound by human labels and even if he were, would not be straight — don’t bother looking up from their meals. “You are gay with Zhongli!”
“No, I mean, I know I’m gay, it’s just. That’s not couples behavior? Zhongli is really sentimental. He likes doing things to celebrate all sorts of occasions because — “ Because the strongest being I know is scared that he’ll erode too, and the last of what ties him to this world will flake to dust along with him, and so he does all he can to treasure his time here, to make sure if he leaves, it will be with no regrets. “Ah, erm, because he’s a very caring and observant person. That’s all there is to it.”
“Oh! Okay, an amendment,” says Hu Tao. “You’re gay and you’re stupid. Sorry, I should have known you wouldn’t be the competent gay in the relationship.”
Venti doesn’t get tempted to hold his godhood over mortals very often. But if Hu Tao knew just how competent Venti was at various things (taking care of an entire nation, terraforming a couple million square acres, repressing his feelings by squeezing them into oak barrels until they’re fermented better than any of Dawn Winery’s thousand-dollar wines) — well. Perhaps her tune would be different.
“Why can’t we both be competent?” Venti proposes. “That could be sexy. Don’t you just love to see two competent, handsome men?”
“Suuuure.” Hu Tao rolls her eyes. “Come back with a ring on your finger and then I’ll admit you’re competent.”
Venti curses. “Oh my archons, you are insufferable. How can I get you off my case?”
Hu Tao hums and rests her chin in the cup of her palm, pretending once again to be sweet and innocent and completely non-gremlin-like. “Buy me stuff! My salary is really not as high as you think it is. Let’s make a deal! Every week you’re not asking your Zhongli-xiansheng out, you have the special honor of buying me a 12-oz bag of White Rabbits, hm?”
“...What are you even going to use that for?” Venti hedges, although the answer is probably, 1: nothing good, and 2: something that would terrify the (metaphorical, and very much an embarrassing part of the past) green bloomers off of him.
“You don’t want to know.”
He’ll give her that. “Fair enough! But I can’t buy you a weekly supply of candy, Zhongli’s gonna look at my statement and ask what in Celestia is up with all the junk food charges.”
“I am not even going to bother with asking why Zhongli does your finances,” Hu Tao starts, looking more stressed by the minute. “Then, take me someplace fancy! A nice restaurant… or a really nice restaurant… or a famous pub or the night market with the best street food…”
“What about an arts museum?” Venti interrupts, suddenly remembering the museum tickets that Ganyu had given Zhongli for his birthday, who in turn had given them to Venti, with the explanation that he was too busy with his project to take the time to properly appreciate the current exhibition, and so Venti should go in lieu of him, and take anyone he wants.
Tch. The only person Venti would be truly happy to accompany to an art museum is the clearly-occupied Zhongli! But the museum isn’t a bad pick if he wants to subject Hu Tao to some light-hearted retribution, and he does have free tickets, so…
“What’s there to eat at an arts museum?”
“Only the best, limited-time display of 6000 years of Liyue culture that Stone Gate Arts Museum has to offer! With, uh, what was it again? Newly unearthed historical paintings and records, et cetera, et cetera.” Venti tries not to smile too much when he sees Hu Tao shudder at the description. “It should be interesting enough, right?”
“Oh, what’s this? My phone’s in my hand! Whoops, now I’m programming a daily bot that sends you really annoying messages until you give me a good relationship update — “
Venti lunges for Hu Tao’s phone before she can do anything drastic, knocking over a few empty ramen cups along the way. “Don’t you dare!! This is a good deal! Zhongli — the man, the myth, the legend — gave these free tickets to me!! And I’ll have you know he has absolutely amazing taste in literally everything so obviously this exhibition will be amazing as well.”
“Why are you asking me to go with you if Zhongli had the tickets??”
“Well, he’s… kind of busy right now? He’s got a big project. And the tickets expire soon, which means I should put them to good use? Therefore, I’m asking you! See, this way you get free entertainment for a few hours. I don’t have to feel guilty about wasting free stuff. We all win!” And you suffer by being subjected to a quiet art exhibition for those few hours, so it’s an even bigger win for me. Even if we get kicked out for noise violations.
Surprisingly, Hu Tao doesn’t protest at that. Instead, a frown that could almost be described as sympathetic drops over her face. After a minute of pondering, and some sacrilegious crunching on a caramel candy that she pulled from gods-who-are-not-Venti-knows-where, she claps her hands together.
“Alright! I, Hu Tao, will accompany you to the art exhibition because I am a good and caring person who does not want her friend to be lonely over a few museum tickets.” Hu Tao pauses to wink at Venti. “You still owe me some really good Inazuman food though. I’m not letting that go.”
Venti feels vaguely as though some things may have been lost in communication here. For one, he never agreed to buying Hu Tao any food. Also, who said Venti was lonely? Wait until she hears about all those centuries that he spent sleeping!! And at least he was conked out for those, so the passage of time was only felt through the distant tunes of changing seasons, the flowers blooming and wilting and blooming again at his feet.
But Zhongli… for Zhongli, all those years…
Well. The past is behind them. This is the present. Zhongli has him for company now, for as long as he’ll have Venti, for as long as he so desires. That’s what matters. That should be what matters.
Right? Right.
(Though, Venti can’t help but wonder what Zhongli was getting up to during those long decades of solitude, with only a handful of Liyuen immortals still remaining. It’s not like he’ll ever ask, but… hmph, if Zhongli is withholding any embarrassing stories from him just because he happened to be temporarily unavailable due to a 500-year coma, he’ll make Zhongli take out the trash for the next three months.)
——
venti whipped latte
hey im going to the museum, do u want anything?
zhongli loml <3
...What?
Does the museum have a souvenir shop?
venti whipped latte
ok that joke went right over ur head nvm
using those tickets u got for free from ganyu btw
zhongli loml <3
I see.
Who are you taking?
venti whipped latte
Hu tao? have i told u abt her… I think I have, we’ve been friends for a while?
really smart, weirdly peppy for someone who probably has a ton of grad school student loans, shes got a pyro vision too… does it ring a bell
zhongli loml <3
Hm. I don’t recall.
But I once knew a person named Hu Tao. Perhaps this is her reincarnation?
venti whipped latte
Maybe?? She said the pyro vision is a family heirloom, i dont think she actually knows how to use it
Reincarnation huh… sounds wild!
probably didnt know u very well tho bc it doesnt seem like she remembers u, rip
zhongli loml <3
What are you talking about?
venti whipped latte
Shit nevermind
zhongli loml <3
Did you talk with her about me?
venti whipped latte
wow look at that our bus to the museum is here gtg
love u bye!
oh haha what a weird typo !!!! hahaha
I meant uhhhh *love ur obliviousness haha
its like u have rocks for brains or something. ahahaha
zhongli loml <3
Are you resorting to childish taunts and humor to avoid my question?
venti whipped latte
u wound me morax i would never do such a thing!
come on we were just chatting abt our lives and she told me about her best friends, so obvs i returned the favor
I mean. i talk with u everyday? We are immortal buddies? We went through some wars together? Thats grounds for being best friends if i ever saw one
Its not weird at all!! And don’t worry, i only said good things about you :D
zhongli loml <3
Oh.
venti whipped latte
uhh is that a good oh or a bad oh
zhongli loml <3
Apologies for the late response. I was… preoccupied.
It is a good oh. I am glad you consider us best friends. It makes this world feel much less lonely, to know I can rely on you for the years to come.
venti whipped latte
AWWWWW ZHONGLI
You terrible man, must you be so sincere! Whatever happened to that daft young god who loved to throw boulders at me!
zhongli loml <3
That was only when you were being unbearably irritating and trying to get me drunk when we should have been focusing on battle strategies and protecting our people.
Also, those were small boulders.
venti whipped latte
and yet the hurt they left on my heart was enormous </3
Time and time again i have been so cruelly rejected by you, when all I want to do is enjoy a drink or two!
zhongli loml <3
I apologize.
However, I will not be guilted into drinking with you. Especially when you start rhyming.
venti whipped latte
but whyyyyyyy zhongli ur so cruel to me? Ur best friend? you reject your best friend? you deny him one simple request? even when you see him in such a state of distress?
zhongli loml <3
I’m busy. When you get drunk, you are… high maintenance.
venti whipped latte
ugh fine okay whatever
i guess i can just go bar hopping with hu tao after we tour the museum
zhongli loml <3
...But perhaps I can find the time to indulge in one glass of wine with you, later.
venti whipped latte
ZHONGLIIIIIII
OKAY no takebacksies and i choose the wine… dont worry i know what u like!! you’ll definitely enjoy it HEH
I’ll send u lots of pics from the museum exhibit btw ik u wanted 2 see it
zhongli loml <3
Thank you, then. Have fun.
Take care, Venti.
venti whipped latte
ofc!!
good luck on ur projec!!t dont be too annoyed when i start spamming ur phone with a dozen pics of Jin-era landscape paintings or census documents or w/e <3
——
The museum exhibits are… honestly a lot more interesting than Venti had expected them to be.
Don’t get him wrong! Venti has a healthy appreciation for the arts, having masqueraded as a broke bard-slash-street-clown-slash-Douyin-dance-cover-performer for various periods of his life. But he’s never understood the appeal of staring at a painting for several dozen minutes in complete silence, as if the colors will shift into something otherworldly if he stares hard enough.
Fortunately for Venti (but not so much for his revenge plans), the 6000 Years of Liyue Culture exhibit consists of a lot more than just paintings. There are statues and metal accessories and carefully restored examples of period clothing, all with their own dedicated sections. Beyond those are the display cases of calligraphy scrolls, formal letters, and pages from what once upon a time was a bestselling adventure novel, everything cast in a soft beige light.
Venti, who for the most part was around to witness the last 3000 years or so of Liyuen history, is already familiar with the contents of most of the exhibits. For the older ones, Zhongli’s random bouts of historical monologuing are enough to clue him into their context. Hu Tao, being the science nerd that she is, only took up to secondary school Liyuen history and is currently darting around the museum, pressing her face up against all the mini-exhibits she thinks are cool.
Venti sighs. Well, whatever. Maybe this will appease her constant need for stimulation long enough for him to finally catch a break.
“Ooh, Venti, look at this one section!!” Hu Tao bounds over to him and tugs his sleeve. “It’s called, uh, 6000 Years of Love? Aw, I guess this is where they’re keeping all the romantic letters and portraits! Ooh , maybe they have ancient wedding outfits! Hey, isn’t your Zhongli-xiansheng a history buff? He might enjoy that!”
Zhongli was probably there for the invention of the first wedding outfit. But Zhongli is also a noted bachelor who, as far as Venti is aware, did not act on any of his previous romantic inclinations and had the misfortune of all of them dying painfully before he had the chance to tell them.
(Venti still cannot believe he had to find out about Zhongli’s crush on Guizhong from some guy on Wetube who made a 30-minute video about all the artifacts and documents and place names that pointed towards their connection. Absolutely outrageous! Especially since two weeks before that Venti had detailed all his past crushes — of which there were surprisingly not that many since, like. Zhongli exists? — and Zhongli had simply looked annoyed and didn’t return the favor! What kind of best friend…)
So perhaps Hu Tao is… eurgh, Venti can’t believe he’s even thinking this, but perhaps Hu Tao is right. Whatever Zhongli was up to, there’s no way he could have been aware of all the trends in love and marriage. His involvement probably goes up to giving away the first hongbao.
Plus, that’s one exhibit that Venti, being the noted romantic that he is, doesn’t want to miss. Any benefits gained from it, such as knowledge of ancient Liyuen courting customs or traditionally romantic gifts, is… for his own usage and not at all related to his paltry dreams of courting Zhongli in the most proper Liyuen style possible because Zhongli is a nerd who would appreciate all the historical references. Yes. Of course.
Ahem.
“Right, let me just — “ Venti snaps one last picture of the Lan-era Ministry of Civil Affairs Millelith armor before following Hu Tao into the exhibit room. His distraction from sending that photo to Zhongli is why he doesn’t notice what Hu Tao is gasping at until it’s too late to teleport them both out of the museum and gently wipe her memory.
As it is, Venti only looks up when Hu Tao grasps at his arm hard enough to leave bruises and says, in what might be her first serious sentence of the day, “That’s you, Venti.”
Once again, she’s unfortunately right. Because the painting that he’s standing in front of right now has Venti as the main subject, with (admittedly flattering) mini spotlights shining onto the scroll, making every brushstroke glisten.
Oh, archons.
That’s him. It’s Venti, his carefree smile captured in precise, graceful lines of ink, a lyre in hand and a song spilling into the air, gossamer through sunlight. His cape flows behind him like wings, like spring petals, like a whirlwind of confessions. A group of children gather across the street, their toy pinwheels forgotten in the face of a nameless, aching song. The rooftops of Liyue Harbor are a faded crimson, the food carts and bustling shops muddied in the forefront. And in the space where the city square can be seen, Venti’s figure is sharp and lively and free. A lone bard walking the streets of Liyue, drawn with such breathtaking care that a gust of wind could make him dance right off the page.
In the bottom, signed in red ink: Yanwang Dijun.
Venti wants to run. He wants to scream, to howl his heart out, to make this raging love of his into a storm. He wants to tear the painting to shreds. He wants to consume it whole, to wrap it around his body and engrave it into his brain. He wants to fall to his knees and pray for mercy, for hope, for love.
There’s a painting of him hanging from the walls of an exhibition on Liyue’s history of love, painted by Zhongli himself, and even if Venti had been unaware of those two things, he would have known with just one glance.
Venti is an artist. It’s not like he can’t tell what emotions a piece carries with them. It’s not like he can’t feel the devotion lingering steady and patient in the dip of every curve, the quiet love pooling in the shadows of every building. It’s not like —
It’s not like he ever knew.
Gods, Zhongli.
“Why are there paintings of you by Yanwang Dijun in this gallery? Venti?” Hu Tao says. He gets the impression that she’s been trying to catch his attention for a while now. Oh.
“I,” says Venti, intelligently. “Haha, what? That’s not me.”
“What the hell do you mean, that’s not you?? That’s totally you!! Everything’s the same! The braids, the height, the lyre, the stupid smile — “
For the first time in four thousand years, Venti regrets never changing his mortal body. Now, he adds a mole under his lips and subtly darkens the color of his braids before he can think better of it.
“Not everything’s the same,” he says. “See, I have a mole. The — the guy in the painting. He doesn’t. And I’d never be caught dead wearing that outfit.”
“Bullshit!” Hu Tao hisses. “Since when did you have a mole there!! Plus, those clothes look right up your alley!”
“Can’t remember,” Venti says breezily. “And obviously you don’t know my fashion taste that well. Anyway, that’s not me. Nope. No way. Haha. Maybe an ancestor! Heh.”
“An ancestor,” says Hu Tao, staring Venti directly in the eye. “An ancestor who happens to look exactly like you, with connections to Liyue’s god. An ancestor. Venti. I swear to god — “
“Please don’t do that — “
“What, because the god that painted these pictures of you is gonna smite me?? Or what, you’re going to do that yourself?”
Venti blinks. Hu Tao’s words are finally catching up to him. “Paintings? Pictures? Like… plural?”
“Um. Yes???”
… Oh. Venti glances around the gallery, then glances again. Oh, fuck. Those are — those are all — all the best ink paintings are of him. Venti, leaping off the summit of a mountain, his wings sweeping him into the air. Venti, caught only in loose and quick strokes but no less beautiful in Zhongli’s hand, tanghulu halfway to his smile. Venti, draped in a golden beizi two sizes too big, the lines of his face softened by candlelight.
This — this really is — all of these, this room drowning in emotion, all for Venti —
There’s a plaque. It feels stupid to notice such a small thing, but there is one below the first painting. Yanwang Dijun, better known as Morax. Unknown subject. Part of a collection of paintings, all of the same subject, unearthed in 20XX. His collection of letters in this same exhibit are theorized to be addressed to the person in his paintings.
Well.
Venti doesn’t need to read any letters to confirm Zhongli’s… feelings. He thinks they would ruin him. Zhongli’s words have always been gentle, firm, thoughtful yet powerful, beautiful in their absolute comprehension of rhetoric and reference. They would tear him down, particle by particle. They would steal the air from his lungs and disperse it like dandelion seeds, all his love carried on the wind to sprout in new ground.
He can’t — that’s not what he needs. He can’t waste any more time like this. Venti has learned how to not regret the past, to mourn and to remember but never to wish the flow of time could be changed. But all those years, long enough for mountains to erode and rivers to reverse their course, all of it spent apart, when both of them had been holding this love to their chest — all this time —
He needs to talk to Zhongli. Like. Right now.
“I need to go,” says Venti, wrenching his arm from Hu Tao’s grasp.
Hu Tao doesn’t let go easily. “Where? What are you trying to pull here, huh?”
“I have to talk to him. I need to — I can’t wait any longer! Let me go, I have to speak with Zhongli!” They’re getting looks now, for the fuss they’re making in the museum, but Venti doesn’t care at this point.
“Zhongli? What does he have to do with…” Hu Tao trails off, frowning. “Wait. If you’re… and he’s been your friend for, what did you say again? Eons? And the way he acts towards you, is he…?”
Finally, Hu Tao’s grip loosens. Venti darts away before she can yank him back and bows his head in a sincere apology. “I promise I’ll explain everything later! Please, just let me go for now. I really need to do this.” He’s sure Hu Tao will understand if he explains, even if he tells her the whole story. For all her annoyances, she is trustworthy.
Hu Tao nods once, her expression evening out into something supportive and knowing. “Go get that god first, Venti.”
“I will!”
——
venti whipped latte
Hey Zhongli? What the fuck?
[IMG_0520 sent]
zhongli loml <3
Ah.
Is that…
venti whipped latte
One of the paintings you made of me that is now on display at the museum?
Yeah u better believe it
zhongli loml <3
I… see.
venti whipped latte
Dont try to explain over text. Im coming home now.
zhongli loml <3
Alright.
…Be safe.
——
Venti takes the 6 o’clock train back to Jianghuaqiao. The tamed mountains of Stone Gate are a green-gold blur through the windows. Venti thinks of a time three thousand years ago, when he had met Zhongli on the border between their two nations, and all of a sudden the taste of oolong tea is heavy on his tongue.
There are some days when Venti can’t feel the flow of time properly, can’t quite grasp the change that this world has gone through. Today is one of those days. He stands in the train station, watching people walk past him, and tries to think. It feels like three days and three thousand years at once since he left the museum.
He and Zhongli don’t have three thousand more years. He doesn’t even know if they’ll have three more days. The resolve to spend every last moment he can with Zhongli is familiar to him. The desperation — the knowledge that all this time, all this time , Zhongli loved him, and never breathed a word about it, probably would never have told him — that isn’t. That is new, and wholly unpleasant.
Well. It isn’t as if Venti had plans to bare his entire soul for Zhongli to see any time soon. Confessing to the only other one of your brethren left in this world, the sole being left who could ever understand you… for Venti, letting these feelings go unsaid was an infinitely better option than losing Zhongli over them. He’s sure Zhongli felt the same way.
But what the hell! Venti had to find out from a fucking museum exhibition that Zhongli has been in love with him for literal thousands of years! He is so tired of finding out about Zhongli’s crushes from other sources! Fuck their extremely valid reasons for not telling each other! Carpe diem, right? God.
(He still stops by the liquor store to buy a bottle of huangjiu, Zhongli’s favorite brand. After the conversation they’re going to have, he thinks they’re both going to need some of that. And maybe before, too, just so that Venti doesn’t pass away instantly while telling Zhongli he’s also been in love with him for three thousand very, very embarrassing years.)
When Venti gets back home, warm light is spilling into the corridor from the living room. For once, the smell of a well-balanced, healthy dinner isn’t lingering in the air. Venti stops for a moment, and just — pauses. How is he even supposed to go about this? They have a home. A life together. How —
Somehow, it seems as though nothing and everything has to change with this revelation. And usually, when shit like this happens, Venti likes to consume a whole gallon of dandelion wine before doing his best to ignore literally everything. But in this case. Ugh. He can’t just let this ferment between them. He has to sit down and have a talk with Zhongli as if they’re both functional and emotionally mature adults. Ugh.
Venti slips into the living room and knocks softly on the doorway. Zhongli looks up from where he’s seated on the couch and, despite everything, manages a small smile. “Welcome home,” he says.
He’s so beautiful. Venti wants to launch himself into Zhongli’s embrace and burrow into the circle of his arms, wriggle around until Zhongli chastises him with that particular fondness in his voice. He wants it so much. He loves so much.
“Heyyyy,” Venti says, instantly kicking himself for it. “So, uh. You’re pretty good at painting, huh?”
Zhongli stares at him. Venti gets the distinct feeling that Zhongli would be burying his face in his hands if he were a more dramatic person.
“Yes,” Zhongli says slowly. “I believe you are now aware of that.”
“I sure am!” Oh my god. This is not working. Venti needs to steel himself and just ask, flat out, what the fuck Zhongli was thinking and why the fuck Zhongli never told him and — Zhongli’s expression turns cautious, guarded and distant, and Venti’s tongue slips. He says, and truly doesn’t mean for his voice to waver the way it does, “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Venti…”
“Why? Were you going to live like this with me and keep those feelings down forever? Would you really have been happy if I never knew?! Would you have let yourself die, without telling me? How could you possibly be satisfied with something like that??!” Venti scrubs his hands down his face, knowing full well it’s really fucking hypocritical at him to be angry at Zhongli over this when he’s been doing the exact same thing. He’s just — it’s just that —
When he thinks of all the time they’ve wasted, and when he looks at Zhongli’s face, simultaneously as youthful as it had been during their first days and shadowed by the laugh lines of three thousand years, and when he thinks of all the pink, faded scars on Zhongli’s hands and arms and chest, testament to his presence on this earth —
Hah. The funny thing is, if Venti hadn’t gone to that museum, he really would never have found out. Zhongli was scolding Venti for getting drunk in a dingy Liyue Harbor inn and making Zhongli pay his bills (using the old Hu Tao’s money) at the same time that he was pouring those unsaid feelings onto the paper, inking Venti’s hair with all the devotion that he would never say out loud. He would never have known.
That thought really fucks Venti up.
“I am aware that…” Zhongli frowns slightly, his equivalent of vocal frustration. “That I should not attempt to provide any excuse.” He bows his head. “I am sorry.”
Venti collapses onto the armchair opposite of Zhongli. The tiny glass coffee table separating them by a meter does a good enough job of keeping Venti at bay, creating enough distance so that he doesn’t fold in on himself and crawl to Zhongli for a semblance of comfort.
“What are you — god, don’t. Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t be mad. I just want to understand why you did… everything, I guess. Okay? I’m not mad at you, ah, don’t make that face at me, baobei.”
The endearment slips off Venti’s tongue easily. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that, not in this situation, but it makes Zhongli’s breath stutter and some foreign light returns to Zhongli’s eyes, so Venti doesn’t mind that much. Maybe when they aren’t seated across from each other, a veritable ocean of feelings waiting to be drained between them, he can… yeah. He’s definitely filing that reaction away from later.
Zhongli’s eyelashes flutter. He pauses, and then he sighs. “You do deserve to know why. So… even though I do not know when I will… erode — “ And isn’t that just a really lovely way of phrasing have his godhood taken over by the base nature of his element until soil covers every last layer of his soul — “Well. I know better than anyone what it’s like to watch your dearest companions fade. To see them crumble just out of your reach, holding what’s left of them in your hands, burying a handful of ashes and carving the gravestone yourself… I could never — “ A quiet, rueful pause. His voice is shaking. “I could not do that to you. I could not make you mourn me that way.”
...Oh.
Oh.
That — Venti had thought that Zhongli’s reasons were the same as his. But he had forgotten that all of Zhongli’s past loves — they had died. They had died, and Zhongli had to watch them fade away with every passing day until he was forced to face them with his spear heavy in his hands, and their graves were dug shallow, marked with stone that wore itself down over the millenia. Gods. Of course Zhongli had to have such a heart-wrenching reason.
Zhongli takes a breath, his face now set in a facsimile of determination. All that act does is make Venti want to hold him close and reassure him that the winds are not as fickle as to leave him cold and alone after all this time.
“If I am corrupted — I only ever wanted you to end me. I’ve seen it happen a hundred times now, many of them by my own hand. I have a hundred more regrets for that alone. So I wanted you, at least, to have no hesitancy when facing me. To not look back towards the feelings and lives we could have shared, to be able to let me go before I could hurt anyone else.” Zhongli gives a bitter huff of laughter. Well. Well. At least he knows his erosion would hurt Venti more than anyone else on this earth, lost love or not. “I suppose that is what you would call contingency planning. Though, ah, such things do work out better when both parties are informed…”
Usually Venti loves Zhongli’s weird sense of humor. But that is so distressingly unfunny that Venti has to leap up from his chair and stride to Zhongli’s side, grasping him by the shoulders and forcing Zhongli to look him in the eye just so that Venti has some way of dealing with the hurricane howling inside his heart.
He doesn’t know what to say, but the distress hiding in the curves of Zhongli’s mouth has words tripping up his throat and tumbling through his lips regardless. “Who are you to make that decision for me? Even if you never said a word, making me do that to you — killing you — how the fuck do you think I could do that without any lingering regrets? You think I wouldn’t have those feelings too? The ones I never dared to share, the ones I could never again speak of? Zhongli — Morax. If I ever let you go, my greatest regret would be that I never told you how I love you.”
“You — “ Zhongli begins. There is a wild, terrible hope bursting across his face like fireworks. His hands come up to grip Venti’s forearms, but they’re shaking, as if he can’t quite bring himself to hold on, as if he thinks this is a dream that will shatter in his hands if he dares hope too much. “How you… love me?”
Fuck this, Venti thinks, and swings himself bodily into Zhongli’s lap, legs straddling his hips and arms bracketed around his neck.
“Do you want me to tell you how I love you?” Venti says. “Through the storm and the calm, in summer, in winter, all the days in between, I love you for all of them. I love you fiercely and softly, so much and for so long that your name fits in the quiet between the beats of my heart. I love you in every way, in every form, by sunlight and starlight. I love your hands, your smile, your hair, your eyes, your heart.” He pulls Zhongli closer, rests his forehead on Zhongli’s shoulder. “I love you. It’s not something I can take back. I’ll love you even after I bury you. The wind will sing your name. And I’ll mourn you if the time ever comes, but right now I just want to love you, for as long as you’ll have me. Nothing else matters. Not to me.”
Zhongli’s hands slip around his waist and tighten momentarily. “You… really love me? You aren’t simply saying this because — “
Venti doesn’t let him finish that sentence. “Celestia, no! I love you, baobei. I have, for a frankly embarrassing number of years. I mean, you should read the lyrics to some of the songs I’ve written about you… anyway, my point is, I’m saying this because I don’t want to spend another second not being your — “ Lover? Boyfriend? Husband?? “Not being yours,” Venti says firmly.
“Oh?” Zhongli says, trying and failing to sound unaffected. His voice is still shaking! Scratch that, he’s still holding onto Venti like he can’t bear to be more than 20 centimeters apart at all times!! This person truly is unbelievable sometimes. Ah, Venti really does love him.
“If you can make like 15 gorgeous paintings of me, then I can also write a few dozen ballads about you!” Venti sniffs. “You can’t tease me for that. And, um. I just. Didn’t know what term to apply to… us? I won’t have you repressing your feelings because you want to protect me from grief. I’ll decide what I want and learn how to deal with what I feel, and what I want right now is to be with you. I’m just not sure what category you’d want… if at all?”
“I want to be with you too,” Zhongli reassures him, still looking a bit like he got clocked upside the head with a cast-iron pan. It is a lot to adjust to, learning the love of your life genuinely wants you, knowing your feelings are perfectly reflected by them. Venti himself is running mostly on fumes and adrenaline. “We… own a house together.”
“Yes?”
“We file our taxes together.”
“Unfortunately yes, since you insist on doing them even though we are literal gods.”
“We have a life together.” Zhongli says reverently, staring at Venti like — like — well. There’s no way Venti can explain that look, let alone handle it, when his brain is melting into a puddle of flushed, pleased goo because of it! Argh. Zhongli is a certified menace.
“Yes, uh, that we do! Haha! That’s. That’s actually really nice. If I do say so myself.”
“It is,” Zhongli says, still using that hushed, prayer-like voice of his. “So, considering we already behave in such a manner, I would… not be opposed to a civil union.”
Venti stares at him. And stares some more. He wishes it was because Zhongli was simply that handsome, but no.
What the fuck. What the fuck? What? What??!
There are a great many things that Venti could say to Zhongli right now. What he winds up blurting out, though, is: “There is no way you proposed to me literally five minutes after I confessed I’ve been in love with you for several thousand years.”
Zhongli actually wilts a little. “Even if you are not amenable to a civil union, I do not mind if you call yourself whatever you want.”
“What — no!! I’m, uh, very interested, I promise you, and I think I just accidentally got myself engaged but my point is!! My point is. Wow.” Venti has to bury his face in Zhongli’s neck and give a little hysterical laugh. He’s so — he’s just so happy. “You really do love me!! You wanna call me husband? You want me to call you husband? Zhongliiii!”
Zhongli huffs and pats Venti’s head. “I do,” he says, strategically not elaborating on which of Venti’s questions he’s answering.
“You want me to be your husband!! Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing and cheesy, who knew Morax was secretly a romantic under all his layers? But it’s cute, so I’ll accept it! You want me to talk about you as my husband?” Venti lifts his head to look Zhongli in the eye and blinks innocently, fishing around for that one specific term. “Hm, you want me to call you laogong? ”
Zhongli catches Venti’s hand on its way up to tug at a loose strand of his bangs. “You’re teasing me again,” he says, too quiet for it to have any consternation.
“Oh yeah?” Venti says. He’s doing some embarrassing stuff now, too, all this flirting just to make Zhongli blush, but, well. The whole appeal of love is having someone that you care for so much that you willingly do embarrassing shit for their happiness. And Venti is nothing if not a fool in love. “What’re you gonna do about it, Morax? You know I like to tease.”
And then — Zhongli’s eyes flit down to Venti’s lips, not quick enough to elude Venti’s notice. All of his attention is on Venti, a realization that has Venti swaying infinitesimally towards him . Zhongli’s hand skims up Venti’s side to splay across his back, right where his wings used to emerge.
“Venti,” Zhongli says, still hesitant even after all those confessions.
“Oh my god, just come here already,” Venti mumbles. He trails his fingers through Zhongli’s hair and, before he can second guess himself, tugs Zhongli closer.
Neither of them get very much teasing done after that.
——
A week later, when Venti sidles into the faculty lounge with one Mr. Jin Zhongli on his arm and a delicate gold band on his finger, Hu Tao drops her chopsticks on the floor.
“You actually came back with a ring on your finger??!!” She screeches. “Oh my god!! I mean, not sure I should say that anymore, considering — “ Ah, yes, the whole inconvenient my-best-friend-is-immortal-and-possibly-a-god revelation they had at the museum. Venti was hoping she would forget about that. He’s had enough serious emotional conversations for the next ten years. “But oh my god!!”
“Okay, you do not need to tell the entire school that I’m Zhongli’s husband!” Venti glows with pride as he says that. Hmm. Maybe it would be good for people to know that Zhongli is taken, and that he’s Venti’s husband —
Venti’s getting sidetracked again. He can be all soppy and sentimental later! Right now, he needs to try and communicate successfully with Hu Tao, something that he thinks very few people have accomplished.
“Hot damn!” Hu Tao whistles. While Venti was getting flustered, apparently she was sizing Zhongli up. “Fine, fine, I readily admit that you are a competent person! After all, this Zhongli of yours… hm. Truly a specimen!”
Zhongli blinks at her and bows formally. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he says, ignoring all of Hu Tao’s wayward comments. Probably because he genuinely has no idea what they mean.
“Aish, don’t be so formal, we can all be friends here!” Hu Tao says. “And by the way, you two really aren’t people, are you?”
Zhongli looks at Venti. Venti looks at Hu Tao. Hu Tao grins shamelessly and does finger guns at the both if them.
Well, what the hell!
“No, we’re… so, um. Have you ever heard of Barbatos and Morax?” Venti starts, because there’s just no way to break the news gently. To Zhongli, he says, “She was there when I saw the paintings. You try explaining that one away.”
Zhongli nods and squeezes Venti’s hand, a silent you trust her, and I trust you, so it’s okay. Venti can’t help but squeeze back.
“I see!” Says Hu Tao, in the tone of voice that suggests she doesn’t actually see just yet and is still trying to process the events of last week. “My friend is a literal archon. His husband is also a literal archon! Okay! Okay. This is fine.”
“…Hu Tao?” Venti says, wondering if human brains are truly equipped to handle personal revelations of godhood.
“You know what?” Hu Tao points at Venti. “We both have similar methods of coping with unpleasantly life-changing things. So what do you say we make a deal? You tell me about whatever I ask that’s related to your past and your powers, and in return I don’t bully you for the rest of our friendship over being a fucking god. I’m mostly confused, so there aren’t any really troublesome feelings we should talk about anyway. Sounds good? Sounds good!”
Venti honestly doesn’t get what just happened, but since they both seem to be on the same page of repression and letting the less-important feelings resolve themselves over time, he says, “Yep, sounds good!”
“Lovely! Now, please tell me you didn’t really get married without me there to watch and cause general chaos. Because if my best friend got married and I wasn’t there to fuck things up, I would be even more angry.”
“Well… legally we signed all the papers already? But I suppose we can still hold an informal ceremony…?” Venti says, nudging Zhongli to see what he thinks. If their theory of reincarnation is anything to go by, he already has plenty of practice on handling with Hu Tao.
Zhongli simply shakes his head and sighs. “I do not mind, but please don’t touch the flowers or the color design. I would prefer my wedding not look like a funeral.”
“Hmm?” Hu Tao says. “How did you know I like to design things like funerals? Venti, is there something more that you’re not telling me?”
Ah. Venti edges away from Zhongli and shoots him a Look. That’s your jurisdiction as Morax!! Is what he hopes the Look is conveying. Your problem to deal with!
Zhongli gives him a flat stare in return, the message of which is clear enough: you helped her figure it out.
Venti shrugs and edges away even more, though he can’t escape Hu Tao’s wane smile. “Don’t ask me!” He says, and winks at Zhongli. It’s your paintings that for stolen and put on display!
Hu Tao turns her attention to Zhongli, who gulps minutely before realizing his fate of death by interrogation has solidified already.
“You should know Liyuen history, right? Then you should also be aware of the Hu family legacy? Is that how you knew I’m connected with funeral planning?” Hi Tao says, hitting Zhongli with one rapid-fire question after another. “But how did you know I was the correct Hu? Have you seen my name written somewhere before? Hey, did Venti talk about me to you?? Venti!!”
Venti flops onto a chair and helps himself to the second cup of Hu Tao’s instant ramen. “Don’t mind me, carry on with the questions! I’ll buy you one more ramen, don’t worry.”
With the official Venti stamp of approval, Hu Tao launches back into the questions. Zhongli is sending Venti a glare, but it’s tempered by the fondness pooling in the curve of his mouth and eyes, and Hu Tao is laughing, free-spirited and high. Venti watches them, and thinks, so this is what happiness truly is.
It’s a good day today. He’ll play Zhongli one of the love songs that he wrote when they get back home, then. After all, when words failed for Zhongli, his art tugged on Venti’s soul nonetheless. For Venti, too, he knows his songs will resonate with Zhongli.
They don’t need words. The gentle arc of an ink brush, the rippling tune of a lyre, and now a soft press of the lips — that’s all they need to know they’re loved.