places we won't walk [diluven]

places we wont walk

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◥◣ 良 前 君 ◥◣
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.places we won't walk.
「 diluc & venti 」
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monday nights never failed to be the slowest nights at angels share; the tavern was usually empty save for a couple patrons by the time diluc rolled in to let charles go home for the night. in all honesty, the only thing that kept diluc from closing early each night was his repeat customer who liked to drink him out of house and home — a short little bard with a penchant for drinking himself silly.

like most nights, venti was found at the bar alone, a half empty glass of wine in hand while charles finished cleaning up the glasses that were used in the hours previous. his hat was slung across the stool next to him and his braids were loose, nearly undone as he sipped slowly from the glass.

the second thing diluc noticed upon entering the tavern through the front door was that it was unusually quiet — most nights he'd come into venti talking off charles ear. it could've been about the weather, the wine recipe he asked for every single time he drank, or any other abstract thought that seemed to crawl into the little bard's head.

tonight, however, was quiet.

diluc was the kind of man who appreciated the comfortable silence over useless chat. he himself was a rather reserved man, quiet unless he needed not to be, watching on silently from the sidelines. silence was a breeding ground for thoughts, which he had many of, and something he basked in when he felt particularly drained from long days at the winery and investigations involving the abyss order.

to say he didn't mind venti's constant blabbering, however, was accurate enough for him to feel a slight unease upon stepping into the quiet tavern.

"you may go, charles," he announced, stepping behind the bar to take the towel from the man's hand and the half dried glass he'd been working on.

the red haired man half expected the bard to lighten up upon seeing him, ready for whatever sort of talk venti could engage him in, but even as charles exited the tavern for the night venti was uncharacteristically silent.

the bard stared down into the glass of wine in his hands, a deep orange color that sloshed around when he moved the glass from side to side. his hands, small and nimble, almost like a young woman's, were wrapped loosely around the globe of the glass, fingertips tapping anxiously.

maybe he should've kept the silence between them; he could've ignored the unsettling look in venti's sea green eyes, ignored the way his lips were pressed thin like he was purposefully keeping himself quiet, ignored the way his hair finally fell loose around his neck, swaying down in his face to create the perfect frame for his fair skin — he didn't.

"you're beginning to look like every other face around here," diluc told him, and though he meant it to be light-hearted the words sounded much harsher than he had anticipated. the smaller of the two didn't even begin to compare to the usual somber crowd. venti curled his hands around the glass a little tighter, and diluc sighed. his last intention was to offend him, yet somehow it seemed that was exactly what he had done. silence would've done him better.