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There is a surprise waiting for him in Angel’s Share.
His birthday isn’t exactly public knowledge. He is blessed with having staffs that are graciously tight-lipped, full of respect and tact; if any regular patrons who are used to see him only saw Charles, or any business partners or wine guild members had to meet Elzer in his stead his excuse of personal matters have been well-secured. Adelinde’s skills in diverting the scarce Dawn Winery visitors’ attention are also not to be questioned. Still, word does travel, and he is unwittingly one of the town’s most consistent topic of gossip, so Diluc is fairly certain at the very least one-third of the population knows it’s Crepus Ragnvindr’s death anniversary. But not that it’s his birthday, not really.
So, no, his birthday isn’t widely known, but that it is his father’s death anniversary is a little bit of a public knowledge. The amount of people who knows—or remembers—the date overlaps isn’t many, most of them knights, and he has grown out of contact with most. So naturally, the amount of people brazen enough to prepare a surprise out of all things is easily countable in one hand. In one finger .
Granted, Diluc knows it’s not going to be an obnoxious surprise. He’s somewhat confident that he’s mellowed out with the years, no longer as haunted with the past of what happened on the day. Has spent the last two birthdays with the very person who had revealed to him one of the most ill-timed confession four years ago—and that is the person brazen enough to prepare a surprise for his birthday—or, a get-together, rather.
Kaeya has actually asked him in advance to have dinner in Angel’s Share—in his classic infuriatingly roundabout way of talking—and that Lumine and her travel companion will join them. Apparently, they met when Kaeya had some business to tend to in Sumeru, and Diluc won’t lie, he’d be glad to catch up with the Traveler. At most Kaeya would likely ask for Venti to sing his poems or ask Rosaria to join for drinks after they’re done.
Still, it daunts Diluc a little to face this modest surprise. (Having your Archon sing at your birthday is a pretty ridiculous notion, but Kaeya doesn’t know that.)
Kaeya had bid him farewell after they paid respects to his father’s grave, and Diluc lingered a little more until he decides to go on a little walk before joining Kaeya later. After all, there’s still a bit of time until sundown, and there’s almost no better place to enjoy the Land of Wind’s late afternoon breeze than the statue at Windrise. That those are the words of someone he has always held close to heart is neither here nor there, though.
When Diluc sees her kneeling alone in front of the statue, he wonders if Kaeya has told Venti of his birthday and such is why he gets this blessing—of meeting Jean.
He slows his walk to not bother her, but Jean, astute and sharp with her senses, already stands up and turns around to see who’s coming. Diluc awkwardly raises a hand as Jean gives him a small smile.
“Don’t let me bother you,” he tells her, standing a little away from the stone-steps laden with grass, idly watching her pat the knees of her pants to get rid of the dirt.
“You don’t,” Jean shakes her head, and he takes it as a cue to walk closer. “What brings you here?”
“Just wanted to go for a walk,” he says, and adds, “and I remember someone saying while Cape Oath has the most breathtaking sunrises, it’s Windrise that has the most beautiful sunset, even when you can’t actually see the sun.”
Jean blinks in slight surprise, though really, he wonders why she would be surprised that he takes her words to heart. There is a tint of the reddening sky reflecting on her face. She looks radiant; he always thinks she does, even on days she isn’t. “And the breeze,” she says quietly, moving to sit on the cobbled steps and patting the spot beside her to beckon him, “it’s the best here, too.”
“It is.”
“On good days like this it feels like Barbatos is blessing me personally,” Jean confides, and Diluc can’t help but ruin it a little by laughing. He’d feel bad if not for the pretty blush spreading on her face, all while the wind gently plays with her hair. It’s been years, but to Diluc, not a lot of sunrises nor sunsets can compare with the sight. “W-why’d you laugh at me? Do I sound that silly?”
“Well, if you wanted him to bless you personally, I know where Barbatos can be found most nights,” he points out, “he’s probably even there, right now.”
Jean winces a little, but grins nonetheless. “Yeah, it doesn’t get any less weirder, does it, knowing your Archon’s mortal disguise,” she shakes her head, “I don’t know how you do it, meeting him quite often like that.”
Diluc shrugs. “The knowledge is grounding. Quite literally the only thing keeping me from throwing him out of the bar everytime I see his face. His tab is growing rather ridiculous.”
There’s a sudden stronger breeze, then, before Jean can answer—one that ruffles their hair and nearly blows off the cape around her shoulders. Diluc has to slightly cover his face. “Don’t say that! Look what you made him do. Barbatos, forgive him—oh, dear Archons, haven’t we gotten too casual?”
“I doubt he seriously minds,” Diluc says, half-heartedly fixing his hair just so it looks mildly presentable, and then, with a bravery that seemingly comes from his mild act of blasphemy, reaches over to help Jean fix hers, tucking the stray hairs behind her ears as she fixes her ponytail and her cape. It relieves him that she doesn’t flinch away.
Jean glares at him, even when his fingers linger a little too long on her hair. Diluc is unaware that he’s grinning. “Don’t push your luck,” she chides, reaching for the inside of her cape, “I’d hate to see you get cursed on your birthday.”
Diluc blinks, taken aback as she hands him a sealed letter. She holds it tighter instead of releasing it, though, when he’s about to take the letter. “Don’t—don’t open it now.”
He contemplates on arguing, but eventually relents when she releases the letter, slipping it into the inside pocket of his coat, atop his heart. “Alright,” he says mildly, watching Jean’s cheeks burn and feeling his heart beats a little faster. “Thank you, Jean.”
“Happy birthday, Diluc,” she tells him, softly, like an afterthought. “I, um, I actually meant to drop it at Angel’s Share on my way back to the headquarters, so it’s—it’s a nice coincidence to run into you here.”
Silently, he thanks Barbatos for that, for as someone not quite pious as he, he’s still certain it’s Him who’s worked his higher powers to lead the two of them here, sitting by the foot of His statue, blessed with his breeze warmed by the sunset. The sky is a slew of painted colors, now, but Diluc only knows because heʼs seeing it on Jeanʼs clear blue-gray eyes, because her blushed face glows with the setting sun, because her hair gleams golden bathed in the sunset light. He can stay here forever only looking, and heʼd save the memory as for once, a blessed birthday gone by. As the yearʼs most beautiful sunset even amongst Cape Oath sunrises.
“Shouldnʼt you go?” Jean asks as she turns her attention away from the skies and to him. Her eyes are like glass, Diluc thinks, still ensnared in the unbroken spell of her lovely sight. “I think you have people waiting.”
“You knew?”
“Kaeya told me,” she says with an apologetic smile, “Iʼm afraid I already declined, though. I know getting surprised can be a little… overwhelming, no matter how small. But he only ever means well—you know that best.”
It makes his heart warm, the way she still knows. Dare he say, he can still understand her too—that even after a long time, unsaid things between them remain the same.
“I do,” he begrudgingly agrees, “in that case, heʼd understand if they have to wait more.”
Jean tilts her head a little to give him a questioning stare, linking her fingers atop her knees. “Why?”
“Because Iʼve made you wait even longer,” he tells her slowly, finally, after letting her simple question rest a little while in silence between them.
Jean pauses to digest his words, and when she does, her eyes widen—if only for a fraction. He can almost watch the way her blood rushing to her cheeks as she slowly blushes, almost scarlet even in the warm light. She gives him a smile that is wistful. “I donʼt mind,” she says, “itʼs not as if Iʼm going anywhere, you see.”
“I do mind,” Diluc reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear, willing his fingertips to not tremble as they barely run along her cheek, jaw, down until he can cup half of her face. “Iʼd like to not keep you waiting any longer.”
Her quietness worries him, then. Diluc wonders—has he been too presumptuous? “Of course, only if—“
Jean takes his hand and laces her fingers with his, her sky-reflecting eyes earnestly searching in his ruby own. She seems to struggle to form her sentence, parting her lips only to close them together again, and Diluc knows that this time it’s his turn to wait. It’s only fair. He lets her figure out how to respond to this whim of a confession, patient as she fiddles with their twined fingers as she thinks.
She takes a deep breath. “Do you mean it?” Jean asks him quietly, and if he tries hard enough he’d be able to hear the small shake in her voice.
“Yes,” he surely says; and while he has once made her wait despite what he’d said, he knows he’d do anything to keep his promise this time.
“I—“ she hesitates, “I have a city to run—and in that, I have a lot to learn. It’s my duty, among many others.”
Always so earnest and dutiful; enough to be able to be so patient to put off any and perhaps all her personal wishes and desires. Sometimes it amazes him how much, yet how little she’s changed. “I know,” he gently tells her. It’s a small price to pay to be second to the city he also loves, really, for all the waiting he’s made her done. “I don’t mind. I’ll be here, beside you and your duties.”
The smile Jean gives him is soft—but it slowly radiates out of her and into him, causing Diluc to smile back in kind. She squeezes his hand, and leans over to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, shyly averting her eyes to where she holds his hand on her lap. “Thank you,” she quietly says, “today feels like my birthday instead of yours, somehow.”
Diluc sighs slightly at that. “I missed a lot of timings, didn’t I?”
Jean lifts her face, smile still as radiant, as sweet. Even with how the sky has slowly lost its light and colors to the night. “I told you I never minded waiting.”
”But I do.”
He can’t help it; he reaches out with his other hand to cradle her face—she’s warm, gentle, and more beautiful than any missed sunsets he’s never seen. Diluc leans in, and lets his lips touch hers like how he’s always wanted to. It’s reassuring to feel her respond in kind.
It’s gotten dark, and the breeze has slowly lost the warmth of the sun, though its caress is still just as gentle as he feels it move between the strands of her hair by his fingertips. Still, Diluc continues to kiss Jean as long as she still answers to his lips—he’s made her wait a long time, after all.
Others can stand just a little longer.