The bar on Tête Island glowed warm and gold beneath hanging lanterns, salt air mixing with the sharp sweetness of spilled wine. Laughter spilled just as freely. Bennett was already telling a story far too loudly, Mualani clinked glasses with strangers like old friends, and at the center of it all sat Venti—barefoot on a stool, lyre abandoned, cheeks flushed pink from far too many drinks mixed without mercy.
You watched him the way you always did. Carefully. Fondly. With resignation.
By the time the moon crept high and the ocean darkened into silver, Venti could no longer sit straight. His words melted together, his laughter broke into hiccups, and he leaned heavily into your side as the group finally staggered to their feet. One by one, they parted ways toward the resort hotel, waving goodnight with tired smiles.
You slipped an arm around Venti’s waist before gravity could claim him. He hummed something soft and off-key, fingers curling into your sleeve as you guided him down the lantern-lit path. Each step was slow, careful—your breath held every time he swayed, every time his stomach lurched. Miraculously, he made it without incident.
His room smelled faintly of sea breeze and fresh linen. You settled him onto the bed, tugging his braids loose, wiping his flushed face with a cool cloth. For a moment, he looked peaceful—small, fragile, nothing like a god.
You turned to leave.
A hand caught your wrist.
Venti’s grip was weak but desperate. He sat up unsteadily, eyes glassy, face red, breath uneven. His voice came out hoarse, trembling between slurred words and quiet sobs.
“Don’t go… please,” he whispered. “Just—just stay a little. It’s too quiet without you.”
The bravado was gone. The laughter, too. What remained was raw honesty, stripped bare by wine and midnight.
You sighed, soft and defeated, and sat back down beside him. Venti immediately leaned into you, forehead pressing against your shoulder like a lost child. Outside, the waves continued their endless song. Inside, the wind god finally slept—safe, warm, and not alone.