Work Text:
you raised up your half-empty glass to the barmaid, not even bothering to put your head up as you felt her take it. her fingers were dainty, you could feel it. you wondered if that was his type, all petal soft like a princess in her castle. maybe he preferred people as stoic and independent as him, though, cause it seemed like something he’d do. it’d be pragmatic of him. he was nothing if not pragmatic.
“i think it’s time you get home.”
rosaria nudged your side. she was better off than you, which was testament to how absolutely smashed you were. you raised your head to see kaeya rubbing that bard’s back over a trashcan in the corner, and shook your head.
“i’ll stay a little longer.”
the low light and promise of forgetting beckoned you to stay like a siren’s silvery note, and you were nothing if not one of the weakest of men. she stood up and shrugged, before pulling the other two drunks up by their hair and dragging them out. a subtle clink at your ear made you look up, expecting to see that young barmaid that might even be up for a night with you, only for your stomach to lurch as you saw that wretched face again.
”you did order this, no? why look so surprised?”
wrenching your face back into casual drunkenness, your hand shot out to grab the pitcher’s handle as you slung the whole thing back, probably leaving a distasteful ring of foam around your lips.
”you’re serving tonight?”
your voice was raspy to your own ears, so you could hardly imagine how grating it might be to his. you couldn’t remember when you last spoke more than two words to him, let alone cast your eyes his way. you promised to forget.
he nodded once.
“i typically serve on friday and saturday evenings, when more patrons come in.”
you watched him study your face, likely evaluating how much you could really understand. it made your skin crawl like there were thousands of bugs underneath it, shedding their chrysalises or their skins and trying to fly out. it made you feel like you were rotting, like you were a cadaver under inspection. it made you feel ill. you never wanted him to stop.
“your eyes are unfocused and glassy. i suggest that you make that the last drink tonight.”
his voice made tar bubble up in your gut, rage grabbing at your mind and twisting it round the edges, your hand fisting in his shirt sleeve.
“don’t go.”
don’t leave me, you meant. don’t let me let you go again. he stood still, letting you clutch onto him for a while longer.
he looked past you after some seconds. because he could never look at you. he could never look at you. only through you, because it was too hard to confront the whirlpool in your eyes whenever you looked at him.
“i have… other patrons to attend to.”
“don’t leave me here again.”
you responded quickly, snapping your head up.
“i can’t be without you. not after last time.”
diluc sighed, catching that familiar sense of desperation that always lingered about you like the scent of death.
“there was no last time. your mind is addled by alcohol.”
“don’t tell me something that didn’t happen. don’t make me believe a lie.”
you twisted your fist in his sleeve and tugged him ever closer, but not close enough. you never wanted to be apart from him again. you wanted to rip him to pieces to make space for yourself in his body. you wanted to feed him your consciousness so he would never forget you.
“…let go, you’re drunk.”
you could swear that you heard his voice get softer— it was enough to ease your hand’s grip on him, which was enough for him to turn away from you, which was enough for another piece of your heart to fragment pathetically.
“will we ever talk again?”
“if the need arises. and when you’re sober.”
talking to him drunk was hard enough. talking to him sober, you’d probably rip your own vocal cords out.
“okay.”
you slumped down on the bar again, opening your hand out and letting him go again. the cool oak met your face with the familiarity of a lover. you didn’t notice his reluctance to leave you there, eyes already drooping shut, and he didn’t notice your body turning to face him despite being half-asleep.
neither of you could ever notice the other properly.