chrysōpos

The envelope is cream in color, dogeared on one side, and when he leans in to smell it – a light fragrance of glaze lilies comes off the paper. It was left on his doorstep by a lovely pigeon, who had cooed in greeting before flying away. 

A thumb traces over the handwritten name. It’s familiar, swooping and elegant. He wonders if the fresh smell came from its homeland, or the perfume of his lover spritzed on the parchment. 

From: Zhongli

Diluc breaks the wax seal, peeling back paper from glue with gentle hands, feeling that the letter would dissolve if he applied any form of pressure at all. 

Hello, darling, it starts. He holds his breath through the following words, tingles in his chest. I’ll be coming to visit soon. I know it’s been a while, but I can finally take a few days off. I'm excited to see you. I wonder if you've gotten prettier while I was gone, he jokes.

He leans forward and brings the letter to his forehead, hiding his face from the potted flowers that watch his ears burn red. Zhongli’s quips should no longer be out of the ordinary for him, but yet he still finds himself becoming so very shy. 

Pulling himself together, he continues to read the rest of the letter.

I know you haven’t fed on anything in a long while, he wrote. He imagines him tapping in response to think about what to write next. I know you can manage with other things, but it can only keep you sated for so long. I hope the cravings aren't as bad as they were last time. I worry when I'm not there.  

Diluc’s lips form a small pout. He's sure his cravings will be as bad as they were, but he doesn't tell Zhongli that. He doesn't want him to worry as much as he does, though, he's also sure Zhongli will regardless. 

I'm bringing along some snacks with me as well. They're all light and sweet, so don't worry about feeling sick afterwards. I recall you saying you wanted to try some lotus crisps a while back, so I'll be sure to bring some. In fact, they're beside me right now waiting for you. 

But I'm sure you want other things besides lotus crisps, don't you? he wrote, most likely with a knowing smile. Something better than something sweet. 

Diluc bites the inside of his cheek, pulling it between his teeth. He can feel his fangs start to ache for something to sink into, craving heaven on his tongue and the rush of divinity in his veins when he sees Zhongli dazed from the pleasure of a vampire’s bite. 

Desire turns into disgust when he realizes what he's thinking. 

He looks out the window. The blazing sun is high in the sky. It's far too early for him to be craving, fantasizing about Zhongli’s blood.

I don't know what blood tastes like to you, but I’m sure it tastes good for vampires. You do like mine after all. 

He hides his face in his hands, sighing, heat rising to his neck. Zhongli isn't one to shy away from how much Diluc likes it. He likes using it on him, he's noticed. Teasing his desire with a soft smile while Diluc turns red. 

Zhongli tends to stare at him when he's done drinking. Something like adoration in his eyes. It's hazy. Floaty. It glazes over his eyes like a love spell where his kisses end up feeling more like bites as if it's to reciprocate. 

His blood cannot even compare to the finest delicacies of Liyue. Too unique for a chef to even think of recreating and too precious for Diluc to share with anyone else. The thought of his blood alone is enough to drive his cravings, his need to keep it at bay becoming useless. It still gnaws at him now, trying to save itself from starvation. 

Sometimes, Diluc thinks, Zhongli looks more satiated than he does as if he's the one who'd been starving.

He places his head on his desk, trying to erase the memories of Zhongli’s petal lips. Eyes burning into his own. The warmth of his hands on his back. Sweet words pressed into his neck and the soft remarks made into his hair. One by one, a thought is replaced by another. Too far gone to go back, always left wanting and missing and pretending the empty space next to him is replaced by his lover. 

I should be there within a day or two, he picks off, regaining focus. I know I don’t visit often, but I shouldn’t be getting lost every time I go. It’s uncanny. The last two words are underlined three times. I know where I’m going most of the time, but it’s like your cottage is relocating every visit. He snorts, amused. Perhaps I’m actually terrible at directions. You do live in the middle of nowhere after all. You fit in quite nicely with the trees and the flowers. You are lovely as always.

Diluc forgets to breathe, reading the last sentence over and over again.

I’ll be there soon. I miss you dearly.

The dust dancing in the sunlight pouring from his window hears his whispered response. “I miss you too.” 

 

---

 

Hunger holds no mercy on Diluc the following night. What began the day as gentle and forgiving, bleeds into despair and a knife held to his throat by his own inanition. Trapped like this, in the middle of his kitchen floor, clawing at the wood with sharpened nails, Diluc is hungry. Starving. He wants and wants and wants—

He wants a pulse beneath his fangs, a beating heart in his hands. 

A hand fists around the curtains hung on his window as he tries to pull himself up and away from his awful desires.  

But the monstrous thing that resides in his veins tells him to take a small trip to the city. Find an unsuspecting citizen and drag them into the shadows where he’ll rip their throat out. They tell him, whisper to him, that he'll feel so much better when he feeds. That the blood on his hands is the warmth he craves, how the sweetness he longs for belongs to an innocent stranger walking the cobblestone streets of the city of freedom. 

(How will you dispose of the body? they ask, trailing their fingers through his hair, thinking that their touch is as gentle as a lover’s. Are you going to bury them in a garden again? What will it be this time? Petunias?)

Just a pulse. A beating pulse. 

But the city is too far away. He'd never make it. 

Diluc dry heaves into the sink, shivering at how he entertained the idea for a split second. 

As he settles onto the floor, he pushes his bangs back from his sweaty skin with a shaky hand. He catches his breath trying to quiet his mind, until his teeth start to ache and sharpen into his fangs, forcibly reaching out to find something. Anything. They glint in the starlight like moonstones. 

He crumples under the gaze of the stars, rotting under their light thinking their holy eyes will fix him and erase his hunger. Morbid is a star watching a monster rot, but beautiful is the monster rotting in starlight. Would it even matter if it were switched around? 

The stars watch him curl into himself in pain before he could even think of how that question would be answered. 

Silencing a whimper is futile when the pain is too much to bear. The sound of his own weakness fuels his urge to feed. The guilt makes him starve. The anger makes him bloodthirsty, panting and shaking, unable to get up from the floor without his arms wobbling. 

There is no mercy for a monster’s hunger. It must be filled. 

The tears dripping onto the floorboards look like droplets of blood in the night and it makes him all the more hungry. 

If he lets his mind wander too far, recollections of blood rivulets swarm his memories, so clear he could feel it dripping from his mouth. He'd lick it off with a slide of his tongue, a slick smile on his face, rampant with bloodrush. He can remember the taste of the first person he'd bitten. How rotten they were. How rotten that he kept going for more thinking it would finally taste sweet at the last drop. 

He saw their face in town. He knew them. They knew him. He saw them weekly at the market, but they only exchanged words once, if the way they were choking on their own blood begging him to stop counts as a conversation.

Diluc buried them in someone’s garden. (Lilies, he remembers.) What would his father think, if he knew he ran away because of his own cowardice? If he knew he became the monster that killed him?

“I’m sorry,” he had said to them, still going for their throat. “I’m so sorry.”

The voices say his apologies won't matter when they're dead. 

He shivers as if he was back in Snezhnaya, ruthlessly searching for a cure to make him human. To take his reanimated heart and turn it back to normal. 

When the shivering subsides, he manages to open a window. The summer air is nice on his skin. He rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons his shirt half way to sink into the wind. Its songs are blessings, whisking away the inky voices and the blood. 

The dark encompasses him with a strange sort of comfort as he leans against the windowsill. His eyes close to the sound of crickets and the blades of long grass trading secrets under the gale.

His cravings (his guilt) become white noise. They will appear again when he grows hungry. The desire will come back stronger than before, but he's too numb now to remember.

He breathes in, letting the air settle in his lungs. The stars in the sky reflect in his eyes, now open to their judgment, and he wonders if they pity him. If they love him as a monster, as a person. 

The stars don't reply when he asks and he doesn't expect them to. 

 

---

 

Zhongli is no doubt lost when he tries to traverse his way through the forest. Every tree looks the same, every rock and twig on the ground. It feels like he's going in circles. Last time, he went through a path of mayapples glowing against the morning light. Sometimes he'll branch off deeper into the woods, distracted by some flowers he plucks from the ground for Diluc. 

This month’s visit takes him along a dirt path made by past travelers who explored this part of the woods. A twinge of worry pricks him in the neck. Someone could have found Diluc’s cottage. 

He throws the thought away, reminding himself that his cottage is hidden away from the rest of the world – lost between the trees, eaten up by the vines. If he remembers correctly, Diluc’s cottage is nestled right near a river bank with flowers growing from the cracks of cobblestone. You could barely recognize it at times. His home is a part of the forest, as if it’s another tree, as if it’s a lost relic hidden away from the rest of the world. 

It stands before him now in its quiet glory. The sun streams through the thick of the trees, forming a halo around the house. Perhaps that’s only Zhongli thinking too romantically. 

There seems to be new flowers growing out of the cracks. He sighs, making his trek up the walkway. It's been too long. 

His boss was all for him taking a break, patting him on the back and basically shooing him out of the parlor with a knowing smirk playing on her lips. He felt guilty for leaving her to tend to the parlor by herself, but she said, “Old men like you need to loosen up! Go frolic! Go dance in the sun!” and the guilt was swept away. She sent him off with a wave of her hand, and a “coupon.”

He had disposed of them quickly after receiving them. Neither of them need those coupons as far as he's aware. 

Zhongli tries not to smile too hard when he's closer to the door, but his chest is so full of excitement that he can't help it. His heart glows in his chest, thrumming between his rib cage, telling him to finally knock on the door. 

The seconds passing after melt like hours. His thoughts run with the scenario of his lover’s scarred hands. Still-soft touch. A grin. His hands in his hair. The wide eyed look of surprise every time he visits. Glowing from starshine. Eyes aglow when he feeds. He's gold. Golden. Teeth. Hands. Teeth again. Are his lips as soft as he—

Diluc looks winded as he opens the door. His eyes are slightly blown, and if Zhongli squints, his fangs are poking out from behind his smiling lips, too excited to keep his teeth in check. There's a high blush on his cheeks, a sort of sleepy haze still in his eyes. He's disheveled – clothes wrinkled from sleep, hair locks slipping out from his ribbon, half his shirt falling off his shoulders. Messy. So messy. He's perfect and smiles crooked. 

He can't ask for anything more divine than this. 

“Hi,” Diluc says.

Zhongli’s heart pounds against his chest as he beams back at him. He's missed him so much that the sight of him now is almost hard to believe. He takes a step closer, a hand cupping his cheek as he leans in to kiss him. Slow moving with his mouth, hands tracing down his body to remember how he feels. 

He peppers kisses all over his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, the side of his neck, nudging the both of them inside until they stumble in. Diluc laughs and places a hand on the back of his head, pulls him closer, tighter, and his laughter echoes in his mind, piecing back broken pieces together like he's god.

They part and Zhongli leans his forehead against his. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, breathless. “Hello.”

Diluc digs his head into his shoulders, arms wrapping around him. He can probably feel Zhongli’s heartbeat like this, but he makes no comment about it. 

They manage to peel off each other when they realize they can't spend the whole day standing in the middle of Diluc’s foyer. 

Zhongli notes the pillows and blankets on the floor under the windowsill, but Diluc doesn't mention it so Zhongli does not bring it up. He's setting his basket on the table while Diluc fusses with his hair, scrambling for the hair ribbon that fell out. 

“I didn't know you'd be arriving this early,” he mentions, gathering his hair in one hand with the found ribbon between his teeth. “I figured you'd get lost at some point.”

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, humming in thought. An answer doesn't come for a moment, Zhongli taking the moment to take in his lover and the stretch of his muscles, his exposed chest and stomach where his blouse is unbuttoned. His gaze continues upwards where he meets Diluc’s unimpressed eyes. 

“I don't get lost,” he says. Then adds, “All the time.”

A snort. “Right, of course,” he drawls, nodding his head. “You were merely on the scenic route instead.”

The sun dancing on Diluc’s bare skin distracts him from continuing the conversation. He's tying his hair into a high ponytail, perfecting it with a bow. The cascading ruffles on his sleeves frame his face like his bangs. His hair looks even better against his white shirt. Glowing and radiant. He thinks back to a gem he found earlier at a shop.

At a lack of response, Diluc tilts his head, squinting at the dopey smile on Zhongli’s face. “You’re staring,” he comments, raising a brow. Zhongli doesn’t look guilty in the slightest. “What are you looking at?”

“You.” The reply is swift, smooth. He does not miss the tips of Diluc’s ears going red. In fact, his lips turn a little sly. “I missed you.”

Diluc’s breath stutters in his throat. He’ll never get used to Zhongli’s horribly straightforward comments.

Right here, the light hits him just right, amber eyes almost like the jars of honey he puts in his tea. He is impossible, Diluc thinks. He offers no reply, but lets himself be pulled in by the waist, slotted between Zhongli’s legs. Impossible.

Zhongli leans forward, arms snaked around his waist, resting the just of his chin on his sternum. “You missed me too,” he muses, and Diluc huffs. The sound carries no real annoyance. It never does.

His ears burn hotter.

Zhongli chuckles against him, feeling it before he could process the sound; a little sly and knowing. 

Diluc places a hand on the top of his head, smoothing out the non-existent strands of hair that are out of place. When he’s satisfied, he caresses his hand to the side of his face, a thumb soothing over his under eye. 

“I suppose I did,” he says, acting coy.

They stare at each other, basking in the way the light meets their eyes, the warmth of their skin. Melting gold and vermillion dust. It’s only when Zhongli breaks it that the strip of light escapes, settling against the spindles of his chair.

He peels back the hem of his blouse, pressing several soft kisses on the expanse of his stomach, thumbs rubbing back and forth against his waist. He’s mapping out his body with his lips, kissing every spot he could.

Ticklish, Diluc nudges Zhongli off, holding his face in his hands.

“If you’re going to waste the day by kissing me, I’m afraid this visit would be a waste of time,” he says, the corners of his lips flicking up. 

Zhongli catches the flash of his fangs again, the memory of Diluc’s teeth against his skin resurfaces, causing him to swallow. “I wouldn’t call it a waste,” Zhongli quips, “I’d call it….quality time.”

Diluc laughs, head tilted, smile bracing the ceiling. “Well,” he starts, sighing with delight, “I suppose that’s alright, but….”

The words trail off into silence. 

Brows furrowed, Zhongli looks him over,

His heart sinks at the lavender veins prominent along his throat and underneath his eyes. They seem more red around the edges as if he’d been crying and—Zhongli frowns—he might have been. Diluc’s cravings reach its highest peak at some point each month and last through each night until he’s had his fill of human blood. The amount of pain he must go through when he hasn’t eaten makes him distraught. Zhongli wishes he could visit more often.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier when I arrived,” Zhongli sighs, sagging with guilt.

The other swallows. He can feel the desire building in his chest, working its way through the rest of his body in spikes. The hunger has been dormant ever since he woke up, but with Zhongli here with his smooth voice, soft lips and pretty hands massaging his waist – his endurance is starting to wear gossamer thin.

He swallows, ripping his gaze from his neck.

“It’s not your fault,” he manages to voice. Zhongli hears the shake in his voice, sensing the force it takes to look away from his throat. “I was….too excited to remember.” 

His smile is fond across his lips as he pulls the strings of his shirt, the opening falling loose. “You shouldn’t forget about something like that. It’s dangerous,” Zhongli reminds, pulling him onto his lap with his other hand. “Although, it’s rather sweet in a way; you missed me so much you forgot about your own hunger.”

Diluc‘s reply is delayed at the sight of Zhongli baring his throat for him. Open. Trusting. Beautiful. He draws in a sharp breath of air, eyes trailing down the column of his neck, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the waiting gaze.

“Don’t get cheeky,” is all he can get out. He wets his lips, swallowing. “I could kill you.”

“I’m sure you could,” comes his reply as Diluc presses a kiss on the side of his neck. “But you won’t.”

Zhongli’s heart is beating in his ears. He can hear it – loud, steady, hypnotizing. He’s been patient. He’s had to wait for Zhongli to come home, miss him terribly – I miss you dearly. He wants to feel his skin between his teeth.

He swallows again, glancing back and forth to Zhongli’s face and his neck. “Can I….”

“You don’t need to ask,” he reminds. “Go on, darling.”

Darling, he repeats. Darlingdarlingdarling—

The sharp sting of Diluc’s teeth is borderline pain and pleasure. A vampire’s bite, though lethal, is glorious. Zhongli keeps a hand on his head to make him stay, to let him know he can have as much as he needs. A small sound escapes his mouth and his eyes threaten to close. It feels good . He doesn’t let him know how much he likes it. How the pierce of his fangs is addicting, how good it feels when his tongue soothes over the blood that drips from his wounds. If Diluc knew, he wonders what he’d say.

Sometimes, he wishes he could see how Diluc looks while drinking from him. What sort of haze clouds his eyes. Desire? He twitches in his chair at a particular suck on his throat. Euphoric? Bloodlust? Zhongli may never know and he doesn’t care after Diluc fists a hand around his shirt to force him closer.

He places a hand on Zhongli’s heart, feeling it beat under his palm. It makes him hungrier. He begs for more when he has enough.

Diluc’s eyebrows pull together in focus, relishing the taste on his tongue, remembering it as if it’s his last meal on earth. He can taste anticipation in his blood. A rush. Lust. If he focuses more, he can feel love. 

Through the daze and the blood, he wonders how Zhongli can indulge in him like this. How he trusts him to not hurt him. He always tells him it’s okay, pushes him closer to his neck. His loving hand keeps him still in the midst of his racing thoughts. He continues to eat, biting into holy light, drowning in it.

His blood tastes sweeter than ambrosia and it is far more precious than the ichor running through the veins of the gods. It is honey on his tongue, so saccharine it could make his teeth rot. Heaven inside flesh and bone. Starlight on his taste buds.

This is the closest he can get to divinity.

Zhongli shivers as he licks up the rivulets of blood going down his collarbone. Diluc makes hunger look elegant. He makes bloodthirst look divine. He clenches his jaw, trying to keep a kiss hidden from the silence. His teeth dig into his lips so hard it could draw blood only or Diluc to lick off. 

He soothes his tongue over the pierced holes, kissing each one of them as if to say, I’m sorry, but Zhongli pushes his head back down to his neck and closes his eyes. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers to him. “It's alright.”

Diluc still says I’m sorry in every kiss. Though, there is nothing to apologize for, Diluc thinks a monster should not be exposed to such light, but Zhongli thinks that monsters still deserve to be loved by the stars. 

Not even a monster should feast upon their lover, Diluc laments, thoughts starting to unravel. A monster should not crave their heart in their hands, or their blood on their tongue. He should not pull him into his bed after a long day, write love letters with flower petals snuck into the envelope, he—

How could he possibly continue?

Diluc seems to say, I don't want you to see me like this. Zhongli can feel it in the impending hesitance in his hands, the evident stiffness in his shoulders. I don't want you to think differently of me. 

Zhongli pulls him closer as an answer, tightening his arms around him. He thinks no amount of blood on his lips will make him any less lovely. 

When Diluc pulls away, his eyes are aglow with desire and hunger. His heavy breaths speak of relief, finally satiated from his hunger. He looks so kissable like this, Zhongli thinks, realizing that he too, is panting. 

His lover leans back in again to heal his wounds with a slide of his tongue. Though, they still leave a faint scar in place. Something Diluc will always have to see. Just a remnant of his twisted thirst. 

He leaves and comes back with a small snack for Zhongli and a wet towel to clean them both. It's done in silence, his mind runs with thoughts of guilt, inwardly cringing at how desperate he must have looked when Zhongli offered his throat. I shouldn't think like this anymore , he tries to reason. He adjusts the strings on Zhongli’s blouse while the other does the buttons for his own shirt. He always says it's okay. I should enjoy my time with him. 

Diluc brushes away the nonexistent dust that fell on Zhongli’s shoulders, fiddling with a loose thread from his blouse. He toys with the jewel of his earring, taking the tassel between his thumb and finger, running along its threads. He can't bring himself to break the silence. 

Zhongli stops his fidgeting by taking hold of both his hands to cup his cheeks, pressing his lips to the inside of his wrist. 

“How was it?” he asks. 

He looks away, inspecting the empty jar of honey left on his table. “Thank you.” His gratitude is spoken quietly. “I feel better now. Are you okay too?”

A hand is placed against his cheek to turn him, and Diluc, too weak against him, lets himself turn. He is unable to look away from his golden gaze, face brightened by the sun. There's that look in his eyes again. Half-lidded, lazy grin. Voice filled with dreams, a little slurred.

“I'm alright,” he tells him. “I'm glad you were able to eat.”

Drunk , Diluc supplies, holding back a chuckle. Like he likes it. At that thought, heat rises to his neck. 

“I get worried sometimes if I've drank too much,” he confesses, playing with the strings of his shirt, untying and tying again. “I don't want....to hurt you.”

Zhongli shakes his head. “You know when to stop by yourself,” he says. “You never go overboard.”

“Yes, but”—He sighs, slumping—”I don't know. You always look tired afterwards.”

A laugh bursts from the other’s lips, startling him. “Ah, that,” Zhongli chuckles, patting his lower back. “I assure you, I feel okay. A little tired and dizzy, sure. You did just take a lot of blood out of me after all, but it feels....”

He raises a brow. “Feels....?”

Zhongli shifts in his seat. “Well.”

“Well, what?” he pushes, tilting his head.

Now it's his eyes that are looking away. 

He moves into his line of sight, not understanding what Zhongli is so hesitant about saying. His eyes move for just a glance, before he digs his head into his shoulder, sighing in defeat.

“It feels good,” he confesses. Quiet, shy.

Diluc stiffens, heart pounding in his ears as he processes Zhongli’s words. 

“Oh.”

Zhongli’s ears are tinted a cute shade of pink, he notices, a slow grin appearing on his face. He grazes them with his lips, featherlight, and presses a single gentle kiss. He never gets to see Zhongli shy like this. 

“I didn't know you'd like such things,” he comments idly, petting his head. His eyes widen then, feigning shock before he leans back. “Oh, what would the people of Liyue think if their poised and proper consultant knew he liked the bite of a vampire?”

He smiles. “I guess they'd run me out of the city. I’d have nowhere to go but here.”

A laugh. “Oh, tragic, is it.”

“Extremely."

 

---

 

In addition to the new potted plants Zhongli has noted sitting around the house, he’s seen Diluc has kept a paper towel by the windowsill just above his sink. It is stained fuschia, nearly red, akin to the blood that may drip onto his clothing when Diluc eats sloppy. He picks it up, eyeing the hundreds of raspberry seeds that lay on top. When he brings his nose close to it, a faint sweet smell floats off the tissue.

“I didn’t know raspberries carried such a pleasant scent,” he comments, looking over his shoulder at Diluc, whose nose is buried in the bouquet of flowers. “Oh. Do you like them?”

Diluc looks up, a faint curve to his lips. “I do,” he replies. “They’re pretty.” He turns around, fetching a vase from a cabinet, filling it with water before placing the flowers inside. “You know what I saw last weekend?”

Zhongli slides up to his side, resting his chin on his shoulder, watching his hands adjust the placement of the flowers. “Mm,” he hums. Diluc smells like summer. Subtle summer. Like the sun barely graced him and the wind sunk into his hair. “What was it?”

He turns around to place the vase on the dining table. Diluc has told him he doesn’t know why he kept it. He isn’t exactly in a position for a dining room table, but he wouldn’t know how else to fill the space left empty in the center if he never got it. If Zhongli remembers correctly, Diluc only took it because he found the floral carvings on the legs of the table to be pretty and it was too precious to be left abandoned on the road.

“A bunny,” Diluc says. He opens the basket to rummage through what he got from Liyue and Inazuma. “It was sleeping in one of the bushes. I’ve seen him around actually. He has a small white circle on his back.”

“Cute,” comes his reply. “Perhaps I’ll meet him today.”

Diluc gasps as he pulls out a glass jar containing a medium sized green-blue lump of jello. “I haven’t had this in forever,” he breathes out, unscrewing the jar and taking a whiff. “It smells so nice.” He sets the jar on the table right next to the honey and pulls out the rest of the treats Zhongli had gotten him. 

He watches him go through the rest of the contents in the basket, smile luminescent and crooked. His fangs are starting to grow in again, Zhongli notices, echoing his expression. He gushes over the lotus crisps and berry mizu manjuu, thanking him more times than Zhongli can keep count. But Diluc can’t help it. He’s so grateful for what Zhongli got him. Granted, he can’t stomach any other human food that isn’t light or sweet, so the fact that he got these specifically makes him feel warm.

“Thank you,” he says, organizing everything back into the basket. They should eat these soon. Perhaps outside. “These are wonderful, Zhongli. I’m grateful.”

A kiss is pressed to his temple. “Of course,” he murmurs. “Tell me anything else you want to try. I’ll bring them over on my next visit.”

His response comes out as a quiet hum, trailing off to a comfortable silence before he’s turning to him suddenly. “I planted some raspberries last week,” Diluc tells him, pulling away for a moment to open the mist flower cooler. “I saved some for you in case you wanted to try. Some strawberries too. Oh, and grapes.”

Diluc stares at the container of grapes for a bit too long. He thinks he’ll never be able to forget how to grow them.

Zhongli’s lips curve up softly. “That's very sweet of you,” he replies. “Thank you.”

“Ah, well, yes,” Diluc fumbles, pausing from opening a container to look at him. He's already staring at him, gaze sweet and permanently loving. “You’re welcome.”

The day continues slowly. They fall into a gentle rhythm, a soft lull of glasses clinking together and making plans filling the silence of Diluc’s otherwise quiet cottage. There's a riverbank with the prettiest lobelias and blazing stars Diluc wants to show him. Beyond that and a few journeys out, there's a wildflower meadow of lupine and magenta. Diluc has only seen it once and wishes to see it again with Zhongli. 

Zhongli wants to bake cookies. Diluc wants to stargaze. They manage.

The noise of the mundane fills the quiet – Diluc’s quiet laughter under the faucet of running water, the rustle of the curtains blowing against the wind. Zhongli manages to meet the aforementioned bunny outside the window. Diluc thinks they’ve become close friends already. There's no adventure or thrill, but a simmering excitement that the next few days will not be spent alone. 

They end up talking about nothing and everything, sitting atop an worn velvet, fading-emerald couch Diluc got secondhand. 

Like other things in his home, they belonged to someone else. Mismatched everything right down to the mugs and the dining chairs. Knick-knacks and antiques adorn his home, little lost pieces of time and memories neither of them will ever know. Some are gifts, some were sold at markets and some, Diluc found all on his own. It almost echoes Zhongli’s own apartment – filled with artifacts and jewels, perhaps bought with a bit of more impulsivity. 

His house carries a floral, earthy scent, considering that there are potted plants and flowers scattered around the house. Smaller ones are stacked on top of books, strung to the ceiling. The larger ones sit by the window or fill an empty corner. At some point during the day, Diluc separates himself from their position on the couch to water his plants. Zhongli watches, rapt, at the way he moves to and from every plant.

“Do you speak to them?” Zhongli questions.

Diluc glances over his shoulder for a moment. “To my plants? To fill in the silence, yes,” he answers, thumb soothing over a petal. “It helps.”

He hums, tapping his finger against the couch. “I heard that speaking to plants helps them grow,” Zhongli adds. “I’m not sure whether or not that is a myth.”

The watering can in his hold gets placed by the last watered plant before Diluc plops back into Zhongli’s arms on the couch. “I think it’s true, but I’m no scientist.” He digs his head deeper into his chest, eyes falling shut. 

“Oh, I learned something new about trees the other day.”

Diluc lets out a soft, amused sound. “Really now,” he murmurs. “Tell me about it.”

He describes a process called inosculation. Something about how trees can fuse themselves together when pressured and their bark has chipped off, revealing rings upon rings within the tree. Zhongli says it’s romantic. That there’s poetry somewhere in the process. 

Diluc hums and listens to him talk some more.

 

---

 

They find themselves under chroma skies hours later, hand in hand as they walk among the meadow. They are rose-soaked, orange-tinged – Diluc wishes he could keep this moment forever. It toes too close to the realm of his dreams. The zenith of summer, the heat of his lover, silken lavender grazing his fingers when he brushes against him. It is sweet. It is radiant. 

They’ve settled under a weeping willow tree where the sun won't bother Diluc, surrounded by her tears with Zhongli’s head on his lap. He feeds him raspberries every now and then, staining his lips a sheen tint of red. They must taste sweet too. 

Zhongli looks kissable, he thinks, eyes soaking in the swell of his lips. He can't stop staring at him. Like this, they are shielded away from the rest of their world, slipped into an pocket of their own company. This is paradise in all its flora glory, encased in the gentle lull of Zhongli’s voice currently asking him why he's staring so intently. 

“I'm doing no such thing,” Diluc says, continuing to stare. “Maybe it’s a trick of the light.”

A laugh bubbles out of his throat. “I'll pretend you weren't looking at me if that makes you feel better, dear.” 

To distract him, he feeds him another raspberry. “Just eat.”

Zhongli makes a face. “That one was sour.”

A hum. “Then this one.”

He eats it and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“Sweet?” Diluc asks. 

“Sweet,” he answers. “They're perfect.”

He continues to feed him raspberries and work their way through their snacks until the bowls are empty and the sun hangs low in the sky. Zhongli points out the stars and their constellations with a hand, tracing an invisible line through each one. He talks about myths and legends, weaving stories under twilight. 

Diluc cannot help but be enchanted. 

The meadow now is soaked in night hues. They should make their way back home soon. 

Zhongli passes a hand through the tree branches, watching them sway in fascination. “Are you ever curious,” he starts, turning his head to face him. “that your family may find you someday?”

Truthfully, the day Diluc left Mondstadt was an uncalculated decision. After he had drained someone of their blood, of course people were going to notice that someone they knew was missing. It is a small town after all. A certain shopkeep not coming to work would surely cause some concern. 

Diluc only lasted two days before he realized he couldn't stay. Just a letter under Kaeya’s door in the middle of the night. 

He doesn't remember what he wrote down it, but he knows he told him that he had to go. How he was the killer. How he's different now. The wind carried him off somewhere far, where they can't find him, but something in him wishes that they would. 

If he went back home, perhaps people would have forgotten about the body. It’s been years after all. 

He swallows a burn in his throat. 

“Of course I am,” he says. “Maybe they've stopped searching after realizing that I was never near them in the first place, but....I sometimes wonder what they're all up to now. If there are any new faces in the city.”

It quiets after that, his words mingling with the hot summer air. 

Zhongli squeezes his hand. “Would you like to go back home?”

Diluc wonders if he's phrasing the question like that on purpose. 

“I would,” he replies, leaning his head against the tree. His eyes glance back down to find Zhongli staring at him, picking his answer apart. “I think I would.”

The other hums. “Alright.” He gets up from his lap and offers a hand to pull him up. “I'll lead you back this time.”

 

---

 

In the quiet of the night, Zhongli undoes his shirt for him, pulling the tie of his shirt before slipping it off. Candlelight flickers on his bare skin, makes his eyes glow like embers for only a moment before it dies. On and off. 

Zhongli peppering kisses across his collarbones, running his hands up the meat of his thighs, chuckling when Diluc inches away from being ticklish. “You’re beautiful,” he tells him and Diluc can’t simply fall asleep tonight. Not with him here. Sleep seems like such a waste now. “Are you tired?”

“No,” he replies, a bit too quickly. He falters and goes to unbutton Zhongli’s shirt to keep his hands busy. “I want to lay in bed with you.” The shirt falls off like silk and he runs his hands over his skin. He's so warm. “I don't want to sleep just yet.”

His eyes are too bright when they look up at him. “That's good too,” he agrees. 

Zhongli doesn't say anything more when he runs his fingers across his collarbones, skimming across his shoulders, then slipping behind his head to undo his ponytail. He tosses the hair tie right next to his ribbon, and situates himself more comfortably on his lap. 

“You look pretty with your hair down,” Diluc comments, taking a lock and running it between his finger and thumb. “Very....elegant.”

“Hm, maybe I should wear it like this more often then,” he replies, always willing to entertain Diluc’s whims. “Have you ever braided your hair before?”

Diluc plays with the strands of his hair, fingers threading through chocolate brown strands while lost in thought. “I think I have, but I don’t remember. Why?”

“I want to braid your hair,” Zhongli says.

It’s why he finds himself chest to back, between zhongli’s legs. His hands are gentle as he tugs Diluc's hair out of his ponytail, running his fingers through his scalp to get it back in its original form. He sighs as he relaxes against him with closed eyes – boneless on the mattress. 

“I didn't know you could braid hair,” Diluc comments. “Where did you learn how?”

“Qiqi likes to have her hair braided. She sometimes forgets how no matter how many times she’s been taught,” he explains, crossing over each respective section of his hair. “So I decided to learn it myself so I can braid it for her.”

An image surfaces in his mind of both Qiqi and Zhongli in the pharmacy; her sitting on the counter while Zhongli braids her hair. Does he stick flowers between the sections? Does she like pretty clips? Maybe Qiqi braids his hair too to practice. 

He laughs at the thought of a sloppy hairstyle on someone as neat as Zhongli. “That's cute,” he says, turning slightly to look at him. “How is she by the way?”

Zhongli chuckles, deep and smooth in his ears. He does not point out the shiver Diluc does, but he notices regardless. ”She’s taken a liking to finches. I’m not sure where that came from, but she’s been reading about them and telling anyone she knows about every single fact.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Diluc mumbles, amused. 

The smile on Diluc’s face is invisible to his current view, but he can hear it in his voice all the same. 

“I wonder who,” Zhongli grins, reaching the ends of Diluc’s hair. 

The braid is perfected with his black bow just how he likes. Some ends from uneven layers of hair stick out from the braid, but it still looks charming to him. 

“There,” he says. He traces a thumb down the braid, lifting the end and placing a hidden kiss Diluc cannot feel. “Done.”

Diluc turns around, knees on both sides of his thighs. “Does it look nice?” His lips are upturned in a little smile that Zhongli’s heart skips at. He looks so soft – bare under candlelight, smelling like the forest and flora he lives in. “I trust your skill.”

His hands run up his sides, letting go only to pull out the front pieces of Diluc’s hair to frame his face. “It’s awful. Terrible actually.”

“Really,” he muses, chuckling. “No wonder why Qiqi doesn't know how to braid properly.”

“I'm joking, of course,” Zhongli tells him. He traces placating kisses from his neck all the way to his lips, smiling into it. “You look lovely.”

The rest of the night passes slowly. They blow out the candles and open the windows, getting under the covers. They don't know what time it is when they find themselves sleepy. All they can pay attention to is the warmth of the bed. The serenity of lying with someone in silence. 

As tired as they are, their eyes remain open. Something about not wasting time. Something like soaking in every second before they can't be in each other’s presence. They’ll always see each other again in another month, but to see each other everyday is different. 

It's different because they’ll be there almost every time you turn around. They're in your line of sight. They’re in the kitchen talking to you from the living room. They're reading a book while you doze on the couch. Constant proximity. Hands always finding the other. Hands lingering when they let go. 

Zhongli pokes the side of Diluc’s nose. “Hey.”

“Hm.”

“Mondstadt has festivals, don't they?” he asks. 

He nods, thinking back to Kaeya tugging him to fall in line at one of the food vendors. What was it again? “Our longest running festival is the Ludi Harpastum,” he tells him. “I think it's one of my favorite festivals we’ve had.”

Mondstadt is a quiet city. It's small and quaint with the occasional disturbance every once in a while. The noisiest it ever gets is only during the festivals. Music and games, limited edition treats – it was the most fun Diluc ever had back home. Preparing for the festival was even better. Watching the city into a spectacle with vibrant decorations was his favorite part. For fifteen days, Mondstadt was brighter then. 

The music was whimsical and the drinks were sweet on his tongue. Even the air tasted sweet. 

“It sounds fun,” Zhongli says. “When does it happen?”

Diluc takes a moment to answer. 

“It's annual. It lasts almost two weeks.”

Zhongli taps his fingers against his arm. “When annually?”

He looks up at him, hesitating on his answer. “Around now, probably,” he murmurs. “They always like to celebrate during the summer.”

“You must miss it,” Zhongli sighs, tucking in a lock of hair behind his ear. “Have you ever....thought about going?”

Diluc swallows. “I—” 

He cuts himself off, hands covering his face. Memories of the festival flicker through his mind. His brother. Fischl handing him a bird shaped origami. Klee making him a lopsided Dodoco made out of clay. Kaeya dragging him out the door to the rest of their friends, waiting for him to come out. 

How long are they willing to wait now?

“I do,” he confesses, muffled by his hands. “I want to go back but they might....”

Zhongli gently pries his hands off his face. He doesn't know what he's thinking, but he can tell that his thoughts are running rampant. “Diluc,” he says. “What makes you think they’ll hate you?”

“Because I—” 

I feel guilty for leaving Kaeya alone in our house. I feel guilty for whoever had to explain to Diona, Klee and Fischl why I wasn't in Mondstadt. I feel guilty for whoever had to see their faces fall once they realize I left without a real goodbye. I feel bad for keeping them waiting for so long. 

“I just don't know what they’ll....think about me if I come back,” he finally says. “I told them I'm – like this, but what will they really think of me if they see me?”

He breathes in through his teeth. “Well,” he starts. “They’ve had a lot of time to think about it. Perhaps when they see you, it will be easier.”

Diluc shakes his head. “But it's me . I’m the vampire. I've killed and–- they're not going to look at me the same.”

Zhongli will never understand what it's like. He will never know what it's like to turn into something you don't know and have to run away from everyone you hold dear for their own safety. But it pains him, not knowing what to say. What would he want someone to say to him? What can you say?

“If I came with you,” he starts, “would that help?”

Raising a brow, he turns to him, anxious. “Come with me? To see my family after years? Not knowing if they're going to chase me out?”

He laughs. “They aren't going to ‘chase you out.’”

His arms cross. “You don't know that.”

Zhongli sighs, a bit in fondness, a bit in exasperation. “But you don't know that they'll want you to stay.”

Silence follows his words. As true as his words may be, Diluc is still unsure. He does want to see them. He wants to see their faces again. See how they've all grown and changed. Perhaps what he really fears is a lack of reaction. Being distant. Standing too far away from him. Hesitance in every word and touch. 

Diluc digs his head into the pillows, sighing. “I don't know.”

Zhongli pats his arm, a slight frown on his face. “You don't have to know yet. They’re still going to be there when you come back. I was only curious.” He chews on his lip. “I'm sorry if I brought up unwanted memories.”

“Hey.” Diluc pinches his cheek and stretches it, ignoring Zhongli’s request to stop. “It's not your fault. I should be thinking about it more. So I can go back properly.” He let's go with a sigh, holding his face in the palm of his hand. “But I would like you to be there. With me. I....don't want to be alone.”

He leans into the touch. Almost like a cat. “Of course I'll be there.”

A small smile curves along his lips. “Thank you, Zhongli. I would really like that.”

Before Zhongli could even reply to his gratitude, Diluc pushes up and captures his lips between his own, pressing him deeper into the bed. Zhongli has no choice but to adapt to his lover's whims, placing his hands on his lower back. Just like his bites, his kisses are that much glorious. 

Diluc can't help the grin that inevitably breaks the kiss, leaving them smiling against each other. 

“Thank you,” he says again. “Really.”

He bumps their heads together softly. “Just let me know when you're ready,” Zhongli tells him. “I'd be happy to come and get you.”

 

---

 

Morning comes with the rain nearly flooding their room. 

“We forgot to close them!” Diluc worries, rushing out of bed to shut the windows, even though the damage has been done. “Now the curtains are wet too.”

Zhongli barely realizes what's happening, poking his head out of the sheets with a, “What?”

He looks between the floor and the downpour from outside. 

A gasp. “The windows.”

Diluc sags. “Yes. The windows.” He crosses the room to close the other one, turning his head. “Good morning by the way.”

A rumble of thunder drowns out Zhongli’s groggy reply. “I had the strangest dream last night,” he yawns. He sits up, rubbing the stardust out from his eyes. Parts of his bangs stick up in the most bizarre directions, somehow making Diluc’s heart skip a beat. “It was so odd....”

He looks awfully cute like this, Diluc thinks. He walks back to the bed, grabbing Zhongli’s face to tilt his head up. His eyes are nearly about to shut again. So cute. 

“Diluc, my dream.”

“Oh, yes. Your dream,” he chuckles, kissing his forehead. “What was your dream about?”

Zhongli leans forward until his face hits his chest. “Something about a red octopus I think. It latched onto me and I couldn't get it off.” He shivers. “It might have been a nightmare.” 

He brings his head up, eyes darting between Diluc’s hair, brain undone in his sleep and unruly. A look of realization dawns upon his face before he bursts into laughter, bringing his head back down to his chest. 

Diluc does not understand, but the sound of Zhobgli’s laughter is nice. 

“Nevermind,” Zhongli sighs, grinning. “Are you hungry?”

“A little,” he replies, nodding. “Is it okay if I drink?”

Zhongli moves back a few inches, exposing his neck. “Here.”

Diluc shakes his head. Instead of his neck, he takes his wrist, lifting it up to his lips. “This is okay. I'll only take a little.”

A little rush of excitement runs through Zhongli’s veins, now wide awake. He's sure Diluc will taste it soon enough. 

“That's fine,” he says, voice quiet. “Take what you need.”

His fangs grow back to a lethal point where he grazes them against his wrist. With his breath caught in his throat, Zhongli watches as they pierce through his skin. The first bite always feels so good, even when it hurts. He doesn't know how long it takes until Diluc is licking off the rivulets of blood, moving his hair out of the way. 

“You're so pretty,” he whispers, unaware that he said it out loud. 

Diluc freezes, locking eyes with him. Just like that, he's done eating – licking his wounds and closing them. The bruises still remain, but really, Zhongli doesn't mind. 

“Some would say I used hypnosis on you,” Diluc comments, running a thumb across the bruise. “Vampires do tend to enchant their meals before luring them in.”

Zhongli hums, relaxing back into the pillows and pulling back the blankets around him. “Powers or not, you didn't need to use them on me.”

“Hm. Really.”

A snort. “You sound like you don't believe me.”

“I’m afraid I don't,” Diluc murmurs. 

“Diluc, I’m sure you wouldn't have used hypnosis on me anyways. You'd feel bad afterwards,” Zhongli points out, making Diluc chuckle. “And it wasn't as if you made me feed you. I offered the first time.”

He lets out a breath, a sort of heavy sigh. “You’re right.” Diluc thinks back to the night they met. And the cut of the knife against Zhongli’s hand, holding it over his mouth. “I still don't know why you did that.”

Diluc flips over Zhongli’s left hand, tracing the scar there. 

“You looked half-dead when I found you, darling.”

“Well. But still.”

“But nothing,” Zhongli stresses. “Now, you've eaten, but as of right now, I haven't.”

Diluc drops his hand and his jaw. “Oh, that’s right. I'll make you something.”

He drags them both into the kitchen, sitting Zhongli down—who is still wrapped in the blanket—on the chair and flitting around the kitchen. 

Breakfast was good that morning. 

 

---

 

The pen between his fingers feels heavy. The ink spreads across the paper as he presses against it, the dot growing larger and larger the longer he holds it. He's afraid of letting go of the pen, thinking that if he does, he’ll never pick it up to write this letter again. 

He frowns.

But he has to. If he starts like this, with a letter, it may be easier to come back home. If they're expecting him, perhaps things will occur much smoother than if he showed up out of nowhere. 

His trash can catches the crumpled piece of paper he throws, along with the five others lying on the ground. 

From the couch, Zhongli is longing with a book. He stares between the paper and him, then going back to turning a page. 

“That was your sixth one, dear,” he says. “You’re going to end up running out of paper.”

Diluc throws himself back on the chair, heaving out a heavy sigh. “I can't think straight. I don't know what to say.” 

When so much time has passed with complete silence, he doesn't even know where to start. How do you begin a letter to your brother, who you haven't spoken to in years after you ran away, after admitting that you’re a vampire?

It poses quite the difficult beginning. 

“Is ‘Hi’ too little? Too curt?” Diluc asks, mostly to himself, staring down at a fresh piece of blank paper. He glares at it and his pen, waiting for it to float and write the letter by itself. “I don't want to write ‘Dear, Kaeya’ because I know he's going to laugh at me.”

“I'm sure your brother would appreciate a greeting after so long,” Zhongli says, looking up. He meets his eye across the room. “Maybe write down whatever is on your mind right now. Then, start another draft until you think it's perfect.”

Diluc sighs, resting his head on the desk. “I’ll try.”

“You can do it,” comes Zhongli’s voice. “I believe in you.”

The letter starts as such, hours after he's written, drafts upon drafts revised. 

Do you still remember my handwriting? I don't think I have to tell you who this is. You’re the one who told me my y’s looked more like g’s when I write too fast in cursive.

I know it's been a long time. More than a long time. But I’ve been well. Lonely, but well. I needed a lot of time to have trust in myself that I wasn't going to hurt anyone. That I would go out of control and kill someone. I have some days where I think I will. Most days pass without such thoughts. 

I'm sorry I left so quickly. I was afraid that —He paused here, nearly giving up again— that you all would be driven away from me. I would understand if you all were. I was the one that left. But still, I was afraid. 

It's quiet here. Mondstadt was quiet too, but the city’s type of quiet had soft voices. Shoes against pavement. My home, however, is dead silent. I didn't appreciate Mondstadt’s noise. I didn't appreciate any of your laughter long enough until I lived without it. I know you’re laughing at me. “When is my brother going to get to the point?”

Do you —Another pause. Zhongli had to get him back to holding back the pen—still think that we’re brothers? It may be a stupid thing to ask, but I still think we are. Even if I'm different now. Even if you’re different now too. How are the Knights? And is Charles still tending the bar? All I have are questions. I’m sure you do too. 

And does Klee still carry Dodoco around? I still have the clay one she made me. It sits on my windowsill right next to a pot of flowers. It still makes me happy every time I look at it. 

Oh, and Fischl. I've been wondering if she still wears the hairpins I gave her. I remember her telling me that she wants to change her style. Something more “gothic” instead of typical Mondstadt wear. I hope she achieved that. I guess I can see it for myself when I come to visit. 

I am coming to visit, by the way. I will see you all. I think I’m ready. 

But I'm still so scared.

It's why I'm sending this letter first instead. Just to be sure if you want me to come back home in the first place. I know the festival is still going on, so I know you'll all be busy. 

I miss you. I miss all of you. I think about everyone every day. I’m so sorry I kept all of you waiting. But I am coming home. You will see me soon, if I’m allowed. 

The bird that delivers the letter is one Diluc is familiar with. The same one that takes care of his letters to Zhongli. 

“Take care of it,” he says, even if the bird cannot understand. “If something happens to it, I will be devastated.”

The bird coos. 

“Alright, off you go,” he sighs, raising the bird off his finger and watching it fly away. There's no going back now. The realization that Kaeya is going to read that letter and then tell everyone about it hasn't even settled in yet. “Thank you!”

It only seeps in at dinner, when Diluc is making soup and Zhongli is setting the table. 

“Oh no,” he whispers, turning around. “I sent the letter.”

Zhongli pauses from placing down a glass of water. “Yes, you did? I was there?”

He hides his face in his hands, groaning. “ No,” he moans.

This is terrifying. Kaeya is going to read his letter. He’ll go to Elzer where he’ll go to Adeline. Adeline will go to Millie and Coco, who will spread the news like wildfire until the rest of Mondstadt hears of his arrival. Then Jean, then Lisa, the rest of the Knights of Favonius. They’re all expecting him. 

“Probably,” he corrects himself. “Probably expecting me.”

“My dear, I'm sure they'll be happy to hear from you,” Zhongli reassures. He comes to his side, resting a hand on his side. “You’ll hear from them in two days. You can relax until then.”

Two days sounds like hell on earth. 

“What if Klee has forgotten me?” he asks, eyes peeking through his fingers, mortified. “What if she thinks I’m some weird guy. I'm going to be wearing my cape because of the sun. Won't I look weird? Strange? ”

Zhongli turns off the stove for Diluc while he spirals down his own thoughts. 

“Then we can leave in the morning so you can arrive at night,” he rationalizes. “And Klee has not forgotten you. If anything, she might think you're a wizard of some sorts.”

Diluc rests his chin on his hand, thinking. 

“Maybe I should bring a staff or something. To lessen the blow.”

Lessen the blow of being a vampire by posing as a wizard? Zhongli thinks, raising a brow. What will that even do?

“Don't do that,” he says. “Just be yourself.”

A sigh is Diluc’s only response. 

Zhongli crouches in front of Diluc, offering what he hopes is a calming smile. “It will be okay. I'll be here to get us there. You’re not going alone.”

Diluc nods. “Right,” he breathes. “Of course.”

 

---

 

How dare you start off with me insulting your handwriting? Do you know how stupid you sound?

Diluc nearly drops the letter. 

He runs to the bedroom, sliding into the bed and shoving the letter in Zhongli’s face. “Look,” Diluc cries. Zhongli isn't even sure what to look at, given that Diluc’s hands are shaking and he can barely read the letter at all. “I should've just said, ‘Hi’ instead.”

Zhongli holds back his laughter. “Please keep reading,” he says, guiding the letter back to Diluc’s line of sight.

I apologize. I wrote that hours ago when I first got it and I'm too lazy to get a new paper. I'm fine now. 

But I have to say, I didn't expect a letter from you. Especially from you. I can't believe it took you this long to get back to us. Even with a letter, I'm so glad you did. Really. 

But I'm still mad at you. I've only gotten madder, he wrote. Diluc swallows. You’ll get what's coming to you when you come back home. 

When you come back home. 

The worry in Diluc whisks away when reading back those words. When you come back home. When you come back home. They want him to come home. He doesn't miss the thinly veiled threat Kaeya writes in swooping letters, but he can't bring himself to actually care. They want him home.

As for your questions, everyone seems to be doing well , he continued. They missed you too. 

I understand your fears. But that doesn't mean you run away the second you're scared. I'm sure you regret it now, but did I not ever make it clear that I would never hate you for anything? Well, you did turn into a vampire after all, so I guess that is uncharted territory for us. Diluc imagines his voice pausing here, as if this were a real conversation and he stops to look at him. But still. I wouldn't have casted you out. 

He can hear Kaeya scoff, rolling an eye. And a letter. Really, Diluc? You could have woken me up? I could have gone with you. You shouldn't have to have gone through all this all alone. How have you even been eating? Do vampires really burn in the sun or is that just a myth? 

You'll tell me when you get here. 

Now, enough about you , he dismisses. Did you know that Flora is selling calla lilies for two-thousand mora now? I couldn't believe it. Even when I offered her a little something in return for its original price, she took the candy and said, “No.” No? I truly couldn't believe it. 

I took your horse by the way , he stated. And that stupid fur coat you wear in the winter. It looks better on me. 

He chuckles, a smile creeping up on him. 

I know you hate wine, but it doesn't taste the same when you aren't serving it. I think Charles is great at his job, but he doesn't make my drink how you do. So you need to come back because I can't take the way he makes it anymore. It's awful. Sorry to Charles, though. 

Zhongli pauses from his book, looking down at Diluc, who has gone teary-eyed. He changes his position on the bed, laying down with him to offer some comfort. 

That's all I got. I want to tell you more in person. I don't want to rush you, but you should hurry. Ludi Harpastum is ending soon. And I'm sure everyone would love to have the festival end with you arriving. 

See you soon.

Diluc doesn't know if he can let the information sink in long enough, knowing he’ll start sobbing. He drops the letters, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

“How do you feel?” Zhongli asks, breaking the silence. 

He turns to him, swallowing. “I....have no idea. I'm – I guess I'm happy.” Diluc lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, breaking out into a smile. “I'm relieved. I can go back home. I....” He trails off, eyes downcast. “They missed me.”

Years of weight off his shoulders. He's lighter. He feels as Mondstadt does; free. Limitless. He doesn't question the love of the stars, or whether or not he deserves it. The stars don't matter when their gaze doesn't rival that of his loved ones. He is still loved, despite. Despite—

He digs his head into Zhongli’s chest. 

I get to go home, he thinks. I can go home. 

Zhongli can only hold him as tight as he can, smiling into his hair.

 

---

 

The first thing Diluc has to face before leaving is crossing his doorway. It seems like such a feat now, but the longer he stays, the more time they’re wasting. Zhongli is patiently waiting on the other side, encouraging him. 

“I'm nervous,” Diluc says, pulling his hood over himself. “What if I'm not ready to meet them?”

Zhongli holds his hands, peering up at him to meet his eyes covered by his hood. “You’re ready. I’ll be right there with you, so you can relax.” He holds out a hand. “I know you're nervous, darling, but you will be okay. I promise.”

A shaky sigh passes between his lips. He looks down at Zhongli’s hand, gently coaxing him out of his apartment.  His family is waiting for him on the other side. Just miles away, they are waiting for him. 

He takes his hand, and steps into the light. 

The door to his cottage closes, and when they walk farther and farther away from it, his home looks like one of the trees. He doesn't know when he’ll come back. Doesn’t know who will tend to his gardens. He's taken the raspberry seeds off the windowsill, keeping them in his basket filled with various other things that he managed to fit inside. 

Perhaps he can come back later and get the rest of it. 

Zhongli can sense his lover’s nervousness. It's inevitable for something like this, but he himself is excited. There's nothing more joyous than reuniting with family. He can't wait to see those who knew Diluc before him. If he's lucky, maybe he can get some stories Diluc is too embarrassed to tell him. He thinks Kaeya is the best source for that. 

But what he is looking forward to Diluc’s face the most. The luminous smile on his face when he meets them all once more. 

Plus, he wonders if that bard is still in Mondstadt. 

The walk to Mondstadt was cut short when a traveling merchant found them. He offered his horse, as he is from Mondstadt himself, free of charge. It was also because he knew Diluc. The recognition on his face was a wide grin, asking him how he was and how his journey was faring. 

“It's time I went back home,” he told him. 

Zhongli thanked the traveling merchant, while Diluc hoisted himself up. He followed suit, turning around to wave goodbye. Diluc did the same, a genuine smile gracing his features. The man is lucky he didn't see his fangs poking out from his excitement.

He hasn't ridden a horse in years, but he grabs the reins like he had done it just yesterday. His old life sinks into skin, bringing him back to his training days under the sun, sword fighting with his brother for fun – the memories taste sweet in his mouth. If he urges the horse faster towards their destination, that is only between him and the stallion. Their horse breaks from a trot to a run under Diluc’s command.

The familiar ruins of Mondstadt slowly form around him like magic. Every hilltop, every river – it all bleeds into him again. He remembers running through these fields, catching crystalflies with his father and his brother. He almost has to remember to keep his eyes on the road instead of looking at the ghosts where his clearest memories lay. 

Dragonspine’s mountain fades into view, cold and glorious. When the wind blows, it brings the chill with it. Diluc almost laughs. 

They cut a line through the trees, leaving dust in their wake. The woods cannot compare to monuments of broken history. Every old story etched onto stone. He loved the woods, he roamed for forests for most of his life, but the wide, empty fields of Mondstadt have never been as beautiful as them. They're so large and expansive – looking at them feels like staring out into the ocean. An overwhelming beauty that takes every breath you breathe into your lungs. 

“I can't believe it,” he whispers to himself. “It’s here.”

Zhongli grins at his lover’s laughter. He's heard quiet chuckles, amused huffs, gentle sounds  – but this. It's loud , it's full of life and joy. He replays the sound over and over in his mind, unable to comprehend that someone like him is in his arms. Zhongli wants to tell him that he's so brave. Despite being terrified, he wrote that letter and sent it. He waited through his anxiety and walked out the door. He's proud. 

But he doesn't say it just yet. He’ll tell him later. 

For now, he holds him a bit tighter and closes his eyes. 

The next time he opens them, the sun is setting low in the sky, and when he breathes in, something sweet in the air comes back to him. 

He also realizes that they aren't moving. 

He sits up straighter, leaning to the side to catch Diluc’s eye. “Is something wrong?” Zhongli asks. 

“We’re essentially here already,” Diluc says, looking at him. “We can walk from here.”

Despite his words, he doesn't make a move to do so. He looks down at Diluc’s hands, tightening around the reins until his knuckles strain against his skin. 

Zhongli breathes in. “Okay,” he nods.

The horse knocks its muzzle into Zhongli’s hand when he goes to pet it. The corner of his mouth quirks up as he gently runs a hand up the bridge of its nose. 

“Thank you for the ride,” he says before looking up at Diluc. His hand outstretched towards him. “It's okay,” Zhongli tells him. “You’ll be okay.”

Instead, Diluc leans forward, planting his forehead against the head of their horse, seeking its comfort. The sound he makes is half a sigh and half a sound of agony. 

“I feel sick,” he mumbles, scrunching his eyes tightly closed. He turns to him with a frown on his face. 

The wave of discomfort pulses through Diluc’s chest, suffocating him. His hands are sweaty against the reins, but he can't let them go. He wonders why they weren't sweating when he had his gloves on. He huffs. 

I'm nervous, he thinks. I'm nervous. I'm nervous. 

Zhongli, as patient as ever, comes closer to his side and slowly peels his fingers off the reins. 

“You made it this far,” he says, his fingers free from the reins, replaced with Zhongli’s hand in his. “I believe in you.”

A small tug manages to lead Diluc into getting off the horse. He whispers a quiet thank you to it, swallowing and turning to Zhongli. “My legs are shaking,” he says, looking down. “I can't walk.”

To prove him wrong, Zhongli starts walking, pulling him along. “You're doing it right now,” he chuckles. “They're waiting for you, Diluc. It's best not to keep them waiting for any longer. I know they want to see you.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek. How much longer will you keep them waiting? something asks. You've kept them waiting for longer than needed. You need to move. 

Diluc tightens his hands around Zhongli’s and swallows. 

“Thank you for”—he clears his throat—”for coming with me. For being patient. I know I....wasn't easy to deal with.”

Zhongli shakes his head. “I'm not 'dealing with you,’ Diluc. I’m simply being here for you. I want you to see your family again. I know you've missed them.” He lets go of his hand to hold his face, making sure Diluc’s eyes remain on him. “I love you very much. I want you to be happy.”

“I—”

He swallows his words, staring up at Zhongli with wide eyes, nearly encasing the entirety of the skies in them.

“I love you too,” he manages to say. “I love you.”

Zhongli chuckles, a little knowing. Of course, he knows he loves him. “Let's go,” he says, smiling. “The sun is nearly about to set.”

Walking between the grapevines almost makes Diluc hysterical. They're still fresh. They're perfect . The ghost of his twelve year old self emerges in front of the two of them, picking grapes and popping them into his mouth, shooting seeds through his lips. 

The doors to his home never seemed as intimidating at this. They’re still a little far away. And Diluc still has to walk. He still has to knock. 

Every step accelerates his heart beat. It would've bursted right out of his chest if it weren’t for his vice-like grip around Zhongli’s hand. He swallows, trying to ignore his own heartbeat for his lover’s.

It's calm, steady. Steady as his feet walking towards Diluc’s home. He strains to keep it in his senses, for if he loses sight of it, the nerves will set in once more and he might run away. Though, Zhongli would probably pull him back in because they weren't going to come all this way just for Diluc to run.

A movement from the windows snaps him out of his stupor. 

He doesn't even have a moment to take in who’s coming out the door. All he sees is a blue blur rushing towards him and before Diluc can process that, a force sends him stumbling backwards. His mind fails to catch up to what's going on. He knows who’s in his arms. He knows who tackled him. But for some reason, he doesn't think it's real. 

Kaeya grips onto his cape like a life force. He can feel his nails digging into his skin. He's shaking too, mumbling something that Diluc’s brain fails to catch on. 

Suddenly, they're both falling to their knees, Kaeya dragging him to the floor. 

“....so long. Why did you take a day?” he’s asking him. His voice sounds wobbly. 

Diluc draws in a shaky breath, hands coming to rest on his back. “Sorry,” he breathes out. “I live far.” Without knowing, he’s fisting his hands around Kaeya’s shirt. “I'm so sorry.”

Another person sends them all tumbling to the ground. The air is knocked out of his lungs. 

“Diluc!” Klee yells, giggling. She shoves herself between them both, giving Diluc a view of his brother’s face. “You’re home!”

Kaeya’s eye is filled with tears. The last time he saw him cry was when they were twelve and at their father’s funeral. The time before that, they were seven and took a tumble down a hill. He finds himself wiping at them, just like he did before, and his own eyes start to burn. 

He drags him back in, face in his shoulder, tears soaking his cloak. He looks down at Klee, grinning. The tears fall.

His throat constricts with him trying to hold back any other stray tears that threaten to come out

Kaeya sniffs from his side, separating himself from them. He keeps a hand around his wrist though, afraid of letting him go. “You took forever,” he says, somewhat calm again, wiping his tears. Diluc wonders how he hasn't poked his eye out with the studs around his clove. “You’re terrible.”

He swallows. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he mutters. He pauses from his next words, staring at his mouth. 

Diluc raises a brow. “What’s wrong?”

Before Kaeya can answer, Klee gasps, shooting up to grab his face. “Wow! Your fangs!”

The tips of his ears go red. He'd completely forgotten about his fangs. “They – My fangs come out when I get excited.”

Zhongli looks at them from a distance, standing with one of the maids. Adeline, if he remembers correctly. She's wiping at her eyes, quiet sobs reaching Zhongli’s ears. He digs into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. 

“Here,” he says. Her head lifts. “You can take this.”

She accepts the fabric, dabbing at her eyes. “Thank you.” She swallows, turning her head to look at him properly. “You came here with Master Diluc. Who....?”

“Ah,” he nods. “I’m Zhongli. We’ve been together for around two years now. I offered some help along the way.”

Adeline stares at him, mind working through the information. “So,” she starts, a line forming between her brows, “he wasn't alone?”

Zhongli nods. “Not for all of it.”

Her tears come flooding out once more. “That's—” She cuts herself off, hands covering her face. She stoops down to the ground in a squat, not caring about dirtying her uniform. Her sentence finishes quietly, as if relief rendered her speech to near silence. “That's good. That's perfect.”

Someone from behind him places their hand on his shoulder. He turns around, finding a tall, silver haired man giving him a polite smile. Elzer , he thinks. 

“Thank you for taking care of Master Diluc while he was gone,” he says, a slight bow in his posture. “We are eternally grateful.”

Zhongli tilts his head. “Of course.”

His attention is ripped away when Diluc shows up in the corner of his eye. From beside him, Adeline straightens back up, but her lips still shake from holding back her tears. 

He meets him at the door, Klee sitting on his shoulders and Kaeya pulling him into the house. They pass him by in a flurry despite Diluc asking them to wait. The only thing Zhongli manages to hear clearly is Klee’s: “Wait, who’s that other guy?” before their voices fade completely into the house. 

Zhongli breathes out an amused laugh, following everyone else inside. 

He closes the door, sealing the summer air from invading the house.

 

---

 

Kaeya ends up leading Diluc on the balcony, away from everyone eating in the dining room. He could hear their voices from a distance: a mingling of chatter and laughter. If he closes his eyes and drowns out the rest of the noise, Zhongli’s voice eases through his ears. 

His brother swirls a glass of wine in his glass, ever so silent. Diluc can tell he's trying to choose which question to ask out of the plethora. He must've come up with a new question for every day he was gone. Now that he's here, has he forgotten most of them? 

He's on his second glass of wine now and hasn't voiced any of his queries. The silence nearly feels nauseating. He can barely focus on his own breathing. The breeze, however, is comforting. Without the seclusion of the trees back in the woods, Diluc can feel the wind all at once. Gentle and soft. 

“When you got bit,” Kaeya starts, startling him. “Do you know who it was?”

Diluc shakes his head. “It happened too fast. I was in the woods when I got bit.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I think....I think they killed me, but somehow, when they left and when I woke up, they turned me into”—he motions to himself—“this.”

Back then, he felt the kiss of death for a brief moment, thinking that he would no longer be a part of this world. Dying the way his father did. He would become a ghost in the land of the dead. He would have been done with life. He would have put a final end to it, by succumbing to the roots of the trees, making the woods a gravesite. 

But, with a feeling of the most intense force, he should have been able to feel that his heart was coming to a stop. That the light in his eyes was going to flicker out. That his very last words were pathetic pleas. It's what he should have felt. It's what he thought was the inevitable. I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die. 

However, he only felt the influence of life. Nature rewiring him back to the land of the living, jumpstarting his heart. Death came to him for three seconds before throwing him back out under the sneering moon. He came out panting, each exhale an evidence of his revival. Where man met sin in the reflection of his own face in the water, watching his teeth grow into fangs. 

He leans back in his chair, staring up at the sky.

“I spent the first year trying to find them, but I realized I couldn't survive like that. I was getting hungrier every day.” He breathes in, letting it out slowly. “I didn't even know who they looked like. I only went on myths and legends about vampires, and took a boat to Snezhnaya. I was basically going on a hunch to find a cure. I was....unsuccessful.”

He doesn't continue the rest. He doesn't relay any gory details. He's sure Kaeya can come up with an answer himself. 

Snezhnayan winters are eternal and unforgiving. That much is obvious. But he couldn't feel it. He learned that he didn't need warmth, he didn't need fire. He only needed a cure. He needed the person who turned into a monster to fix him. 

And when he starved, he needed blood. He needed a pulse. 

But the winters made it harder to cover his tracks. Blood on snow filled him with disgust. All his sins were highlighted under the fresh snow and gleaming moonlight. He couldn't take it. He brought blood wherever he went. Hoarfrost covered his skin, but he tore through Snezhnaya despite it to fix himself. 

He had a run in with a group of people claiming that he doesn't need to be fixed. That this life is glorious. They had the same glinting fangs, the same bloodthirsty urges. Monsters, they were. Just like him. With their mocking smiles, they asked him how long it's been since he’d fed, and if his family still loved him after what he became. 

“You’re all monsters,” he hissed at them, scanning their faces, hearing their snickering laughter. “You're sick.”

One of them came up to his face and tilted his chin with the point of their nail. She reeked of alcohol and her fangs were stained blood red, a remnant of her victim. 

“Sick?” she exclaimed, a revolting giggle echoing in his ears. “Doesn't that mean you’re sick too?”

Another person came to her side, moving towards them like a black mist, corning Diluc against a tree. “It's not like you’re any better,” the man said, head tilted to the side. Even through the blizzard, it is damn near impossible to ignore the red glare of his eyes. “We could show you the ropes, little brother.”

His brows drew together. “I am not your brother.”

The woman giggled, hands fisting around the collar of his shirt to yank him down. “But we’re family now,” she pouted. Her warm breath ghosted along his face and he wanted to rip her arm off. “We have our own supply back home. Don't you want to taste it? It's sweet.”

Sweet was not something he would describe blood. It tastes like rotten flesh in his mouth. Dust. Mold. “I don't want it.”

She hums, smile fading into an empty slate set of eyes. 

A harsh breeze, more ice than air, cuts across his cheekbone. From the corner of his eye, a sharpened icicle sticks out from the tree, dangerously close to his eye.

“Then what use do you have for us?”

He's not sure what happened to those people when he was finished with them. If they managed to live or not. He did enough damage to stop them from following him, barely escaping by the skin of his teeth. But where their bodies did not follow, the smell of their blood did. And his claws were dirtied with their remains. 

“Do you still call yourself a monster?” Kaeya asks. 

He looks off to the side, ignoring his brother’s gaze. “Sometimes. Yes.” Diluc moves his hands between them, watching his nails grow into claws. Sharp, lethal things. But Kaeya doesn't waver. He doesn't ogle. He merely looks. “I....tried clipping them off, but I broke the actual clipper.”

A worried line forms between Kaeya’s brows. “Did it hurt?”

“No, which I thought was odd,” he replies, retracting them back to their normal form. “I'm faster, stronger. I can heal nearly every wound. Some of these things feel like blessings but—” Diluc sighs, pulling back his hand to hide it. “I don't know.”

“You could've let yourself die, you know,” Kaeya tells him. “If you really thought you were a monster, wouldn't you have just rotted in Snezhnaya?” At his silence, stunned and confused, he continues. “You didn't want to die, I think. I think you still wanted us to see you again and, you know, you had hope that we would accept you as you are.”

“But Kaeya,” he says, shaking his head, unable to hold eye contact for long against his eye. “You don't know what I've done when I....when I left. I’m – I’m the same monster that killed father. How can you—”

“I don't care,” Kaeya interrupts gently. 

Diluc’s head shoots up. “What?”

I’m a killer, he wants to yell. I’m a monster. I crave the blood of my lover. I’ve killed people to satiate my own desire. 

Kaeya takes a sip of his wine before responding. “You are not the vampire that killed our father. That was someone else. Whatever you had to do to keep yourself alive, that's just it. You had to do it.” He fixes him with a look that harbors no hate or disgust. It's stern. Composed. He looks at him the same way. As if nothing has changed. “You had no guidance at all . Even if you did, they were most likely going to make you kill more people. What were you supposed to do?”

He sputters for a response. “But I – I literally—”

“You act as if I've amputated you out of my life as my brother,” Kaeya scoffs, rolling his eye. “Although your very abrupt departure pissed me off, your entire being changed right before your very eyes. Of course, there will be some doubt of your acceptance considering our history with vampires already, but you don't act like your kind. You aren't a mindless killer. Plus, there aren't any vampires as silly as you anyways.”

Diluc slumps back in his chair, giving up. 

Though, a small smile perks upon his lips. He shouldn't fight against Kaeya's claims. This is exactly what he had hoped for. He wanted acceptance. He wanted to come back home.

The amount of weight that has been lifted from his chest cannot be measured after hearing this declaration. If Diluc thinks about it for too long, the tears will spring back into his eyes and he won't know if he’ll be able to stop this time. 

For now, he sits with his brother. 

Suddenly, Kaeya snorts. 

“Who knew you'd grow up to be quite the troublemaker,” he smirks, canting his head in Diluc’s direction. 

Diluc huffs. “Whatever.”

Kaeya taps a finger against his glass. “Welcome home, by the way,” he says, after a moment of silence. He's looking up at the sky, unaware of Diluc’s gaze. “I really did miss you.”

A group of crystalflies momentarily distracts them both. He watches them drift off into the night, somewhere between the trees. 

“Yeah,” Diluc sighs, relaxed. “I missed you too.”

“I will hunt you down if you leave again,” Kaeya adds nonchalantly. 

He nods, lips thinned. “Right. Naturally.”

The laughter that follows reminds him of when they were both teenagers. Hiding from Adeline behind walls, mischief in their eyes. Cackling when their father would pick them up in their arms and spin them around until they were dizzy. Quiet, knowing laughter in the dead of night, crafting kingdoms made of pillows and bedsheets. 

This, however, is relief. You’re finally home relief. I'm never leaving relief. 

 

---

 

The door creaks open with a whisper, causing Zhongli to turn around from the window. His lover approaches him, snaking his arms around his side, head laying against his shoulder. With a hidden smile, Zhongli turns around, hands coming up to Diluc’s face. 

His eyes are still rimmed red with today's tears, but despite that, they aren't jaded with sadness. They’re tired, but content. Reassured. After all the weight he carried for years, having it all whisked away has to be earth shattering in ways neither of them can imagine. He must be exhausted after today, with so many emotions running rampant throughout the last twelve hours.

“Look at you,” he says simply. He soothes over the high of his cheekbones, rubbing back and forth softly. “And you thought you couldn't do it.”

Diluc chuckles, eyes falling shut as he leans into his touch. His eyes open once more, as he speaks. “I can't possibly thank you enough.” His hands slide up his chest, fiddling with the elegant ruffles near the collar to have something to do with his hands. “You gave me the courage to come back.”

Zhongli tips his head forward a bit, kissing the crown of his hair. “You did that all on your own, I believe. I was merely here to guide you.”

He sighs, leaning his cheek on his shoulder. “You know what I mean. You really did help me.”

“I just wanted to see you happy. You must be exhausted now, darling,” he tells him, moving back an inch. “We can sleep, if you want.”

At the mention of sleep, the wave of emotions settles and exhaustion crashes onto him. Zhongli can tell with the way he slumps, going limp. “Yes, please,” he breathes, leaning all his weight on Zhongli, who laughs. 

“Alright,” he says, patting his back. “You’re probably going to be busy tomorrow as well. You need the rest.”

Diluc is on autopilot as he gets ready for bed. From when he brushes his teeth, changes out of his clothes, and gets under the covers, he still truly hasn't processed what happened today. Perhaps in the morning, when he goes to Favonius headquarters to meet Kaeya, to see Fischl and Klee and every other familiar face, maybe then it will hit him. 

For now, he lays awake, watching Zhongli undo his hair and slide into bed with him. 

“What are you staring at?” he questions, coy. 

“Just you,” Diluc replies, echoing his answer from the beginning of this week, only reminding him of how quickly things came to be. “Are you tired too?”

A hum is his reply, sneaking down a head lower to tuck his head against Diluc’s chest. Diluc automatically wraps his arms around him to pull him closer. 

“Just a bit,” he says, “if a bit is a lot.”

“You’re tired,” he says, sinking his fingers in his hair, running through the strands, pushing his bangs back. “Go sleep.”

Zhongli mutters something incoherent as his eyes flutter close, breathing evening out. For a moment, Diluc stares at the moonlight on his walls, eyelids heavy, listening to the other breathe. 

Sleep comes easy to him that night. 

 

---

 

With the festivities of the following day, they don't end up talking that much. Zhongli told him it was okay, that he should spend time with his family. Besides, he knew someone in Mondstadt to catch up with anyways. They both bid their goodbyes in front of Angel’s Share, agreeing to meet back in the plaza when the sun was setting. 

The whole day consists of constant noise. Everywhere Diluc walks, there is never a bout of silence. He gets some stares as he makes his way over to the Knights’ headquarters, but the stunned silence of people slowly puts Diluc on edge. He shouldn't be surprised, but the amount of eyes on him is concerning. 

His footsteps become a little quicker when he goes up the stairs. He's about to turn a corner, but a voice stops him. 

“Master Diluc?” they question.

He turns around, eyebrows slightly raised. 

“Glory,” he greets, approaching her bench, leaning his parasol over both their heads. She must've been sitting here for a while now. Glory had surprised him. He expected her to be sitting near the windmill. “How did you know it was me?”

“The scent of wine is extremely strong on you. I smelled it when you were running by, thanks to the wind,” she giggles, tilting her head. “It seems you've finally come back. I haven't heard from you in so long. Three years, I'd say?”

He clears his throat. “Four years.”

She hums, breathing in and leaning back on the bench. “You came right on time, you know. Ludi Harpastum is nearly over. I'm glad you’re able to come back. It's best to spend this time with your loved ones.” She pauses, turning her head towards him. “I'm not sure what you've been through, Master Diluc, but when I caught wind of your departure, I truly thought you were seeking out the supernatural.”

In a way, sure. It's just that the supernatural found him first. Though, he's not sure why that is Glory’s first thought. If he recalls correctly, he remembers Kaeya telling him that her imagination tends to run very wild. 

“You could say that,” he replies. 

With a small smile, she motions her head to the left. “I have something to tell you. I'm not sure if I should say, but your brother sometimes asked about you when talking to me. It's how I knew you left Mondstadt. He was....confused.”

He furrows his brows. “What did he ask?”

“He asked if I heard anything about you. Whispers here and there.” She fiddles with the hem of her sleeves, pulling them downwards. “It was his way of trying to find you when he couldn't leave Mondstadt. It....broke my heart telling him the same thing every week.”

Diluc opens his mouth to reply, to say something, but she continues. 

“I only heard of you once,” she states. “There were these two people off to the right of us. A man and a woman. They said they've been getting reports of their ‘comrades’ getting injured.”

Oh, Diluc thinks. 

“Something about red hair and not hailing from Snezhnaya,” she mumbles, looking back in her mind for the details. “Which was a very glaring detail. I'm not sure what you had to do, Master Diluc, but when I told Kaeya this, it was like he felt....relieved in a way.”

Relieved?

So he knew, he concludes, realization dawning upon him. He already knew before I told him. 

“Thank you, Glory,” he says. “Thank you for telling me.”

Glory shrugs, grinning. “Don't thank me. I was just eavesdropping as I always do,” she jokes. “Now, I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have. I'm sure you have other plans.”

“Oh, yes,” he remembers, standing up. “Thank you again.”

She waves. “Welcome back, Master Diluc. I’m glad you were able to come back home.”

He finds Fischl, Kaeya, Klee and a couple of other familiar faces, waiting for him in front of the headquarters. Immediately, they greet him, and he is swept away into Ludi Harpastum. They catch him up with all he’s missed when they aren't playing games. They tell him every funny story and annoying occurrence he would have experienced if he was there. 

Diluc has missed too much. It is impossible to relieve years of memories in one sitting. But they don't fault him for it. Klee tells him he’ll be able to make more happier memories with them. It's all the reassurance he needs. 

Ludi Harpastum reminds him how to live again. He's just as good at the games as he remembers. It's almost akin to child-like wonder all over again, as if he's experiencing the festival for the first time. He doesn't remember having a day filled with this much laughter. This much light. 

He wants to engulf it, take it in his hands. 

He's missed this so much. 

When the sun sets, removes his hood and ruffles out his hair, letting the wind do the rest of the styling. “Today was fun,” he tells Kaeya. “I don't remember it being like this at all.”

“It's because you haven't felt it in a long time,” Kaeya replies, lifting his arms in the air and stretching. He turns to him with a grin. “And it's not over yet. We are merely minutes away from seeing who catches the Harpastum this year.”

“Ah, that's right,” he says, looking out towards the slowly growing crowd heading towards the plaza. He tilts his head, feeling like he's forgetting something. “Huh.”

His eyes widen, finally remembering.

Zhongli, he says, a pang in his stomach. 

“I have to go,” Diluc says, turning to Kaeya. 

“Huh? Where are you even going? Didn't you hear me say that we’re minutes away from—” Half way through the question, Diluc is already running away, off to somewhere Kaeya doesn't know. “You’re going to miss the Harpastum! Hello? ”

Diluc turns his head over his shoulder. “I'll be fast!”

He pushes his way through the crowd, turning his head in all directions to find Zhongli like he promised. He should be easy to find in a crowd, but apparently it is being proven difficult. Someone steps on his cloak, rendering him back a bit, but that does not deter him. 

Where are you? he questions, ducking under someone’s arm serving drinks. He nearly stumbles on someone’s foot and someone else steps on his cloak again . He could try and listen for Zhongli’s voice, but with the chatter of the crowd, it will be impossible to distinguish his voice from the hundreds here. 

He swears under his breath, finding a spot filled with less people and starts scanning the crowd. 

“It shouldn’t be this difficult,” he mutters, squinting. 

The warmth against his back comes to his senses first before the voice. 

“What's difficult?”

Diluc turns around, a surprised smile on his face. There you are, he thinks. Zhongli reflects his expression back at him, hands placed behind his back. 

“I was trying to find you,” he explains. “I didn't think you'd be that hard to find.” Diluc squints an eye, tilting his head. “You weren't purposely hiding, were you?”

Zhongli replies with a mischievous hum. “Hiding? Was I? I'm afraid I’m not familiar with the term. I was only at Angel’s Share before here.”

“Okay,” he says, snorting. He intertwines their hands and leads them both to the center of the plaza. Unlike Zhongli, Kaeya is easier to find. “Enough of your jokes. Let's go.”

“I do have to say,” Zhongli starts, turning his body to let someone pass him, “Mondstadt’s wine is a bit....”

Diluc stops and turns, squinting at him. “What was that.”

“I'm just saying, Mondstadt’s wine is tamer than I remember it being,” he says, shrugging. “It tastes more like a juice. Well, juice has flavor, so I am unsure of how to truly describe it.”

He scoffs, turning his head away. “You should be careful with your words, Zhongli.”

Diluc manages to catch the chuckle from his lover before it fades away into the noise. 

They weave their way through the crowd, making it just in time for the chosen maiden to ascend the tower. She waves at everyone from above, and from down here, Diluc can see the beaming grin on her face, glinting like a star. Mondstadt matches her expression, waiting for her to toss the Harpastum.

The woman showcases the red ball in her hand, making the crowd thrum in excitement. 

The city waits with bated breath.

She lifts the Harpastum high in the air, turns around, and tosses it behind her. 

The crowd around him explodes in awe, ear-piercing cheers reaching him as the ball lands in someone’s hands. It sends chills down his spine as he watches the people of Mondstadt raise their arms in celebration, all in unison. He turns around in a half-circle, spotting other familiar faces in the crowd with grins on their faces. 

When was the last time I saw it all like this? he thinks, in disbelief. 

The sounds of the people of Mondstadt congratulate the lucky person, paired with the boom of fireworks in the sky. Something pops from all directions. Everyone looks up, watching pale blue confetti rain down on them.

His heart soars in his chest, reaching fantastical heights. 

“Did you know,” his father says, the memory of his voice ringing in his ears. The cheers of the crowd fade away, and he is sent back to one sunny morning with his father, “that when you catch the Harpastum, you are blessed with a lifetime filled with fortune and happiness?”

He’s not sure what he said in response. Perhaps, his child self thought nothing of it, it being a red ball and all. An object does not truly bring about such promises. He looks around at his friends, his family, his lover – he doesn't think he needs a ball to tell him about his happiness.

But as he looks around now, everyone seems overcome with joy. It doesn’t really matter, does it?

A touch to his head pulls him out of his memories. 

Zhongli sweeps off a petal of confetti on his head. “You look happy,” he says, voice crystal clear despite the crowd. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Diluc chuckles, leaning against the touch on his cheek. “I am happy.” 

The confetti falls around Zhongli in a flurry, cascading down his clothes. For a moment, the people of Mondstadt melt away, and he is here with his lover. His eyes reflect the fireworks, quietly marveling at them as they explode into falling stars. Diluc does not pay attention to them. 

In the background, he can hear Kaeya laughing at something Albedo says. He hears Fischl, Bennett and Razor lining up at Good Hunter for something to snack on, splitting the pay between them. Klee points at a particular firework, concluding that it looks like Dodoco to Jean, who affectionately agrees. 

He sinks into the noises of his loved ones, keeping them close to his heart. These noises of familiarity, mundanity, it's all so precious and dear to him. It puts him in a hyper aware state of his own life. How he will hear these same sounds tomorrow. Perhaps quieter, perhaps in a different tone – but he hears them nonetheless. 

Now, it has settled in. That he is here to stay. That his loved ones are not figments of his imagination. 

“I’m glad you're here,” he says, tugging on Zhongli’s hand.

Zhongli nudges his side, a soft curve along his lips. “As am I,” he says simply. “I cannot imagine a better life.”

Diluc hums, looking up at the stars. 

He is not withering under their gaze, not asking for their cosmic affection. The stars are stars. They do not love, they only watch in silence. Perhaps he was a little silly after all, thinking he needed it. He is far too small in their eyes to be even considered. 

But down here, where earthshine touches his fingertips, he is loved. 

He is loved.