#which tells me that a hilichurl or two got stuck under the ground. for some reason

[rubys-domain]

well that was weird

[lupically]

#3B797A | XIAO.

genre | angst

word count | 1707

warning | mention of death, mention of blood, faint mention of injury

note | this was originally posted on my other writing blog, i am moving it here because... well, i have a genshin writing blog now. and, once again, this is not very good. let’s hope i get better at this!

if karmic debt is a real thing, this must be xiao’s worst one yet.

he swore he would keep an eye on you after the first time you died on him.

he has never felt anguish like it.

of all the invisible chains tied around his struggling limbs and his fragile neck, of all the pain and misery he has been put through over the years of his catastrophic life, of all the repressed memories and emotions he kept fighting back to keep his sanity at bay, he has never felt anguish and manic like he did when he saw your lifeless body on the ground with an arrow stuck to your back.

it was the worst one yet, especially when he was the reason why you ended up with a bed of bloody roses underneath you.

he swore he would keep an eye on you after that.

and then came the second time you died. that was also because of him.

the blood that trickled down your lips as you smiled at him was vivid in his memories. he was supposed to be fond of the way you felt relieved to see him there, after he had carried you behind a fallen wall so you didn’t have to see him deal with the treasure hoarders who put you in such a bad state for trying to take a pair of emerald earrings back.

he was, to a certain degree, when you choked out his name in that god-awfully brilliant voice of yours. it was faint, but he could hear the genuine happiness in you when you called his name.

you were always so excited to see him. ever since you dropped atop of him from the sky, apparently coming from nowhere, you have been happy to see him. he was undeserving of that; the chances you have given him at experiencing how soft this world can be was undeserved, but nonetheless, xiao was fond of the way you make him feel, more than he would like to admit, more than anything he has ever seen or heard or felt in this world.

you were the fondest he has ever felt. it was all you.

but the fondness goes like dust and ashes when you reached up with the pair of emerald earrings you bought him, which he dumped in the middle of the ruins because he was being petty about something insignificant he could no longer remember.

the sight of them gave him a moment of realization—you were here because of him.

and then you took your last breath—you died because of him, again.

he didn’t know how to feel when you didn’t respond to your own name. he kept calling for you—[name], wake up, he said. [name], stop playing around, you know you’re not funny, he said. [name], [name], [name]. but your eyes remained closed, so he held you close for the first time, and he exchanged the tears with apologies.

he promised he would keep an eye out for his actions after that.

yet here he was.

don’t die. please don’t die.

he dropped his spear and crouched down frantically next to you. he was still panting from the fight with the three ruin guards patrolling around fallen pillars and buildings, but what made him stress, even more, was less because of his sore body and more because of your bleeding head.

“[name]? [name], open your eyes, right now!” he said—scolded, in the voice he always talked to you with, the fondly defeated tone that showed he has surrendered his annoyance for your happiness, but with more urgency this time.

you coughed, feeling more lifeless than ever. there was a rush of deja vu back then, just a few moments ago when xiao gently laid you against the wall and left after telling you to stay still and keep your eyes open for him. it was like you have lived through this moment before, but you were hurting too much from your head wound to think into it.

xiao breathed out a sigh of relief.

thank the archons.

“hey, xiao…” you greeted with a faint smile, then you reached your hand up to give him the quingxin you picked. “flowers… got you flowers… for crowns… ”

he pursed his lips. you silly! you bone-head! why did you not just buy them from the flower shop? was what he wanted to say. even though knowing you, you would probably spill some weird argument like how flowers picked by other people wouldn’t have the same freshness and love in them, and he would say nothing because there was no winning for him when it comes to you.

he never has anything to say. nothing to go against your favors, and certainly nothing that makes you worry ever again. nothing that will get you running into forests alone to pick him flowers and risk the chance of you stumbling into ruin guards, or hilichurls, or treasure hoarders, or abyss mages.

(maybe the one you should avoid is him.)

“come on, let’s get you to the doctor, okay?” he said as he discarded the flowers at a frantic pace.

he looped your arms around his neck and hoisted you on his back. his spear sparkled next to the white flowers on the ground, reflecting a halo glow upward as if telling on him to the sky about what he did to you again. he took off running back to the city, praying to the archons that he could end your pain quicker, that he could find someone to stop the hurting faster.

but it seemed destiny had other plans.

he paused for a second to catch his breath. he did not notice the way your arms had long gone slack around his shoulders, and how you kept slipping off his back as if you could no longer support yourself. he was deliberately ignoring the details that signified your death, his delusional consciousness wishfully thinking that he would make it to the doctors in time.

“we’re getting there, [name],” he said as if he could still feel your short breath against his neck.

“you’re going to be fine, i will make sure,” he said as he began walking as if he could still feel your chest heave against his back.

“i will keep you safe next time, i promise,” he said as he leaned forward a little because your lifeless body was starting to slip off his back again.

“and then we can go pick flowers together, and you can make me flower crowns,” he croaked with guilted tears running down his cheeks, a smile on his face as if he wasn’t just given hope that he could save you this time, only to have you die on his back.

all because he said he would never put on a flower crown, and you insisted that he has to try.

(maybe the one you should avoid is him.)

the evil archon was silent when xiao appeared before it with your dead body. this was the third time. it was starting to see a pattern, and all it felt was glee that the pattern it has carefully cultivated was working in its favor.

because what better to keep the adepti under control than to make him feel indebted to itself? what better to keep the adepti under control than to keep reviving his dead lover and make him think they have a surviving chance this time around? what better to keep the adepti under control than to kill his lover and use his guilt against him every single time?

“dead again? what have you done?”

“please… help me…” xiao laid your body before the archon, which was just a statue without a face.

“reviving a human that was consumed by death takes a great deal of power, alatus.”

xiao gritted his teeth, but he said nothing when he could feel your skin under his gripping fingers. he lowered his head, pushing down the horrendous amount of anger and humiliation to the back of his mind, and he begged.

he begged for another chance to see your beautiful eyes smile under the moon again, he begged for another chance to hear you talk on and on about the wondrous world you two live in together, he begged for another chance to feel your radiant soul live near him and to let you show him around the city as if he could not already navigate through it with his eyes closed.

(he could not. he knew the concrete roads and the old stone walls, but he could never know about the smooth flower petals dancing with the wind and the tender glow of the sky everyone shared without you taking his hand and dragging him across all parts of the world.)

(just like cotton candy, you told xiao. his frown melts like cotton candy, whatever cotton candy was.)

“i’ll do anything,” he said.

“for the mortal. really.”

“i will do anything,” xiao declared again.

the golden flair in his eyes almost made the evil archon shiver.

it was radiating off of him—the heat of anguish and terror that he had once killed you, the heat of unfairness and humiliation that he has to stoop so low as to meddle with life and death, the heat of extreme affection for a lover he now has nowhere to cast upon because the sole receiver has long died in his arms.

all for a mortal. a special mortal. a mortal who has made someone who hates, love. a mortal who has made him, him who hates and scorns, love. not just themself, but everything else around him—music, flowers, lights, cities. a mortal who made sure he will always love, still, even after the sole reason for his affection is gone and he no longer has a reason to be gentle.

the archon wanted to laugh.

truly. the only thing more maleficent than love itself is the act of using it against someone.

looking at xiao right now—inadequate, fragile, chained, and so miserable.

oh, how it worked in its favor.

it has done so many things to the poor boy, but this one, oh, this would be the worst one yet.