Work Text:
Albedo collapsed over the desk, chest heaving. Razor-sharp petals scratched at his lungs, making tears well up in his eyes and pain shoot through his body. He coughed out another cluster of petals, the bright white petals and pale yellow berries laying in stark contrast to the dark, sticky blood that pooled beneath them.
It was the second time that day, and it was barely sunset.
He didn’t think he’d ever contract it--how could he, when he was nothing but an imitation of the human form? But the petals were determined to prove him wrong, digging their roots into his lungs with a vengeance and tainting his throat with saccharine syrup.
Sweet flowers. Who else could it be?
Albedo would laugh at his own foolishness if not for the flowers that choked him so. He should’ve seen this coming long ago. Then maybe he’d have some chance at saving his dignity.
But instead here he was, sticky sweet blood and a million regrets balancing delicately on the tip of his tongue.
It happened slowly, as these things often do. The first time she walked into his office, holding her resume in shaky hands, he wrote her off as simply another jittery amateur, possessing neither the skills nor the drive to keep up with him. How disappointing.
“I’m Sucrose, a researcher of alchemy. Master Jean sent me over to be your assistant. It’s a pleasure to be working with you, Sir Kriedeprinz.”
Her golden eyes shone with a gentle kind of determination, a soft steadfastness that seemed to run through her very being. Albedo smiled, knowing he had been exceedingly wrong.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sucrose.”
There was something fascinating about her, those feathery ears and crooked glasses and luminous eyes. Not an otherworldly kind of fascinating, but a distinctly everyday beauty, comforting in its mundanity. The beauty of afternoon sunlight, the emerald fields of Mondstadt, the subtle sweetness of a ripe sunsettia…
Yes, Albedo decided, I simply must paint her sometime.
It started off innocent enough, when he simply admired her curiosity. She always wanted more, asking every question she could think of and leaving none unanswered. She’d stay up all night testing every possibility, for better or for worse.
Sucrose thought him brilliant, but all he ever wanted was for her to realize just how brilliant she was, too.
Then, he realized how easy it was to talk to her, to not worry about the baggage that usually came with conversation. Socialization was a fine art, an art that Albedo had neither the patience nor energy to master. So, for years, he avoided most interaction in favor of vague, distant relationships--satisfying enough for everyday life but casual enough to abandon with no penalty.
But his and Sucrose’s relationship was different somehow, he could feel it. Perhaps it was because, after all this time of working together, they understood each other. Perhaps it was because of the kinship they shared as fellow connoisseurs of solitude.
He wanted to help her--picking up her favorite foods from Good Hunter, making her coffee in the morning, lending her his umbrella when it started to rain. At first, he assured himself it was out of obligation. After all, it would surely impede her work should she distract herself with these menial tasks.
What a fool he had been.
It was a day as inconspicuous as any other, a snowy morning up in Dragonspine. A morning like this was more often than not spent alone, exactly the way Albedo liked it. He never was one to socialize, a difficult preference to have when surrounded by knights and adventurers in awe of his alchemical prowess.
At first, he thought he just didn’t like the questions lobbed at him everyday about where he came from and what he can do and who he was… except Sucrose asked plenty of questions, and Albedo found he didn’t mind it in the least. He thought clumsy people were a bother, wasting his time with useless fumbling and frantic apologies… until Sucrose came along, and he instead found it endlessly endearing.
He thought people in general were troublesome before Sucrose stumbled in, with her honey smiles and eager eyes.
Suddenly, there was a glaring flaw in his hypothesis.
“Mister Albedo, look,” she breathed, golden eyes wide with wonder, kneeling on the dirt floor of the lab. “It’s snowing.”
“So it is,” he yawned, rubbing his tired eyes and blinking blearily in the white light. “It’s quite common in Dragonspine.”
“O-of course, but we don’t get much of it back in Mondstadt. It’s quite beautiful, don’t you think?” Sucrose asked, rising from the floor and tiptoeing out into the fresh snow.
“I suppose it is,” Albedo said, watching her twirl among the falling flakes. It must be quite a sight to Sucrose, who spent her days locked up in their lab back in Mondstadt. But to Albedo, who conducted much of his research atop the white peaks, it had long become mundane.
Now, though, seeing her catch snowflakes in her outstretched arms, hearing her soft, quiet laugh… it was indeed quite beautiful.
He stood up too, grabbing his coat from the table, and walked out to join her.
“Here, Sucrose,” he murmured, draping it around her shoulders. “You should really wear more layers, you’ll put yourself in danger like this.”
“D-don’t worry about me, Mister Albedo! Besides, won’t you be cold, too?” she said quickly.
How could he be cold, he thought with a slight smile, when she was here with him? Instead, he simply shook his head.
“I’m used to it,” he assured her, brushing bits of snow from her spearmint hair.
Sucrose sighed. Her cheeks, already red from the cold, turned a deeper shade as she glanced nervously at the snowy ground, bunching up his coat in her hands. She bit her lip, that ephemeral smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Simply put, she was the spitting image of a girl in love. Albedo’s heart skipped a beat. Could Sucrose be…?
He pushed the thought down as soon as it surfaced, determined not to let his mind wander. Besides, why should he care? Sucrose was his trusted, respected, precious assistant, what does it matter if… she…
Oh.
It mattered very, very much if she loved him. Because he loved her so much it hurt.
He loved the flick of her ears when she was excited, the slight jitter in her hands when she had too much coffee. He loved the joy on her face when she went on one of her bio-alchemy tangents, the sound of her aimless rambling and the passion in her voice.
He loved her stubbornness, her curiosity, the sheer love and wonder that she held for this world and everything in it.
He wanted to be with her for the rest of his days, and he couldn’t believe how long it’d taken him to notice.
“Thank you, Mister Albedo,” Sucrose finally said. “Now, s-should we get back to our experiments?” Her words broke what little hope he had in two.
Albedo nearly laughed at his own stupidity. No matter how much he yearned to hold her tight… the fact remained that the relationship he’d tricked himself into thinking they had was purely professional. The prized genius of Mondstadt had never felt more foolish.
They were boss and employee, Chief Alchemist and assistant. Nothing more, nothing less.
Gods, he was a fool. A stupid, lovesick fool.
The sweet flower petals looked gorgeous against the snow that day, spattered with flecks of red like warnings of what was yet to come.
It was the second week since the first petals emerged, when the flowers inside his lungs began to develop their signature yellow berries. Now the blood tasted like sweet syrup, sticky and cloying and sickening. Albedo crouched by the edge of the Whispering Woods, watching the blood seep away into the grass. Good riddance.
Albedo had to start refusing Sucrose’s homemade sweet flower candies two days ago--their flavor only reminded him of the late-night hours spent coughing up bloody blossoms into a toilet.
How cruel of the petals, to mock Sucrose’s greatest passion like this. How cruel of them, to twist the image of her flowers until all he could think of was panic and blood and the insatiable itching in his throat.
He felt the itch again, and spit up another cluster of petals onto the grass. Suddenly, there was a rush of water behind him, followed by the light padding of footsteps.
“Albedo?” A familiar voice called, dreamy and rich like a cloud in the night sky.
Mona Megistus froze as she saw the scattered petals and bloody grass, silvery eyes going wide. She shook her head slowly in disbelief, gears turning in that brilliant mind of hers. He should’ve known he could never hide it for long, not with Mona around.
“It’s good to see you,” Albedo offered weakly.
Mona stared at him with a steely expression, completely bypassing the pleasantries. “How?” she asked, stern voice tinged with sorrow.
Albedo sighed. “How else?”
She took a deep breath, eyes welling up with tears, then hugged him so tight that it squeezed the last remaining gasps of air from his lungs. Albedo winced at the pressure on his already weak body, but leaned into the embrace nonetheless.
“You know who it is, don’t you?” he asked with a slight, pathetic smile.
“Of course I do, you dunce,” Mona whispered tearfully.
Albedo chuckled. “Did you see it written in the stars, then?” he asked—a pitiful attempt to lighten the mood. He never was very good at humor.
“Not like this,” Mona murmured, clutching him closer. “Never like this."
She clung to him for just a moment longer, as if he would crumble into dust the moment she let him go. But eventually they came apart, and Albedo found tears rolling down his cheeks as well.
How curious. He hadn’t known he was capable of crying.
But when he realized that he’d never find Master again, never see Klee’s next birthday, never find the truth of the world… it shocked him that he hadn’t burst into tears the moment he recognized the fatal ailment.
“You know the options, don’t you?” Mona asked.
Albedo nodded silently. The only way to naturally cure the flowers was to have your feelings reciprocated… but the only way for the disease to develop in the first place was to fall in deeply unrequited love.
In other words, Sucrose didn’t love him. And if he wanted to live, he would have to change that.
Of course, the other option was to cut the flowers out surgically. A risky procedure, usually reserved for those in the final stages of the disease. Since the flowers are so deeply connected to the patient’s feelings, ripping out the flowers could erase the feelings themselves—or worse, erase their memories of the person they loved.
It was an easy solution. Simple, straightforward, and perfectly logical. If it were anyone else, he would have ripped those blossoms from his chest the first chance he got.
But it couldn’t have been anyone else, could it?
It was Sucrose , and for that reason he could never bring himself to throw away the feelings and the memories he kept so close to his heart. The bond they had built slowly, carefully over the past year was as beautiful and fragile as a crystalfly’s wings, and he would rather throw his most beloved painting off the side of a bridge than shatter it so callously.
“What are you going to do?” Mona asked, pain in her voice. “I’d hate for you to… well…”
“I know,” Albedo said plainly.
Two weeks had already passed, the saccharine taste in his mouth serving as a constant reminder. He had another two, maybe three weeks until the flowers bloomed and asphyxiated him completely.
Would it be better, a part of him wondered, to die?
After all, Albedo was as much of a deadly time bomb as any of Klee’s Jumpy Dumptys. Sooner or later, his body would fail him just as it did Durin, and he’d succumb to the virulent poison that once infected Dvalin himself. The tentative peace in the wake of the Stormterror Incident would snap, and Mondstadt would fall.
These idyllic times were as delicate as a dandelion. Just one puff of breath and every seed would scatter to the winds.
So wouldn’t it be preferable to die a lovesick fool than to die a monster?
“Will you be alright?” Mona whispered, raising a hand to rest on Albedo’s shoulder.
“I will,” Albedo murmured back.
The lie lingered on his tongue long after Mona disappeared, as sickly sweet and nauseating as the syrupy blood in his throat.
Three weeks. Mona had taken to bringing him coffee every morning in his lab, greeting him with a basket of breakfast and his daily horoscope. Jean started outsourcing some of his projects to Sucrose and Timaeus in a feeble attempt to lessen the strain on his body and mind. Lisa, whenever he dropped by the library, offered him a cup of tea and a kind word.
It seemed news of his illness had spread, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. There was no telling if they knew the specifics, but the dark shadows that ringed his eyes and the pallid, pale tinge to his complexion must have given something away.
So when even Eula offered to gather materials for his experiments, Albedo figured it was only a matter of time until his precious assistant found out.
“Mister Albedo,” Sucrose called, heaving a crate through the doorway, “I brought the starsilver. Should we get to work?”
Albedo cleared his throbbing throat, trying to hide the pained whimper that escaped his lips. “Of course,” he replied, stretching on his gloves.
Sucrose set the crate down on the desk, then paused for a moment, eyes downcast.
“Are you ready, Sucrose?”
Sucrose didn’t respond. She stared down at the starsilver, fluffy ears drooping slightly. Something was wrong.
“Sucrose?”
“Are you… sick, Mister Albedo?” she asked softly.
Albedo sighed, setting himself down in a chair. It was inevitable, he supposed. “How did you know?”
He also supposed that inevitability would not soften the blow. Bracing himself for the pain did nothing to dull its sting.
“Mona told me over tea yesterday,” Sucrose murmured. “She told me not to pry… but you know me.”
Albedo chuckled, ignoring the pain that shot through his chest at the movement. “Did she tell you what it was?”
She nodded. “Hanahaki. How long has it been?”
“Three weeks, give or take.”
“Oh, Archons…” Sucrose stumbled from the table to her desk, collapsing into the seat as if she were the sick one. “How much time do you have left?”
“A week… two weeks if I’m lucky. Listen, Sucrose, I’m sorry--”
“Who is it?”
Albedo blinked. “What?”
“Who are you in love with, Mister Albedo?” Sucrose posed the question so innocently, so curiously, as if it were just another one of her experiments. The tears welling up in her eyes suggested otherwise.
He should’ve seen this coming. Sucrose could never resist an untold conclusion, the quiet, seductive pull of the unknown. Always lost in the what-ifs, endlessly chasing the corners of the universe until nothing is hidden from her inquisitive mind.
At first glance, she looks as meek and weak-willed as they come. As the one who loves her, Albedo should have known that she would put up a fight.
“What would you do if you knew?” he asked.
I can never show her the flowers.
“I’d find them, somehow, and I’d bring them to you. If there’s even a 0.01% chance they feel the same, I’d chase them to the ends of the earth,” Sucrose declared. “I-If you’d permit me, Mister Albedo,” she added quickly, just now realizing just how bold she’d been.
“You don’t need to do that, Sucrose,” Albedo said wearily.
“But I will.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I need to,” she insisted, standing from her desk and adjusting her hat. “Now who is it? I can even make it to Liyue Harbor if I hurry.”
“I can’t tell you,” Albedo choked out, feeling the flowers rise in his chest. Not now. Anytime but now.
If she sees them, she’ll know. And when I break apart, I’ll take her heart with me.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” Sucrose cried, exasperated. “I’m trying to save you, Mister Albedo! It’s… It’s just my duty as your assistant!”
Why do you have to say it like that, like you don’t care about me at all?
“I’m not going to make it, Sucrose,” he coughed. “Just… stay with me. Please.”
Sucrose clasped her cape around her shoulders, teal vision shining against her neck. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “But I have to do this. Even if it doesn’t work, even if I waste my time… I need to try.”
“Why?” Albedo asked hoarsely. “Why do you insist on doing this?”
“I can’t lose you too,” Sucrose said quietly, packing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I know it’s selfish… but I don’t want to be alone. Not again.”
She moved towards the doorway, but Albedo weakly caught her sleeve in his trembling grasp. The flowers were more aggressive now, nearly crushing his lungs and forcing their way up his throat.
“Please,” Albedo wheezed, voice rough and desperate. “Stay.”
Sucrose looked back at him, golden eyes welling up with regret. And she turned, breaking from his grip, and flew out the door.
Albedo felt tears in his eyes, then blood on his tongue.
Goddammit.
Kaeya, Jean, Lisa, Venti, Mona, Amber, and Eula had all been dragged to his office, with no luck. Now Sucrose was somewhere in Liyue, tracking down his publishing partner Xingqiu.
Albedo should’ve told her when he had the chance. Now, she might not make it home before he succumbed to the flowers’ grasp.
He was coughing them up nearly thrice a day now--buds, berries, and all. Most of the Knights had seen him hunched over a bucket or trash can by now, coughing and spitting out the sweet blood that spilled from his throat.
Part of him wished Sucrose would come home and save him, but it was impossible. For him to be cured, she would have to love him back. Judging from the way she fled from him at every opportunity, that was simply not an option.
It was as she said-- it was just her duty as his assistant.
Assistant and employer. Nothing more, nothing less.
Except if that were all there was to it, Albedo wouldn’t have these flowers slicing up his chest.
“Albedoooo? Where’d you go?” A cheery voice rang out through the halls, echoing from the solitary confinement room. Albedo quickly wiped the blood from his lips, shoving the bucket under his desk.
By now, Jean had granted him paid leave for his illness. He stayed in the lab anyways--Sucrose’s plants might die without someone to water them regularly.
“Over here, Klee.”
“Oh! Albedo, Albedo, I wanted to show Sucrose this new Jumpy Dumpty blueprint I made, but she wasn’t there. And she wasn’t at her house, and she wasn’t gathering materials either, so Klee came to talk to you,” Klee proclaimed, a little scroll rolled up in her arms proudly.
“Ah. Sucrose is away for now, for--” The itch re-emerged in his throat, and Albedo jolted a little at the sensation. “Research. She’s doing some research in Liyue.”
Klee frowned. “Albedo, are you feeling okay? Ooh, do you need that fever potion Lisa gave me? Remember, it’s two drops in the morning and three drops at night, stirred into some sunsettia juice!”
Albedo nodded passively, fighting the petals that threatened to cut up his already-raw throat. “That sounds lovely, Klee, but I’m not--”
Then the flowers kicked down the door, saccharine syrup plugging his esophagus. Albedo inhaled sharply, then hacked out a flower into the palm of his hand.
A full bloom.
I’m going to die.
Klee’s eyes went wide. “Albedo?”
“Call Barbara,” he choked.
Then the world went black.
Barbara left him with her sincerest condolences and one final song, lying on the infirmary cot to recuperate. Albedo insisted that he didn’t need her song, but he couldn’t deny that the soothing sounds seemed to calm the flowers for a while.
Fainting from lack of oxygen, she explained. A strange blockage in his lungs. As if he wasn’t well aware.
Klee came in a little while later, hugging Dodoco close. Then she laid Dodoco in his arms silently, grimly. Barbara must have told her.
“Albedo… are you really going to leave us?” she asked, big eyes welling up with tears.
Albedo pressed his lips together grimly, and that was all Klee needed. She hugged him tight, squishing Dodoco between them. It was well worth the pain in his chest--the very gesture seemed to wash his world in a thin coat of warmth.
He wouldn’t be there for her on her birthday this year. They couldn’t sing her special song with Miss Alice, or make little geo flowers to hang up across the Knights of Favonius headquarters.
He’d never see Sucrose’s wonderland, the paradise she’d been building all these years. She promised she’d add Cecilias for him, his favorite of Mondstadt’s bountiful flora. He hoped she’d still add Cecilias after he was gone, maybe build him a little memorial inside.
What was he thinking?
What had he been thinking all this time, fooling himself into believing that he wouldn’t mind dying?
As he’d discovered lately, inevitability had no bearing on the pain that it predicted. Seeing his death from a mile away didn’t lessen the blow.
He’d been a fool all this time to think that he could bear it.
“I’m gonna miss you, Albedo,” Klee sniffled. “I’m gonna miss you forever and ever.”
“Thank you, Klee.”
I can’t do this.
Albedo waited with a bouquet of windwheel asters outside the lab for half an hour, eyes searching for hints of mint green and animal ears.
He’d already arranged for the surgery. Tomorrow, he’d rip the sweet flowers from their place in his lungs, and tear Sucrose from where she had burrowed into his heart.
One last day to spend with his assistant. His friend.
His first love.
“Mister Albedo? I-I brought Xingqiu, I already told him about your situation. Please, won’t you give it a…” she trailed off, eyes wandering to the flowers in his hands. “Chance…?”
Albedo cleared his throat. Xingqiu raised an eyebrow, surveying the situation.
“Sucrose. I wanted to talk with you for a moment. Would you come with me to Windrise?” Albedo asked, offering her the bouquet.
“I… of course. Just a moment,” she mumbled.
She escorted Xingqiu to the side, apologizing profusely as she was so wont to do. Albedo smiled faintly--he’d missed her more than words could express.
He would miss her even more tomorrow, though he himself wouldn’t be aware.
One more day.
“M-Mister Albedo, if it’s about Xingqiu, I already sent him a formal apology. This was just one big misunderstanding,” Sucrose stammered, walking along the beaten path.
Albedo observed the area, then sat under the shade of a cuihua tree. “I assure you, Sucrose, this has nothing to do with Xingqiu.”
“And I’m sorry for neglecting my work all this time! I know you have a lot on your plate, and I promise I’ll--”
“Sucrose,” Albedo interrupted. “Please. Sit with me.”
Sucrose meekly settled down, still fiddling with her gloves. Albedo opened his sketchbook, retrieved his pencil from his bag, and started to sketch.
“Mister Albedo… what are you drawing?”
“You,” he replied simply, as if it were obvious. The hair and ears gave it away, didn’t they? And the glasses were unmistakable, there was no way she didn’t recognize the portrait.
“Yes, but… why?”
Albedo sighed and set down his sketchbook. “I have no other choices, Sucrose. I don’t have long left, and I’ve arranged to undergo the flower extraction surgery.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Sucrose exclaimed, face lighting up.
Albedo nodded solemnly. “But there’s a high chance I’ll forget them, and everything I felt for them. So I have to capture you, while I still can.”
Sucrose stared at him for a moment, gears turning in her mind. Then her mouth fell open, blush painting her cheeks. “But… why…?” she murmured hesitantly, almost in disbelief.
Albedo sighed, setting aside his pencil. He plucked a wildflower from the grass, then gently slid it into her hair. His hand brushed against her cheek, warm and soft and everything he’d ever imagined.
This was closer than he’d ever been to Sucrose before, and it was addicting.
Her golden eyes shone in the sunlight, the color of honey and geo and everything good in the world. Her lips were slightly parted, blush-pink and petal-soft. And her hair, the color of springtime, falling in gentle feathers over her precious face and downy ears.
It was a crime, he decided, that he hadn’t made a proper portrait of her before.
“I don’t want to forget you,” Albedo whispered, afraid that if he spoke too loud, he’d shatter the dream he seemed to be living in. “Please don’t blame yourself when I do. It isn’t your fault that you never loved me the way I did you.”
Sucrose’s eyes widened in disbelief.
She backed away. Albedo cursed himself for his social ineptitude. Evidently, he’d made the wrong move.
He lowered his hand, turning back to his sketchbook.
His eyes stung with tears, a sensation he’d just learned was perfectly natural and not a sign of bodily injury. His hand trembled slightly, and he nearly botched his sketch.
He poured all the love in his heart onto his paper, coursing through his pen like ink. Maybe one day, after he forgot, he could glance at the portrait and remember some semblance of the love he once felt, of the girl who once meant everything to him.
Albedo never thought he’d like the perplexing feelings that stirred inside of him, but now he couldn’t bear the thought of losing them.
“You thought… I didn’t like you?” Sucrose murmured.
The flowers loosened.
“Albedo, I’ve loved you forever.”
Albedo jolted from his sketchbook, gazing misty-eyed up at her.
Wait.
“It was just a silly, stupid crush… at least, at first. I-I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same, so I tried to push my feelings aside.” Sucrose laughed hollowly. “And look where that got me.”
She… just…
“S-so don’t ever think, even for a second, that I never felt the same way. Please.”
“You said my name,” Albedo whispered incredulously.
“I what?” Sucrose asked, taken aback.
“You called me by my name. No ‘mister’ or ‘sir.’ Just Albedo,” Albedo said quietly, feeling the flowers loosen their titanium grip in his chest.
Sucrose hesitated, face heating up with a beautiful red.
“I… I suppose I did,” Sucrose said softly, leaning in closer. He could feel her breathing, watch the slow rise and fall of her chest and shoulders, count her eyelashes. She gently grazed his cheek with her thumb, wiping a warm tear from his face.
I think I’m dreaming.
Albedo leaned in and pressed his lips to hers--softly, gently. Just for a moment, before they broke away, breathless.
I’m definitely dreaming.
“How are you feeling?”
Albedo took a deep, deep breath. No flowers, no petals, no syrup. It was like they’d never been there.
“I feel like a newborn,” he said plainly.
Sucrose burst into laughter, burying her face in her hands as she choked on her own giggles.
“What? What is it?” Albedo asked, almost hurt.
“A newborn? ” she asked, out of breath from her wheezing. “Albedo, that’s--”
She said it again.
“What’s so funny?” Albedo protested.
“Did you mean ‘I feel brand new?’” Sucrose offered, still suppressing giggles.
“Ah. I see,” Albedo murmured, a smile poking at his lips. “How foolish of me.”
Sucrose pressed another kiss to his lips, reaching her hand back up to cup his cheek. Albedo felt her smile against him, and slid his hand across to rest against her shoulder.
Gods, he was a fool. A beautiful, lovestruck fool.
“Should we go tell everyone you aren’t dying?” she murmured.
“Let’s go do that.”