Chapter Text
Cyno was going to die, and he was okay with that.
He’d been coughing up withered roses and Cecilias for weeks now, and his time in Sumeru and Teyvat as a whole was drawing to a close. He was going to die. He had…he wasn’t actually sure. It might be a week. It might only be three days. Even just pulling himself up the stairs towards the door, he could feel his lungs seizing and thorns scratching at his throat.
Pausing right beside the door, Cyno took a few breaths. He buried his fingers in his shirt. The Hanahaki—he knew it was Hanahaki, he’d gone to Inazuma with Lumine before and learned about it there with some of Lumine’s friends, Albedo and Xingqiu. Something about a “research trip”? He wasn’t sure, but it had helped. Anyways, the Hanahaki had left him barely able to eat. Even before the disease settled in his lungs, he had always been on the leaner side. After it had started to affect him, though…he had begun to lose weight rapidly without being able to eat. Tighnari would already be worried enough just seeing him. When Cyno told him what was going on…
It hurt, but he already knew that he didn’t have any chance. He’d pushed it off for too long, and Tighnari would know, and—well, maybe Cyno was being stupid, but he knew there just wasn’t any point. He was done.
Cyno had had a good life.
He would be okay.
Steadying himself, Cyno rubbed his chest over his heart. Then, he reached for the door.
It opened before he had the chance to even knock.
Tighnari looked at him, a frown already on his face as he looked Cyno up and down. “Your walk is different. What happened?” He demanded, already guiding Cyno inside to his couch with a gentle hand. Following him, Cyno bit the inside of his cheek. Tighnari sat him down, hurriedly went to fetch some tea. “Cyno?”
“I—we need to talk.” Cyno mumbled, shifting. He’d prepared for this. He’d already let some of his Matra know, went to Nahida and warned her as to what was about to happen. She had known, she had looked at him with pity. Her assistant, Wanderer, had frowned and looked him up and down in confusion. It was like he wanted to ask more questions but didn’t quite know how to do so. Whatever questions he had, either he asked Nahida, or he didn’t ask them at all. As it was, Cyno had drafted up letters to Kaveh, to Alhaitham, to his father.
Unfortunately, they were all away.
Whenever the last time he talked to them was, that would be it. He would never talk to them again. Alhaitham and Kaveh had taken some students out to the desert. His father was away in Mondstadt visiting with Lisa at some sort of conference. As for Nilou, for Dehya, Candace and Layla and Faruzan and Lisa and Collei—Archons, Collei. She was going to hate him. He’d drafted letters for her, kept throwing them away. He didn’t even know if he would be able to come up with a letter, or if he would have to find some other way to say goodbye. She was doing some training with Candace and Dehya out in the desert, and he…didn’t have the chance to get there. If he tried, he would die somewhere along the way.
Suddenly, Tighnari was sitting in front of him, touching his hands. “Cyno?” He asked, weakly. Blinking, shaking himself and trying to ignore the blur in his eyes, Cyno met his gaze.
Concern flashed across Tighnari’s face.
Swallowing, Cyno looked back down to where their hands were tangled together. The smell of lavender tea hung heavy in the air. “I…I’m sick.”
Tighnari pulled back slightly. “Well, I’m sure—”
“No, Nari, I—” Taking a breath, Cyno gripped his hands tighter. “I’m not…going to get better. I can barely eat, breathing and moving around has been getting harder, I went to Nahida and she couldn’t help—” He looked up and cracked a smile. It was weak. He knew it, Tighnari knew it, “I just—didn’t have the heart to leave without being able to say goodbye in person to someone else.”
Tighnari shook his head, ears flattening and pinning back. “No, that’s not—you’re not dying.” He pulled away, getting up and hurrying to one of the boxes full of medicinal plants and books. Picking up a thick, leatherbound tome, he started flipping through it. “There has to be something I can do. What’s the disease? No, wait—what are your symptoms? I’m sure there’s something—”
“Nari—”
“—you’ve been wearing more clothes than usual, are you getting chills? I should have realized—when did this happen? How did I miss this—have you tried, uh, ah, I can’t remember the name why can’t I remember the name—”
“—Nari—”
Tighnari almost threw the book down, grabbing another one and flipping through it. “Are you feverish? I’m sure I can—”
As he kept rambling, Cyno got up and walked over to him, fighting back the own painful claws in his chest and throat. They weren’t from the Hanahaki. Ears still pinned, Tighnari didn’t even hear him, didn’t notice him approaching until Cyno reached out and took the book from him. “Tighnari,” he whispered.
Jade-brown eyes flicked up to meet his own, panic splitting Tighnari’s usually calm features like cracks on pottery. Holding his gaze, Cyno smiled at him painfully.
“I can’t let you die.” Tighnari croaked out. His voice cracked on the first syllable, wavering on every word. Reaching up, Cyno touched his cheek, and Tighnari leaned into the touch, squeezing his eyes shut and mouth twisting. A low, shaky sound left him. His features were all twisted. When he exhaled, it shuddered. “Don’t die. I can’t lose you, too.”
“It’s okay, Nari.” He whispered. Shaking his head, Tighnari grabbed onto Cyno’s hand and held it tightly. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not.”
“Maybe. But I’m happy with my life,” Cyno replied. “I had a good life. I don’t have any regrets.”
Choking on a sob, Tighnari shook his head. This time, he pulled away. His eyes opened, he studied Cyno. He was gasping for breath, shaking his head as he dragged a hand through his hair and grasped at the strands like he was trying to find a lifeline. Helpless, Cyno looked at him as Tighnari glanced out at the windows. He shook his head again, stepping back.
“Nari—”
“No, I—I’m not letting you die, Cyno.” Turning, he ran from the hut. Cyno sat there, helpless.
In his chest, something seized.
Cyno choked on his own breath. The world went white-hot with pain. Gasping, he grabbed for his throat, his chest. No. Not now, not—I haven’t been able to write a letter for Collei—I don’t have anything planned. “Nar—” He threw himself upright, stumbled. The world spun and flipped. The ground rushed up to meet him.
His face collided with the floor, cheek cracking loudly. With a gasp, Cyno jolted. He reached for the door. Vision blurring, he cried out. It may not have even gotten very far. But, hopefully, he was praying—Tighnari could hear him. Maybe. He had to pray he would listen to him. Just maybe. Please, Nari.
Please.
Thundering footsteps echoed on the floor against his cheek. Wheezing, Cyno coughed. There was blood on his throat. On the floor around him. When had he started coughing? Was he coughing up flowers? He smelled something sickly and sweet and—he needed to—Tighnari—
“Cyno?” Tighnari’s voice wavered. Maybe it was Cyno’s hearing, or maybe it was his voice. Shaking, Cyno blinked. Tears ran down his face, his cheeks and eyes were hot and burning. “Cyno, no—no, Cyno, come on, stay with me.”
He was begging. Rasping, maybe wheezing—he probably sounded awful, this wasn’t how he planned on Tighnari seeing him last, the poor man would live with this forever—Cyno reached out with shaking fingers. His hand brushed Tighnari’s cheek again. Tighnari curled his fingers around it, eyes wide and mouth moving. Whatever he was saying, Cyno couldn’t hear it. Gently, he slipped his thumb down, brushed at the corner of his lower lip. Tighnari’s eyes widened a little more, his breath caught in his chest.
I’m really sorry, Nari. This really isn’t how I wanted things to go. He thought. He didn’t have the words to say it, could hear the ragged, high-pitched whine of his own breaths. If he was getting any air at all, then he would be lucky.
His eyes searched Tighnari’s, he sucked in another breath and tried to—