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If you asked Xiao what his least favored season was he’d say “Winter,” in a heartbeat. And yet he’d just as quickly add with a wistful sigh, “But I love snow and Spring.”
You’d never be able to pry his reasons out of him though.
Although, in the comfort of the living room couch with fairy lights casting a warm glow over the room. Languid strums of a moon-shaped lyre playing over the dull hum of the heater; you’d figure it out yourself.
Or you could get him as drunk as a kite; and let him tell you himself.
Like right now.
“Hey, do you remember the first day we met?” Xiao slurred, leaning heavily onto the body next to him. The soft strumming did not still; quite used to the other’s drunken ministrations. A soft hum echoed through the room urging the other to continue. Not that his inebriated mind regarded the acknowledgment.
“We were like six? And it was snowing too.”
A softly plucked lyre string.
“It was at the park with the hill. And I was playing at the top with my siblings when I tripped.”
The echo of distant vehicles passing.
“I slid down the hill and everything! Maybe a few tumbles too, now that I think about it.”
A soft, cozy blanket shared across two pairs of shoulders.
“I landed at the foot of that hill face first. And I was so shocked that I just laid there.”
A drunken huff of laughter and steaming mugs of apple cider on the table.
“When you suddenly approached me and asked if I was okay.”
The lyre stopped.
“I was so embarrassed, I didn’t even look up to you then.”
A musically calloused hand came up to hold the hand poking their face.
“I just said in the most serious voice a six-year-old could muster,
‘If the snow is thick enough, we can eat it.’
while face planting in snow.”
Xiao turned his hand, holding the other’s as well.
“And you burst out laughing! Even though I could hear your mom scold you for laughing instead of helping me up!”
Xiao faced the other, feigned accusation flitting on his face.
“Then I looked up, just like now; and I saw Spring bathed in winter's Snow. Spring, wrapped in a bundle of wool, warmth, and emerald green amidst the blanket of white snow.”
A fond giggle through apple cider-coated lips.
“I was a goner then and there you know?”
Swaying teal-tipped braids from one and a rare drunken smile from the other.
“You are such a sappy drunk Xiao-xiao.”
Adoring amber eyes meet amused, loving emerald greens.
“You get me drunk to be sappy.”
A kiss, coated in apples and warmth.
“I love you, Xiao, my sappy, poetic drunk.”
Xiao hated winter but at the age of six learned to love the snow. All because for the past 20 years—and many years to come—it has only brought him warmth. Brought him, Spring.
“I love you too, Venti. My Spring.”