𝘹𝘹𝘪𝘹. 𝘢𝘥𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘦

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  "Actually, Y/n, may I ask you something a bit personal... if it's alright?"

  "Oh, uhm..." You really didn't like where this was going. "Go ahead." You smiled at Jean. She sighs in relief as your smile made her more at ease.

  "I just wanted to ask — what is your relation with Master Diluc?"

Wow, way to get personal.

  "M-Me and Diluc? Well..." You look at Jean and notice how her expression seemed a bit uneasy, anticipating for what you had to say. She was unintentionally obvious. And you being you, you didn't want to do that to her.

"We're just friends." You said whilst looking away. "Jean, if you like him just tell him. It's only him inside."

  She sighs. Her face was flushed and she couldn't deny the recent feelings that had grown for him. Although she did want to tell him, it wouldn't be today. "Thank you, Y/n." She smiles at you, before walking in the tavern.

You obviously hold strong feelings for him, and you already blatantly told him you were glad to remain 'friends.' But even so, the thought of him just being with someone else crushed your heart. And if Jean likes him, then so be it. But we all know the saying,

If he really wanted to, he would've.

୨⎯ one week later ⎯୧

  Diluc sat down on a couch in front of his fireplace, head in his hands and a bottle of red wine set on the small table beside.

  The place was quiet and empty. Only the light crackles of the flames could be heard, illuminating the surrounding area along with smaller  candles placed around.

It was the day of his fathers death.

All the why's, what he could've done, what he should've done. It was only these days that got to him the most, when the guilt from deep down started to rise up again and eat him up. He was tired of feeling this way, exhausted even. And what made it even worse, is that he felt ashamed for it.

He got up, and poured himself a glass. He wanted to numb out the feeling of such sorrow that no matter what he would be doing, no matter what day it is, it always came back.

He downed the drink. The rich, velvety liquid smoothly passed down his throat. The fruity tang of alcohol and bitter sweetness followed by an acidic, oak flavor danced over his taste buds. It disgusted him, but anything to make him forget of right now. He continued to serve himself another glass. One turning into two, two turning into 4. The next thing you know, he was almost finished with the whole bottle.

If anything, his intoxicated mind brought the feelings of anguish even stronger.

He later found himself slowly walking upstairs, sitting on the comfy mattress of the guest bedroom. His mind obviously recalling of that night with you, proceeding with all other moments together.

Gods, he was so angry with himself. All because he let his own fear take over his decision, but he doesn't want that anymore. He can't go on with little to no sleep regretting what he's done, but he already feels like he's lost you. And yet, he still wants to apologize because it's what's right, what you deserve.

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