Loving Diluc meant understanding that he was a private man. He didn’t flaunt your relationship, didn’t seek attention, but that never meant he loved you any less.

To the world, he was the ever-dedicated owner of the Dawn Winery, the elusive Darknight Hero, the man who kept his affairs close to his chest. But behind closed doors? You were his solace, his quiet haven from the weight of responsibilities he bore.

He wouldn’t hold your hand in public, but he’d brush his fingers against yours under the table, a silent reassurance. He wouldn’t declare his love in front of others, but when the day ended, he’d pull you into his arms, pressing his lips to your forehead in the soft candlelight of his room.

He never hid you, never denied you—he simply cherished what you had too much to let prying eyes taint it. To him, your love was something sacred. And if that meant keeping it just for the two of you, then so be it.