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The music on Zhongli’s old record player still played as clearly as the day he’d adopted the thing from a second-hand store ten years prior. At the moment, it played gentle music, something Venti had picked out for him. And Zhongli simply sat back and enjoyed it, eyes closed, tea in hand.
The sunshine and the music painted a calm, lazy scene that didn’t quite fit the way Zhongli felt, given that he was going to be getting married in an hour. But he still had a few minutes to sit, and so, Zhongli sat and sipped his tea, enjoying the soft music and the peace before his life changed once again.
That wasn’t to say that Zhongli was nervous or apprehensive; on the contrary, he was so excited he felt like his heart might burst. His hands shook and he constantly fought the grin that wanted to push through his careful defenses. No matter how many times he married, the excitement and joy never really left him, especially since it had been a few hundred years since Zhongli last attached himself to a mortal.
Technically, Zhongli was still married to Venti and had been for the last… How long had it actually been? A thousand years? Two thousand? It hardly mattered. A long time, Zhongli knew. But every once in a while, one or the other of them found a mortal that they adored, and while both archons adored Diluc, they had played Rochambeau for the rights to marry him, and Zhongli won. Venti pouted, as he always did, and Zhongli tried not to gloat. Diluc, on the other hand, had looked almost offended that the two literal gods fought over him with rock-paper-scissors, but fond exasperation won out. And he’d said yes when Zhongli asked if he would spend his life with them, so he counted that as a win.
“Zhongli,” Venti’s soft, melodic voice called from the doorway. The anemo archon looked beautiful in all white, even though he wasn’t the one getting married. But he insisted on matching his husband and husband-in-law, and so he wore a white waistcoat and top hat, leaving Zhongli to question his love for such a ridiculous dresser.
“I am trying to relax, Venti,” Zhongli replied, not unkindly. He poured himself a new cup of tea and a second cup for Venti, who sat on the floor in front of his lover. Venti took the cup and rested his head on Zhongli’s lap.
“You’re not dressed. Diluc looks so handsome, love.” Zhongli hummed and ran his hand through Venti’s hair. The younger of the two sighed and leaned into the geo archon’s touch.
“I’ll dress after the record ends.” The music broke the silence, but neither god minded. The two sat in the quiet, enjoying each other’s presence and committing the moment to memory. True to his word, when the record ended, Zhongli stood and methodically undressed himself. Unashamed, Venti watched him with a small smile. Were he in a different mood, Venti likely would’ve teased him, but Zhongli knew his husband better than that.
“We will give Diluc a wonderful life with us, dear one,” Zhongli murmured, adjusting his tie in the mirror. White, with gold accents. Just the way he liked it. He knew his fidgeting was his own manner of escapism, but he tried not to dwell on his sad thoughts on such a happy day. Hopefully, this would be the only marriage Diluc ever had. Zhongli had lost count of how many he’d had over the years.
“I know, Mor. It’s just…” Venti shrugged, and Zhongli nodded, and neither of them had anything else to say.
“It never gets easier,” Zhongli offered, even though it felt silly coming out of his mouth. He had been so determined to have a good and happy morning, too. Venti just nodded, just like Zhongli. He stood and wrapped his arms around his lover from behind, and Zhongli smiled in the mirror. “It will still be wonderful and lovely, even if it will be sad someday.”
Both archons tended to get sad on days of import like these. They had both had their fair share of weddings, after all, and seeing their mortals so excited over a day that had become routine to the two of them was always odd. So Zhongli wasn’t exactly surprised, but he was the more controlled, so it was his job to comfort little Venti.
A gentle knock at the door startled them both, and they pulled apart. Zhongli raised an eyebrow, and Venti giggled.
“Yes?”
“It’s me,” Diluc called from the other side. “Can I come in, Zhongli? Venti too, I assume.”
Venti laughed, even with teary eyes. Zhongli smiled widely himself.
“Yes, of course. We’re both dressed, unfortunately, so if you’re quite superstitious, you may not want to.”
Diluc, predictably, ignored the warning. He walked in as a vision in delicate black velvet, gold accents on his sleeves and lapels to match the gold ribbon tied in place of a tie at his throat. Speaking of throats, Zhongli’s went dry upon seeing the absolutely radiant man. Venti even gasped, and it took a great deal more to impress Venti than Zhongli, who was known to fall for people that Venti called “passable, at best.”
“I’m glad I could render you both speechless, but I came here to speak with you, not at you,” Diluc said with a chuckle and a gleam in his eye that told the archons that he knew exactly what sort of affect he had on them.
“You look wonderful, Diluc,” Zhongli told him, honest to a fault. It was the only thing he could think to say. Venti nodded along, eyes wide.
“Thank you, Zhongli. Sit with me?” the mortal asked, gesturing to the chair Zhongli had recently vacated.
“Of course, darling.” Zhongli sat, scooting to one side to allow Diluc to squish in next to him. Once the larger two settled themselves, Venti curled up in both of their laps. As if by habit, both men’s arms wrapped around him, and the three tangled themselves in one chair. Zhongli felt warm, and not just from the heat of his lovers. It was a silly, domestic thing to do, and Zhongli was nothing if not a silly, domestic god.
“You’re nervous,” Diluc murmured, low as to not break the sweet spell of calm over the three of them. Zhongli shook his head and kissed the man’s temple.
“Not nervous, Diluc. A little sad, perhaps. It is always difficult for Venti and I.” Diluc frowned, pulling away enough for Zhongli to take in the wrinkle in his brow and kiss it smooth again. “No, don’t look at me like that. I only mean that it is difficult for the both of us to go through with a wedding without thinking of the inevitable loss that will come after. It’s no comment on my love for you, Diluc.” Zhongli finds the words harder to say than he thought they would be, even as understanding crossed his redhead’s face. Thinking of how he will feel when Diluc… No, now is not the time for this. Diluc tightened his grip on Venti’s waist with one hand and used the other to pull Zhongli in for a kiss. It didn’t last long, but Zhongli’s traitorous heart still beat quicker for it.
“I will be by your sides until I die, then.” Diluc said it so simply, as if it were fact. Venti whimpered, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks. Zhongli couldn’t think of a single thing that he could say in response, so he just kissed the man again. Venti grew impatient, tugging at Zhongli’s collar until he pulled away and Venti took his place against Diluc’s lips. Zhongli watched them, enraptured by his two loves.
And then Lumine cleared her throat from the doorway, arms crossed. All three men startled, pulling apart.
“You’re all disgusting,” she said, fondness masked behind annoyance. “You’re going to be late for your own wedding if you don’t hurry up.” She turned on her heel and left them alone, leaving the door open in her wake. Zhongli sighed, gently disentangling himself from his men.
“She’s right, loathe as I am to leave the two of you for longer than a moment,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss under Diluc’s chin. Diluc hummed in return.
“Lumine’s just salty that she doesn’t have a lover like either of you,” Venti pouted, but he did get up, stretching and rolling his shoulders. “I should go. I have best man duties to deal with.” Venti leaned over to kiss first Diluc, then Zhongli. He smiled, still a little fragile, but more stable than he had been. Zhongli was proud of his little lover’s strength. “I love you both. So much. I’ll see you out there.” He left the fiancés alone, still pressed together in a chair.
Neither Diluc or Zhongli made a move then. They sat, quietly listening to the last song on Zhongli’s album. And then the album ended, and the record player’s soft sounds played out to silence. Zhongli’s heart twisted brutally in his chest, and he found himself unable to breathe. Archons, he was scared. Legitimately, actually afraid of the future and how his poor heart would handle the day that he lost Diluc. His hands shook, and Diluc took them in his own. Neither spoke still, but Diluc rubbed little circles into the backs of his hands and kissed Zhongli’s cheeks as tears dripped from his golden eyes.
They sat like that for a few minutes, Zhongli relearning how to breathe with Diluc’s assistance. Diluc gently pulled away from Zhongli, reaching instead for the little record player. He flipped the record and restarted the warm, soft music. He stood then, offering his hand to Zhongli.
“Dance with me, Zhongli?” And no matter how emotional Zhongli was about the future, he would never pass up the chance to dance with his beloved Diluc. So he took the man’s hand and allowed Diluc to lead him in a simple waltz. The easy steps lulled Zhongli back to himself, and after a song, he pulled away.
“Let’s get married, Diluc.” Diluc smiled at him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, and Zhongli knew that no matter how much it might hurt someday, he would never, ever regret loving Diluc.