red as wine

Oneshot

It is almost morning. The bar is empty, and Diluc is drying the glasses, having washed them himself. He likes the mechanical work, he enjoys doing something with his hands that felt useful.

The bard that has been single-handedly drinking all the wine in the Dawn Winery sits in front of him, green eyes watching Diluc's hands work. He is half-drunk, half-asleep, half-present. Even in this state, there's a grace in his swaying that is unmatched, as if his body has rehearsed this.

There is also an infuriating smile decorating his lips. Diluc wants to wipe it out with his rag, as if it were a stain in glass.

Instead, he speaks.

"Shouldn't you be going home?" He asks, eyes focusing on the glass. The bard, Venti, guffaws, as if it is a joke, as if it is all a joke that only Diluc cannot see the fun in.

Maybe he can't. He has lost the ability to be fun so many years ago.

"My home is the wind." Venti replies, slurring his words together so closely they sound like one long word. Diluc cocks his head, and the bard leans on the counter, swaying as if to music. "My home is wherever the people are free."

He scoffs at the thought, at the silliness of it all - not having certainty of the roof above your head seems as stupid as getting piss drunk to Diluc - but all Venti does is smile at him, disarmingly so. Oddly, he can't seem to keep his guard up around Venti.

Diluc does not think too deeply about this. He does not think of Venti's eyes, doesn't think of catching himself humming the bard's songs days later. It is easier to bottle it all up, to pretend these feelings he most certainly does not feel don't exist.

"That's an interesting way of saying you're homeless." He says, in the end, setting the cup he has been working on aside in favor of another. It is methodical work, and methodical work does not let him think, and Diluc does not.

The bard smiles, as if aware of every thought running inside Diluc's head. Would he be lying, if he says he thinks Venti knows?

"But I'm free." Is freedom worth it? is what Diluc wants to ask. Instead, he says nothing, and neither does Venti, who gently falls asleep as Diluc works. Diluc says nothing when he puts his coat over Venti, but if he asked, he most definitely did not smile when Venti, fully asleep, visibly relaxed under the warmth Diluc gave.

Diluc finishes his job, closes the bar - the rest of his patrons, unlike Venti, are responsible people who go home when the bar closes -, and then wakes up Venti; he figures the bard has rested enough.

Venti yawns, stretching. The coat almost falls to the ground, but Diluc is quick to catch it, pretend nothing has ever happened, but he sees the way Venti's fingers look for it and find nothing.

"Man, that was a good nap... Thanks, Diluc!" When Venti grins, Diluc's heart drums faster against his ribcage. He does not let it show.

"No problem. Get out."

"So rude. I'm your best customer."

"You'd be my best customer if you paid your tab." Diluc pressed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, and Venti did that stupid little ehe he thinks is cute.

Diluc thinks it's cute, too, but he would rather fight a camp of mitachurls with his bare hands than admit it.

"Isn't my music enough?" Venti asks, going to the door, and Diluc goes too, not because he wants to accompany the bard (he doesn't), but because he has to leave, too. "I'm attracting you customers."

"There's no point for you attracting customers if you're going to drink more than they will during their entire lifespan." Diluc replied, and Venti grinned unashamed once more. "Off with you, now."

Venti leaned in, kissed Diluc's cheeks, and ran off at speeds higher than any drunk should be able to accomplish, leaving him behind to put a hand on his cheeks, feeling his cheats heat up.

Damned bard - was he even sober? With a sigh and a hand that went through his hair, Diluc goes back to closing the bar, and if he touches the skin that still burned with Venti's lips mark, well, no one needs to know.