Blissful Bite ─ Venti x reader

22 ; A BLISSFUL BITE

As he lay on the bed, with his sheets barely wrinkled, it felt hollow. The expressive and gentle nature disappeared as soon as he rested like this. I took in his features. He was more pale as snow than I wanted to give him credit for. I wanted to tell myself his cheeks were as warm and colorful as a few days ago, but they weren't. Pale as paper and cold like ice.

There wasn't a lot to do or say. Before I realized my hands reached out for the tips of his fingers. I rested my head on the sheets. They smelled like lavender, sweet and pure. Opposed to its meaning, I neither felt serenity or calmness. My arms were cramping. The tense stinging wouldn't stop. When would it finally stop? I anticipated the hour to come.

I sighed, why was everything so complicated. Why wasn't there a spark of hope, just like in the novels someone would read about a hero stopping a conflict. This isn't fiction. It's reality, and it reeks of blood and cruelty. It is gloomy and uncomfortable when you try to change the system, and here I am, not knowing what I should do. 

It wasn't that simple, I couldn't abandon my duty.

Self-preservation came first instead of a revolution that didn't even exist in the first point. Teyvat’s rules play differently from mine, and the system only aligns with my survival.

My eyelids seemed to grow weaker by the second. It was faster than I hoped, I couldn't hold them long enough open before I embraced the dark nothing. The void without dreams.

I woke up after what felt like hours. My body felt sour, worn, and torn apart. A wagon could have overrun me.

A light sensation brushed over my scalp, the streaks falling into my gaze as I looked up. Someone's hand patted my head. The moment I looked up, my eyes met his. I didn't know how to react, I forgot how to move my limbs—I sat there dumbfounded, struck by lightning type of fashion. 

"It's okay to rest, you know? All the hard work is going to exhaust you." he looked at me with a smile. Sweet at first to others. I felt the deep sourness of it. The irony. His play was pretending to stay stable and steady. "Don't fly too high with aspirations. Sometimes life will take what's yours as soon as you do."

What he said seemed like another passive warning more than anything. I remained quiet.

"I.." he stopped and shook his head. "It's okay." 

I crossed my arms and looked at him. "Like you know what I was going to say." He looked at me with a gentle, soft smile. One I would have melted into if I could trust him. 

He shook his head, "Let's not talk about mistakes now." he muttered. He sat up with a low groan, which was unusual to witness. In those past months, I rarely saw him in pain or, rather, an ordeal like this. The most primary surprise was at first that he always hid his true thoughts, like a gambler who was out to win the grand scheme of things. 

I reached out, surprised by myself, when he tried to stand up. I wanted to tell him to stop. Nothing came out. Not even a croak of my vocals.

He walked over to the nearby desk. I watched him pick up a paper. His walk was slow, with little limping in between. There wasn't any reassurance that he wouldn't fall. Paralyzed by my thoughts, I struggled even when it made my heart speed up. Venti made it barely onto the bed. I walked over to him. Every muscle in my body felt tense. What was I supposed to do? I didn't know how to take care of a vampire other than forcing a wooden stake into their hearts or arresting them with silver shackles.

His eyes darkened, the cheeks were pale, and his face was so hollow. When I looked back at him,  I reached out for his hand. "You're not okay."

"I am fine." he insisted, I stared at him. I didn't think he was fine. He was no more fine than I had been after severely training. Which, if I might add, has made me pass out once.