Chapter Text
Albedo likes this apartment.
There’s adequate space. Two bedrooms, two baths. One of the bedrooms can be used as an office or a studio. The balcony is a plus. They can grow an herb garden in a window box. It’s in a convenient location, too, just five minutes away from a local grocery and close to a bus stop. Of course, such a suitable place doesn’t come cheap. Albedo’s work pays decently well, but unless Aether can find employment as well–a difficult task for an ex-convict–he’ll be shouldering the entire financial burden.
Technically, they don’t have to move. Albedo’s current apartment is cramped, but two people could make do. They’ll be sleeping together anyway. However, Albedo wants a fresh start. And shouldn’t newlyweds upgrade from bachelor living to a place that suits both their needs?
The realtor seems to read his mind. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Albedo says with a sigh. “I’m guessing it’s in high-demand.”
“That’s correct. You’ll want to move quickly.”
“Well, I’ll have to discuss it with my husband first.” He likes saying husband . He loves the weight of it.
“Of course. We could set up another viewing appointment when he’s available, if you’d like.”
“That’d be ideal, but I’ll have to settle for showing him the photos.”
“I get it,” the realtor says with a laugh. “It’s so hard to coordinate sometimes.”
Albedo returns her laugh with a smile. There’s no need to clarify their situation. Most people balk when he tells them, so he’s learned not to overshare. In six months, it will be no issue.
In six months, Aether will be released.
Mondstadt doesn’t believe in life sentences. It strives for rehabilitation, not blunt punishment. When Aether was given ten years at his sentencing, Albedo knew that it would be reduced. Parole was inevitable. Lo and behold, four years later, they’re letting Aether out on good behavior to see if he can reintegrate into public society.
Albedo was prepared to wait a decade. Although he has been known to lose interest in things that once fascinated him, Aether is an exception. Albedo will never let go of him. The last time he allowed Aether to leave, the worst happened. He won’t make that mistake again.
After the apartment viewing is over, Albedo goes to the facility where Aether is serving his sentence. It’s not a prison. The psychiatrist that Aether’s defense called to the stand testified that Aether suffered delusions of grandeur and required intensive counseling. (Aether rankled at being called “deluded.”) Albedo was relieved, not just because it translated to a lighter sentence, but because Aether wouldn’t be held in a high-security facility. Albedo can visit as often as he likes, and visit he does. Every week. Same day, same time.
The staff are familiar with him by now. They try to make small-talk as they search him for contraband. Albedo has never been gifted at casual conversation. He used to try, only to stumble into awkward silences whenever he made the wrong comment. Sticking to a script felt inauthentic and, worse, it was too easy to be thrown off when someone replied in a way he didn't anticipate. Now, he doesn’t bother. Expending his energy on people who don’t matter to him isn’t worth it.
Aether has always been easy to talk to. He doesn’t pretend to listen. He doesn’t think that Albedo’s choices of conversation topic are strange. And when Aether speaks, Albedo is never bored.
Residents–as the facility prefers to call them–meet friends and family in a common room, supervised by orderlies. There’s tea, coffee, and an assortment of pre-packaged snacks. A variety of furniture is arranged around the room: upholstered armchairs, plastic seats molded into ergonomic shapes, tables of different sizes to accommodate as many or as few people show up. One wall is made of glass to let the sunlight in and give visitors a view of the garden, which some of the residents tend to. You could almost forget the facility’s true purpose.
Albedo isn’t the only visitor today, but the room is mostly empty when he enters, escorted by an employee. Aether sits at one of the two-person tables near the windows with a styrofoam cup. As always, he stands up and folds Albedo into his arms. Albedo savors the hug. He breathes in Aether’s scent, absorbs his warmth. He forces himself to let go when Aether does. There’s a time limit on everything.
“I looked at another apartment today,” Albedo says. He takes out his phone to show Aether the photos.
“What do you think?”
“It’s great,” Aether says after swiping through a few of the pictures. He pinches to zoom in on the kitchen. A smile appears on his lips. “Backsplash. Nice.”
Albedo’s shoulders lower slightly with relief. He was worried Aether wouldn’t like it.
“Do you like it more or less than the last place?”
Aether looks up at Albedo through his lashes. “More. And I can tell you like it a lot.”
“I do. It’s ideal.”
“Then sign the lease.” Aether pushes the phone back toward Albedo. “I trust your judgment.”
Albedo is glad that Aether agrees with his choice, yet there’s a part of him that wants Aether to find some flaw in the apartment and argue. He wants to have a debate over something mundane. Something human.
It’s not that Albedo longs for conflict. He and Aether have had enough as it is. Perhaps what he’s seeking is reassurance that life “on the inside” hasn’t sanded Aether’s edges down to nothing, like the rounded corners of their table. And maybe Albedo also wants reassurance that he, himself, isn’t being bent to Aether’s will somehow, unconsciously tailoring every decision to prioritize Aether’s needs above his own. Their marriage walks a tightrope between wanting to preserve the man they each fell in love with and a desire to melt into each other, forming something new.
“Tell me what’ve you’ve been doing lately,” Albedo says.
Aether takes Albedo’s hand and turns it palm up. He traces the lines with his fingertip. “Same old, same old. It’s so boring here.” He glances at the orderlies hovering around the perimeter of the room. “I wish we could be alone.”
Albedo’s hand twitches. “We’ll just have to settle for this.”
“You could’ve come with me when I asked. Then we would have been together.”
“I don’t want to be like my mother, Aether. We’ve talked about this.”
“No, you would have been better.” Aether holds Albedo’s hand against his cheek. “You could have helped so many people.”
Yes, he could have, but not in the way Aether thinks. If Albedo hadn't let Aether go in the first place, he could've saved those same people a lot of pain and suffering. Albedo rubs his thumb against Aether's cheek. Thinking of roads not taken is pointless. What happened, happened. They can't take it back. It will never be undone.
They just have to live with the consequences.
Aether entered his life like a falling star. He crashed into Albedo’s world and destroyed it, a cataclysmic event that remade his life.
Until then, Albedo had been coasting. He’d advanced quickly through school and secured a job as a medical examiner without much effort. People admired and respected him, sometimes going so far as to call him a genius, but he wasn’t close with anyone. He didn’t mind (or thought he didn’t). Interpersonal relationships required more of him than he was capable of giving.
He was aware that he was different from other people. Not just because he was a “genius”–as so many people insisted on calling him–but because he was certain he did not think or feel like they did. He theorized it was a combination of nature and nurture, the configuration of his mind and his mother’s influence. Rhinedottir’s approach to parenting had been atypical to say the least. Although, it wasn’t until Albedo began living with Alice and Klee that he realized how atypical it was. Albedo hadn’t even come to Mondstadt until he was well into adolescence. Rhinedottir had dragged him from nation to nation after the fall of Khaenri’ah, going wherever her scientific pursuits carried her: the waterways of Fontaine, the deserts and jungles of Sumeru, the forbidding mountains of Inazuma. Sometimes they only stayed a few months. Other times, they lingered for years. Yet they never really immersed themselves in the local cultures. As Khaenri, they would always be apart.
Albedo was so accustomed to loneliness that he didn’t even notice it before Aether appeared.
It was bitterly cold the day they met. Mondstadt winters are typically mild, but a harsh wind had swept down from the mountains to make everyone shiver. Albedo was at the open-air winter market, sketching and people watching. He’d found the perfect spot–a bench beneath the giant, decorated tree in the city square. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground from earlier in the day, but the clouds overhead had finished precipitating for the day. Albedo’s fingers were stiff around his pencil. His gloves were thin–a compromise for the sake of dexterity–so they did a poor job keeping his hands warm.
He was so focused on capturing the image of a couple buying treats from a baker’s stall that he didn’t hear the crunch of approaching footsteps behind him. Albedo only realized someone was peering over his shoulder when he felt the air shift beside him. He turned and looked into the face of a young man with a blond braid and reddish-brown eyes, leaning on the back of the bench.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” the young man said. “I was just watching you draw. You’re really good.”
Albedo relaxed. He was used to this. People always got curious when they saw someone with a sketchbook.
The young man climbed over the back of the bench and dropped into the space beside Albedo. "Can I sit?"
"You already are."
The young man laughed. "Thought I'd ask anyway. You can keep doing what you were doing."
Unexpected. Usually people tried to strike up a conversation with him in situations like this. Albedo quietly completed the sketch, mindful of the young man’s gaze on him. He may have been mistaken, but he felt as if the man was looking at him , Albedo, instead of the drawing. He couldn’t confirm it. When he glanced up, his benchmate’s eyes were lowered toward the sketchbook. They rose a second later.
“Are you going to do more?” he asked.
“If I see something worth sketching,” Albedo said.
The young man’s lips quirked. “If? How do you decide?”
“Well, I like to capture people’s likenesses when they’re happy.”
“Why?”
Why? It should have been self-explanatory. Most people didn’t question it. Albedo ran his finger over the spiral wire that bound his sketchbook. Frankly, not even he had questioned it. There must have been a reason.
“They’re more interesting that way,” he said.
The young man turned to face Albedo, hiking one leg onto the bench and draping his arm over the back. “Kind of a circular answer there, but okay. My name is Aether, by the way. He extended his hand. “And you are?”
“Albedo Kreideprinz.” Albedo shook the offered hand. Aether wore gloves as well, soft leather ones that looked like they’d been passed down for years.
“Do you take requests?” Aether asked.
“I do not.”
“Damn. What about in exchange for a drink and a moon pie?”
“I don’t take payment either.”
“What kind of artist are you?”
“A hobbyist,” Albedo said.
Aether set his fist against his cheek. “Am I not happy enough for you to draw me of your own free will?”
Albedo studied him. To tell the truth, Aether’s form begged to be drawn. His face reminded Albedo of those in oil paintings. His loose posture put him in mind of classical statuary. And his hair… However, to answer Aether’s question, no. Something lurked behind his casual smile and warm eyes. A quiet sadness, perhaps. That might be why he seemed so suited for art. He had the aura of a martyr.
“I would draw you of my own free will regardless,” Albedo said. “If you’ll sit for me, that is.”
Aether’s mood noticeably lifted. “Glad to.”
Albedo set his pencil to paper once more. “Stay just like that.”
He sketched Aether with loose, brisk lines, hoping to capture both his soft edges and his youthful energy. When he was done, he felt he’d managed that but failed to reach his saintliness. It was buried far deeper than Aether’s other qualities, so obviously it would take more time to unearth it. Time that Albedo likely didn’t have.
Aether seemed pleased with the result. “You’re so fast,” he said admiringly. “I know you don’t take payment, but let me buy you a drink anyway. You look like you need one.”
Albedo opened his mouth to protest, but Aether was already on his feet. He crossed the square to a food stall. A few minutes later, he returned with two cups of mulled wine and a moon pie. He broke the pie down the middle and handed one steaming half to Albedo. Albedo hadn’t thought he was hungry until the savory smell of the filling hit his nose.
Albedo took a delicate bite. It tasted delicious, but it burned the roof of his mouth. Aether made a muffled noise as he experienced the same thing. They both washed the burns away with the wine. Albedo could only tolerate a small mouthful. He didn’t particularly care for wine and found he liked warm, spiced wine even less. At least it chased away the chill in his bones.
"Wonder who came up with the idea of mulled wine," Aether mused. "Maybe it was an accident."
"It's a simple enough concept. They must have been cold and wanted to warm up faster."
Aether finished his half of the moon pie. "Want to walk around the white market with me?"
The invitation caught Albedo off guard. Aether hardly knew him, yet he'd treated Albedo to food and a drink, and now he was asking him to… was Albedo being picked up? People had tried it before, though Albedo sometimes didn't realize their aim until later. He refused either way. He didn't have time for or interest in dates.
He meant to politely say no, but what came out of his mouth was, "Sure."
And so he found himself browsing the various stalls with Aether in a bit of a daze. It was as though Aether had an aura around him that charmed people. He got into a long conversation with one of the vendors about their goat's milk soap, talking to them as easily as if they were an old friend. Albedo was impressed. He never could've done something like that.
"So, do you go to Favonius?" Aether asked after buying a block of soap.
"Not anymore."
"You graduated already?" Aether's eyebrows rose. He laughed. "You must be older than you look."
"I'm twenty-five."
"Oh, not that old then."
"What about you?" Albedo asked. "You're a student?"
"Yep. Freshman." Aether let out another laugh when he looked at Albedo's face. "I'm twenty-one. Late bloomer."
Did I have some sort of reaction? Albedo's inner surprise must have shown somehow. He'd been suddenly concerned that a barely-adult teenager was attempting to flirt with him. However, it was just as surprising to hear that Aether was a late comer to higher education, the exact opposite of Albedo, who had been younger than his graduating class.
Aether said, "So, what do you do? Got a job?"
"I'm a medical examiner."
"You're a doctor ? Wow. I feel kind of inadequate." He said it jokingly, but there was a hint of sincerity underneath.
"Don't be," Albedo said. "I'm an unusual case. And I think it's far more commendable to be a late bloomer than a prodigy."
"Really? How so?"
"You're making an active decision to pursue an education. It's a challenge you've chosen to take on rather than letting it pass you by."
“That’s a nice way to look at it. Most people feel sorry for me.”
“Nothing about your situation inspires pity.”
Aether’s mouth slanted into a wry smile. “You don’t know the whole story. But I’ll save that for later. It’s a downer, and we’re having a good time right now. Yeah?”
Albedo nodded. He didn’t mind this. Yet he also wouldn’t have minded Aether sharing the circumstances that had led to him starting university late.
The thin layer of snow on the streets and sidewalks had been trampled to gray slush. The light was fading, but in the odd way that it does when the sky is overcast. At the other end of the white market, the multicolored bulbs woven into the tree came to life. Both Albedo and Aether instinctively turned to look at it. Aether let out an appreciative sigh.
Albedo shifted his gaze. Unaware that he was being watched, Aether’s smile had disappeared, replaced by an expression that bordered on despair. Who are you really? Albedo thought. Where did you come from?
Aether seemed to sense he was being observed. He looked at Albedo from his peripherals. “See something you like?”
“Why did you ask me to browse the market with you?” Albedo asked. Sometimes it pays to be direct.
“Guess.”
“I honestly can’t.”
Aether laughed. “I like to make new friends and wanted to hang out with you some more. It’s not that complicated.”
Was it? Albedo couldn’t tell. He didn’t want to accuse Aether of flirting with him. That would be uncomfortable for both of them if he was wrong.
“I have to go now, but it was nice meeting you,” Aether said.
“The same,” Albedo replied. He didn’t want Aether to leave yet. He wanted to pick his brain further, wanted to unfold him and learn what hid behind those warm, amber eyes. Albedo had been taught to question and investigate the unknown. And, just his luck, a perfect mystery had fallen into his lap.
But Aether was a person, not a specimen that could be pinned to a corkboard and studied under a magnifying glass. He was already leaving, dwindling into the distance while Albedo stood there, resisting the temptation to follow him.
Albedo did not see or hear from Aether again for a few weeks. He was, however, a frequent visitor in Albedo’s thoughts. Albedo even dreamed about him once, although he couldn’t remember the details when he woke up. He tried to draw Aether again from memory, thinking that might be the cure. It wasn’t.
If not for the sketch and the burn on his tongue, Albedo might’ve wondered whether the entire interaction was real at all. The odds of a beautiful stranger approaching him out of the blue were too unlikely. He was the exact type of imaginary friend Albedo would have conjured up as a child to cope with being left alone for hours while Rhinedottir worked.
He goes to Favonius. He’s probably in the student directory. As an occasional instructor, Albedo had access to that information. He could confirm whether Aether had been telling the truth about that (and proof of his existence).
His inquiry was fruitful. There was an “Aether Viator” at Favonius. No photo, but how many people could possibly be named Aether? He was listed as an athletics major. Interesting choice. Maybe their paths would cross again at the university. Albedo was slated to teach Anatomy 101 for the spring semester, so he’d be there often.
He studied the original sketch again. Aether’s penciled face gazed back at him with its unknowable look. Albedo frowned. What was the matter with him? Aether was just another young man out of countless others. He hadn’t done anything strange by chatting Albedo up.
No, Albedo was the strange one for fixating on Aether this long after such a brief encounter. He closed the sketchbook and put it away.
What he was experiencing was attraction, plain and simple, but he wasn't familiar with it. Up until that point, he'd been observing his fellow human beings through a glass panel. He could appreciate them aesthetically, but that was as far as things went. When he turned thirteen, Rhinedottir handed him a book on puberty and sexuality and proceeded to never discuss the topic further. She didn't date, didn't talk about Albedo's father–if he even had one. Albedo now believes that he's the product of in vitro fertilization. He can't imagine his mother wasting her time trying to get pregnant the old fashioned way. (Immaculate conception; he feels anything but holy.)
Crushes, romance, those were for other people. Or so he told himself. He attempted to forget. On the day his course began, Albedo crossed Favonius campus with his eyes fixed only on what was in front of him. He didn’t search for Aether among the students rushing to class or lingering on the walkways.
Albedo entered the lecture hall and booted up the computer. He turned to write his name on the whiteboard in neat block letters. Behind him, students shuffled in and chose their seats. They talked in low voices about their courses and what they’d done over winter break. Ski trips. Family visits. Hours and hours of video games. Part-time jobs. Albedo glanced at the wall clock. It was time to begin class. He hoped that this latest batch of students would take him seriously. Some took Albedo’s age and appearance as an invitation to be overly familiar.
Albedo turned, a prepared greeting on his lips, and stilled.
There, in the front row, sat Aether, his chin balanced on the back of his hand, his ankles crossed, glowing underneath the fluorescents. Albedo momentarily forgot what he was going to say. He blinked once. He wasn’t imagining things. Aether was actually there.
Aether smiled knowingly at him. His eyes gleamed as he mouthed, “Hello again.”