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The curtains are drawn.
Zhongli learns that Diluc only draws the curtains in two circumstances - at night, and when he has a migraine.
It’s late in the afternoon, late enough that the sun casts golden shadows on everything it touches, her soft Midas’ touch making the world glow, as if encasing Mondstadt in Cor Lapis. However, Diluc doesn’t seem privy to such beauty, rather, his head is deep in his pillow, buried there in a futile attempt at keeping his migraine at bay.
Zhongli knocks gently on the door, once, twice, to signal his entrance into Diluc’s quarters, and with a mmfph of permission after, makes his way to sit on the bed. He positions himself next to Diluc, softly petting his head.
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Mmphf.” An undignified grunt answers him, one that is unbecoming of one of the most influential businessmen in all of Teyvat.
“Ah… I guess not.” A sigh of sympathy leaves Zhongli and he continues to massage the head underneath masses of fiery hair. They sit in silence for a while, and it’s nice. Not nice , Zhongli wishes that Diluc wasn’t subjected to intense pain every few weeks or so, but here, in the quiet, he hopes that he is enough. “Come… sit up. Let me aid you.”
With another grunt, Diluc complies, but not without pausing for a second to wince at the pain the vertigo causes. Zhongli rubs circles on his back until he feels better - or at least good enough to turn his back to Zhongli. Starting with strong squeezes at the base of Diluc’s neck, he works his way along broad shoulders, thumbs moving over the contour lines of tense muscle, slowly working the knots down until they feel tender.
Diluc hisses when Zhongli hits a particularly tight spot, but instead of moving away, Zhongli works at it even harder. Diluc lets him.
“Perhaps I should train you in the art of wielding a spear, rather than that heavy claymore of yours… Perhaps you’d be less tense…,” Zhongli mutters and Diluc makes a noise of protest. “Ah… you know I’m just teasing you. I know I couldn’t pry you away from your beloved weapon even if I tried.”
Diluc lolls his head to one side, and Zhongli understands. His hands make their way over, squeezing and rubbing circles into his neck. It’s… well. There’s something to be said about understanding your partner’s body, to know them so well you know where to put your hands and how much pressure to use and for how long and where to go next… but Zhongli can’t put it into words right now. All he can think of now is I wish the world wasn’t so harsh on you, and I would rid the world of everything that ails you if I could, even if that included me, and I want to take care of you, I want you to know that you are loved and that even if it takes work, even if my hands are sore, even if my arms ache, you are worth it worth it worth it. He doesn’t say any of that though. Instead he presses the words into Diluc’s body, hoping that any of them will absorb into his skin, or soothe his pain.
At some point, Zhongli pauses his ministrations to grab a small pot of herbal balm from their bedside drawers. It’s a special concoction from Liyue, a centuries old remedy for bodily pain. Zhongli orders a few tubs monthly from Bubu pharmacy, mostly for Diluc’s sake. Initially, when Zhongli first brought up using the balm to help with the migraines, Diluc approached it with a certain hesitation - whether it was a reluctance to be touched by the other man or lack of knowledge of potential side effects, Zhongli wasn’t sure.
It had taken months for Diluc to feel comfortable with letting Zhongli do anything for him. In particular, the small domestic things, like making him a cup of tea to turning the lights off at night. He used to scowl and protest, at most Zhongli would get a grunt of acknowledgement. (It was strange, apparently relating information on Treasure Hoarder sightings he’d overheard some passing Knight discussing was met with a grateful smile, but when he tried to help Diluc put his coat on, his hands were battered away.)
But like the rocks and mountains of Liyue, Zhongli was stubborn, unwavering in his resolve. Little by little, he made sure that Diluc allowed himself to be taken care of.
(“Why?” Diluc had asked one night.
“Hm?” Zhongli looked up from their hands.
“Why… do you go through such effort to… take care of me?” Diluc had furrowed his eyebrows, obviously struggling to say the words out loud.
Reaching up, Zhongli had used his fore finger and thumb to smoothen out his eyebrows. “It’s not effort. Not when it’s you.”
Diluc had gone silent then, looking down.
“And I would hardly call rubbing cream into your hands effort ,” Zhongli had continued quietly. “You forget, dear, I have moved mountains with these same hands, thrown lances which ends have become islands, created Mora, and yet, despite all that, the most wondrous thing I have ever held in my hands… has been you.”
Diluc stopped his complaints after that.)
Zhongli rubs the balm on the temples of Diluc’s forehead, uses his knuckles to press down on the length of his neck, rubbing circles at the base. Repeats the motions, until Diluc’s breathing evens out, not longer letting out labored sighs every few minutes.
“Feeling better, love?” Zhongli asks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
"Mmm. Yes, thank you,” Diluc mumbles. He moves to press a kiss to Zhongli’s cheek.
“There is no need to thank me,” Zhongli reminds kindly. “Would you like to sleep now?”
“That sounds nice,” Diluc says, and then flops onto his pillow.
Chuckling, Zhongli grabs a piece of ribbon that was lying on the bedside table, and tenderly ties Diluc’s hair into a loose ponytail - just enough to keep his hair out of his face as he sleeps.
“Goodnight, dear,” Zhongli whispers, and they both lay in bed together.
Maybe the migraine will come back tomorrow, maybe it won’t go away for days, weeks, months, or maybe this is the last of them, or maybe it’ll return monthly, as it usually does, but Zhongli promises himself that he will be there to massage the pain away, until there is no more.