Chapter Text
In the enormous and brilliant world that he’d transferred from Inazuma into, so different from everything he’d ever known, Xinyan stood out as stark, bursting, and evocative. It took some contextual evidence, but they had eventually picked up on the fact that she was widely considered an outcast within her own Liyuen culture. Be that as it may, Kazuha Kaedehara himself had never been one to be dictated by the beaten path.
It was probably inevitable, then, how they drew each other closer by virtue of their very nature alone. Xinyan was a free spirit, unfettered in her love for music and free expression. So kind and so perceptive, caring for the whole world in her own way, he thought. His mind and heart are easily swayed to different destinations, and it did not shock him too much to find that he’d become enamored by her existence.
There was hesitance from probably well-intending, but definitely judgemental folks as they started to become glued to each other’s sides. Image was the most important thing for them, Kazuha figured. When the two of them began to nurture the spark, people warned him thoughtlessly.
“She’s lovely,” they would say, “she’s just… not the kind of girl you’d want to marry.”
Kazuha couldn’t begin to wrap their head around such a statement. They’d do it again and again and again, they thought, if it meant that they could see Xinyan smile like this, could hold her and treasure her like this until the end of time.
Between the two of them, Kazuha knew that he was the dozer, so it made moments like this all the more rare. It was too loud for him to sleep anyway, he figured. He loved it when the world around him would simmer into stillness and give a gentle reprieve to his overacting senses, warmth coaxing him into a nook to rest in. As it stood, the venue remained active and loud even as a majority of people, sans their dispersed friends.
But Xinyan was an oasis in his palms, a breathing being to be loved. The aroma of vanilla and cinnamon just lingering from her lotion, the inoffensive grease from handling her equipment to and from, the scent of light sweat that had gathered at her brow under the lights— a scent so human and bare. Her rhythmic steady breathing soothed Kazuha, and her natural warmth on his skin cushioned him from the world. The calm reprieve was here in his arms.
People said that Xinyan was rough around the edges, if not outright far too much for any one individual. Kazuha may have once tried to envision it just to attempt to gain an empathetic view. However, as they remembered her sweet affirmations in the dead of night, the bashfulness that followed no matter how many kisses they shared at once, the way she melted into hugs like it was the only place either of them could ever remain, and the way she sang with them in a whisper on a whim until they slept, it never landed too deeply. Kazuha mused that not many people took the time to peer into her heart and treat it gently. Although they were glad to keep a copy of the image next to his soul forever, they thought, maybe selfishly, that there was a sense of pride in being a place of reprieve for her, too.
If her lips were bitten, his were worse. It didn’t matter anyhow.
Xinyan must have been truly exhausted if it only took two drinks for her to pass out. She had never been a lightweight in all of the time Kazuha had known her, with her always being the one to drag him to a proper bed and catch him up to speed once sober. It probably meant that she was wearing herself out long before she had even arrived at the venue.
That’s just like her, to give her whole body and soul to her passions before anything else. Her free spirit and diligence was something he could empathize with easily, and he would never tell her to be less than herself. He knew that she would only ever do the same for him— has done the same.
Kazuha used to think that settling into any romantic connections couldn’t be within his sights, beyond the breeze that comes with being conscious among others. Fleeting things, no less valuable in shaping his character, but not tethering. Change is the only constant in the world, and it would be amiss to call himself one with such a world if he weren’t also a person ever-changing in his course.
However, Xinyan was not a place. She was not a period of time, a mood swing, or something measurable like phases of the moon. Xinyan was the presence of fire, music, the rhythm of the earth, the nurturing absence of weighing others down. She was instead the sun, ever present, ever illuminating even when out of sight. Kazuha knows that it would not be possible to consider their relationship like an anchor, for nothing could ever attempt to reign in the starlight bursting from her chest. Xinyan could not be bound, and she wasn’t made to be so. She was made to shine, like the north star that guided him no matter where he went.
And in some ways, Kazuha liked to think that they could be similar to her, too. Not an anchor, but never far from her in spirit. They had loved before, of course, as did she. But they think that if such a thing like soulmates could exist, which they didn’t know how he felt about to begin with, everything that led up to this was important in getting here. They owe their loves and losses, hardships and successes, for bringing them here.
The Red Strings had gradually begun to grow in popularity. Kazuha had always known this would happen and would frequently let Xinyan know, even if she’d humbly laugh it off. But now that it’s become a reality, now that she had the opportunity to travel the world and pour her heart out into each and every chord and give a piece to every person willing to lend an ear, her very being had begun to vibrate and amplify. It was beautiful— she was beautiful. And he would join her melodious echoes no matter where they would reach.
When Xinyan stirred, he sensed it before it happened. Maybe it was a change in her breathing or a tenseness in her muscles, but either way, her head lopped up from his shoulder and shook the hair from her eyes. Kazuha watched her glance around at the area, at her guitar case littered with stickers by their feet, and then over to him. He could sustain himself off of the hue of her eyes alone, he thought, before she made a sudden noise of awareness. “Lemme guess. I conked out?”
“More peaceful than ever,” Kazuha answered softly, reaching up to smooth back the edges of her pulled-back hair. “You didn’t so much as fidget when I carried you here.”
“You carried me?” she asked, stunned. He gave a small nod and smile, like he didn’t know exactly how she felt about those kinds of displays of affection. Xinyan sighed, but moved to crack her back. “Oh, well. These guys are my friends, I don’t mind lookin’ like a fool in front’a them... How the turntables.”
Kazuha lets a huff of laughter escape him before stretching out his legs as well, which they both seemed to remember at the same time were being occupied by Xinyan. She stepped up and into another, cat-like stretch with her arms above her head, and he was soon to follow. Together, they bid their goodnights to their companions and began to depart. At a brief display of her exhaustedly teetering balance, Kazuha returned his hand— his bandaged right— to the small of her back automatically.
“M’not immoble or nothin’, Kazuha,” Xinyan laughed, but clearly appreciated the support given that she held onto him all the way to their white hand-me-down van at the edge of the parking lot. Xinyan yawned again while stepping up into the passenger's side, tossing her keys to the driver’s seat. Kazuha could only shake his head in endearment. She must have been so tired to not even be able to make a joke about him driving. After situating her guitar in the backseat, she blinked, whipping her head around in confused examination. “All of my amps and stuff—“
“Chongyun, Beidou, and Xiao offered to help load the trunk while you were out of it,” Kazuha explained, buckling theur seatbelt and stirring the engine to life after a bit of stuttering. “Do you want to pick up food before we get home?”
Xinyan finally swung herself into the seat with a sigh, shutting the door and tilting her head back on the headrest. The way her rarely sported singular-ponytail smushed against it was too cute to him. “Nah. I just wanna get home. Sheesh, I’ll have’ta message and thank them before I forget. Do you need anything?”
Kazuha shook their head and handed the aux cord over to her habitually. “No, I’m fine. Let’s go home, then.”
Despite the sleepiness coating her voice, as soon as her phone was connected to the stereo, she began to sing along with anything and everything that played— her entire song library on shuffle made for an eclectic mix, of course— and Kazuha couldn’t help but feel stirred. They hummed in harmony and tapped along the steering wheel to the beat.
It was an easy, timeless exchange between them, as breathing in and out is for one’s body and the world. It’s one of those things that Kazuha thought helped their souls’ link together grow in some kind of incandescent way.
There was hardly anything happening in Kazuha’s mind between parking the car and trudging upstairs and into their bedroom. He could see the weight of exhaustion on her shoulders even as she relieved herself from each piece of dress. After finalizing his own wardrobe for sleep, he crossed over to her to help her finish undoing all of the buttons and zippers that made up the stage outfit. With Xinyan changed into a t-shirt and shorts, and the both of them having washed faces free of makeup, they collapsed into the comforter on their bed like diving into a pool.
Kazuha had grown up accustomed to futons, but considering his former era of sleeping in a car, and Xinyan’s occasional back issues, it wasn’t that hard to convince him to share a queen size mattress. She had been so excited when she was able to afford one herself given that she wasn’t particularly jazzed about her childhood old thing, and that it had been a little less comfortable for the two of them to fit in together. Kazuha hadn’t minded at the time regardless, but he might have just been distracted by the company.
Xinyan ran just a bit warmer than Kazuha, so it was more often him seeking her out in lounging that the other way around. Like clockwork, he reached out underneath the already ruffled sea of black linen, found her shoulder blade first, then cradled the rest of his body around her like a starfish clinging to the ocean floor. Face buried in the crook where her neck and shoulders met, he sighed through his nose and earned himself a shuffle.
“Fshh, Kazuha, don’t go ticklin me,” she warned with no heat nor bite whatsoever. Drowsiness softened the timbre of her into a sound that resonated into his bones. The vibrations of soundless giggling made them smile against her as they placed two kisses right on the same spot. Despite her words, after turning to press a kiss to their nose, she leaned her body right in, slotting her back to their front and in one motion becoming a seamless being.
“I have to meet with Beidou in the morning,” he whispered, tracing shapes on her arm with his fingers. “I’ll be back close to noon.”
Xinyan hummed affirmatively. “Okay… leave some coffee out before you go.” She knew that meeting with people early in the day for any pre-planned reason makes him take coffee over tea first thing. She always remembered, he thought with warmth.
“Alright. Good night, my love,” he murmured, kissing her smooth skin yet again and smiling at the muffled, unclear response he got in return. As her breathing began to even out, he counted the beat of his heart to the intervals between her inhales and exhales. To be one thing didn’t have to involve holding anything back. It did, however, ground him, made him feel secure, gave him a new, personal definition or home.
Xinyan was beyond lovely; she was a privilege to know and an even greater privilege to love. Despite them never having thought that something legally binding and performative like marriage was necessary, they thought that if they ever had the need or opportunity to marry her someday, stars willing, then they would consider themselves one of the luckiest people on planet earth.