He looked beautiful in the fading light—almost too beautiful. With crimson hair cascading like flames over his shoulder and tired, stormy eyes that rarely betrayed emotion, Diluc looked… soft. Not the elusive tycoon. Not the untouchable vigilante. Just a man—yours.

And those eyes… Archons, those eyes. So unexpectedly gentle, so pretty in the quietest way. Large and expressive, even when he tried to keep them neutral. They had this subtle shimmer to them, almost like he was always holding something back—grief, love, guilt, all wrapped in a gaze that could shatter you and warm you in the same breath.

His aura had always been calm, composed—pacific. He never raised his voice, never acted out. He was intense, yes, but never chaotic. Even now, with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, brows faintly furrowed, those puppy-like eyes flicked toward you. And just like that, your heart melted.

How could you ever stay mad at him?

No matter how quiet the argument had been earlier, no matter how distant he’d acted, those eyes told you everything he couldn’t say. They asked for forgiveness, for understanding, without a single word. They told you he missed you—felt you.

And you walked to him, gently reaching for his hand. He didn’t resist. He never did with you. His fingers curled around yours as if he’d been waiting, silently hoping. Letting you in again, with nothing but the softness in those eyes.