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Summary
Maybe he leans over the bar because it makes his head hurt with the kind of pressure you get from diving too far into the deep ocean trenches, bubbling nitrogen in your bloodstream like quicksilver, twice as fast-acting.
Perhaps it's because the stranger kisses like a razor blade, nipping at Diluc's lips as they stumble into the back of the store, the taste of copper coating their tongues like the wine they share, bloody and sweet.Or maybe it's because Diluc knows that, in the morning, it will hurt, and it is something to look forward to.