Theres something so sad yet hauntingly beautiful when venti asks you to wear your wedding dress every time you celebrate the anniversary with him. The idea of forgetting you scares him and it’s bound that gods like him are prone to erosion.
Each anniversary, his gifts become more grandiose. Bouquets made from rare species of flowers that bloom only once a century, songs crafted from forgotten languages, starlight bottled in glass that glimmers whenever he thinks of you.
Every year, it haunts him that one day he’ll forget about you. He hides it behind songs, laughter, and celebrations, but you can feel it in the way he holds your hand too tightly. The way he stares at you like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face— before time steals it from him— makes him want to cry in front of you and let his feelings and fears be known, but he suppresses it.
He doesn’t want to ruin the day. He doesn’t want to ruin the anniversary. Your smile is too beautiful for it to be marred by his own selfish feelings.
That’s why he puts every ounce of his love into these moments. He’s desperate to ensure you remember, even if one day he can’t.
Though in order to combat erosion, he needs to hibernate for hundreds of years to sustain his powers. And if you were a being with longevity equal to his, he would ask without hesitation or shame for you to sleep beside him and stay by his side.
Surrendering centuries together so that you could wake in each other’s arms again is his only wish.
And it wouldn’t be a burden for you to abide his dreams. It never was.
The thought of waking up with his body curled around yours, his breathing against your shoulder, his wings wrapped protectively around you, makes the centuries of slumber feel like only mere moments.
“Even if the world changes… even if I do… promise you’ll be there when I open my eyes again,” he whispers, caressing your ring perfectly nestled on your finger before slowly intertwining your hands together intimately.
Though if you were a mortal, it would be more difficult. He’d put ten times more the effort in the dates. You might sense that something is troubling him.
His laughter would sometimes waver. His fingers would linger a little too long when he brushes your cheek. His eyes would soften with a kind of longing that feels too melancholic for your liking.
Venti holds you as if you’ll evaporate in his arms. Sometimes he watches you sleep with a smile too tight to be genuine. Sometimes the songs and poems he writes for you sound almost like farewells even when he swears they aren’t.
It pains him that your time moves faster than his. And no matter how hard he tries to outrun erosion, he can’t outrun mortality. So he cherishes every moment with a desperation he never lets you see.
Every laugh. Every kiss. Every anniversary where you wear the wedding dress he adores. He pins them inside his mind and writes every piece of you in his collection of poems tucked away in a hidden journal.
Each memory of you must be bright, vivid, and unforgettable— something he can hold on to even when centuries threaten to wash them away.
Because one day, he will wake up and you won’t be there next to him.
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