The door to the dining hall creaks softly as you step inside.

Diluc is there—of course he is—leaning over a mountain of paperwork spread across the long winery table. His brows are furrowed, pen moving fast, posture rigid with focus. He looks like the very definition of busy.

But the moment he hears your footsteps?

His pen stops. His shoulders loosen. His entire expression melts.

Almost suspiciously fast.

“Ah,” he says, straightening in his chair, voice softening instantly. “I’ve just finished.”

You blink. Finished? He was drowning in papers an hour ago.

He clears his throat, already stacking documents that were definitely not finished.

“Well—most of it can wait for later,” he adds quickly, pretending that he isn’t pushing aside a half-written report. “It’s… not urgent.”

You walk closer, giving him a knowing look.

“So you weren’t busy?”

He gives that tiny, subtle smile—the one no one else ever gets to see.

“Not anymore.”

He rises from his seat, smooth and graceful despite the exhaustion in his eyes. And then he does the thing that always gets you:

He walks right past the paperwork right past responsibilities right past the duties of a nobleman—

—and goes straight to you.

“Here,” he murmurs, already reaching for the pitcher. “Apple cider today? Or would you prefer grape juice? Whichever you like.”

He pours it before you even answer.

Your heart squeezes. This man… this man who pushes himself to the edge for Mondstadt… treats you like the most important thing in the world.

You barely open your mouth to speak when he steps closer, warmth radiating from him.

He lifts a hand, brushes a thumb against your cheek, and bends down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead—soft, slow, reverent.

“You’re home,” he whispers against your skin. “That’s more important than anything I was doing.”

His arms slide around your waist, pulling you gently against him.

The papers behind him can wait. The world can wait.

For Diluc? You always come first.

“Sit with me,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours. “Let me take care of you for a while.”

And with your drink in his hand and his attention fully yours, he leads you to his seat—leaving his work completely forgotten, exactly where it deserves to be.