Chapter Text
To say that Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins was smitten with another man would be an understatement.
To get him to confess he was smitten was impossible.
First, he too, was a man. Which in Flins’s eyes could only be seen as a disgrace to the gods. And second, the man he found most endearing was truly the loudest, annoying person he had laid his eyes upon. In fact, Flins often found it hard to believe the other was a man at all. He was in his eyes merely…just Varka.
After all, there was no other man who Flins could think of that could sway a rooms attention to him merely by stepping onto the threshold. No man whose booming laugh could bring a smile to his own pale face. And certainly no man whose stories from around Teyvat kept Flins grounded to his seat. As if looking away for even a second would end the story altogether.
How it angered him so. No matter what he did, he could not stop the web of hatred for Varka in the back of his mind. That’s what this feeling was, wasn’t it? Hatred?
The searing feeling of Varka’s gaze on his face, his neck, his hands. The pounding of his heart against his chest when Varka spoke to him. The brush of hands whilst walking along the quiet paths of the cemetery. This was all a way to anger him, push him off the ledge. It had to be.
Now, to say Flins was an open man about his feelings was as close to telling someone the world was flat. He would admit it. But finding that this…jovial topic stuck in his mind was stealing his small hours of sleep, Flins found it was best to talk about his encounters with the lighthearted Moon-Goddess.
Flins frequently confided in the Moon Goddess. Columbina, though not a person of many words, understood well enough on how Flins’ own feelings had affected him. She could feel his heart rate spike with kuuvaki when the conversations they shared were centered around the Grandmaster. Which, more often than not, they were.
The latest news Flins had told to Columbina was that of an accident that had happened earlier that day. Varka had knocked over Flins’ preferred drink of Firewater by accident, a small mistake that only grated on his nerves for a moment. But Varka, apologizing profusely, decided to buy the other man three bottles of dandelion wine as compensation.
Flins could only thank the man, and take the bottles home with him. And soon he subsequently rolled the bottles underneath his bed. Along with the other twelve bottles he had been gifted by the Grandmaster in the past month alone. Maybe the young Master Illuga would like a bottle or two.
However, Varka knocked on his door later that evening, to Flins’ infuriation and surprise.
Varka was many things if not an opportunist, he felt for Flins quite a lot, and felt bad, so he chose to make up for it in a very outlandish way.
“Ah, so the Grandmaster has invited you to the Expedition Team celebration for returning home? I’d say that is a very kind offer from Sir Varka.”
Flins couldn’t help but disagree.
For some reason or another, Flins could only feel a small pang of dread at the thought of Varka leaving Nod Krai. Like a needle continuously poking at his skin.
No, it cannot be dread. Just relief.
“Well, I most certainly am thrilled that the Grandmaster is leaving. Perhaps I will go.”
The Moon-Goddess could not help but strain a smile at his stubbornness to not requite the other man’s feelings. But, alas, she did understand why he could not.
“And I am sure he will be thrilled with your presence.”
The Fae could not understand either why Columbina answered with such solemnity, and it seemed the two left the conversation on a hanging thread.
The following evening, a steady knock came from the lighthouse door, knocking Flins from his trance. He places the bone currently in his hand back onto the table, sighing as he stepped away from his puzzle.
Flins stops at the door, mentally preparing himself for the annoyance he knows is sure to come on the other side. With a swift pull of the handle, the fae is greeted with Varka. His hand raised mid-air prepared to knock again.
“Grandmaster..?”
“Ah, Sir Flins! How do you do? I have come to retrieve you for the celebration tonight!”
Varka beams in the doorway, almost crowding the smaller space and causing Flins to tilt his head upwards towards him.
“Ah, yes. The celebration. I had almost forgotten about it. Thank you for reminding me Grandmaster.”
That, of course, was a lie. The celebration had been on his mind all day. Although Flins would never admit to it.
Varka scratches behind his ear, a pink tint creeping up his neck from the thanks.
“Heh, no problem! Just wouldn’t want any friend of mine to miss out a night of such fun.”
“Right. Fun.”
Flins turns away from the Knight, internally rolling his eyes as grabs his coat.
Such an annoyance. Why must you torture me so?
As the two figures left the Final Night Cemetery, a creeping thought in the back of the Fae’s mind made his stop for only a second. He quickly shook it away, but he knew it would linger for the rest of the night.
I don’t want you to leave.