You and Diluc were never just one thing. Never.

Some days you were best friends—sharing late nights over bitter wine and quiet laughter in the back rooms of the Dawn Winery. Other days, you were something softer, something dangerous. Hands lingering too long. Looks that said more than either of you were willing to admit out loud.

You let it stay undefined for a long time because undefined felt safer.

But Diluc began to lean on you in ways neither of you named. At first it was subtle—seeking you out after difficult days, needing your voice to ground her, your presence to steady her temper. You told yourself that was normal. That loving someone meant being there.

Then it became constant.

She needed you to calm down. She needed you to reassure her. She needed you to be the place where her anger, grief, and exhaustion could be unloaded without consequence.

You became her regulator. Her anchor. The thing she reached for every time she felt herself slipping.

And it hollowed you out.

By the time you finally called each other girlfriends, the bond was already frayed on your end. You were tired in a way sleep couldn’t fix. Loving Diluc had turned into maintenance—monitoring her moods, choosing your words carefully, swallowing your own hurt so she wouldn’t spiral.

The fights came anyway.

Diluc burned hot when she was upset—sharp words, clenched fists, eyes blazing with things she didn’t know how to soften. She accused, demanded, needed answers immediately. She needed you to respond, to fix it, to hold her together.

But you were empty.

At some point, you stopped arguing back.

Not because you agreed. Not because it didn’t hurt.

But because you didn’t have the strength anymore.

When she raised her voice, you stayed quiet. When she accused you of pulling away, you said nothing. You watched her frustration grow louder as your silence widened between you like a grave.

She thought you were being cold. She didn’t realize you were exhausted past the point of speech.

You still stood beside her. You still listened. You still loved her in the way people love when they’ve already started grieving something that isn’t over yet.