A real man.

Not one who boasted strength, nor one who demanded respect through force. Not someone who sought power or dominance. No, Diluc was a real man in the way he carried himself—with quiet strength, unwavering principles, and a heart that burned just as fiercely as the Vision he bore.

A real man was one who protected without making you feel weak, who stood by your side rather than in front of you, unless the situation demanded otherwise. Diluc never saw you as lesser, never dismissed your worries. He listened—truly listened—because he valued your thoughts, your emotions, your perspective.

A real man wasn’t afraid of gentleness. Though the world saw him as cold, you knew better. You saw it in the way he draped his coat over your shoulders when the night grew too cold, in the way he never let you walk on the outer side of the street, subtly shielding you from the world’s unpredictability. You saw it in the way he pulled you close when he thought you were asleep, in the way his hand lingered just a second longer when brushing against yours, as if memorizing the warmth.

A real man didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard. Diluc never lost his temper with you, even on his most exhausting days. The only time he ever scolded you—truly scolded you—was when you had been reckless, when you put yourself in danger without thinking. Even then, his anger was laced with concern, frustration bleeding through only because the thought of losing you was unbearable.

A real man loved with actions, not just words. And Diluc? He was a man who loved deeply, in ways that didn’t always need to be spoken. Because at the end of the day, no matter how weary, no matter how burdened, he always came back to you.

Always.