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Breaking into the Dawn Winery is a fairly simple feat.
All it takes is a seasoned trespasser sneaking through entangled grapevine shadows and behind short cobblestone walls till they arrive at a distinctly hidden corner within the manor’s expansive exterior. From there, the trespasser simply needs to scale the castle’s walls, heading up with a silent grace as they execute practiced motions of grabbing onto winding vines and stepping atop protruding bricks till they can jump onto the second floor where a particular set of windows overlooks the winery yard.
A particular set of windows that is always left wide open only on the nights the trespasser intends to encroach the winery grounds.
Of course, the winery’s staff paying no heed to the heavily rehearsed spectacle plays no role in the facility of the crime.
The first time Childe had “trespassed” the Dawn Winery, his life had nearly ended at the hands of Diluc’s head maid, Adelinde, her unassuming presence turning her invisible, allowing her to go unnoticed as she sneaked right behind him and struck directly at his vital point. Childe had perceived the attack a second too late, and had she not halted her movements right before the blade pierced through his skin, it would have been the closest to death he would have ever been in life.
“Master Diluc is awaiting you in the study,” she had said, her tone frigid and stale.
“Do you personally welcome all your guests in this manner?” Childe had whispered back, head reeling from the protective adrenaline flooding his senses. Carefully, as not to move into the dagger, he fished through his pockets, searching for the handwritten invitation that had brought him to the manor in the first place.
“Consider this a warning,” Adeline had stated back, pulling the blade away swiftly. “If you dare try to bring any harm to the young master, I promise you, we will all ensure that you meet your end almost instantly.”
Childe’s heartbeat had accelerated at the implications underlying the threat. He had finally managed to grasp the letter successfully but was interrupted yet again before he could have presented it to Adelinde.
“Go ahead,” Adelinde had said as she retreated into a much more kind, innocuous posture. “Do not make him wait any longer.” And with that, she had silently disappeared amongst the grapevines.
That threat is and of itself is one of the main reasons behind why Childe continues to “trespass” the Dawn Winery through his sidelined and backward path. That threat largely influences the way in which he remains wary of the workers tending to their roles across the breadth of the impermeable fortress. Because were it anyone else, they would never live to tell the tale of a “successful” infiltration of the manor.
Childe is the one exception, for now, at least. Out of complete and utter respect, he has come to prefer not running into Adelinde during his visits. (Not that he’s scared of her or anything, though if he were to be, he would stress heavily that it is purely out of respect.)
The other, arguably more primary reason is Diluc. In each invitation he sends Childe, he requests the performance to continue and always details the ideal trespassing path out, making sure to highlight any change, big or small, to the instructions between each letter. It is a request that Childe is happy to comply with (as are nearly all of Diluc’s requests), fully cognizant of the complications that would arise for the both of them if word about one of the Fatui Harbingers repeatedly welcoming himself to the Dawn Winery through the front doors were to get out. In the event of any rumor spreading, the “security breach” would serve as an easy cop out for the both of them.
Childe wraps his hand around the ledge of the window and swiftly heaves himself up. He steps through the frame, and effortlessly slides past the curtains. They fan out, welcoming the cool night air alongside Childe as he finally enters the study, landing on his knee.
Childe lets out a low whistle, visibly relaxing as he stands up, rolling back his shoulders and cracking his neck. “Your staff is impressively on alert,” he starts immediately with a lighthearted joke, eyes darting directly for the desk in the middle of the study, fully expecting to fall upon a fiery glare that glimmers beautifully in the moonlight. “But even after all this time, they’re still not good enough to stop m—”
Diluc is hunched over his desk, cheek pressed against his arm as his mangled, flaming mane splays across the papers that are messily strewn across the large wooden desk. There are minor signs of efforts at organization, such as a closed bottle of ink placed next to its corresponding fountain pen perched on its stand and neatly folded gloves stationed on the other side of the desk.
It does not take much for Childe to surmise that the winery owner is asleep. Softly, he nears the slumbering man, curious eyes scanning the papers, noting the countless business affairs littered on this one desk— inventory, revenue, future winery pursuits, and even some of Mondstadt’s civil affairs.
Childe clicks his tongue. “Damn, they sure do like to keep you busy here.”
Diluc does not answer. He does not stir as Childe ever so tenderly gathers his hair and shifts it out of the other’s face. He does not rouse as Childe swiftly moves on to tidy the desktop by arranging the papers into loosely organized piles and stashing the ink and pen away within the desk drawers. Once satisfied with his work, Childe turns and leans against the orderly desk, bracing himself with his hands holding onto the edge of the wooden slab.
He takes care not to make a sound as he fondly beholds Diluc’s sleeping figure. Behind him, the two candles Diluc had lit for his working night freely sway in the open air, and Childe finds himself entirely enraptured by the way the golden lights delicately dance across Diluc’s elegant features.
Oh, how Childe adores these small, small moments where all he can see, all he can think, and all he can feel is Diluc.
And so Childe takes his sweet time in cherishing this clandestine moment blessed by both candlelight and the moon’s shine. This is the first time he has seen Diluc asleep, as the two of them have always stayed awake during each breathing second they’ve shared together. And as much as the Harbinger wishes he could pull Diluc’s bewitching gaze up towards him, he cannot help but savor just how slumber sweetly softens Diluc’s complexion. Ruby eyelashes are vividly bright as they gently sit atop rosy cheeks that are rounded by the way the tycoon’s weight smooshes his face into his arms. Diluc’s fatigue is visible in the shadows sunken beneath his eyes. Childe tilts his head in attempt to ascertain the extent of the wear on Diluc’s condition, only for his heart to flutter at the sight of Diluc’s slightly parted rosy lips.
Enthralled, Childe’s attention zeroes in on how Diluc’s figure ever so gently, ever so slightly rises and falls with each breath he takes in and expels past his sanguine lips. His own breathing falls into pace, and Childe feels himself dissolve in absolute captivation for Diluc’s beauty.
Oh, how Childe has always longed for a sign, any sign, just a sign of permission to reach out and hold the other as tenderly as he beholds him with his gaze.
A brisk breeze interrupts Childe’s mental doting. It saunters uninvited into the studious abode through the window by which the Harbinger had grandly entered, whisking Diluc’s crimson locks up towards Childe’s figure, knotting the soft strands before continuing to mess with the stacks of paper on the desk before vanishing into quietude within the empty air.
Childe’s brows furrow slightly as he begins to piece together the events leading to the mess he had just cleaned up. Diluc must have opened the window long before starting his work, as indicated by the stubby candles scrambling to recover from the whimsical gale. He must have left the window ajar when he set his writing utensils to the side for his minor nap, must have done it just so Childe could enter the study without a hitch. He must have done it expecting Childe’s entrance to rouse him from his repose, staying in the study either out of courtesy as a host or in anticipation for their little nighttime rendezvous.
Whatever the reason may truly be, the gesture itself causes Childe’s heart to swell. It certainly has been a long, long while since the two of them had had the time to come together for one of these trysts. Their respective roles had taken a strong hold of their lives, causing a decline not just in any time they had to spare but also in their ability to safely keep up with their letters, lest they risk a breach in their confidential postage. Though, while Childe now finally has the time to spare, it is evident that Diluc’s work is far from finished, a detail that understandably would have– should have –delayed their reunion even more.
But it didn’t. Diluc still sent out a letter, most likely losing sleep over the logistics of ensuring that the postage reached its intended person.
Childe’s emotions dangerously escalate, running wholly rogue at the thoughts of the various forms of kindness Diluc keeps affording him, over and over and over and over again. He dares to think that Diluc missed him. He, himself, is not loath to admit that he has missed Diluc. Oh, many were there nights where he would stare into starry skies and try to find the constellations that Diluc had pointed out to him from the grand study window. But alas, he was always too distant to find any, having to then veer to the moon as his beacon as he imagined himself turning towards Diluc to watch him as the other moved about in his study, arranging whatever it was he would want Childe to see, to experience, be it grape juice or a pile of meat or tattered books filled with marks of adolescent memories.
He looks back at the sleeping beauty, considering his next course of action. He could stay and wait for the other to awake, finally uncovering the truth behind his deep, wistful wonder of whether Diluc was one to arise in grace or a chorus of grumbles. Either way, Childe is certain it would be a sight that would instantly sear itself in his memories, endlessly distracting him through days and nights, within his thoughts and within his dreams.
Say he does wait. That would mean upon waking, Diluc would set aside the possibility of more sleep to give his guest his attention. That would mean Childe’s presence in that moment would be further disrupting the other’s rest and stealing precious time, rendering him more tired, leaving him more vulnerable at being worn down by the mountains of work that still remain unattended on his desk.
Childe shakes his head in abject disapproval. This outcome would be his worst nightmare.
Alternatively, he could leave and make it seem like he never arrived. Childe hates this option just as much, if not more. Never once has he rejected one of Diluc’s invitations, the thought truthfully never once occurring in his mind.
There is one more option. It is one that Childe fears falls more upon an impulse from his heart than reason. An impulse so strong and fearsome that it buzzes within his limbs, becoming restless energy that rattles against the shape of his body, desperate for release.
Yet, swept by the whims of his heart, Childe still considers it. The major issue is, despite the surreal solace found within each other’s presence, unspoken boundaries still remain between them, ones mainly built by Diluc and entirely respected by Childe. These implicit limits are the reason why Childe waits for Diluc to invite him to the Dawn Winery, as they are also the reason why Childe has always let Diluc dictate the nature of their nightly arrangements.
Childe fears that acting upon emotionally driven impulses would breach these boundaries, only to then ruin their delicately shared trust, leading to a total wreckage of whatever it is that they have managed to build together.
This risk is simply too high. Childe rationally cannot allow himself to gingerly lift Diluc into his arms, carry him to his bedroom where he would help the redhead slip into his sleepwear and then dotingly ease him into his bed, making sure to help adjust the pillows and blanket to Diluc’s liking before being able to leave, fully satisfied in knowing the other will have a restful slumber.
He cannot. No matter how strong his desires are, he simply cannot risk what little they have.
(Additionally, Childe respectfully does not want to find out what would happen if someone such as Adelinde were to run into him casually walking out the study with a weary Diluc in his arms.)
Oh, but how he has been yearning for their rendezvous to set free from the walls of Diluc’s study, to become something much bigger than being a simple, fleeting secret that lives only under the moon’s shine. In his time away, days and days passed where his mind would keep drifting away, lost in imagined moments he aches to have with Diluc. Moments like waking in the morning with Diluc in his arms and whispering sweet nothings to the other as the birds sing merrily in the distance. Moments like helping Diluc with his luscious locks by trying out new hairstyles taught to him by his little sister Tanya. Oh, how happy he’d be if he could send pictures each time he tried something new, how happy he’d be if Diluc chipped in and left his remarks for Tanya as well.
A word made of four letters aches madly in his heart. It threatens to escape and flood his thoughts, but Childe keeps it caged, knowing full well how powerless he’d be were it to blossom freely.
Diluc twitches faintly, face crumbling as something akin to a grumble leaves his lips. Childe’s hand reaches out before he can stop himself. His pulse booms loudly in his ears as he softly caresses Diluc’s head to soothe the other back to sleep.
It works. Childe sighs happily, his face melting into a soft, soft smile.
Perhaps, he wonders. Perhaps, he can allow himself to lean into his impulses just a little for just one time.
“My, my Master Diluc,” he says, voice soft and playful. “You invite me to your home and yet aren’t awake to welcome me. Tsk, is this the hospitality of Mondstadt’s most noble?”
Even as he jeers, Childe acts otherwise. He unbuttons his own coat, revealing the maroon button up he wears underneath. “I suppose I’ll just have to tend to you instead,” he whispers, continuing to poke fun at a sleeping Diluc, he drapes the garment across the other’s back, slightly tucking it to the sides.
He does not stand up immediately. Shamelessly, he leans forward to steal an even closer look at Diluc, his breath ghosting Diluc’s cheek as he pushes the few crimson curls that had fallen from his previous motions away from the other’s face.
“Archons,” he swears as he gazes upon the breathtaking sight, becoming utterly awash with feelings of affection and infatuation. “Even in your slumber, you spare no mercy for my heart, do you?”
Diluc does not respond. Childe chuckles fondly as he finally stands tall and begins rummaging through the desk. He quietly grabs the ink and pen he had stored away and uses them to inscribe a short message onto a blank sheet of paper. Once satisfied, he fishes his pockets for the blue whale paperweight he had mindlessly bought for Diluc from Fontaine on the day he had gone out shopping for souvenirs for his siblings.
He carefully positions the note and weight right in the center of the desk. The translucent gift casts bands of blue light across Childe’s writing.
He begins to step away. Once near the window, Childe turns to glance at Diluc one last time for this nightly visit. He can’t think nor can he feel, his senses completely overtaken by his frenzied heart, run fully amok by his chorus of daring actions. And so he lingers at his exit point, gradually becoming more and more lost in his yearning.
The yearning never ends, even as he finally finds the courage to pull the window shut behind him and become one with the wind.
Dearest Diluc,
Please take care and get some rest. I will return for my coat tomorrow night.
Also, next time you want to sleep, simply invite me to your bedroom.
Sweet dreams,
C
Diluc stirs from a dreamless sleep. He blinks groggily as blurry images of his study become clear within the dark night. He finds himself strangely weighed down by an intense sensation of comfort and warmth. It calls for him to press his head back down and return back to swimming in the blissful, thoughtless state.
Something bright and blue catches his attention. Diluc tries to move again, instinctively pulling the coat on his shoulder closer and he sits up, wincing as the crick in his neck twinges. He cracks his neck with a groan, bringing his free hand up to massage the spot.
He then returns his attention to the vibrant azure. He blinks as a blue whale stares right back him. Within a second, something drops in his stomach, sending a tingling wave of clarity right back to his brain, effectively snapping him back to reality immediately.
His head snaps to the window. It is closed. His head then snaps back to the completely melted candles on his desk. He perceives the unfamiliar fabric brushing against his neck, gasping as he look down to see a familiar greyed hue draping his figure.
His eyes scan the note on his desk again, a harsh blush rushing to his cheeks, the heat bleeding through his skin as his mind stammers and stutters, any hope for coherency melting away as Diluc clutches onto Childe’s coat.
A small part of Diluc is heavily disappointed at himself for missing Childe’s visit, for sleeping through the one night he’d been craving time and time again through his mind-numbing, work-ridden days and nights.
Yet, the disappointment is quickly snuffed by the fire surging through his body as Diluc takes in each and every sign of affection Childe had graced him as he hovered over Diluc’s sleeping figure in the study.
All Diluc can do is smile and lean forward back into his arms, pulling Childe’s coat along with him. He ignores the rational voice in his brain commanding him to stand up and get to bed. On any other night, he would have complied and strictly removed himself from the study to head towards his bedroom.
But not tonight. Tonight, he’d rather stay surrounded by the remnants of Childe’s presence left in his study.
Tomorrow , he tells himself, his eyes falling shut as sleep overtakes him. A small smile graces his lips as he keeps thinking about tomorrow. He can go to sleep in his bedroom tomorrow night.
And he dreams of Childe’s promise of tomorrow.