Work Text:
To love.
To foolishly relinquish your heart in the blind hopes of receiving anothers. To swear oaths and speak pledges of absolute loyalty to one another. To trust, rely, and to be vulnerable.
Diluc had always dismissed the idea as nothing more than a mere nuisance and a waste of time. “Such an absurd concept,” he’d scoff whenever asked about the subject, before hastily switching the conversation topic. If they persisted, he would rehearse his typical; “After all, between managing the winery, occasionally filling in for Charles at the tavern and patrolling the city—I figure I already have my hands much too full. The last thing I want is another source for headaches.”
Though he sugar-coated his explanation for those (usually young bachelorettes or parents with daughters looking for a chance at the wealthiest man in Mondstadt) who insisted on prodding, Diluc frankly hated everything about love. He despised the unwarranted uncertainty that an otherwise sweet-sounding concept brought and wanted nothing to do with love or anything remotely resembling the wretched emotion for as long as he lived.
Why distract yourself with unrealistic ideals of contentment with someone who may or may not reciprocate those feelings? Even through your lover’s constant verbal affirmations, can you truly ever know if what they speak is truth?
Everything in life is fleeting—love and life itself included. Then how can one guarantee love for eternity? How can one guarantee a lifetime to spend with a lover?
Throughout his life, Diluc had been no stranger to the pain that love brings. The love he had for his father did not cushion the final stab he had delivered to end his father’s life. The love he bore for his sibling failed to soothe the excruciating fury he felt once his adorable, innocent brother revealed the truth behind his traitorous identity.
Why would it be any different in the future?
Diluc knew all too well of the repulsive emotion, how it manipulates its victims into pliable, babbling idiots, so easy to tear and break.
So then, why was it that even he—the man famed for his aloof and cold demeanor towards all indiscriminately—experienced moments of longing?
If he were to just imagine for a second—what would it really be like to have a lover? Someone to come home to during the early hours of the morning after hours and hours of relentless work and hold in his arms. For someone, anyone, to celebrate small successes with and survive through disasters together. A lover to keep the bed warm during mornings of brutal weather, to sit with by the fireplace while playing rounds of chess into the dusk. Someone to love him.
It is not often that Diluc lets his mind wander; he knows how stupid it is to dream. But the occasional glimpse of an untroubled couple prancing hand in hand through the streets of Mondstadt, or a carefree child stumbling up towards a pair of smiling parents is all it takes to send a jolt of desire to his chest.
Maybe it was never hate he felt for love, but fear.