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moonlight spills through the open window, casting a pale light across the room. morax had forgotten to shut the curtains earlier— though it mattered little now. the moonlight is a welcome change despite doing nothing to quell his thoughts.
his thoughts, both those that have eroded over the thousands of years morax has lived and those that have only recently come to life within his own mind, remain prominent. he remembers every thought, even those most would forget after a few moments at most. after all, every thought has a resulting consequence.
though, not every thought is a happy one.
occasionally the thought of death claws at his mind. it’s never thoughts of his own probable death, however. it only seems to be the death of others that haunt him with reckless abandon. those he’s lost, those he has yet to lose.
it is likely death will claim everyone morax knows before it finally makes its way to him. it is a cruel thought, yet at the same time it is a cruel truth. it should be an inconceivable possibility, yet no one is truly immune to death — some are simply less immune than others. especially those who lack the same elongated years that morax has. one specific person comes to mind and morax banishes the thought before it can become more.
morax is pulled out of his thoughts by a hand placed gently on his cheek. it’s warm, alive.
“you’re making the face you make when you’re thinking too much.” diluc points out.
“ah… am i? i apologize. i do have a bit on my mind, but it is not worth worrying yourself over.” morax responds.
“admittedly, i assume leaving it at that would be more worrisome than sharing what’s on your mind. if you wish to, that is.”
morax considers it carefully. it’s a delicate topic, one he himself had not thought much about. it’s asinine to bring up so late and would likely be better saved for a different time, yet when it comes to diluc, morax has an affinity for bouts of unabashed honesty under the moonlit sky.
“if i were to offer you immortality, would you accept it?”
diluc physically recoils at the question, forcing out a surprised “what?”
“no, that’s not quite exactly what i wanted to ask,” morax says while sitting up, “again, i apologize.” he adds.
“so, what are you asking then?”
“i’m asking if you’ll stay.”
he doesn’t add a request for it to be permanent. regardless of assumed longevity, nothing can ever be guaranteed to always remain. death catches all in its cold, unforgiving grasp, no matter if one is a god, adeptus, or mortal.
it’s a far stretch. too far for the current moment and too far for the foreseeable future. it’s a fact morax is painfully aware of. though, awareness and acceptance don’t always go hand in hand. sometimes they clash like swords in a war no one will emerge victorious from.
diluc sighs, and it alone speaks for the sad, lonely yearning they both feel.
how sad it is, morax thinks, to yearn for someone right in front of you.
“morax,” he starts. when had zhongli and morax become synonymous? when did morax become commonplace instead of zhongli? “you know better than i do that it isn’t that simple.”
morax is who he is, yet morax lacks the same simple freedoms zhongli has. morax is little more than a fool who thinks he can get away with the same things that zhongli could, were zhongli any more than a false identity. many yearn for godhood, yet never realize the shackles it places upon one. divinity in itself is its own burden — it withholds many of the experiences one may face as a mortal. in some ways, it is less free than simply being human.
“i do.” morax responds. it’s always been a risk. they’ve always been a risk. yet there are always risks worth taking, and diluc is one morax would never think twice about.
“i… need to think it over. we can talk about it more in the morning, but for now let’s rest.”
“very well. please, do not feel pressured to make a decision,” he says and places a gentle hand on diluc’s cheek, as diluc had done for him moments ago, “you still have plenty of time to consider it. there’s no need to rush. now rest well, my love.”
after diluc falls asleep, the night seems to droll on at a slow pace. it’s strange for time to seemingly drag on for one who perceives time differently than most, his perception warped from having been alive for multiple millennia. throughout the night he remains transfixed in his spot, if not for his own sake then for diluc’s. or, perhaps it is for both of their sakes tonight.
when diluc wakes up a few hours later the topic isn’t brought up right away. morax doesn’t press the matter, as it is only to be expected that it wouldn’t be the first thing mentioned in the day. there’s only so much thinking one can do while unconscious, after all. morax knows diluc will bring it up when he is ready to talk about it.
and he does eventually bring it up, like morax suspected he would. morax is in the middle of pouring tea for the both of them when diluc mentions it.
“‘if i were to offer you immortality, would you accept it?’” he speaks suddenly, and morax falters for a moment, halting mid-pour. “why did you offer that so suddenly?”
“perhaps it is selfish of me, but i would not wish to lose you, by death or other means.” he replies honestly, setting the teapot down, “though i would never wish for you to bear the burden of immortality, were you to not wish for it yourself.”
diluc looks away towards the window. the mid-morning sunlight illuminates him in such a way that morax can’t help but wonder how he is not already something divine. perhaps it is simply a case of beauty being in the eye of the beholder, though morax cannot imagine how anyone would think diluc is anything less than divine.
“you say immortality is burdensome,” diluc says, reverting his gaze towards morax, “what do you mean by that?”
morax clasps his hands together tightly under the table. “surely you have realized in the past — and even now in the present — how cumbersome it can be.” he begins, matching diluc’s carefully trained gaze, “godhood does not grant you unlimited freedom as some may think. we too are weighed down by shackles of limitation placed upon us. i cannot freely walk upon and converse with mortals as other mortals do due to the stigma those same people have imposed against themselves. there is a bold line between god and mortal, it is one seldom crossed, yet you cannot cross it again once you have crossed it the first time.”
“furthermore, to give up your mortality would be to give up those same freedoms i lack. regardless of how i may feel it is your choice in the end, but the choice does have consequences.”
morax stops for a moment as he comes upon a realization he had not previously considered.
“all of this is, of course, if a life with me would be what you want—“
“i want,” diluc interrupts suddenly. it stuns morax for a moment, seeing the pure emotion in diluc’s eyes. he speaks again, and it’s as if it was preposterous that morax would imply he wouldn’t wish for a life together, “i want a life with you. terribly. but right now i’m unsure. if i’m right, giving up my mortality would be the same as giving up my family, too. i’m not sure if i would be able to do that to kaeya.”
“i understand. it would not have to be now, of course. there is no need to rush to make a decision, you still have your entire life ahead of you.”
diluc sighs and turns away, “i do think i would accept your offer. perhaps when the time calls for it most, or i am near death it would be best.”
morax looks at diluc for a moment before he smiles and nods. “then it is agreed.”
“morax.” a voice calls out. it acts as a gentle guide out of memories long passed, bringing him back to the present.
morax turns in the direction of the voice. it’s one he’s familiar with, yet also one he has not heard in many years. diluc stands behind him, a sole ray of light in the otherwise gloomy atmosphere of wuwang hill.
he’s a ray of light in a literal sense now— his hair has noticeably changed over the years, the tips fade into a mix of orange and yellow from his natural red. if diluc hadn’t looked like the embodiment of fire before, he surely did now.
“xiao let me know i might find you here. it doesn’t surprise me, you did come here to think quite often. you haven’t changed much over the years have you, morax?”
“diluc,” he starts, and he can’t help but smile at the sight of him. it’s been quite a long time since he last saw him, after all. “you’re back.”
“i hope i didn’t make you wait too long.” diluc says, and he steps closer, closing the distance between them while offering his hand for morax to take. “i hardly recognized some places on my way here, they’ve changed so much.”
morax takes his hand and pulls him close. he smiles again, leaning down to close the remaining distance between them. “i would have waited until the end of time for you.”
“you’re such a sap.” diluc says, exasperated. his tone holds no true bite, though.
“perhaps i am.” morax replies, and with a swift movement the scarce space between them is gone.
the kiss speaks for everything and nothing all at once; it encompasses the years spent waiting for diluc to return, the time lost, and time yet to be spent together.
and time, such a constraining concept, is something they have now.
morax pulls away first, tucking a lock of hair behind diluc’s ear. moments like this, minuscule as they may be, hold such importance to morax.
“perhaps once you have grown accustomed to these new times i could take you to see this new liyue, as i showed you once before,” he offers, “and perhaps i could take you to see mondstadt, as well. we no longer have to hide, there is no more need for secrecy.”
“anywhere is fine,” diluc starts, and his expression is so genuine morax can’t help but keep his eyes focused on him, “as long as it’s with you.”
morax can’t help the gentle, quiet laugh that comes as a reaction to diluc’s honest words.
“of course.”
