♡ DRAMATURGY // HEART FORECAST. — how do i appear to you? / a romance that never stops.
warnings ; angst to fluff, blood, reincarnation, weapons, wounds, murder, execution wc ; 6.2k (idk either i went kinda feral HAHAHA but omfg this is my longest fic ever) a/n ; AHHHH ONE YEAR ON TUMBLR ?!??!??!?!?!? happy anniversary to starglitterz !! :D ofc i had to celebrate with a fic of my no1 beloved xiao <3 thank u sm for the amazing past year, i hope to have many more in future ^_^ !! mWAHHH hope u love this fic too hehe it's a concept i've been rlly excited abt so YEAHHH <3
please reblog! it helps a lot :)
names are slippery things. they can be beautiful, yet they are dangerous too, like the glimmer of a venomous snake's scales as it lies poised to kill in the shadows. even the way that a name escapes your lips can cause such a whirlwind of emotions; whether it's a rage-induced scream, a whisper of heartbreak, or even a cheer of sheer bliss. xiao's name has always sounded perfect coming from you, as if it was designed specially for you to murmur against his skin as you thread your hands through his jade-streaked hair and tighten your grip whenever he sinks his teeth into your neck. even now, as his head is filled with a fog he doesn't recognise, clouding his judgement and blurring the line between reality and imagination, you calling his name is what snaps him out of it.
"xiao!"
00. his amber eyes widen, light flooding back into them from how deadened they had been a second ago. it takes a few minutes for xiao's messy mind to settle once more, like when you wake up from a deep dream and can't remember where or who you are. first, his sense of touch returns, and he relaxes upon feeling your familiar weight in his arms. but wait, why are you so limp? the adeptus finds his voice again and your name is the first word he says, tinged with worry and confusion. why are his hands marred with maroon stains, and why are you barely moving? eyelids fluttering slightly, you open them to smile at him, forcing your lips upwards into a curve, "xiao, you're back." "what do you mean? i never left. but more importantly we need to get you to a healer!"
his mind feels like he's wading through treacle, everything holding him back from recalling the truth of what happened - perhaps he should have been content leaving it unknown. you lift your hand, cupping his face and leaving a trail of redness in its wake as you caress his cheek, "you were here, but not really. don't worry though, i know you didn't mean for this to happen." his brows furrow, and his mind races to figure out why there's so much blood soaking through the fabric of your clothes, as well as why you're speaking in such peculiar riddles. "who did this to you?" his voice drips with poison as he shrugs the conundrum aside to focus on your wounds, not even a hint of mercy left in his tone as his gaze scours the surroundings for his polearm - he needs to get revenge on whoever hurt you, whether human or immortal they will face his wrath. your features soften, and your voice comes out so softly he has to strain to catch it, "you."
that single word is enough to forcefully fill in every single gap in his memory up till now, flooding his mind with visions of bloodshed and battle, all wreaked by him under the control of some malicious deity risen from the depths of hell. you were the only warrior brave enough to attack the renowned conqueror of demons; the only one who has tasted his lips and felt the warmth of his embrace was also the only one fearless enough to consider fighting him. guilt, its weight so unbearably heavy he lets out a choked sob, settles on his shoulders as he buries his face on yours, infinite apologies falling from his lips like the first snowflakes in winter. how could he have done this?! was he truly so weak to let his mind fall prey to a surprising foe?
he remembers now, the crazed, cursed, joy he had felt as he allowed himself to get lost in the heat of battle, decorating his weapon with sprays of crimson as it pierced your skin. "i'm sorry, i'm so, so, sorry," is all he can say now, hands shaking as he desperately intertwines your fingers with his and presses his forehead against yours. but what good are these empty words as your life slips through his grasp? they aren't going to heal your injuries or eliminate your pain. xiao has always hated himself, despised how he could hear the voices of his past victims crying in his mind, but when you were there it was easier to forget all his fears and troubles in the face of your smile - to xiao, you were the sun. but now he has caused an eternal eclipse and he can do nothing about it. what is the use of the power crackling at his fingertips if he can't even save the one he loves?
"look at me, xiao," your tone is firm, though he can sense your energy ebbing away, and he knows how you always pretend to be strong. he knows everything about you like the back of his hand, the way you tend to burn down the kitchen if you try and cook anything more difficult than a fried egg, how you never fail to be there whenever anyone needs a listening ear, how you always see the good in people. where did that leave you? the tears trickling down his face leave tracks through the dirt and blood caking his skin, and you look worse off than him, but he knows that the two of you are still so beautiful in one another's eyes. this is the problem with love, xiao thinks as he gazes at you, he is so willing to do everything and anything you ask even as you're at death's doorstep.
"it's okay, it wasn't your fault." his gloved hands come up to yours, clasping them to his and pressing them impossibly closer to his cheek, "then whose else was it? i was the one who did this to you." "i know you never meant to hurt me. and i forgive you for this anyway," you reply, but then your expression scrunches up as you cough out a mouthful of blood, and xiao doesn't think he can stand the sight of you being this close to death. he wants to save you, to be like those 'superheroes' you've told him about, but now he knows for a fact he can never be as strong as them. for archons' sake, he can't even lift you up and bring you to baizhu for fear that your wounds will worsen. how can he ever be like them when he was the one who caused you this pain in the first place?
"listen, i love you," thinly veiled desperation edges your voice, and xiao can only look at you and murmur so many times he loses count, "i love you too. i'm sorry." when you hear his reply all the tension in your body fades, and a serene smile replaces the pained frown you were wearing moments ago, "i'm glad i could love you, xiao... let's meet again in another life." with that, you're gone. the last-standing adeptus, the conqueror of demons, alatus, xiao, your lover is frozen in place, unable to do anything but clutch your lifeless body to his torso and cry.
regret, guilt, anger, misery, everything swirls into a horrific mix inside him and he doesn't know what he's going to do from now on. xiao is aware of what a tremendous karmic debt he has accrued from this sin, but he couldn't care less about the eternity it's going to take to repay, far more focused on how he will have to spend it without you by his side. the blood of an innocent, your blood, stains his hands, and he knows he can no longer uphold the role of protector when he couldn't keep you safe. so it is in this way that adeptus xiao of liyue fades into myth, a fictional element of the history that modern liyue respects yet strives to distance itself from. all that is left as a relic of your love is a butterfly woven from leaves in an empty room of wangshu inn, and the melancholy echoing in xiao's heart on nights where the mellifluous sound of a lonely flute travels to him on the wind.
19. the fanfare of trumpets blaring is audible even in the privacy of xiao's room, and he would find it irritating if he didn't know it was just his nation's way of showing how much they appreciated him. he hasn't left his confines all day, and he's certain that soon enough someone will come looking for him, beckoning the prince down to the ballroom to once again be surrounded by faraway queens throwing their daughters at him as potential wives, and kings speaking kindly to his face though they whisper poison once they think his back is turned. he hates it. he hates everything about being a royal, but xiao has grown accustomed to hiding his true emotions and as it's a masquerade ball this time, it'll be all the easier for him to conceal his feelings about the corruption and lies running rampant in the nobility he's grown up with.
he fixes the mask on his face, and as he gazes at his reflection he's struck by the strangest sense of deja vu when its jade butterfly wings drape across his skin - but as the trapped sheltered prince raised to be the heir to the throne, xiao has rarely been outdoors and can count the number of butterflies he's seen on one hand. so why does the mask twinge at his heart as if he's lost something precious? he stares at his reflection, willing it to tell him the secrets he's sure it's hiding, but his reverie is interrupted by one of the servants knocking on the baize door and saying that the prince is needed downstairs, so prince alatus has no choice but to descend and force a fake smile once more.
the ball is tedious, to say the least, though thankfully the dinner passes without incident. xiao makes a toast to the peaceful future of his nation, ignoring the sparkly heart eyes every princess at the table is giving him, and invites them to make themselves at home. the only interesting part of his night is when everyone takes to the dance floor to perform the traditional liyuean waltz while the reigning king morax watches with satisfaction at his flawless court. xiao has attended dance classes since his youth, and at this point he is fairly certain he could dance this in his sleep, so he allows his mind to wander as he steps in time. according to custom, the prince must dance with every suitor at least once, and considering how many royals have arrived to compete for his hand xiao already knows it's going to be a long night.
but as he switches partners for the nth time, his curiosity is piqued when it's your turn to dance with him. there is a hidden sort of defiance in your movements, as you push the boundaries of what's considered acceptable while still sticking to the skeleton steps of the waltz, and xiao is stunned. what's even more shocking is how familiar dancing with you is, as if you've performed it with him a million times before - your hands on his shoulders and his on your hips, it all feels like he's already memorised every inch of your body, like his arms were made to secure your waist as you fall into a grand dip. yet your expression is hidden by the mask so he can't tell if you feel the same, with the only visible feature being your eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth, and xiao finds himself actually wishing this wasn't a masquerade.
"excuse me, i don't think we've met," xiao murmurs, keeping his voice low enough not to be heard by the onlookers. that was a lie, he does feel like he knows you, but only in the sense that your body feels moulded to move in tandem with his, as proven by the synchronicity of the waltz. however, that would be creepy to voice out loud, especially considering xiao hasn't even seen your face. "hmm... well in any case i certainly know you, prince alatus," comes your teasing reply as he leads you into a pirouette, "after all, who hasn't?" "are you here to try and marry me too?" xiao queries, and he can't decide what he hopes your answer is. you wink, "maybe i am. would you like me to be?" xiao's face turns firetruck red at your audacious reply, and you chuckle softly, "seems like not all the royals are as bad as i thought."
then he hears hurried footsteps, and you roll your eyes, "unfortunately, it seems our fun will end here, prince. may we meet again if the stars align." "what-" "prince alatus, get away from them!" comes a yell from the head guard, and you instantly dart out of his arms and sprint for the exit. "after them! one of you stay with the prince and make sure he gets back to his room safely, two of you stay here and protect the guests, the rest of you follow me to catch that infernal rebel!" he barks out instructions, and xiao is powerless to do anything but watch in awe as you roundhouse kick one of them in the face and punch another. "come with me, your highness," the guard by his side urges him to get out of the ballroom. just then, xiao hears a loud cry, and he turns around only to be met with the sight of you shattering a large stained-glass window and leaping through it, giving him one final salute before falling. "tsk, the rebels are really getting too bold nowadays," the guard clicks his tongue, "thank goodness we'll be stamping them out soon enough." "who was that?" xiao asks as he walks back to his room. "their leader. they're a fiery one, that's for sure. but they've evaded capture for long enough, so we're planning an ambush soon where we'll catch them in the act and have them all executed for treason. now goodnight, your highness."
as the prince of liyue, xiao knows it's wrong, but as he lies in bed he can't help but hope that you manage to escape. that night his dreams are full of your face that he swears he recognises, but it repeatedly blurs whenever he gets close enough to unmask you, until he finally gives up and falls into a deeper dreamless slumber.
34. "xiao!"
he's never heard this voice before, but he swears he has at the same time. it's almost like the way you called his name was already imprinted in his mind, the exact inflection and tone prompting a flicker of recognition to flutter in his chest. "hm?" xiao chooses not to say anything out loud, turning around to face you with an eyebrow raised. "ah, i wanted to double check your mic setup before you go onstage," you say before stepping closer and adjusting the piece of tech at his waist. you must be part of the backstage crew, xiao thinks, so that means he's obviously never seen you before since every show his band performs at is run by a different group.
the only consistency is his manager ningguang, whom he thinks is sometimes more focused on flirting with the manager of their rivals, beidou, instead of making sure they give a good show. he supposes that's a testament to her faith in the four of them though- ever since 4NEMO became an international phenomenon, she's had her hands full scheduling and organising their day-to-day lives and their shows, so to not pester them about practicing is a big factor in their reduced stress levels compared to other units. at least that's what their private doctor baizhu said at their last monthly check-up.
your hands travel up the small of his back and splay against his skin, and xiao can't help the chill that travels up his spine at the contact. you seem calm enough though as you fidget with the wire, taking out a few pins from the pouch at your hip and clipping it to his shirt so it doesn't affect his dancing. xiao feels like such a pervert for thinking this, but this genuinely feels so familiar he wants to ask you if you agree - the sense of your hands against him is something he's definitely experienced before, he'd stake his career on it. but he doesn't want to frighten you off, so he keeps his mouth firmly shut. "look at me, xiao," you say, and he does as you ask, although he regrets it a second later as your fingers dance across his neck and across his face to ensure the wire has been dusted with enough foundation to match his skin tone and hide it. xiao gulps nervously, and you look up at him, a divot forming between your brows upon seeing his expression, "are you okay? your face is really red... i can get you some water if you like." your hand is still at his cheek, and when your thumb accidentally brushes against his lips as you check if the actual microphone is in the right position xiao thinks that he is about to explode. it's almost like you know exactly where your touch will have the greatest effect on him, and it's embarrassing how quickly the renowned rapper becomes putty in your arms - you've got to be doing this on purpose! "no, no, it's fine," xiao swallows, "just pre-show nerves."
your features soften into a grin, and xiao is taken aback by the sudden overwhelming urge that fills him to always make you smile like this. "i never expected that even the great xiao would get scared before a performance!" you chuckle, bumping your hip against his. if it were anyone else, xiao would have given them his signature death glare to them for daring to act so close when you've never met prior to this, but since xiao feels this strange connection to you he's actually over the moon that you're being this friendly. he's so busy pondering this that he forgets to reply, and you take his silence as anger and quickly continue, "wait, don't be mad at me! i'm not saying you can't be nervous, i was just surprised." "what? no, don't worry about it," he smiles, even though mentally he's cursing himself from being stupid enough to not answer you. just then, a deafening cheer sounds from outside and xiao's group members stroll up to him. "time to go, xiao!" venti beams, practically bouncing with excitement. you dust off xiao's shoulder and grin at him, "break a leg, alatus. you're going to ace this." even though xiao has performed dozens of times, and this time is no different, he feels like with your luck he's going to give the greatest show of his life.
"thanks, for the luck and the tech help," xiao replies, gazing into your irises and wondering why you aren't a model when you're clearly the prettiest person he's ever seen. "i didn't get your name though-" he starts, but he's interrupted by aether playfully scolding him, "c'mon alatus, save the flirting for later!" "yup, it's showtime!" kazuha says before pushing xiao onstage as he offers you an apologetic smile. thankfully, the four of them don't miss their cues and manage to tumble on stage at the exact right time the instrumental for their song starts, but xiao wishes he'd managed to get anything that would let him keep in contact with you. nevertheless, he sings his heart out, and everyone on social media is talking about the blush dusting xiao's cheeks for weeks later.
57. blood stains xiao's knuckles, and the sight strikes a chord in him as if history has repeated itself to lead to this moment. it should be unsurprising considering his career, but as he gazes at the vermilion spreading across his skin, he feels light-headed with the sudden wave of guilt which overwhelms him. why? it is part of his job as a boxer to beat up the opponent, not to mention that he's been doing this for months now, fighting in underground rings and emerging broken but victorious every time - why does he suddenly feel so remorseful for his actions? all that matters is that enough cash is slipped into xiao's calloused hands after every match so he can survive until the next one, he was forced to do this, he had no other choice; a body raised as a weapon will attack even when there is no reason to fight. he's been thrown out from college for violent behaviour when all he was doing was defending a kid from bullies with nothing better to do with their times than pick on those weaker than them. it's almost ironic how he has now become one of those delinquents he disliked so intensely.
air whooshes past his ear, and it's only thanks to the reflexes he's spent so much time honing that he manages to dodge out of the way by pure instinct. the man opposite him, a ginger who looks far too eager to fight, is getting on his nerves. rather than quickly end the round, this boy looks like he'd enjoy for the adversary's pain to be as drawn out as possible - xiao is glad he broke his nose, hopefully that helps put him in his place. unfortunately, it seems the plan backfired on him and the opposite occurs as the boy gets ten times more enthusiastic about his fighting, swinging his fists in a manner that seems wild yet xiao knows is all carefully premeditated. boxing is already tiring enough, but both the opponent's energy and this weird feeling of shame for a sin he doesn't know he's committed is making him feel even worse. archons, can't this end already? xiao dips, narrowly avoiding a punch again as he kicks his leg upwards to hook around the other man's thigh and pull him down to the ground with a resounding slam. a cheer echoes in the cramped space, and xiao is reminded of the onlooking audience as he clambers on top of him and starts pummeling him.
but no matter how noisy the bystanders are, it feels like everything around him is drowned out, the spotlight focusing on him and the insane power coursing through his veins right now. it's easy to forget everything else like this, to ignore the stress of the mounting bills he has to pay and the fear that one day he'll meet a rival he won't be able to vanquish; it's far more comfortable to let himself be engrossed in attacking his opponent, hitting them exactly where it'll hurt to get them to surrender as soon as possible. but things feel different this time, as if his body is disobeying him with its reluctance to attack as hard as he'd usually prefer - it's like there's a tiny voice in his mind whispering to him not to repeat the mistakes of the past. he softens his blows slightly, and finally, his tried and true tactic succeeds as the ginger thumps the floor thrice, a clear sign of defeat. with triumph ringing in his ears and his muscles sore from the fight, xiao stands up, offering the other man a hand to pull him up. his hair is plastered to his face with sweat, and he's sure there's an ugly bruise forming on his cheek, but as his fist is thrust into the air by the referee, xiao makes eye contact with you across the room and it's electric.
for some reason, disappointment is written all over your expression, and xiao wonders if he's the reason. perhaps you were hoping the other man would win. but more than that, he knows you, and yet he doesn't. who are you? he swears he's seen you before, and his heart starts beating even faster. though he chalks it up to the aftereffects of adrenaline, it only accelerates when you turn to leave and xiao has half a mind to call for you. but how can he? he doesn't even know your name. on autopilot he walks out of the ring after the winner is announced, and he idly nods to whatever his manager is saying without absorbing a word of it. will you be attending tomorrow? xiao hopes so - he'd like a second chance to talk to you.
65. the world is defined by love and that is pure idiocy, xiao declares with a frown as he glares at his reflection. this entire concept of soulmates is preposterous. why should love be decided by some omniscient power who chooses to write destiny in the stars and map out the future of every human instead of permitting them to search for it themselves? he really can't begin to fathom it, and the worst part is that he's included as a member of humanity, and is thus fated to have a soulmate too. in the mirror, a small heart-shaped tattoo is engraved on his left wrist, your name scribbled in looping cursive inside it. actually, for all that he complains about it, xiao spends an awful lot of time daydreaming about his soulmate. late at night when his roommates are all asleep, all xiao thinks about is you. what kind of person are you? will you really love him unconditionally like soulmates are meant to do? xiao can barely believe it, yet he holds onto the tiny bit of hope in his heart and protects it like a candle flame from the wind.
y/n... your name is truly beautiful. so many times that he's lost count, he's whispered your name like a prayer to keep him going, a plea that you're safe and happy, a secret he shares for the universe to listen to. it's familiar too; a strange warmth blossoms in his chest whenever he thinks about it, as if he's being embraced by a caring lover. he brushes it off as the magic of soulmates, not knowing that nobody else experiences the same symptoms even when diagnosed with the disease called love. is it weird if he misses someone he's never met? he misses you when he's sad, when he's lonely, but most of all when he's happy. isn't that peculiar? xiao misses you most when he's happy because he wishes he could share the moment with you - he thinks it would be wonderful if he could make you laugh at least once because he's sure your smile is stunning. but one day, he's faced with the terrible realisation that he'll never be able to see it.
as he gazes at his reflection, the tattoo slowly fades away, black ink disappearing into his skin as if it was never there - not even a trace remains. xiao clutches his mirror with so much fear and horror it cracks under the pressure of his fingertips, slicing his skin and dripping blood down the gleaming glass. the sight is horrifically beautiful, like a scene from those romantic tragedies he's forced to read about in literature class. how would his teacher tell him to analyse this? ah yes, the blood signifies how apathetic he is to his own safety since he has lost his lover, while the broken mirror reflects how bleak his future will be without love to bathe it in colour.
xiao couldn't care less about the potential seven years of bad luck he's going to face when he's going to have to face it without you by his side. why him? doesn't he deserve happiness too? in the end, everything he loves is destroyed, no matter how many of millenia of rebirths he has forgotten he supposes this fact will never change - just how horrific was the act he committed in his past life which led to his pain today? perhaps it is better to leave it unknown; whether he knows it or not, it won't affect the reality that he is unable to spend his life with his soulmate, the one and only person he has ever loved.
83. xiao is exhausted. he wakes up every morning to the same dull corporate life with not even the slightest deviation from his daily routine. of course, that includes the inexplainable feeling of staggering loneliness, like he is missing a crucial part of him that he needs to live. sure, he may be alive, but he's just going through the motions of life without truly living and enjoying every second of it. xiao does not know how much longer he can go on like this, clinging to scraps of memories and flashes of familiarity in a stranger he passes on the street, in the person he sits a row behind in class, in someone he is always looking for but can never seem to find. it seems to be some cruel trick of destiny, watching with glee as he falls through time and space for all of eternity as a payment for a sin he was forced to commit yet cannot recall in every present he lives through. all he knows is the heavy burden of blame he carries with him everywhere, and he doesn't even know the reason for it. xiao is certain he deserves it though, and it must be because karma has come to collect his debt that he is forced to live as a shell of a person clutching to fading recollections with every fibre of his being. it's okay, he reminds himself, this will all be worth it if it means he is eventually allowed to be with you in peace. but as he wakes up the next day to his unchanging life, xiao finds himself wondering who 'you' really are and why he searches so desperately for you in everyone he meets.
99. your soft breaths fog up the midnight air as light snow falls from the skies like frozen tears, and xiao is struck by how wondrous you look in the moonlight, even when you're trying to kill him. your knife whizzes past his face, grazing his cheek and opening up a small cut, and as he raises his hand to check for blood you leap forward and try to punch his face. however, xiao isn't one of the top assassins of the underworld for nothing and he's quick to avoid it, pinning your arms behind your back and pulling you flush against his torso in one fluid movement. "which gang are you from?" his voice is cold, devoid of all emotion even though his rapidly beating heart tells a different story. xiao has never seen your face before, but somehow it's sending alarm bells ringing in his head as if you're someone he should know. but that's strange, because xiao manages to stay on top of his game by remembering every face he comes across, never allowing even a stranger's to blur in his memory, so someone with features that are as striking as yours would never have slipped his mind.
"none," you free one of your arms and elbow him, forcing him to let you go as you somersault backwards and kick his chest for good measure. landing on your feet perfectly like a cat, you continue, "i'm on my own." xiao's ribs must be bruised from the force of your kick, but he still can't help but admire how graceful your fighting style is; your flip curved a practically perfect parabola. "ah, so you're the type to fly solo?" he asks, mind working at light speed to compile every bit of information he's gathered about you in the past ten minutes and formulate a method to subdue you. he's not the conversational type, and he's definitely not like tartaglia, who enjoys chatting with his victims until the last minute; xiao isn't partial to talking to people he's planning to kill nor those planning to kill him. so for him to even utter more than one sentence to you is a huge deal, and he doesn't even know why he's doing it - he tells himself it's to distract you and buy himself some time, but he knows it's just because he wants to hear your voice, which seems to pluck at some unknown string inside him and fill him with joy.
"no, i'm the type to get the job done when i need to," you dash forward, and xiao is momentarily taken aback. you weren't at your maximum speed earlier?! that throws off all his preparations, and leaves him vulnerable for you to stab a knife through his torso, twisting it in the wound to worsen it. all it took was a split second of hesitation from xiao for you to defeat him. he freezes before doubling over in pain, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the white ground, "you're... good." "hell yeah i am," you smirk before sheathing your weapon. his knees buckle, and xiao crumples to the floor while gasping for breath. "you had a bounty on your head, so it's nothing personal," you say, crouching down to meet his golden irises. "don't worry," you begin, and xiao could cry from how much emotion wracks his body at that simple phrase. he swears he's heard you say that exact thing before, yet in a wildly different scenario, but it still practically rips his heart from his body. even when you continue, "it'll all be over soon," he doesn't say anything, or actually he can't say anything, it hurts too much to speak.
"i'll take my leave now. goodbye, alatus," you murmur as you turn around with a wave. for some reason, xiao doesn't feel anger or regret, but instead a strange feeling of peace washes over him. it's not like he was doing anything good with his life anyway, and when you're in the business of contract killing, it isn't surprising that someone will eventually hold a knife to your throat if you get too powerful. xiao's been the best in the business for long enough, it's time for fresh blood to take over. not to mention, he feels oddly satisfied with how events played out, like fate was rewriting itself to make up for a mistake from millenia ago. as xiao's eyes slide shut for the last time, a smile curves his lips - maybe now he can finally be happy.
100. xiao is a tattoo artist. he spends his days indoors inking wonderful patterns telling stories of love, betrayal, heartbreak and a myriad of emotions on the skin of strangers, and while he works he listens to their tales. sometimes he thinks that perhaps falling in love would be nice, then he reminds himself how lucky he is to have a steady job and stable source of income from doing something he adores. even if it constantly feels like something is out of place in his life, or more accurately, like something is not in place, like there is a piece missing from his heart, he is alive and he is content. however, no matter how much internal conflict he is experiencing, xiao's hands never waver when he focuses on his task, and none of his clients have ever complained about the completed tattoo. it's probably because of how much effort he puts into his job, as proven by how he's in the flower shop opposite his store right now, researching blossoms for a customer who wanted a floral design.
it's packed to the brim with blooming flowers of every shape, size and colour imaginable, and xiao's senses are overloaded from the vibrant colours and wonderful scents. in fact, he's so absorbed in admiring his surroundings that his feet travel forward of their own accord and he bumps into someone. both of you fall to the floor, and you rub your head, "ow!" "archons, i'm so sorry!" xiao apologises quickly, redness creeping up his cheeks from his embarrassing behaviour. "it's okay. it wasn't your fault," you reply. with that simple sentence, xiao is suddenly transported back to the mind of a body he no longer inhabits, memories of the person he loved uttering those exact words to him with their dying breath flooding his head - perhaps to find happiness, all he needs to do is accept the faith you once placed in him, your unshakeable belief that he would never hurt you, and forgive himself for the mistake he made all those centuries ago.
with a smile, xiao stands up and offers you his palm, "i'm xiao. i work at the tattoo shop across the street." "i'm y/n, and as you may have guessed," you gesture to the box of seeds and gardening tools you're holding, "i'm the florist here!" when you take his hand and shake it, a spark ignites between the two of you, as if a missing puzzle piece lost for all of eternity has finally been found and is clicking into place, as if an age-old debt has finaly been repaid, as if a love which never faded is finally being permitted to bloom to fruition once more. for some reason, it's unsurprising when the two of you speak at the same time, a simple question forming the oxygen to the flame of your new lives together falling from your lips.
"have we met before?"
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