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The Windblume Festival has finally ended, but that only means that the work around it has changed. Now, instead of making sure the town is healthily supplied with alcohol, Diluc has to crunch the numbers comparing this year’s sales to last year’s to learn better practices for next year. The work never ends—and it never will. That’s just the nature of business.
For hours, Diluc’s eyes are glued to the many papers at his desk until a knock sounds on his door.
“Come in,” Diluc calls.
He expects to see Adelinde or another maid bringing him a fresh mug of coffee and once again begging him to take a break, but instead, he sees a boy who courteously nods his head of bright, yellow hair.
“Hi, Master Diluc. I’m sorry to disturb you,” Aether greets in a respectful tone.
“Aether.” Diluc sits up a little at the familiar face. “You’re not disturbing me.”
Aether smiles at the reassurance. The boy is glowing, as usual. He always is; no matter how often he travels and how many people he helps along the way, his face can always rest easily into a smile. His light is infectious, and it makes Diluc feel a little more at ease than he has all day.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Diluc asks.
Aether nods out the window. “I was wondering if the woods around here belong to you.”
“Some of them do, and some of them don’t,” Diluc answers. “May I ask why?”
“I wanted to gather some wood to build furniture.”
“Furniture?”
“Yeah, I found a little place to stay.”
Diluc frowns, feeling shame push down into his chest. Knowing Aether’s nomadic habits, Diluc had always assumed that the boy was content with crashing at a local inn wherever he found himself that evening. The thought of Aether wanting a place to call home had never occurred to Diluc—and it should have. Of course Aether would want a place to come back to; everyone does. How very foolish and inconsiderate of Diluc, really.
“I’m sorry—if I had known you were looking, I would have offered you the guest room,” Diluc confesses.
“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine,” Aether rushes with a hurried wave of his hands. “The place I found is more… portable. So, it works with how much I travel.”
“Portable?”
Aether laughs nervously. “It’s a long story.”
Portable… is he in a carriage? That sounds awful. That doesn’t sound like a home at all. But… admittedly, there is some truth to Aether’s words; that sort of setup is probably better for someone so on-the-go as he is.
Well. If it must be that way, then the least Diluc can do is help.
“Wait here. Let me grab my coat,” Diluc says, getting up from his chair.
“What? Oh!” Aether shakes his head vigorously. “You don’t need to do that. I don’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me. Besides, it’s probably good for me to take a break.”
Aether opens his mouth to retort again, but at Diluc’s last comment, he falters.
“W-well, if it’s to take a break, then that’s OK,” Aether resigns.
Diluc’s unhealthy work habits must be bad if people other than his maids are trying to get him to stop working.
Chopping wood probably isn’t the best way to relax, but an evening stroll down the woods with pleasant company is. Along the way, Aether recounts his most recent travels, always with animated hand motions and maybe even showing off a trinket or two that he picked up. Listening to Aether’s stories feels comfortingly familiar, like when Diluc used to listen to stories as a child, bundled up in bed and desperately fighting off sleep to hear the next tale.
There’s something so incredibly homey about being around Aether.
They finally come across some trees that Diluc thinks he can do without—they’ll be put to good use in Aether’s home, so it’s less like a sacrifice and more like donation to someone in need. Someone who very much deserves as hassle-free of a life as possible.
“You don’t have to go through all the trouble of making the furniture yourself, you know,” Diluc suggests. “I can put you in touch with some good craftsmen.”
“Eh, that sounds expensive,” Aether dismisses.
Diluc shrugs. “I can put in an order for you.”
“Ah, no, you don’t have to do that,” Aether rejects again. “I… I kind of want to make it myself. It’ll feel more… meaningful that way, I think.”
As soon as the words have left Aether’s mouth, he seems embarrassed to have said them. He shouldn’t be—it isn’t embarrassing at all. A long time ago, Diluc used to think the same way, carving little wooden figurines of animals with Kaeya, even if an ear or two was accidentally lopped off. Now, with the convenience of paying someone much more skilled to do a better job, Diluc hardly makes anything on his own anymore. He hardly has the time to do anything fun anymore, really.
Sometimes, Diluc feels like it’s his purpose in life to protect: to protect his business, the city of Mondstadt, and the people he cares about. Aether’s precious ideals are now just another thing to add to the list.
“I hope you’ll allow me to chop the wood for you, at least,” Diluc says, taking off his coat.
Aether starts. “Y-you really don’t have to do that.”
“It’ll go by faster with my claymore than your sword,” Diluc says matter-of-factly.
Besides, how did Aether expect to chop down trees with arms his size? The boy isn’t frail, of course; Diluc just doesn’t want to see him getting hurt.
It takes a few clean hacks of his claymore before the first tree falls. By the third tree, Diluc’s arms are sore, and his body is drenched in sweat. His ponytail feels heavy on the back of his neck, and his shirt clings uncomfortably to his damp back. The sun is starting to set now, but it feels like it’s burning down on Diluc’s soaked body when he tosses the last of the wood into a neat pile.
“This should be enough, yes?” Diluc asks in an exhausted huff.
He looks over at Aether for the first time in a good while only to discover that the boy is frozen in place with his eyes trained on Diluc’s body and following its every movement. When Aether meets Diluc’s gaze, his golden eyes widen, and his body moves with a frantic energy like it has suddenly jolted back to life.
“Uh, umm, yeah, yes, that’s…” Aether coughs. “That’s fine.”
He pointedly avoids eye contact, but it doesn’t stop the red flush that creeps up his neck and spills onto his cheeks.
Is he… embarrassed? Did Aether do something embarrassing? Did Diluc do something embarrassing? Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Diluc looks down at his body to see if something silly got on his shirt when he wasn’t paying attention, but he only sees how his damp, white shirt shamelessly clings to his chest muscles. Yes, it is a bit unsightly, he admits.
But when Diluc lifts his head to apologize for his appearance, he sees Aether sneaking peeks at Diluc while still determinedly facing the ground. Those looks don’t seem to be of second-hand embarrassment, but rather of curiosity, interest… attraction, even.
Oh.
Before Diluc can say anything (although, what would he even say?), Aether springs back to life.
“W-well, I’ll be going now!” Aether exclaims with a crack in his voice. “Thanks, Master Diluc!”
Then he pulls a teapot out of nowhere and vanishes.
… wait, what?
Diluc isn’t quite sure what just happened, but he is sure that a magic teapot is now floating in the air where Aether once stood. Is it some sort of marker? A teleportation device? Or did Aether perhaps… go inside of it?
Whatever it is, this mysterious teapot must be connected to Aether’s sudden disappearance, and it may be very well be responsible for his reappearance later. It would be terrible if something unfortunate happened to this mystical item out here in the woods, so Diluc brings it back to the manor with him.
He takes dinner to his room and stares at the intriguing teapot the entire time. After his evening bath, Diluc stays up late working at his desk with the teapot sitting on a stack of papers. He even forces his eyes to remain open while reading a book in bed, occasionally glancing at the still teapot on his bedside table.
Eventually, Diluc passes out, but when he wakes up, he immediately checks the teapot to see if anything has changed in its exterior to signal Aether’s whereabouts—but he sees nothing.
Diluc had plans today to meet up with some business executives, but he reschedules the meeting. What if one of the maids accidentally stored the teapot somewhere in the cabinet, and Aether came back smashing into some dishes? What if Aether reappears by the teapot needing more wood, and Diluc isn’t there to help him? That wouldn’t be ideal.
Finally, a full twenty-four hours later, when Diluc is pushing through his fourth cup of coffee, steam exits the lip of the teapot. With a clinking rattle of the china, the steam falls out onto the floor, and then—twirling in place—appears a blonde boy in Diluc’s study, standing in the exact same spot he stood the previous day.
Aether takes a moment to blink and recognize his surroundings before finally regarding the man in front of him.
“Master Diluc,” Aether mumbles, dazed. “You brought me back to your place?”
“Of course I did. I couldn’t just leave you out there unprotected,” Diluc replies.
Aether smiles warmly. He looks exhausted, but still, somehow, he shines.
“I want to show you something,” Aether says. “If you’re not too busy, of course.”
Diluc shakes his head. “I can take a break if you need me to.”
“That’s good, because… I think that’s exactly what you need.”
Diluc raises a curious eyebrow, but Aether only takes his hand in response. Diluc barely has time to notice the warmth of Aether’s hand before he feels like transparent walls are closing in on him on all sides and stretching his legs out long in front of him. The world sinks into a mix of colors and lights, and, nauseated and terrified, Diluc squeezes his eyes shut.
When the world finally stops spinning around him (or when his body stops spinning in place? He can’t tell), the first thing Diluc notices is the stillness in the air. At Dawn Winery, life is always full of noise: the sounds of people working, the mumble of chatter, the occasional chirps from birds. But here, now, suddenly, the air is quiet for once besides the gentle crackling of a fire.
Carefully, Diluc opens his eyes to find himself in a completely different room than his study.
Diluc has never seen this room before, but it somehow feels familiar. Among the tables, chairs, and bookcases are carefully placed items to give the room more life: a neat stack of books, a vase of fresh flowers, a delicately lit candle. A thick rug lies below Diluc’s feet, simple yet refreshing curtains frame the windows, and in front of a lit and crackling fireplace sits a couch with a crochet blanket tucked away in its corner.
The room is the epitome of coziness.
“I wanted to make a room for you,” Aether explains by Diluc’s side. “If you ever want to get away and take a break.”
Diluc blinks slowly as he tries to take in his surroundings and Aether’s curious words.
“We’re in… your portable home?” Diluc asks belatedly.
“Yeah.”
“And you made this for me?”
“… yes.”
Aether made everything in the room just for Diluc. Every board shimmied in place, every stroke of paint against wood, every cloth stitched onto fabric—it was all constructed by one busy traveler for one overworking businessman. Aether should be trying to find his sister, and he could be designing a room for himself—he deserves it, no doubt—but instead, the boy went out of his way to make a room in his unique home just to encourage Diluc to relax.
Diluc has never been more touched in his life.
Aether stammers, “I wasn’t quite sure which books you liked, but you seemed to like my stories about Liyue, so I tried to include—”
Diluc interrupts Aether’s anxious rambling with one arm around Aether’s naked waist, one hand on Aether’s cheek, and his lips against Aether’s mouth. Aether whimpers once in surprise, but he doesn’t make a move to stop Diluc or to continue babbling nonsense. Bless the Archons.
“Thank you,” Diluc whispers.
Aether laughs nervously, seeming pleased but still not fully convinced.
“You like it?” he asks hesitantly.
“I love it,” Diluc confirms. “But it’s missing one thing.”
Aether blinks. “It is?”
“A bed.”
“Oh, I didn’t know if—”
“It’s OK; this couch should be fine.”
“—that would be too forwar—M-Master Diluc!”
Once again, Diluc stifles Aether’s words, this time by hoisting Aether up into his arms. When Diluc sets the boy down longways on the couch and hovers over him, Aether is bright red in embarrassment, but his mouth breaks into a smile all the same. Aether’s light has always been infectious, but this time, instead of just feeling like a comfortable presence, it feels like a warmth that settles snugly in Diluc’s chest.
Well. If breaks are always this nice, then maybe Diluc will take them more often.