SOMETHIN' STUPID
"and then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like, 'I love you'.."
Fandom: genshin impact, modern au.
Character(s): Venti, Dahlia gets mentioned.
Warnings: religious topics, venti goes to church lol. Possible mistakes, English isn't my first language lmao
Notes: I'm sorry for taking so long! I was out for a trip with my parents for a few days and finding time to write this was harder than I planned. (Also I'm sorry if my work looks a bit clumsy I'm still a bit unfamiliar with actually posting what I write and posting on tumblr😭)
All feedback is appreciated!
The last thing that Venti wanted was for his feelings to get in the way, especially when it came to you.
He didn't understand what this feeling was at first, but the realization made everything heavier than it was.
Obviously, he would've never started acting differently with you, he was your best friend.
He didn't want you to get suspicious of it either, he was 99% sure you didn't like him the same way he did. It would've been so humiliating for him to show such a vulnerable side of him only to get rejected in return.
What if you got grossed out and stopped talking to him?
What if you laughed in his face and he made a complete fool of himself?
He couldn't risk losing you.
You two have been friends for so long.
You have seen him almost under every light possible: during tests where the questions were completely different from what you studied, under the spotlight at his theater club plays, under the street lamps during a walk on a summer evening, under the purple lights during prom.
God how beautiful you were that night.
You didn't go together as a date, but you thought it could've been fun and he agreed.
That night you were absolutely stunning. He could barely take his eyes off of you.
As if the situation couldn't get worse for him, "No. 1 Party Anthem" started playing.
That damn song. You loved it and he knew it.
You asked him to dance as a joke and you could barely look at each other without laughing.
It was mainly the awkwardnesd of the situation, sure, but it made him realize something: that weight in his chest wasn't going away.
At first, it appeared as a small pressure with the little things you did.
He repeated himself that you were just being nice to him by always showing up to his theater plays and archery competitions, drawing random things on his arm or paper during boring classes, fixing his hair and clothes when they were messy.
The feeling started getting stronger when he opened up about his doubts, his fears and insecurities.
He obviously wasn't completely transparent with you, he didn't want to scare you off by telling you about the way he felt like he only had you by his side.
He didn't want to make you feel obligated to stay by his side of things went wrong.
He knew you wouldn't laugh at him or shame him, he knew it because everytime he lost a competition, got a bad grade or was overall stressed you were always the first to encourage him and believe in his abilities,
But that knowledge was useless when that feeling he couldn't quite name came in the picture.
At first he thought it was some type of deep admiration for you, but then why did he have to hide the way he felt breathless every time you smiled or sat next to him?
The answer hit him like a truck at prom's night.
The way you looked at him under those purple lights, dancing to that song you loved.
That night, after dancing he had to take a break in the bathroom.
He excused himself acting as if everything was okay, then almost cried at the sink and then came back to you as if nothing happened.
After that night Venti tried to hide his feelings from you through finals and graduation.
You two made separate career choices that lead you to not be in the same school anymore.
You weren't sure if he was happy about it or not.
After all you were best friends.
You tried to keep the friendship intact, sometimes by hanging out when you had time. He ended up moving out but still managed to find a house in the same area, so you could see each other.
You never knew how he did it but he always managed to be one of the best in essays even if he didn't study as much as the others, so you weren't surprised when he chose to study literature and take part of an extra writing class that got him to write small articles on the local newspaper.
He didn't make much from them so he also tutored some kids with writing classes.
Because of this, when he spoke about this writing competition his professor organized with the students of her course, you went I full support mode, reassuring him that he would've done amazing.
He was pretty confident in his ability to write a good article, but his confidence shattered a bit when he found out the assignment was a personal piece after signing up.
If he had to be honest, this competition thing made him more nervous than it should've.
He was good at writing objective articles, analyzing poems and novels he was assigned to, but this was completely different.
This time, the assignment was supposed to be a personal dive in himself and he wasn't good at that.
He didn't exactly update you much in it either. When you asked about it he just said: "yeah no, it's just some essay about art in life and stuff like that" dismissing his writing.
On the other hand, his friend Dahlia knew everything.
It was a normal afternoon, nothing too big happened beside Venti struggling with the worst author block he had in his whole life.
Usually, he would show you the surface of the iceberg his problems were.
This was one of the times where desperation was stronger than his beliefs.
That's why he sat in the back rows of the church benches.
It's quite peculiar to the others, but that's the main comfort spot Venti knew.
All those years as a choir kid for the local church gave him comfort and doubts at the same time. Six years later he was still sitting in a church asking for a sign that could help him solve his problems.
Just like he did as a kid when his grandma took him to church.
"I just need a sign, please just tell me what to do" he said under his breath, fidgeting with the zip of his jacket.
When he was on the verge of leaving, a certain pink haired altar boy he knew a bit too well sat next to him.
"Are you still trying to figure things out?", he asks.
Venti could only reply with a sigh, debating if he should tell him the truth, to which Dahlia answered with a chuckle and a nudge: "I figured you'd definitely not come here before Mass to join us. Spill the tea".
He tried to explain himself to his friend, but the words didn't come out as easily as he hoped they would.
"I just wish I didn't have to feel like my ribs are getting crushed everytime I think about it, you know?"
Dahlia could only feel a small amount of helplessness as he knew how hard it is to convince the boy to open up, let alone confess his feelings to someone.
The pink haired friend replied with a sigh.
"You should start by accepting your feelings and not make it sound like they're murdering you just by existing..you know, you should come to the conclusion that things like these can't be avoided. You know you'll have to face them eventually"
Now, Venti knew his friend was right, but what was he supposed to do? Put his feelings into words? He barely knew how to tell you what made him sad, let alone that he was madly head over heels for you!
"You know I can't do that, Dahlia. I'd just end up ruing everything. It's just best if I don't tell her."
"Who said anything about saying it in her face? Don't you have that essay you have no idea what to write in?"
"No no no no, that is out of question!"
Dahlia almost had to shush him for the way his whispers raised in volume, being louder than the pipe playing, scaring an elder lady who was in the front rows with a rosary in her hand.
"It's not like you have to read it to her! You just have to write, submit and that's it! No big confession. Just getting the weight off your chest. It can only be good to you."
To that, Venti could only reply with a huff, more nervous than anything else, before running a hand in his hair.
"No one but the professor will see it anyway. You have your material and your secret, minus the burden."
"Well if you ask me, I'd say that God wants what he wants for me, wether it's rejection or not. I would still try if I were you. You have nothing to lose... beside the competition"
"Of course I am! Let me know how it goes. I should go get ready for mass."
Said the pink haired before vanishing in the sacristy.
That night Venti couldn't sleep, just like he did when he saw you for what you really meant to him.
Only, this time, he wouldn't have let it.
He wore his headphones and started writing everything he felt, without being too obvious.
The dim light of his lamp covered his room, reflecting on the trophies he won as an archer, the polaroids hung on his wall. Some music sheets here and there near his music stand and his instruments' cases. His usual playlist in his ears, giving him the right amount of emotion and inspiration he needed.
Around a month passed before the award ceremony and Venti was now more anxious than he'd ever been in any competition.
"Come on, take a deep breath, you got this“
You try to reassure him fixing his hair and sweater, before taking his shoulders with your hands, giving them a gentle squeeze.
"I'll go take a seat in the back while you talk to the others. Good luck Ven."
Venti ended up sitting in the front, looking for you in the audience while walking in the auditorium to his seat, not managing to spot you.
As the professor started introducing the assignment to the crowd, Venti could feel that sense of void building up in his stomach.
He tried to drown the feeling by fidgeting with his rings and then his sleeves, pulling them enough so he could cover his hands.
You always scolded him for biting his nails, so he tried to stop.
"I must admit some works were remarkable, it truly was difficult to discuss our top three"
He did not get the third or second place as he was used to when he wasn't writing articles, so he just started convincing himself he didn't make it that far this time.
That's why hearing his name and "first place" in the same sentence shocked him.
Of course, it wasn't the first time he won a writing competition, that's how he got his spot in newspapers after all.
This, however, was more than unexpected.
He was convinced his work sucked.
Despite the shaky hands and his legs feeling like jelly, he made his way up to where his professor was to shake her hand and take the certificate.
Soon enough, the happiness and pride crashed and his smile faltered as soon as the professor asked him to read an extract.
He didn’t write the essay to be heard He wrote it to be submitted!
Reading it aloud makes everything heavier!
'Ugh damn you Dahlia...and damn to me for listening' he thinks.
"An extract? Oh...I think it's best if I spare the audience ehe." He said trying to escape from the situation.
"Oh please! Just a few paragraphs! I'm sure the others are curious to know what you wrote, no?“
He glances out across the lecture hall, scanning faces automatically, and then he spots you.
You’re sitting a few row behind in the first half of the seats, leaning forward with interest. You catch his eye and grin, proud and supportive.
You give him a thumbs up, clueless, to support him, like this is just another one of his wins you get to be there for.
He clears his throat. “Uh. Yeah...yes, of course"
He stares at the title: "art in simple, daily things"
He swallows and takes a deep breath before choosing what to read.
He starts somewhere close to the beginning, where it’s safer to read. Where nothing is too clear.
“I think the best art doesn’t announce itself.
It just stays with you, quietly, even after you’ve stopped paying attention.
It can show up in everything and nothing at the same time, in the big things and the little ones: the dim yellow lights in the streets of a rainy and foggy evening, the Willow trees that hunches over the big lake in the meadow I used to walk in as a kid."
He swallows his saliva, which was feeling thicker, and takes a moment before continuing.
"Some times it shows as a person, under the purple lights in a room full of people...and before you know, it pulls you in for a dance, trapping you in its' magic.
That's the kind of art that stays with you, that you can't look away from.
Art isn’t just in the brushstrokes or notes on a page. It's also in the way someone looks at it...it's like music that feels companionable. Not demanding of any attention. Just present.
It's like memories that only exist because someone else was there to witness them.”
“If this essay is about anything, it’s about noticing what’s already there."
He reads the last part a bit faster before taking a step back from the microphone.
He was never the type to shy away, but he also never confessed his feelings out loud.
He was good at narrative and telling stories to kids.
He was good at writing essays about other authors and their work.
He never thought his feelings for you would've risked being exposed to everyone in the room.
On the other hand, you were still sitting there. You heard it all.
He reads about art, about how the things that matter most are often the least obvious ones.
About music that doesn’t demand attention but earns it anyway.
So far it sounds like something venti would write.
Well, that's until that specific quote.
"Some times it shows as a person, under the purple lights in a room full of people"
That phrase might've seemed innocent to some, just a mere example of simple things.
You remembered that night like no other.
The way you convinced him to come to prom with you, the way you joked about the school trying to "give euphoria vibes" with those purple lights, your favorite song playing and you pulling him for that dance.
Truth to be told you had the fattest crush on him since freshman year.
Since the day you saw him on stage for his first play.
It's not that alone that made you fall for him.
All the little things he did made your heart beat faster.
The times he gave you his jacket or gloves when you where cold,
the time he helped you dye your hair for fun,
the time he bought you tickets for a museum you really wanted to see to surprise you,
the times you two sang in his car while driving with no specific destination.
The time he dried your tears and comforted you through your insecurities.
All the little things this guy did made you melt for him every single time.
Hearing those words from him, on that stage, where, even in a room full of people, listening to them felt like a secret between you two.
You tell yourself it's just a coincidence. That he just appreciated the moment with a friend. That doesn't necessarily mean he feels the same way...no?
As he gets off the stage with his certificate. The professor keeps talking about the next competition while he sits on his chair, fidgeting with the paper.
After the speech, the room starts emptying.
You decide to wait for Venti near the exit with faux nonchalance.
As soon as he reaches you, you pull him into a hug, a tight and felt hug, making his cheeks heat up and his heart beat faster.
“That was incredible,” you say with bright eyes, pulling back from the hug slightly to face him.
He shrugs and smiles, automatic, like it's a reflex. “I guess I had good material.”
You smile at that, biting back and awkward laugh and a teasing joke and he smiles back, because that’s what he does.
"Did you walk here? I can give you a ride home if you want." He offers, as usual.
The car ride is quiet at first.
Venti takes a glance at your figure, you're looking outside the window.
He reaches you, concern flickering behind the smile. “Hey,” he says lightly. “You okay?”
You nod, even though your chest feels too full. “Yeah” you say, voice steady despite yourself. “ just…”
You trail off. You don’t say it out loud. Not here. Not yet.
"Your essay was really beautiful..
Why were you so scared of telling me what it was about?"
He doesn't answer right away, it takes a moment for him to collect his thoughts.
"You really liked it that much? I was pretty sure it sucked.."
"Of course I did. You're a genius in writing.."
He hums. Something about your tone feels off.
''ugh, screw it" you think.
"But... what about the purple lights thing?" There. You asked it. You noticed. There's no going back.
His eyes widen in shock as his face heats up.
He's innerly debating if he should drop the bomb now, but the idea of being alone in his car with you is scary.
Ugh who cares? You asked anyway!
"Can I..stop somewhere for a second?“
He asks unsure of what he's doing.
"Sure..?" You answer looking at him. brows furrowed in confusion.
He pulls over in a parking lot, the music still playing from the radio.
"Uh.. Venti? Are you okay? You're worrying me-"
You're about to say something when he cuts you off by asking you to move to the back seat. It's not unusual, you always did it when you had deep talks in his car.
You put blind trust in him, like you always do.
After hearing the door closing from the passenger side he lets an audible sigh out.
This is eating him alive.
He's so lost in thoughts he barely notices you entering and string in the back seats next to him, looking at him with that attentive look of yours.
You always have that look when he needs your warm comfort.
"I'm sorry for hiding the content of the essay..
Truth to be told I pulled an all-nighter to write it. I didn't know what to write. I'm just shocked they consider it winner potential."
"Why? Because you aren't used to talking about your feelings?“ you can't help but ask.
“Writing about myself directly feels like staring too long at my reflection. I prefer to write around things instead". He answers looking at you for a brief moment. You answer his gaze with a nod, to tell him he's safe to talk to you about this.
"I couldn't sleep well for weeks. Trying to understand what to write about. I thought nothing was good enough". He confesses.
"Then what helped you make your mind up?"
"I spoke to a friend...and it made me think..
..you know.. I don’t feel like I’m especially important in anyone’s life” he says, with a small resigned smile that hurts to hear. “I like being the background character. The supporting role."
He continues, “I’ve always preferred standing to the side of things. Observing. Being useful. Adding warmth where I can."
"Oh Venti, please, you know you're more than that-"
"Please let me finish.." he cuts you off with no harm intended.
"You know I'm mainly good at making others laugh..at not taking things seriously". He says scratching and pinching his neck. That's something he did when he was nervous and you knew it well.
“There are some things,” he continues, quieter now, more hesitantly: “that feel heavier to say than anything else..
And I found out that joking about them doesn’t make that weight disappear."
As you listened, you notice about his fidgeting and take that hand in yours, gently pulling it down to stop him from hurting himself.
He responds with a shaky sigh, not keeping eye contact.
"but, why me, then..?" You ask, trying to understand better.
"I'm not sure... I always thought love was something loud... like fireworks or a song with no off-button."
There's a moment of silence. He swallows hard, fingers trembling around the hem of his jacket he took in his fingers to keep his hand busy.
His eyes flick back to you.
You're looking at him with a confused, unsure expression.
He swallows, before continuing with a shaky voice.
"But it’s quiet for me. Even in the way my pulse jumps when you fix my collar before class... or how I memorized your laugh.
..Like knowing exactly how you take your drinks..the movies you like.. the way your eyes look when you laugh or cry...your favorite seasonal perfumes..."
"It's in every stupid joke that makes you laugh harder than it should. In how your presence turns silence into something warm instead of empty... That's what I said art in simple, daily things is to me in the essay..."
"I think I'm trying to say...I love you.."
You stay quiet. The words he just said are replaying in your head over and over.
Venti, your best friend, who you've been crushing on for the past years just confessed to you.
Your eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape while you're still processing what just came out of his mouth. It's not like him to openly talk about his feelings.
He notices you're not saying anything and starts panicking a bit, thinking he might have just messed things up.
Did he just ruin everything?
He starts stumbling over his words, trying to take back what he just said, but you stop him by gently squeezing his hand.
"I..I know, it's stupid..you don't have to say anything..just, please don't see me differently, I don't mind being just a friend, I just needed to tell you, to finally be honest about my feelings.."
His words are interrupted by you gently squeezing his hand again, your thumb tracing small circles on his knuckles.
He dares to look up at you, his eyes a bit glossy.
Your mind is still kind of busy trying to process everything he said, but when you see his expression your chest tightens.
You've never seen him this nervous before.
"I'm sorry..I didn't mean to make things awkward. I don't know why I'm so scared..". He says quietly looking away.
"hey, no. Venti, look at me, don't panic. You have nothing to apologize for.
starting by the fact it's not a feeling you can control, I would never leave you for something like that.
Whether I feel it too or not, you're my best friend. It would take a lot more to separate us."
You squeeze his hand once more, this time, pulling him a bit closer to you.
"though I must say you're a bit of an idiot for thinking you don't mean anything to anyone.. me especially. I can point out a whole list of things that make you irreplaceable for me...starting by the fact I like you too."
This time he looks at you with a hint of surprise at your sudden boldness.
"Really..?" He manages to ask.
"Yes, dumbass. Really. Why else do you think I offered you to dance that night?"
Even if your choice of words was a bit harsh, you meant no arm. The words came out soft and affectionate and to them. You even added a kiss right above his nose, between his brows, cradling his cheek with your hand before resting your forehead against his.
He swallows, looking up at you as if he was staring at the most beautiful thing in the world, while his heartbeat speeds up.
You had to admit, you would've never imagined he could act like this. He seems like the chilliest guy ever, but he's an absolute mess with feelings.
His breath hitches at that kiss.
His eyes widening like you just slapped him.
"..Me? Of all people??" he echoes, voice cracking embarrassingly, as he back away a little.
now it's his turn to stare at you with that same expression of disbelief you had earlier.
"You… liked me? Like this whole time?" He asks gesturing wildly between the two of you.
You can't help but hold back a snort at his reaction.
"Then why didn't you say anything either??"
He lets out a strangled noise that almost sounds like a laugh before covering half of his face with the palm of his hand.
"oh my god" he mumbles through his fingers. "you are just as bad as me?!"
Yep. That's the real Venti. he's back.
"It's not that easy!" You reply, rolling your eyes at him, gently pushing him from his shoulder.
"I wasted two years thinking I was a loser for wanting you and you were doing the same thing when I could've been kissing you for two years??" he cuts himself off almost choking out the last part: "and you're telling me you wouldn't have even said no?!"
Venti can feel his breath catching in his throat, like you just knocked the air out of his chest. He also lets a small laugh out before he slightly shakes his head.
"God, you have no idea how much I cried like an idiot over this..."
"so. uhm. Can you tell me you're 100% sure of what you feel for me? I just need to hear it with clear words, because my brain is currently frying"
The words come out with a chuckle.
He's trying to release the tension.
"What? Do you want me to tell you I feel the same again? Of course I do..dummy..is this not obvious enough?" You admit with a laugh gesturing between you two.
Then your hand reaches his cheek again.
He takes that hand in his.
His thumb brushes over it, his gaze darts between your eyes and lips.
"I was scared too...don't think I didn't care" You admit, looking into his eyes
"Fuck it." He thinks. Now it's the moment.
Then, he gently presses his lips onto yours.
His lips part from yours so he can look at your reaction, seeking your approval.
Your sweet smile contrasts his heavy, nervous breathing.
"Was that okay..?“ he asks unsure.
You don't answer with words.
Instead, you press your lips against his once more.
The kiss is still innocent. Just a bit more confident.
You taste like home. He does too.
When he finally pulls back, he doesn't move too far back.
Your foreheads are touching, close enough for the air to feel intimate.
"I should've done that at prom." He comments with an awkward laugh, to which you answer with a light chuckle.
He lets out a small chuckle at that too.
"So, uhm.." he begins, sitting back, looking away.
"I assume this means something..right?"
"You mean if we're together?" You ask with an amused smirk.
"I mean..we don't have to if you don't want to. I was just asking!" He stumbles on his words trying to explain.
"Well, what a pair we'd be, huh?" You joke trying to break the tension.
There's a brief moment of silence before he breaks it.
"... dinner at my place tonight?"
You look at him in half-disbelief and half-amusement.
"Are you asking me on a date now?"
"Maybe.." he answer looking away with flushed cheeks.
You look at him for a moment, smiling, before:
"Yeah...Dinner at your place it is."
"I'll pick you up at eight?" He asks looking back at you with a smile.
