#i don't understand how more people aren't aghast at the state of the world

[favoniuscodex]

ataraxia. - ch. 5 [ diluc x reader ]

ch. 5 - regularity's dawn pairing: diluc x gn!reader warnings: mention of prior-obtained injuries. diluc is rich. uh,,, typical warnings for this series. words: ~1.9k words fic masterlist [ prev ] - [ next ] chapter summary: just you (a farmer), diluc (an unknown variable), and a dog (of the canine variety) existing in your house. you, of course, wish there were only two of you there... you think. well, no matter what, the dog is staying. a/n: mmm domesticity except the reader can't handle domesticity. but hold on guys,,, hold on,,, its happening,,, slowly !!! :D sorry it's been 28 years for this update lol

"y'know," you set the bags of groceries down onto the kitchen counter as diluc hobbles into the room after you. "fatui presence in the city is increasing."

today is the twenty-first day since diluc has arrived at your doorstep. things have changed in your home and in the world outside. for starters, you've begrudgingly acclimated to the presence of another within your household. diluc is rather polite, much to your behest. he doesn't pry into your past, he doesn't rifle through your things, and, from what you can tell, he hasn't gone into your bedroom without permission.

diluc respects the boundaries between the two of you and it pisses you off. for a man who showed up half-alive to your place of residence, diluc keeps himself together in a frustratingly fascinating manner. he's gotten accustomed to crutches. he washes dishes for you, despite the cast on his wrist and insistence that you can do it yourself. hell, with his pyro vision, you don't even need to worry about firewood nor kindle for the kitchen stove. diluc is oddly self-sufficient for a man as injured as he is.

however, it's not like you're not looking to take care of him. it's just irritating to see this man being able to pick himself right back up and act like everything is okay, even if crutches are tucked into his armpits and supporting his weight. you're no fool, though. you know things aren't perfect for the redhead. you can see it in the wistful glimmer of his eyes when it rains and you can see it in the way that it looks like he wants to speak but doesn't know how.

diluc picks himself back up from his injuries, sure, but you can tell it's a hollow husk of the person he used to be. besides, you're wise enough to know that a broken wrist doesn't cause the solemnness you see in his expression. the source of that pain likely occurred long before you met him.

"the fatui?" diluc asks and you immediately regret having internally praised him for recovering so well from his injuries. maybe if he hadn't, you wouldn't have been asked such a dumb question.

"yes, the fatui. that's what i just said," you snap in response and, much to your surprise, diluc lets out a laugh. it's short-lived and it's more of a bark of a laugh rather than a wholehearted chortle, but it causes you to glance over at him, shooting him a glare as you angrily unpack the grocery bags.

"you do not talk to many other people, do you?" diluc asks, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. his eyes gleam with a mirth you've never seen before in them and it serves to do nothing but baffle you.

"neither do you?" you respond and your words come out questioning, rather than the harsh retort you originally hoped for. diluc pointedly looks down at his broken appendages and shrugs his shoulders to move his crutches. you stare at him blankly, unamused by his nonverbal sass.

"fatui presence," diluc quickly redirects the conversation before it can fall in to an awkward silence. "are there any recent events that would lead them to increase their numbers in the city?"

you furrow your brow in thought. "i... i'm not sure. i'm not exactly the best informant. outside of what i see at the newspaper stands, there's not much i can go by."

diluc falls silent, expression mimicking yours. "each time you go into the market, could you purchase a newspaper?"

you stare at him, baffled by his question.

"diluc," you begin slowly, as if he doesn't understand. "those are expensive." printing is not yet widespread to teyvat, with most effort going into the publication of books and kamera photography. spending several hundred mora on the weekly copy of the teyvat times is a luxury that someone like you can't afford. most other farmers you had the (unfortunate) pleasure of knowing are in the same boat, with just enough money to live, yet not enough to indulge in disposable newspaper. however, diluc seems to care little about such things.

"i'll pay for it," he says and you narrow your eyes at him. you don't dare challenge him.

of course this random enemy of the fatui has enough money to pay for newspapers. of course! its only convenient that he can just afford whatever he wants. its infuriating. of course he can pay. he always does. he pays for his dumb expensive grape juice, he always offers to pay the bills, he indulges in everything that you have to work so, so hard for while giving absolutely no indicator as to who exactly diluc is.

hell, you don't even know his last name, but you're sure as hell not about to ask. to ask would show an indicator of wanting to get close and you've already overshared with the redhead enough. you bite back a sigh of frustration as he balances on one leg, setting his crutches to the side and begins to help you unpack the groceries.

diluc is only trying to help, you remind yourself. he wants to make life easier for you because you're helping him. yet, you want to scream and cry at him for it. diluc shouldn't be so diligent and determined all of the time. he should be weak, he should be human, but he's not. he's not human to you, not even close.

he's just this stranger who you help to avoid a guilty conscience. it irks you that he's helping you because you're not helping him out of goodwill. you're only helping him so you don't hate yourself later.

you let out a nearly silent sigh, before resting the palms of your hands on the kitchen counter, splaying your fingers out.

"diluc, go sit down," you state exasperatedly.

you need to rest, you want to say, but your concerns remain unspoken. you're not concerned over him, you tell yourself.

"no," diluc states. you press your lips into a tight line as he turns to put a bag of flour in the pantry. yet, even you are smart enough to know this is a fight you cannot win.

you let him stay, you let him pay, you let him win. it eats away at your autonomy and, even though your brain screams at you to hate him for it, a small part of you is thankful for his assistance and company. you feel the familiar rush of angry tears beginning to well up behind your eyes, yet you swallow the lump in your throat.

you realize now why diluc bothers you so much. you realize why you completely and utterly loathe him. you realize why he's nothing but trouble and how you can't wait for him to finally, finally leave.

you hate diluc because he reminds you of what you truly are: vulnerable.

---

you check the kitchen. nothing. you check the bathroom. nothing. you check the living room. nothing. you check your bedroom. nothing. you check the supply closet. nothing.

which leaves one place left unchecked: diluc's room.

in typical "i'm the owner of this house" fashion, you knock lightly on his ajar door and, without waiting for a response, swing open the door. at this point, diluc is unsurprised and you can see his brow furrow slightly in annoyance as he looks up from his book.

good, you think to yourself, satisfied with his reaction.

"where is eos?" you ask, eyes scanning around the room. you crouch down to glance underneath the bed diluc is resting in.

"what?" diluc asks, confused. "what is eos?"

you stand up straight, staring at diluc with a nearly aghast expression. you take it back. the dumb, well-read redhead isn't smart.

"the dog," you say, as if the information is obvious (and it is!).

"oh," diluc says. "i was unaware it had a name."

"he has a name. it's eos. it's written on his collar and everything," you state, voice growing distant as you look over the room. determining that he very clearly isn't here (thank archons. you don't know what you would've done if your own dog picked diluc over you.), you narrow your eyes at diluc, staring daggers at him.

"do you know where he is or not?" you ask.

"he," diluc begins pointedly, as if trying to rectify for his earlier mistake. "appeared to need to... relieve himself outside, so i let him out when i was up earlier."

you bite back a groan. the weather today was great, which meant your dog surely wasn't coming back any time soon.

"you can't just let him out," you begin exasperatedly, rubbing a hand down the side of your face. "he likes to bother the chicken coop."

"he had to use the bathroom. in case it is not obvious, i am not quite in a condition to walk him out there," diluc states. you flutter your eyes closed in frustration, exhaling deeply.

don't bicker with him, you tell yourself. it's not worth it. you'll just sound like an old married couple.

wait, what? your eyes shoot open at your thoughts and diluc looks taken aback at your sudden wide eyes and startled expression. old married couple? you ask yourself, wondering what the hell your brain was thinking to make that thought pop into your head.

"whatever," you huff, shaking your head slightly to clear the weird thoughts out of your head. "sorry for bothering you. don't let the dog out again. i'm going to go get him."

you turn to leave, but the clearing of diluc's throat has you stopping in your tracks. you turn to look at him, tilting your head questioningly.

"'the dog'?" diluc quotes your words. the corners of his lips twitch up in amusement. "he has a name. it's eos."

diluc laughs at his own joke. it's soft and reserved and beautif-

"yup," you say, unamused, ignoring the way your heart clenches at the way his smile leaves his face. without leaving room for any more conversation, you walk out the room and close the door softly behind you.

idiot, you think to yourself, yet for once, the thought isn't directed at diluc. whatever. no time to dwell. you had a dog to go fish out of the chicken coop before he started barking angrily at the chicken eggs. last time eos had gotten loose in the chicken coop, the chickens were uninjured, but eos' ego was not. they had gifted him with a scratch of their claws, unamused by his barking antics.

you have your dog. you have your farm. you don't need diluc and you certainly don't need the way he nearly giggles at his own little jokes. yet, for some reason, it's all you can think of as you walk to the chicken coop.

"idiot," you mutter to yourself. "should've left him out in the rain."

after all, if you had left him out in the rain twenty-one days ago, you wouldn't be trying to furiously scrub the gentle upward curve of his lips out of your head, nor wishing he reserved such smiles only for you. archons, you are hopeless.

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