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The pleasant scent of smoke from a quietly crackling fireplace nearby is the first thing you notice when you awaken - it’s soothing, yet somehow you can sense immediately that something is wrong.
You're alone.
Lashes fluttering, you scan your surroundings through eyes glazed over with sleepiness. The environment you’re in is foreign to you, and your brows furrow a little in confusion. There’s a window opposite you, but the curtain is drawn shut, meaning the only light source is the fireplace - in fact, the room as a whole is rather barren. There’s the bed you’re laying in with a small nightstand to the left of it, that little fireplace on your right hand side, and a desk that’s full of what looks like an array of medical supplies along with a lightless lamp.
Now that you’re waking up a little more, you’re quickly becoming aware of an excruciating pain that’s lancing through your entire body, centered around your abdomen. You can’t help but let out a low groan, shifting a little in your spot. You’re tucked into several blankets quite snugly, and your body feels unbearably warm.
Panic is beginning to settle in fast; where exactly are you, and what happened? No matter how hard you try, you can’t remember much of anything, and the effort only makes your head pound.
Weakly you pull your arms from underneath the bedding, gritting your teeth - just that small amount of movement has you panting. You can barely move, and your eyes are swimming with tears. You're confused, in more pain than you think you’ve ever experienced in your life, and Archons you could really use the comforting presence of your beloved Kyryll right now - he’d know what was going on, right? And if he didn’t, he’d surely be able to figure it out.
It seems like your stirring somehow alerted someone. You startle as the door suddenly opens, and squeeze your eyes shut against the light that spills into the dim room.
“Shh… hold still,” a soft voice whispers to you - as if you have much of a choice. Footsteps hurry closer, and a gentle touch lands on your forehead. “Just breathe.”
Right as you’re about to try to look at the source of the voice, the prick of a needle in your upper arm makes you wince. Your lips part in an attempt to speak, but your throat is dry, and all you get out is a weak croak.
You don’t fully understand the next few words that are said to you before you drift back into a deep slumber.
How long were you unconscious…? Your head feels heavier than a brick, but at least you’re slightly less uncomfortable than the last time you remember coming to. Not that that’s saying much.
…
“—pulling through. I’m impressed; she’s got quite the tenacity. But she’s lucky you found her when you did.” A tired feminine voice reaches your ears from just outside the door. “If she’d lost any more blood, I don’t think all of the medicine, alchemy, and magic in Teyvat combined could have made a difference."
Were they talking about you? You fight the best you can to stay awake long enough to keep listening. Maybe you’ll be able to glean something about your current situation.
“I am simply relieved that I was fortunate enough to be heading in that direction at that specific time. I would never have forgiven myself had I not been there, and she-...” This low, velvety voice abruptly cuts itself off, and you hear the speaker clear their throat once, then twice. “...in any case. Doctor, allow me to express my sincerest gratitude to you once more. I am in your debt, more than you could possibly fathom.”
Is that…?
“Mister Flins, I am simply doing my duty as a healer. You don’t need to thank me. Especially not for the… what is it now, fiftieth time?” The voice conversing with him confirmed it - it’s him, your Kyryll! Just the knowledge that he’s near gives you the strength to keep yourself awake, at least for a little while longer.
The thin wooden door that separates you can't suppress the faint tremor in his voice. “Nevertheless, I will thank you again and again. Though nothing can come close in value to her life, I will do my best to repay you in any way I can,” he solemnly promises.
You hear a heavy sigh. “Just get me plenty of wine when you take her home - preferably something strong, maybe from Mondstadt? I'll need it after dealing with you and your endless nonsense,” comes the reply, exasperated but not unkind. Flins lets out a thin chuckle, and then there's a moment of silence.
…
“...may I see her?”
“You'd better not. If you catch her while she’s awake, I think it would get her too worked up for her own good.”
“Ah.”
That single syllable is packed with so much disappointment, so much concern. So much… fear?
“She's only ever lucid for a minute or two at a time right now, anyways. Especially with what you got from that place in Liyue - knocks her out cold for days at a time with just the smallest amount.”
“I… had surmised that it would be better for her to sleep, rather than be in a conscious state of relentless agony.”
“So you've said. How'd you get your hands on something like that so quickly, anyway? In all my years, I’ve never seen a tonic quite like it - her wounds are healing remarkably well, considering their severity.”
“...I have my means. Let us leave it at that.”
The voices are becoming quieter, your thoughts getting blurrier with each passing second. You want to see him, or scream, or just move, anything except be stuck here in limbo—
Then your heavy eyelids can't stay open any longer, and you sink into darkness yet again.
“...Leonita obediently takes the necklace from the box and clasps it around her neck. Her father's choice is, as always, impeccable; the design and cut are unmistakably from Fontaine, and the central gemstone is so brilliant as to outshine the finest stones from Natlan.”
The agony you’d come to expect when you roused was far duller now than the last several times. You’re unsure how often you'd awoken, how long you’d ever managed to stay alert… you only knew that every instance was full of pain. It just wasn't quite so punishing this time.
“‘I know it's a bit early,’ he says, ‘but as your father, I should be the first to wish you a happy birthday, my dear!’”
You shift ever so slightly and give a long exhale, brows knitting together but eyes remaining shut. The quiet voice at your side falls silent at the movement, but you don't say anything, so it continues after a little while.
“He casts a glance at the necklace and adds, ‘Make sure you wear it to the ball. A very important guest will be there, and I want you to meet him.’”
…
Your eyes shoot open to lock on the speaker, and you let out a soft gasp as realization sinks in.
Flins is seated on a chair next to the bed with one leg crossed over the other and an open book in one hand. The other is on your thigh, and you can faintly feel his thumb stroking a soothing pattern over it through many blankets. His head is down, still focused on the pages before him, and you can see his lips moving as he continues reading to you much like a mother to her sick child - but you can't put the words together anymore through the thud of your heartbeat in your ears.
You swallow hard, and open and close your mouth a few times as you try to scrounge up your voice. You can feel tears budding in the corners of your eyes; he's here, he's right next to you and all you want is to fall into him and be told that all of this was just a horrible dream.
“K-...” Your voice breaks after just this one tiny sound. Once more, Flins falls silent - except this time when he turns to you, his gaze locks onto yours, half lidded and swimming with tears.
His beautiful yellow eyes widen a tad, and the book he's holding falls onto the ground with a thud in his haste to reach out to you. “You are awake, my dearest light?” he whispers, hesitantly placing his hand on your cheek - almost like he's afraid that if he touches you with too much force, you might simply disintegrate.
Your lashes flutter as your eyes shut again, and you let out a shuddering breath, leaning into his palm. The familiar, slightly chilly touch of his hand gives you strength, and you clear your throat before attempting to speak again.
“...water?” In the quietness of the room, you can hear the shifting of Flins’ clothes as he turns to fetch a cup from the nightstand behind him. Carefully, slowly, his hand drifts from your face to the back of your head, and you feel the touch of cool glass on your lips.
Ahh… you can't help but shiver at the sensation of the icy water trickling down your throat. You greedily gulp down the entire glass, and give a contented sigh before leaning your head back onto the pillow. The glass clinks gently against the nightstand, and for a handful of moments neither of you say anything.
…
“How long was I… asleep?” You’re reinvigorated somewhat by the water soothing your dry mouth, but that short question is still the extent of what you can put together. Flins’ hand finds your cheek again, and he sighs, sounding utterly, uncharacteristically defeated.
“...seventeen days. You woke up four times, but they… I had them put you back to rest each time. I could not bear the thought of you experiencing such excruciating pain, and thus I selfishly elected to place you into this artificial slumber.” Another long exhale. “Yesterday, I was warned by your caretakers that lingering in this drug-induced comatose state for too long may become detrimental to your health, and was advised to stop that course of treatment. I am lucky that I chose to bring you here, where you can be properly attended to… I find myself once again reminded of the fragility of humankind.”
The thin tremble of his voice, laced with hesitant relief, makes you want to reach out and squeeze him into a suffocating hug - but you're so weak. “Wh-... what happened, Kyryll?” you breathe out, eyes finally peeking back open. The tears that had been forming now begin to trickle down your cheeks, and Flins’ fingers twitch against your face. Your vision may be blurred, but you don't miss the way his bottom lip quivers ever so slightly - you've never seen such an expression on him.
“I cannot say I have an exact answer to that question, my love, but I will tell you what I know.” He swallows thickly, and you watch as his gaze turns downward, as if he can't maintain eye contact any longer.
“...I was making my way back home early that morning as I always do after patrol. I was nearing the end of my route, and as I passed by that cavern of yours I suddenly took notice of a large amount of what I now know to have been your blood.” That cavern… there was a shallow divot amongst the eastern hills of Paha Isle where you had crafted a hideaway of sorts. You spent much of your free time there gardening - the concentration of Kuuvahki seemed to be perfect for nurturing plants that usually didn't tolerate the cruel ecosystem of Nod Krai.
“I followed the trail as quickly as I could, and…” Flins’ voice breaks, and you hear the old wooden chair beneath him creak in distress as he shifts. You hurry to dig your arm out from your mountain of blankets, ignoring how your body tingles in painful protest, and grab after his hand on your cheek - you can practically see a fresh wave of relief wash over him at your touch alone.
“And what?” you whisper, squeezing his fingers.
For a moment he remains quiet, seemingly to recollect his composure. Finally, he heaves out a sigh, and lifts his head to meet your eyes. “I found you on the beach across from the cemetery, just a couple of meters away from the water… drenched in blood, clinging onto life, and with a dreadful wound to your stomach. I almost thought I didn't make it. Your breaths were so shallow, love, and your pulse so faint, that I truly thought I had been too late.” He offers up a weary smile, shaking his head just slightly. “Alas, I wonder if I may need to reconsider my lack of faith in the gods. Had I taken any longer to find you, dearest, I am certain that rather than sitting here with you now, I would be crafting your headstone.”
“...oh.”
“I attempted to put together some sort of sequence of events after rushing you here, but my own knowledge proved insufficient. The Lady Moonchanter was, as always, glad to be of assistance, and spoke with some of the animals that were roaming the island that night.” Your swirling thoughts are struggling to keep up with what he's saying - you can’t scrounge up even the faintest of recollections of the night he's speaking of, and the information is quickly becoming overwhelming.
“Kyryll…” you whisper thinly.
“A pair of badgers claims to have seen you on your way to the shoreline, but nobody else had any useful information. Miss Jahoda did some digging of her own as a generous favor to me, but her investigation came up fruitless.”
“Kyryll?”
“The only thing I can think of is that some wandering petty criminal crossed your path, but I still fail to grasp why you were out so late at night by your lonesome in the first place. I fear that, due to the seemingly random nature of the incident, even contacting Miss Nefer may leave us without an answer, and—”
“Flins!”
He immediately falls silent, startled by both the sudden strength of your voice and the way you’d referred to him - neither of you can remember when exactly you'd last used his surname. He purses his lips and uses his thumb to gently smear away a tear from your cheek before giving you a tiny nod.
“Does it… really matter why or how it happened?” you murmur, your voice small again. “You found me, and that's all that matters, right?”
Flins doesn't reply for a while, studying your face, his brows furrowed. Now that your vision is becoming more clear, you take the opportunity to get a good look at him, too. His eyes are slightly reddened, as if he had been crying recently; you can’t even recall the last time you’d seen him cry. His uniform is wrinkled terribly, and you note that his hair is sloppily tied back into a bun, loose strands sticking out here and there. You know he'd usually never dare to go out in public like this - he was far too meticulous, too professional, too careful to let himself appear so visibly disheveled.
Flins seems to notice that you're taking in all these details, and lets out a hefty exhale, turning his face aside. “Perhaps you are right. The past cannot be altered, but… my love, if I know what happened, I can prevent it from ever occurring again.” He shakes his head a little, then continues in a bitter tone. “I failed you by not being there when you needed me. I could apologize, but it would be useless, for it would not change the fact that I completely and utterly failed you.”
“No, Kyryll, you… the world is just a dangerous place - you’re the one who always says that kind of thing. It’s not your fault that things happen…”
“Maybe I will just have to chain you down at home so you can never expose yourself to peril again.” You aren't entirely convinced that he's not serious.
“...and what if something bad were to find me there?”
“Then I suppose I would have no choice but to take you everywhere with me, so you can never leave my sight. You are simply too precious to me… I cannot take the risk of anything like this ever reoccuring.”
You blink rapidly in an attempt to clear away some of your tears. Flins sounds so desperate… frightened, even - but there’s also a hint of anger. Though at whom, exactly, you can’t be sure. “There’s no such thing as a life absent of danger,” you quietly point out. “You know that, Kyryll.”
“Of course, my love. However, it is both my responsibility and my greatest honor to protect you. In all my many years, you are the most wonderful person I have ever had the privilege of knowing. What use is my strength if I cannot even properly care for the one I love the most?” He swallows hard and bows his head. “I… must confess that I do not know what I would do with myself if you were to suddenly be taken from my side.”
Any hope of ridding yourself of your tears is long gone. “I won’t leave. Not as long as I can help it…”
Gently, Flins takes his hand from your face. You loosen your grip on his fingers, and he adjusts his hold so he can pull your hand closer and place a kiss onto your knuckles. “I have found my thoughts wandering, dearest, while watching over you in your slumber.” You can feel his hand quivering. “One day, the time will come for you to depart this world… yet here I will remain, unchanged and spry as ever. Your existence will, ultimately, be only a short chapter in the timeline of my life.”
You stay silent as he speaks. With his head downturned as it is, you can’t get a good look at his face - you’re sure that’s an intentional choice. “I know it is an inevitability, one which I have been slowly coming to terms with," Flins softly goes on. “I have experienced loss many times, and have tried to soothe myself with the knowledge that I have continued to find purpose in my life for this long despite the departure of so many trusted companions.”
His voice quiets even further, so much that you have to lean in a bit so you can still hear him. “When I found you that night, I was abruptly forced to confront the topic. To lose you to the simple cruelty of our differing lifespans is something I will eventually learn to stomach. This, however, was different - the light of my life, so near to being snuffed out in such a horrific manner…? It brought me to realize, dearest, that I… truly do not know how I would continue to go on, were you to be taken from my side before I had the opportunity to give you the long, fulfilling life you deserve.” A fat, wet droplet lands on the back of your hand, and your chest tightens. He’s crying.
“With every passing day, I fall in love with you more and more… and each night, I fear the thought of losing you tenfold.” The last of his words come out so faintly that, even from only a few inches away, they almost get drowned out by the crackle of his lantern.
“Kyryll,” you whisper. His grip tightens on your hand, and finally he lifts his head to find your gaze. His cheekbones are flushed slightly, his beautiful yellow eyes brimming with tears that haven’t yet fallen.
Carefully you weasel your second arm out from the sheets - the pain you’d come to expect from moving too much is somehow entirely forgotten. You take your other hand from his so you can tenderly place both on each of his cheeks. “It’ll be okay… I made it, right? I’m here, and I'm not going anywhere,” you murmur, and he lets out a shivery sigh.
“...if the laws of life and death could be destroyed using willpower alone, I would set them ablaze for you in an instant, love. One thousand lifetimes with you would not be enough.”
“Oh, Kyryll…” Gently you draw him closer to yourself, and you pull him to rest with his cheek against your chest, folding him close. For a moment he’s still - and then you feel him turn his head to nuzzle face first against you, taking in a long breath of your familiar scent.
Lightly, Flins grabs after the fabric of your shirt, something to ground himself closer to you. You close your eyes, and as you begin to stroke soothingly over his head, you hear a weak, barely audible whimper.
And then he’s crying… no, he’s weeping. His shoulders shake, his fingers curl around your shirt, and his breaths come out raggedly into your chest despite how he tries to stifle his sobs. All of the fear, the agony of uncertainty, the desperation that you had to be okay because he didn’t know what he’d do if you weren’t - you know he would have been trying to keep calm throughout all of this, so right now must be the first time he’s really letting these emotions that have been brewing for almost three long weeks pour out.
His tears soak through your shirt - not that you care. You aren’t even sure how much time passes in this way, with you running your fingers through his hair and soothingly whispering to him. And when you run out of your own tears to cry, you simply lay your cheek against the top of Flins’ head and begin to hum. You bounce between lullabies from your childhood to a gentle song of worship you’d learned from the Frostmoon Scions when they were in Nasha town; when you can’t think of any more songs, you go on humming meaningless melodies.
Even as he, too, runs out of tears, neither of you move. You continue on petting his head, and he just lays there, softly gasping as he attempts to collect himself.
……
The first to stir after several long minutes is Flins - he releases your shirt from his grasp and slowly, wearily lifts his head. Your eyes peek open at the movement, but you don’t let go, your hands drifting back down to rest on each side of his face… though you notice immediately that he seems to be avoiding eye contact. Tenderly you stroke your thumbs over his cheeks. “Do you feel any better?” you whisper.
“I… do not recall the last time I ever allowed myself to act in such a way,” Flins mumbles instead, clearly embarrassed. “I am sorry I—”
“Don’t apologize,” you sternly interject, and his brows furrow a little.
“I should not be the one receiving comfort right now… not when you are the one in such a fragile state.”
“Come on, Kyryll… you know I won’t ever feel better if you’re so miserable.”
He smiles faintly, but still won’t meet your eyes. “I should not have selfishly shared these burdens of mine with you in the first place. It is nothing that can be helped… thus, telling you serves only to cause you distress.”
“How long have you been thinking about that kind of thing? About our lifespans,” you ask softly.
Flins lets out a small, bitter sort of chuckle. “...ever since I first sensed myself falling for you and your unbearable charm. I tried for a long while to convince myself that it was not love I was feeling - such vulnerable emotions are… quite dangerous,” he muses. “Yet I could not help myself, for my soul longed to burn just for you.”
You had been together for years by now. You couldn’t lie and say similar thoughts about the future hadn’t crossed your own mind before, but you never realized how heavily it weighed on him. Frowning, you attempt to tilt his head to try to make him look at you, but he stubbornly resists. “You’ve been sitting on these worries all by yourself for all this time…?”
Flins’ eyes fall shut once again. “I… did not want to make you worry about me. I know you, dear, enough to know that you will feel some measure of guilt, despite the fact that your human nature is not anything you have control over,” he murmurs.
Aggravatingly, you think he's right; there's a sinking feeling in your gut as the implications of his words become clearer and clearer in your mind. You would get the joy of spending your whole lifetime with him… and he would be left alone to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart after you were gone. Not one bit of it was fair.
“The only thing I can do is cherish every day with you as if it might be your last. I have always tucked each memory that I share with you deep into my soul, but the sudden reminder of the fragility of humankind, it just-…” His voice cracks, and the faint blush on his cheeks deepens slightly as he restarts. “...it took a greater toll on me than I anticipated. It made me realize how utterly unprepared I am for the day I will be forced to return to an empty home once more.”
For a handful of moments you find yourself unable to do anything but continue stroking your thumbs over his cheekbones. Really, there's not much you can say to console him that wouldn't be a lie…
………
“Then… I guess that means we’ll just have to find some way to make me live as long as you, right?” you say tentatively, giving each of his cheeks a little pinch. “Maybe I can try to become the next Pyro Archon?”
At this, Flins finally peeks his eyes partially open. “...for starters, darling, that would require the current Archon to fall, which is highly unlikely to occur any time in the near future.”
Encouraged, you hurriedly go on. “Well, it sounds like me still being here is already pretty good fortune; if we could get this lucky, then surely that's not too far-fetched?” you insist, giving a hesitant little grin.
You see the corners of his lips twitch as he glances down at your mouth. “Even if you are right, such a position would be far too strenuous. I could not let you shoulder that kind of burden.”
“Are you calling me weak?”
“I said no such thing.” When Flins meets your eyes again, you notice his whole expression relax slightly. “You are forgetting the most important factor here, sweetheart - you are not even of Natlanese descent,” he points out.
You huff lightly, dropping your forehead gently against his. “Then I'll just get to be the first ever Pyro Archon from a different nation… it’ll make me one of the most special people in all of Teyvat!”
He hums, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “That title already belongs to you, love.” Carefully, reverently, he tilts his head so he can place a short kiss onto your chapped lips - but the second it’s over you chase after another, and he can't help but sigh with delight.
“...mm. I… I'll try to figure something out,” you mumble, lingering close enough that his lips are still tickling your own. “I-I don't know if I can stand the thought of leaving you alone. I wish I could-... mff—!”
One of Flins’ hands finds the back of your neck, drawing you closer and effectively silencing you with another tender kiss. “Hush, dearest,” he whispers into your mouth between several gentle pecks on your lips. “Let us worry about such ambitious and frankly outrageous planning another time… for now, we should focus on getting you better.”
Almost as if on cue, there's a light knock on the door, and it creaks open just a second later. “Mister Flins, it’s time for-... oh, dear.” It's that feminine sounding voice that you recognize from a handful of the times you'd briefly woken up.
Flins doesn't let go of you, but he does turn his head aside to glance at the newcomer. “My apologies, doctor - I am beyond elated to see her awake, and simply could not help myself. Might I trouble you to allow us just a bit more time alone before you begin?” he requests, and you note that that honeyed tone that he always uses with you is already gone. It’s not too dissimilar from how he typically speaks, but a little less sharp around the edges and far less guarded… it took quite some time for you to even notice the difference, but now that you have, you can easily hear the shift from one to the other.
When you, too, gaze over at the person who you can only assume is the one who has been nursing you back to health this whole time, you see their eyes narrow slightly as they stare dubiously at your beloved, now flashing one of his most charismatic little smiles - the kind that, paired with his silky smooth timbre, tends to make almost anyone fold rather quickly. “I don't know that I believe you when you say it'll only be a ‘bit’. I can't alter my entire schedule for the afternoon just to indulge you, you know.”
“I would never dream of causing trouble for you after all you have done for me, doctor - and more importantly, what you have done for her. Just ten minutes longer is all I need.” His fingers twitch against the back of your neck, and you're suddenly very aware of how intimately the two of you are touching one another. Nothing inherently inappropriate, but his cheeky tone of voice almost seems to imply otherwise.
………
“Fine. I’ll give you five,” they eventually mutter. “But if I come back and there's so much as a single hair on my patient's head out of place, I'll have you thrown out of this building in a heartbeat.”
“You wound me - are you insinuating that I plan on doing something uncouth? Worry not. If you find that anything about her has been disturbed, I will be sure to escort myself out to save you the trouble,” Flins hums.
The doctor turns around with a huff, running their fingers through their hair in exasperation. “Just behave yourself.” And with that, you're alone with your dear fae once more.
You hurriedly glance back to him as soon as the door clicks shut, now narrowing your own eyes. “Why'd you have to say it like that? You definitely made it sound like you’re planning something weird,” you skeptically point out. Flins chuckles, shaking his head and bumping your noses together once again.
“I did no such thing. I simply want to hold you a little while longer before I am forced to move away so they can care for you,” Flins whispers delightedly. You heave out a sigh, releasing his face so you can sling your sore arms over his shoulders, then squeeze your eyes shut and lower your head, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck.
“...thank you, Kyryll,” you mumble into his skin.
“For what?” One of his hands lands on your back to stroke soothingly up and down your spine.
“For taking care of me.”
“I had little to do with that - you should save your thanks for those in charge of your treatment plan."
Shaking your head, you snuggle in the best you can - but shuffling forward reminds you of your injuries when the motion causes a twinge of pain to radiate from your stomach, making you wince. “They wouldn’t be able to fix me out in the middle of nowhere, so you’re just as important for bringing me here in the first place,” you point out, your voice ever so slightly strained; but of course, it’s enough for Flins to notice, and his hand jerks away from your back in an instant.
“Ah, I didn’t - are you alright?”
“...mhm. It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” you reply dismissively. That’s not entirely true, but the sudden painful jolt has already subsided, leaving you only with the dull, aching discomfort that you’ve become unfortunately familiar with. But despite your insistence and multitude of protests, Flins gingerly pulls you away from himself and guides you to lay back down. He keeps one of your hands in his grasp as he resettles in his chair, but you’re far from content with that.
“Are you seriously going to baby me this much the entire time I'm recovering?” you grumble, putting on your best pout - on occasion, you can break down his defenses this way, but for now he simply puffs out an endeared laugh.
“Is that even a question you need to ask, dearest? I believe you and I both know the answer.”
Seeing as it isn’t working in your favor, you abandon your pouting and instead drop your head back onto your pillow with a sigh, your eyes closing. You’re already feeling rather tired again.
…………
“You know you don’t have anything to atone for, right?” you quietly say after a few seconds of silence. He hums, and you slit one eye open to glance over at him. The small smile he’d adopted falters a bit at your question, and he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.
“...what a bother you are, my love,” Flins murmurs, though there’s nothing but pure affection behind his words. “Here I thought I had quelled your worries about me.”
“Did you really believe I wouldn’t be able to tell what you’re thinking? Maybe you can hide your feelings from everyone else in the world, but it won’t work on me.”
He nods, a small, barely noticeable motion. “Indeed. This is what I get for baring my soul to you, I suppose… quite a troublesome thing it is to have human emotions, hm?”
Your half-opened eye drifts shut. “Sometimes. But it's worth it to deal with the ugly emotions when it means that you can have the good ones, too. Could you imagine how boring your life would be if you didn't love me?”
“You certainly like to keep me on my toes, dear.”
“And isn't it the best thing in the world to be able to come home to a partner who adores you as much as I do? You're pretty lucky, y’know.”
“Oh, you've no need to remind me. I consider myself the luckiest person in the entirety of Teyvat, to have been blessed with a marvelous light such as yours.” Your lips curl into a contented smile; Flins never fails to sing your praises, and despite your outward embarrassment, there’s a selfish little part of you that simply can’t get enough of it.
The gentle touch of his lips on your forehead is as soothing as ever. Taking in a long breath, you give his fingers a slight squeeze, which he immediately reciprocates - and for a few minutes you do nothing but lie there in silence, relishing in the peace he brings you.
“...mm. After they’re done with whatever it is they need to do to me, do you think you could tell me about what I’ve missed while I was asleep?” you pipe up after a while. In truth, you don’t really care much about all of that… you just want an excuse to hear him, to have his soft, perfect voice lull you back to sleep.
“Of course. Although, I cannot promise that you will find much interest in most of what I will have to share.”
Before you can respond, you hear the door handle wobbling quite pointedly - given Flins’ ambiguous statements from earlier, perhaps the person on the other side is warning you of their arrival so you can make yourselves decent? With one final kiss atop your head, he draws away from you to sit up in his chair again. The door cracks open, and two sets of footsteps enter the room shortly after, but you keep your eyes stubbornly shut.
“Welcome back, doctor,” Flins cheerily greets. “Your perfect patient is in as good of shape as when you left her. It appears that your distrust in me was unfounded.
“I'll believe it when I see it. Hands off, Mister Flins.”
Your fae pecks a kiss on your knuckles before releasing you from his grip, and you can't help but snicker a little under your breath - you imagine he must look like a kicked puppy right about now.
“Miss?” The doctor addresses you, now, and you feel a light touch against your shoulder. “We have to change your dressings. Your injuries are healing very well so far, and I’d like to keep it that way,” they explain.
“Mhm. Do whatever you need.”
Poor Flins is shooed away from your bedside so your doctor can begin, much to his chagrin - and your own, too. Thankfully, at least, he's still hovering just a handful of steps away. With everything that had happened, you imagine that even a whole army wouldn't manage to keep him separated from you.
For a brief moment, you find yourself lost in thought. Was there really no evidence of what had happened aside from the number of new scars adorning your body? You wonder if, once you've been awake for a while longer, memories of that night may come back to you… but there's no point in pondering it now.
So you quietly lay there, focusing your senses on something more familiar… more comforting. That scent of sea salt and something faintly floral, combined with a hint of ash from a campfire that had just been snuffed out. That extravagant manner of speaking in that low, soothing timbre that you could never tire of.
And your favorite - the caring touch of Flins’ slightly chilly palm cupping your cheek the moment the doctor allowed it, which you lean into with a contented sigh as sleep manages to claim you once more.