Diluc notices the similarities to the statue right away; he spent many hours as a kid sneaking out and talking to the one outside the Winery, after all. At first, he thinks it's the sign of a devout believer who decided to play up the natural similarities by choosing to wear his hair that way. And Venti may not be devout the way the nuns are - quite the opposite, in fact - but he is devoted to freedom for everyone, and in the end, isn't that what Barbatos stood for?
Then Venti sings a song of things no mortal bard should know, and there is a glint in his eye, a cheeky smile on his lips that tells a tale of secrets wishing to be free.
The traveler and the bard leave the tavern and Diluc stays alone with Jean in comfortable silence. Jean has a frown on her face like she is deep in thought, and Diluc has known her for so long. He knows what she's thinking about.
"This is going to sound silly," she starts, and Diluc smiles. As if she could ever be wrong. "Blasphemous, even. But do you think maybe..."
"Yes," Diluc says.
They don't speak after that.
Most people wouldn't think of anything divine when they look at Venti. But Diluc watches from behind the bar as he sings to an eager audience, and he thinks he's never seen anything so beautiful, so true. It isn't just Venti's face, or his braids - it is the smile he wears, the soft aura that follows him, the twinkle in his eye.
He doesn't hear the customer at the bar calling his name, teasing him for cleaning the same glass over and over when it is already sparkling.
Then Venti looks his way and Diluc turns his head, frowning at himself for being caught.
"Dawn Winery's wine is truly the finest in all of Mondstadt," Venti exclaims, waving his glass around. Diluc catches his hand.
"If you spill the wine, that's a sign you're too drunk to get more. One drop on the floor and I'm kicking you out." The skin on his wrist is so soft, Diluc feels dizzy, like he's the one who's been drinking.
Venti grins and leans forward. "You like me too much to kick me out."
Diluc drops his hand like he touched something burning, and turns his back on the bard, busying himself behind the bar. He doesn't see Venti's disappointed pout.
"It really has been hard," the woman at the bar says, although Diluc is only half-listening. "But I know Lord Barbatos will see me through it. I only need to trust in him."
Diluc wonders how that would feel. To have all those wishes and prayers rest on your shoulders. To have a whole city full of people praise you for their own accomplishments and blame you for their own failures. To have them wait for you to save them instead of fighting against their own suffering.
To have them build Cathedrals and statues, and follow you so blindly when all you wanted was for them to stand freely without a tyrant.
"Sometimes I think we trust Barbatos too much," Diluc says. The woman frowns at him, clearly taking insult, but Diluc doesn't care what she thinks.
His heart skips a beat when he sees someone in a green cloak push past him and leave the tavern. He'd thought the bard was still upstairs, and feels embarrassed to have been overheard.
Diluc lets his half-destroyed ponytail down, running his hands through his hair. Before he could put it back up, the wind catches him, playing with the long red locks like an unruly child.
Normally, the wind blows his hair all over, hitting himself in the face. This time, the breeze is gentle, almost caressing. He watches the crystalflies in the distance, sparkling among the grapevines.
"You come here often," a voice says, and he moves away from the statue so quickly he almost trips. He knows the bard was not sitting on top of it when he came up here.
"I live here," Diluc says curtly, his heart beating in his chest. He turns his face away to hide the curse of redheads, the color already painting his cheeks.
"I thought you live over there," Venti says, gesturing towards Dawn Winery. "Statue is a bit further off, really."
"I like going for walks." Venti's sudden appearance makes him wonder if the bard is truly connected to the statues - if he can move between them, or maybe even see through them. He remembers every silly thing he told this one as a child, and a couple he said to it as an adult, and the thought horrifies him.
Venti sighs. He's silent for a moment, almost uncharacteristically long, then says, "What did I do to make you dislike me so much?"
The assumption is so laughably false, Diluc really has no response to it other than, "What?"
"You frown every time you look at me," Venti says from above him. "And that is when you can bear to look. Most of the time, it's like you don't even want to see me."
Diluc knows this isn't true, but he also knows where the confusion comes from. He frowns every time Venti sees him look.
He wants to make a comment about Venti drinking him out of house and home at the Knights of Favonius party, or about him stealing food from the winery. He wants to list silly reasons that would explain his apparent dislike. But his skin burns with the need to touch.
"And I know I haven't been a very good Archon," Venti says, and it almost sounds like he might cry. "But you really didn't have to..."
"Come down here for a minute," he says.
Venti jumps, and Diluc almost catches him in his arms, pulling him swiftly close. Venti gasps against his lips, and then brings his arms up around Diluc's neck before the man could pull away. He's light as the wind and fragile as a sprite, but Diluc knows it's all for show.
The breeze catches in his hair and caresses his skin. Venti presses against him and kisses like Diluc is the air he needs to live.
Diluc kisses back much the same way.
