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Summary
There was not a single person in this world who could doubt Crepus loved his sons. Diluc knew that. But in the wake of his fourteenth birthday, he found he didn’t care for this type of love.
He wanted more.
He wanted to see that smile Crepus only showed when he looked at his mother’s picture. He wanted to hear Crepus say his name like he said hers, sometimes, when he felt lonely and touched himself to their past love.
It didn’t matter that Crepus was Diluc’s father. Or rather, maybe it did — to the shriveling part of him that still cared about what was good and what wasn’t. But the bigger part — the one that listened to his body — was done being good.
She had been good, once.
Diluc was not good.
Diluc could never be good, because he could never be her.
And because he could never be her, the barren land begging for Crepus’s rain would always remain just that.
Series
- Part 2 of wine and strawberries