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There's beauty in the hunger of flames devouring their prey. It's in the way they lick over whatever surface they aim to set ablaze, in the heat they radiate to keep anyone from interfering with them, and in how quickly they spread. It's in their splutter and hissing and crackling, in all the noises the flames spit out before they die and only ashes remain. There's nothing more beautiful in life than when something (be it an object or a living thing) falls victim to fire and its hunger.
Diluc hasn't ever felt the hunger to mindlessly pursue something with his whole existence. So instead of following his own prey—or passion, that's what most people call it—he follows the flames like a devout disciple, listening to them like a believer would to a prayer. Pursuing fire and capturing its beauty in one single shot is his purpose, or at least that's what he feels at times when the light of a dying sun hits his lens just right.
Diluc is a photographer by trade, but the label disaster photography fits his hobby much better. He's in contact with various newspapers and magazines, all of which are willing to pay ridiculous sums for pictures of devastating catastrophes. During dry spells, he shoots pictures of wildfires almost every night of the week, but often enough, Diluc is the first witness of man-made fires as well. At dusk—when evening bleeds into night and the sky is set ablaze by the burning sun—is when he usually heads out on his hunt. He's developed a sixth sense by now, always scenting the faint smell of smoke and cinder before he even sees the orange flames weaving thin streaks into the sky or hears the menacing roar of destruction.
Whenever he spots a fire, he always makes sure to call the firefighters, because even if he profits from other people's misery, he doesn't want to carry the burden of their lives on his shoulders along with that. It only leaves Diluc a limited amount of time to take his pictures, but it's the right thing to do, so he always does.
Tonight, it's no different. He's already notified the firefighters and now stands atop a hill with a great view on the scene. The building falling victim to the flames tonight is an old warehouse, and even though Diluc has seen a lot of them burn in the past months, there's always a different feeling to it. If his memory serves him right, this warehouse hasn't been used to store away chemicals, so he doesn't worry about being this close to it. Catching a whiff of smoke won't kill him.
Diluc likes taking photos from high places, not just because he has a great view on the fire, but also because he can usually see how much longer it'll take for the firefighters to arrive. When he hears sirens in the distance, he takes it as his cue to leave, takes a few more pictures for good measure and lowers his camera as soon as the fire engine comes into sight. He wants to take one last look at the burning building before he leaves, but something—or rather someone—catches his eye.
With a frown, Diluc leans forward a bit and wonders if the heat is playing tricks on him. Lifting his camera in front of his face again, Diluc searches the ground close to the building through the visor, and to his surprise, there's actually a person down there, staring at the fire. He can't quite make it out, but it looks like the person is laughing.
Blaming it on his fatigue, Diluc concludes that there can't possibly be another person present besides him and turns to leave. After all, he still needs to look through the pictures and decide which one to send to his clients, so he can't waste any time thinking about illusions caused by the heat.
***
When Diluc returns to his flat after his nightly trips, he usually chooses one picture right away to send to the newspaper. It's a matter of efficiency, because in this line of work, working fast gets you the job—which isn't necessarily true for him, seeing as he's about the only person around who goes out every night to take pictures of disasters, but he still likes to think of it that way.
Every Sunday, though, Diluc takes some time to look through all pictures he's taken that week and chooses the best ones to archive. Even though he always photographs the same thing, every fire is different, and (at least to him) it shows. Capturing the flames' allure and excitement takes experience; it takes passion and the will to constantly improve oneself. To him, looking closely at all the pictures he's taken serves as a good learning experience.
And it keeps his mind at ease. Diluc thinks it's quite odd that looking at destruction calms him down to this extent, but at the same time, it makes sense to him. Something about the way that fire burns relentlessly, without stopping as long as it's nurtured, soothes him. The sheer thought of looking into flames is comforting to him.
This time, something feels off. As he keeps going through a few days' worth of pictures, Diluc furrows his brows further and further, staring at the computer screen to figure out what's bothering him. It takes about ten more pictures for him to figure it out: there's someone in the pictures (and consequently on the scene of the fire) who shouldn't be there. The first time he spotted the person, Diluc put the thought aside, because it's something that happens from time to time. He never chooses pictures with people in them for the newspapers and just deletes them automatically, which is probably why he hasn't noticed first.
But this doesn't look like someone who just happened to wander into the picture by chance. Diluc skips to the next day, quickly looking through the pictures in search of the person he unknowingly took so many photos of, and he keeps spotting them. Judging from their build, the person looks like a man around his age, but since he's not the focal point of the picture, it's hard to tell. He looks for a picture that at least shows the man's profile, and as soon as he finds one, zooms in as far as the resolution allows. It's hard to tell his exact expression, but to Diluc, it seems like he's laughing.
Diluc sits up straight, breathes in deeply and pushes the chair away from his desk. He briefly wonders if the man might be a maniac or the arsonist himself, but despite his curiosity, he tries to pay it no mind. What other people did at night wasn't his business. He just has to make sure the man doesn't show up in too many of his pictures from now on.
The next time Diluc takes pictures of a burning warehouse, he spots the mysterious man again. Seeing him in person is quite different from seeing him in the pictures, and much to his dismay, Diluc finds himself actually fascinated by the man. Even from the distance, it's easy to see how much uninhibited joy he feels at seeing the flames, and the way he beams at the destruction in front of him is strangely intriguing.
Diluc hesitates, but since he's already taken enough shots of the fire, he turns his head slightly and takes aim at the man, zooming in to study his face. He looks around his age, maybe one or two years younger, and is quite handsome. He still has that boyish charm in his features—and probably a few screws loose on top of that, but even so, Diluc can't look away. (He won't realise how many close-ups of the man's face he's taken until later that week.) The only reason he can finally tear his gaze away is the sound of approaching sirens. Diluc takes one last look at the fire and the man before he turns around and heads home for the night.
Now that he's aware of the fact that he isn't alone, Diluc automatically looks for the man whenever he's out. Knowing that they enjoy the same thing has ignited a curious feeling of kinship that he doesn't know how to handle yet. It also doesn't hurt that he has the prettiest smile Diluc has ever seen, although laughing at fire like that also makes him seem like a person you normally wouldn't want to get involved with.
Over time, and much to his embarrassment, Diluc finds himself taking more and more pictures of the man. While he begrudgingly acknowledges that bothersome habit he's developed, he only becomes aware of the actual amount of pictures next Sunday. There are two days on which he hasn't seen him, and Diluc remembers how disappointed he was during these nights, which is absolutely ridiculous to him.
Another week flies by, and Diluc has reached a point at which he takes more pictures of the man than the fire. As if this in itself isn't already frustrating enough for him, it could also become an actual problem in the future, because his nightly trips assure a huge part of his livelihood. Few of his day jobs pay as good as disaster photography, and most of them are rather boring on top of that.
And Diluc is a man of action, so he decides that next time he spots the man, he's going to talk to him.
***
Diluc spots him the next night, early after he's arrived at the scene of the fire. With his focus being somewhere else, he's hardly taken any photos of the fire, but he trusts in his ability enough to call it a day and make his way down the hill instead. He walks towards the man with a determination that surprises even himself, fully captivated by the way the man is grinning while staring at the flames.
Each step makes him increasingly nervous. What if he's approaching an actual madman? The person in front of him is regularly setting buildings on fire just for fun. Diluc thinks about the potential dangers too late for his own liking; now, he can't turn back any more, not when there are only a couple of metres between them.
Then, as if he's caught his scent above the smoke, the man suddenly turns around and stares at him with wide blue eyes. At first, there's only surprise written on his face, but his expression changes incredibly fast; he narrows his eyes and his whole body tenses, like he's ready to attack and just waiting for Diluc to make a wrong move.
And Diluc, his heart beating hammering against his ribcage, is captivated, more than the fire right to him has ever managed before. Even with the flames dancing violently just within his reach, he'd still rather look at the man in front of him, who he can tell is just as treacherous as the flames. He's someone who looks beautiful one second and will burn you alive the next. For endless seconds, Diluc can't breathe, because it takes everything for him not to take his camera and snap a picture of the man right there and then.
Diluc hasn't even thought of what to say, and now nothing makes sense to him. He stops and continues to stare, thinking that being honest is probably the best approach in this situation. So he raises his voice to be heard above the fire's cackling and says, “I've seen you on quite a few of my pictures in the past weeks. It's rare to find someone else as fascinated by fire, so I wanted to talk.”
Now that he's said it out loud, it sounds suspicious even to his own ears, no matter how true he knows it to be. Diluc can only imagine how it must sound like to the other man, who looks him over calculatingly. His eyes briefly flicker to the camera hanging around his neck and then back up to his face. Something about the look he gives him makes Diluc feel like he's standing in front of a predator.
“You're a photographer?” the stranger finally asks, his voice simultaneously higher and deeper than he's expected, and Diluc finds that he can only manage to nod. The man ponders for a while before his face breaks into a wide grin. “Wicked! Are you good?”
It's a weird question, one Diluc doesn't have an answer to at the top of his head. Why would he even ask that, when most people would answer yes anyway? Diluc subconsciously scrunches up his nose; he knows he's good at what he does, but he isn't one to brag, so he only shrugs and answers, “Good enough to make a living.”
The quick change in his behaviour is a complete mystery to Diluc. He couldn't blame the man for being alarmed at first, given the unusual circumstances of their meeting, but now he seems just as intrigued. The tension leaves his body as he turns around to face Diluc properly, and the fact that he's now the sole centre of this strange man's attention makes Diluc's fingertips tingle. Too occupied with admiring how nicely the fire's glow frames his hair from behind, Diluc almost misses his next question.
“So you're making money off of other people's misfortune?”
It stings more than he likes to admit, but the man sounds so chipper and light-hearted, he probably doesn't mean it as a slight.
“It's just a hobby,” he explains, immediately scolding himself for sounding defensive. “It's also not a very convincing argument, coming from the arsonist himself.”
His grin tilts dangerously. It's needlessly charming and makes Diluc feel like he's gazing directly into a wildfire. “Witty, aren't you? I don't dislike that.”
“Glad to hear that,” Diluc mutters and rolls his eyes as the other laughs.
“At least we're both making sure nobody's getting hurt. You're the one who's been calling the firefighters every time, right?”
The man looks oddly pleased at Diluc's nod. With the myriad of questions he has, Diluc finds it difficult to choose which one to ask first. (That's always been a problem of his; there are too many things on his mind that he doesn't know how to express properly, so most of the time, he watches his chances to talk about them go by.) He isn't surprised when the man just keeps talking.
“Knew it, you're a good guy. My name's Childe, by the way. Pleasure to meet you, fellow fire enthusiast.” Before Diluc can introduce himself as well, Childe continues. He's obviously the type of person to talk endlessly unless interrupted, but Diluc finds it strangely endearing—especially with the way he's grinning at him. “You're like a moth to the flame, but that's not a good nickname.”
Diluc furrows his brows in confusion. “Why would I need a nickname?”
“Because I didn't tell you my real name, either. More mysterious that way, isn't it?”
While he doesn't agree, Diluc knows better than to say something about it. Instead, he patiently waits for Childe to think of a name, eager to know what his first impression of him is. In the distance, he can hear the faint sound of sirens, signalling his time to leave. For the first time since he started going out at night, he's willing to throw all caution to the wind if it means making this moment last longer.
Suddenly, Childe's head snaps back up and he smiles brightly at him.
“Oh, I know!” Diluc stands perfectly still as Childe moves towards him. He touches his shoulder and walks right past him, winking at him before he appears into the night. “Until next time, firefly!”
Unable to say anything in return, Diluc simply stares after Childe, trying to process what just happened. For a moment, he almost runs after him, the fickle promise of a night spent with an arsonist sounding too sweet to ignore. Then he hears the sirens again, too close for his liking this time, and heads back home instead.
***
They fall into a rhythm quickly after their first meeting. Even if they don't always talk or meet face to face, they make a point of acknowledging each other's presence. Diluc tries to spot Childe before he takes the first pictures of any fire (to make sure he doesn't show up on too many pictures, is what he tells himself, but he knows he's lying to himself), and Childe stops looking at the flames before him to wave at whatever high place Diluc is photographing from.
Whenever Diluc looks through his camera's visor, he can see Childe smile at him, and it makes him feel unsettlingly warm. It's a smile too beautiful for someone who sets fire to things just to watch them burn, but every time they meet like this, he finds himself caring less and less for that.
Sometimes, long before the firefighters' sirens put an end to their meetings, Childe strikes poses for him. Diluc rolls his eyes, then takes a picture of him anyway, silently ashamed that he's already created a folder on his computer just for photos like these. On rare occasions, one of them leaves his spot to meet up with the other and talk for a few precious minutes. Diluc learns that Childe hardly ever has the time to go out on Tuesdays or Thursdays, because that's when he looks after his siblings, and Diluc tells him about interesting shoots or his most annoying clients.
Tonight, Diluc heads down the small hill he's been taking pictures from, his steps getting quicker the closer he gets to Childe, who seems to be waiting for him already. As always, he's greeted with a smile so bright it makes Diluc wonder whether it's Childe's default facial expression or if he's truly happy to see him.
Once he's within earshot, Diluc gives a small wave as a greeting and points at his camera. “Want to see how ridiculous you look when you jump about like that?”
“It's called posing, firefly, and you should be more appreciative of it,” Childe mock lectures him. He gives a dramatic sigh and comes to a halt next to Diluc, looking over his shoulder at the camera's display. Diluc prays that the flames of the burning building hides how his cheeks still turn red whenever he hears his nickname.
Just like any other time Childe is standing this close to him, Diluc needs to remind himself to stay focused. There's something about the other's presence that makes his heart race. He shows him all the pictures he's taken of him that night, quietly excited at all of Childe's little reactions, his small gasps and silent laughs, or the way he huffs whenever the shots have ended up less graceful than he intended.
Suddenly, Childe lets out an audible gasp and points at the display. “That looks super cool! I love the way you captured that pose!”
“Really?”
“Of course! I look like one of the superheroes my little brother loves so much.”
He sounds so genuinely delighted that Diluc speaks quicker than he can think his words through. “If you want to, I can print it out for you.”
Once he realises what he said, it's already too late to take it back. Childe blinks at him in surprise, then starts laughing.
“That's sweet of you, but I'd rather my brother doesn't know what I'm doing at night.”
Diluc feels his cheeks burn even brighter. He could've thought of that himself if he hadn't been so eager to do Childe a favour, but he doesn't seem to mind. Childe never seems to dwell on things for long and forgives easily, at least with Diluc. Then again, he's never said anything to insult him, so his impression might not be completely accurate. While he thinks of something else to say, a thought crosses Childe's mind.
“Which reminds me, I saw your pictures in the newspaper the other day. You're really good at what you're doing. Must've been a lot of work to reach this level.” Childe cocks his head to one side and observes him carefully. Diluc can't tell what face he's making right now, but it must be different from usual, because Childe's voice is laced with barely concealed worry when he asks, “What? Did I say something wrong?”
Quite the contrary; Diluc hardly receives honest praise for his work. He's used to people telling him how talented he is, but no one recognises the work and time he puts into getting better. Having someone so blatantly acknowledge his effort makes him flustered.
“Most people think it's talent that gets an artist this far, not hard work. I was just surprised, that's all,” he mumbles, trying to put his discomfort into words and hoping to change the topic.
With a huff, Childe crosses his arms, almost as if he's offended on Diluc's behalf. “Of course it takes time and effort to become this good at something! It's not like I became a pro at martial arts overnight, either. Take me, for example: The way I handle a spear might look natural, but it actually takes a lot of work to make it seem like that.”
At first, Diluc thinks he's misheard. On second thought, though, he isn't even surprised that someone who sets things on fire (and with an athletic build like that) also has experience with martial arts. Still, he can't help but stare at Childe blankly.
“You're joking, right?”
“No?”
In his genuine confusion, Childe suddenly looks a lot younger. It's rather cute, Diluc thinks (this time, he manages to keep his thoughts to himself) and gives a short chuckle. He grins at Childe, a challenging undertone to his voice. “Why don't you show me some martial arts moves next time then? I'd love to take a picture of you challenging the fire to a fight.”
It takes Childe only a heartbeat to recover and return his grin. “Sure, anything for you!”
***
Fire is a fickle thing, impossible to plan with and arbitrary by nature. Most of the time, Diluc arrives at the perfect time to take pictures—by some odd twist of fate, as if he's somehow favoured by the flames—but even he's too late at times. Tonight is one of these nights. He hurries up the hill, out of breath from running all the way, and frantically searches for Childe through the camera's visor. When he doesn't find him, he curses under his breath. Diluc tries to tell himself that there's no need to be disappointed, that Childe is probably watching his siblings since it's the weekend, but it doesn't make him feel better.
Since the building has almost completely burned down anyway, Diluc can't even muster the motivation to take pictures of the fire, even though seeing dying flames like this is quite rare. He sighs and turns around to leave, only to nearly bump into Childe. Diluc stumbles back and stares at him in surprise.
Childe's chuckle is deeper than usual. It makes him shiver. “Were you looking for me?”
Diluc scolds himself for how slowly he's processing the situation. He's still not fully over his disappointment, and seeing Childe stand in front of him like this, all cocky grin and warm gaze, makes it hard for him to concentrate. It takes a few seconds before Diluc regains his composure and answers, “Someone has to make sure you don't set yourself on fire.”
His treacherous heart flutters as Childe laughs, but something feels different tonight. Diluc can't put his finger on it; he's vaguely aware that it's hidden in the insecurity he spots in Childe's eyes for the first time, or how he hesitates just the slightest bit before he speaks again.
“I've been thinking,” Childe starts, and his nervousness is like electricity in the air. “We've been hanging out for quite a while now, but it's a shame that we hardly get the chance to talk properly.”
Life has taught him not to get his hopes up, and yet Diluc finds his eyes glued to Childe's lips. He studies his face closely and finds himself falling for him all over again. The flutter of his eyelashes against his freckled skin, how he softly bites his bottom lip, how he tries to keep himself from fidgeting with the hem of his shirt; all of it is so subtle, but Diluc absorbs every new reaction.
At last, Childe straightens up, looks him straight in the eyes and—with a voice too loud for a moonless night like this—says, “Say, firefly, would you mind taking some pictures at my little brother's birthday party next weekend? We won't be setting anything on fire, but it's going to be pretty lit anyway.”
For a moment, Diluc forgets how to breathe. He feels a smile tug at his lips.
“Sure, I'm free,” he says, both scared and delighted at the warmth spreading through him.
Relief washes over Childe's face, completely ridding it of any hesitation. His eyes sparkle with excitement. “Cool! What are your rates?”
“You don't have to pay me. Just go out with me in return.”
Childe is just as surprised at his sudden boldness as Diluc himself, but he recovers a lot quicker. His face splits into a grin; not his usual wide grin which rivals the sun's brightness, but a subtle, more defying one. Even his voice sounds huskier than Diluc has ever heard before.
“Think you can handle me longer than just a few minutes every night?”
“If you keep talking too much, I just need to find a way to shut you up,” Diluc answers, his own voice just as husky, because despite his heart threatening to break free from his chest, he'd never go back on his word.
Childe hums, satisfied with his answer, and closes the distance between them until he's standing so close that Diluc has to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact. He thinks he sees Childe's hand twitch and almost lets out a frustrated groan when it remains at his side instead of touching him.
“How about I'll light you the brightest fire you've ever seen?” Childe asks, his blue wildfire eyes the only thing Diluc wants to look at for the rest of his life.
Before he loses all common sense to the comforting smell of cinder and adventure Childe emits, he responds, “We can't commit arson on our first date.”
“Why not? It'd be pretty on brand, don't you think?”
Diluc wants to roll his eyes at him, but he's too distracted by Childe's laugh and the feeling of a warm arm around his shoulder. He's sure his cheeks are burning hotter than any fire ever could as Childe leans closer, his breath ghosting over his ear, his whisper a promise of flames yet to lick across his skin.
“If it means I get to have you all to myself, I don't mind burning down the whole city.”
A shudder of excitement runs through Diluc's body. He wraps his arm around Childe's waist and pulls him closer, halfway expecting to burn himself where their bodies touch. When they both start laughing—two maniacs against the backdrop of a burned down building—Diluc wonders if, after all this time of capturing the flames' beauty, he'll finally find out what it means to be in love with fire itself.