Chapter Text
she swirls the concentrated drink around in its glass, watching the thin bit of foam on the liquid’s surface. it’s a little sweet, and a little dry, the kind that feels like it is wringing out the moisture on her tongue when she drinks it. not as bad as cranberry or lemon, though.
“grape juice?” diona laughs. just once, only half-stifling it.
“yes,” diluc sighs, sipping his juice sadly, “why is this everyone’s reaction…”
“why? ‘cuz it’s boring,” states diona matter-of-factly, “really boring, actually.”
diluc kind of smiles at that. “you sounded like my brother, just then.”
“kaeya?” diona’s nose twitches. she can smell him even just in thought - that minty citron spray he wears mixed with a hint of underlying liquor. no, thanks. “he’s always drinking, i don’t get how you put up with him…”
“he’s my brother, after all. even if i don’t agree with some of his choices, and i’m sure he doesn’t understand everything that i do, either, it is .. still a fact.”
diona steals a peek at him. his arms are folded over his chest, one leg bent, and he leans against the shelves behind the counter. he’s looking past at her, at the dry wooden planks of the flooring. she wonders if kaeya ignores diluc, too. the yellow lighting of angel’s share is straining her eyes. it hurts a little. it always does.
“do you love him? kaeya?” diona picks at her fingernail, watching his eyes.
“i do,” admits diluc. his voice is strangled, for a second, like he almost let something slip without thinking, but he recollects himself. clears his throat, “but .. there was a time i didn’t, because i didn’t want to love him. i was angry with him for lying to me. to everyone. as we grew up from that time we were on the brink of adulthood, when our whole world fell apart, so did we.”
his eyes are a little sad, like they were in the rain. talking about family does this, for whatever reason, and diona thinks she understands. family is supposed to be there for you, and feel like an easy, lighthearted thing. like a support beam, or a pillar, or a clear stream to travel down when the main water path gets too busy.
when it isn’t like that, though, it hurts. you feel defective. the shell you call home exists, and when you retreat into yourself you can hide in the shadows, but. archons, it’s lonely.
diluc continues, “when my father passed, i took over the winery, and kaeya took my old position in the knights of favonius. i became more withdrawn, and so did he, but he disguised it with his adeptness in talking to people just how they liked. then he started drinking, and .. well. i’m not angry anymore, no. now, i feel i’m…”
“sad.” it slips out before diona can stop it, but it’s what she picks up. diluc hums.
“sad.”
silence stretches on for enough time that diona starts to feel her sleepiness catch up again. she really should, considering there will be school lessons in the morning, but she can’t just yet. why, she isn’t sure.
“could i .. can i tell you something?” diona starts some slow, rhythmless tapping on the bar counter.
diluc is still staring off behind her, but his shoulders have dropped a little. he’s more relaxed, having got that off of his chest. maybe he’s never told anyone how he felt before. maybe it feels better when you let it out. diona bites her nail, sliding it between the thin gaps in her teeth. her gums are soft and squishy.
“i’m listening,” says diluc.
“well, it’s ..” diona pats at her bag, remembering the bit of cake she got, and takes it out. she thrusts it in diluc’s direction, finally breaking that staring contest with the floor. he blinks. “wait, take this.”
“oh? what is it?”
“fruitcake,” diona buttons her little bag closed again and finishes off her grape juice. “and i didn’t. i wasn’t the one who made it, if you’re wondering where it came from, so don’t think that i’m .. bribing you to listen to me, or something.”
“mm,” diluc nods, popping the bite of cake in his mouth. he makes an appreciative little sigh and swallows it, thumbing any crumbs on the sides of his mouth away. “i don’t.”
diona scratches the side of her nose and hmphs. just had to be sure. “can i have something else to drink, too?” diluc nods. “do you have milk?”
“milk?” he unfolds his arms and feels under the counter for something, pulling out a can of milk. “want anything in it?”
“cinnamon .. nutmeg .. maybe even - just a little cocoa, if you have it. or vanilla,” diona’s mouth is practically watering already. milk is too expensive and she isn’t home enough to buy the big bottles or cans sold in the city in order to use it regularly.
she watches him mix the ingredients she asked for swiftly in a glass, stirring it with a thin, metal straw. he even uses some fancy vanilla syrup that she watched him pour in awe. once it’s finished he slides it over, and she catches it. takes a generous gulp, and - wow. wow. another. and another. and another, and - okay, she has to slow down.
“is it alright?” asks diluc, the ends of his lips curled up and diona fake-yawns.
“well, it isn’t too bad…” diluc looks happy by this, or as happy as such a boring man can look, she thinks. whatever.
“so, what were you going to say?” he picks up his juice again.
“just…” diona taps the side of her glass. “my daddy, he - he drinks a lot. so that’s why i don’t like alcohol. and i don’t like your winery. or your bar. and .. you, kind of.”
diluc gives her space to think through her words. his expression is indiscernible, a mixture of too many things, and his gaze is making her nervous with how calm and still it is so she looks away. she holds the glass loosely between her hands, glaring into the little specks of spices floating in the milk.
“sometimes, he gets…” diona licks her canines and furrows her brows. should she be saying all this? she trusts him enough, but he’s still an adult. she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to daddy. “he .. when he drinks, it’s like i’m not there. and. and i take care of him, and he still lets me sleep next to him when i want, but he’s only safe when he’s too tired to do anything. ‘cuz sometimes he yells, or he shoves me when i stand in front of him, or he laughs and it’s ugly and-”
“diona-” her name is all he says before he’s reaching out for her hand, cautiously, like he’s handling a wild animal. diona’s big, fat tears are staining his gloves and she wants to stop talking but she can’t. her grip on her cup tightens.
“i don’t know w-why he - why he doesn’t listen to me .. i try .. i just don’t want him to get hurt,” she chokes out, honestly. “i’m scared he won’t come back every time he steps out the door and - and he doesn’t even care.”
diluc slowly peels one of her hands off of the cup and squeezes it. the crying is making her sick, and she doesn’t want to keep bothering him so - so. she has to stop.
“sorry,” she wipes her tears away and shakily breathes, trying to calm herself. diluc rubs his thumb over the back of her hand.
“you’re fine, you don’t have to be. you’re welcome here whenever you need,” his voice is soft and patient. he waits for her to say more, but she doesn’t know what else to say. if it even matters. “and you’re free to tell me anything you’d like.”
he sits on the barstool next to her, still with her hand in his and diona slumps her shoulders down. she doesn’t really feel any better, but it is a weight taken off. she sniffles.
in the next few minutes, the rest of the sweet milk disappears and diona pushes away her glass. before she can think against it, her head is on diluc’s shoulder, and his hand leaves hers to wrap around her loosely. it’s warm and quiet, like this, and diona lets a few more frustrated tears slip out.
she shuts her eyes, feeling the drowsiness set in; the milk in her stomach is pleasant as it lulls her. and she sleeps.