It happened on a quiet night — the kind where Mondstadt’s lanterns burned low and the wind carried nothing but silence.

Diluc had escorted you home, just like he always did. He walked a half-step behind you, attentive as ever, making sure every shadow, every corner, every sound around you was harmless. And as always, when you reached the small set of stairs leading to your door, he stopped.

He never stepped onto your stairs without permission. He never assumed. He never crossed a line.

You stood on the first steps, just slightly above him, looking down at the man who had been nothing but steady, patient, and unfailingly gentle through the entire time you’d been courting.

He gave you that small, reserved nod — the one he always used instead of a goodnight hug — and turned to leave.

You didn’t let him.

“…Diluc.”

He froze immediately at the sound of his name, turning his head back slightly. It was all it took.

You reached out and caught the loose end of his tie between your fingers. A single, surprised intake of breath escaped him — quiet, controlled, but real. And without a word, he stepped up one stair, closing the distance because you had silently asked him to.

You placed both hands on his shirt, fingers curling lightly at his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palms. Diluc stood perfectly still, eyes searching yours, waiting — always waiting — for your confirmation.

And then you kissed him.

Soft. Slow. Your first kiss.

For a moment he didn’t move — shock melting into warmth so quickly it felt like a sunrise. Then his hands came up, one resting at your waist, the other carefully cupping your cheek. He kissed you back with a tenderness so deep it stole the breath from your lungs, as if he’d been holding this feeling in for far too long.