A Collection of Thoma's Suffering

Fate Can be Cruel Sometimes

Thoma blinked, eyes fluttering open. His face immediately contorted in pain.

"Adelinde!" He shouted, "Run to Mondstadt, get Barbara, now!"  He only vaguely registered her reply, too focused on the fact he was awake. He was alive, things had a chance of turning out okay.

That flicker of hope dimmed when Thoma coughed, blood spilling from his mouth thickly. He looked pale, skin nearly an ashen grey.

"'Luc?" He mumbled, only able to make out the last half of his name. Diluc felt tears run down his cheeks as he brushed Thoma's hair out of his eyes. He nodded, trying to keep himself together as best as he could. Everything in his mind was screaming at him how wrong this scene was. Thoma was the sweetest, most caring man he had ever met.

He didn't deserve this.

Thoma frowned slightly, almost giving a look of concern. "Are you..." he coughed, "Okay?" His tone was weak, breathing heavy and uneven.

Diluc's heart shattered.

Thoma was bleeding out, and he was worried about Him, who barely had a scratch?

"I-I'm okay, focus on yourself." He sniffled, blinking away more tears.

"I've never been great at that." He grinned, teeth bloodied. His expression was dull, a dark contrast to the usual bright smile he wore.

"Just—just hold on, Adelinde is getting help." He gripped the back of Thoma's jacket tightly, trying to slow the bleeding to no avail. He was almost trying to comfort himself more than Thoma.

"I—" he coughed again, an unnatural, choked sound. "I don't think I can." His smile faded, giving Diluc a look he could only describe as hopeless. It looked wrong on him. Thoma wasn't supposed to feel this way, he wasn't supposed to look like this. He-he wasn't supposed to be dying, not now, not ever, if it had been Diluc's choice.

"Please, you have to. I—I can't—" he let out a choked sob. I can't live without you. The words sat unsaid on his tongue, lingering after his voice had left. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsure if he could bare to look any longer. This situation was all too familiar.

"Diluc." He opened his eyes, Thoma's tone was somber, the air around them cold despite both wielding pyro. "You have to. I don't want—" he coughed again, voice hoarse, "to leave."

Diluc pressed on his wounds, or where he thought they were, desperately trying to do something, but all he felt was the blood soaking his hands. He couldn't do this again, it was too much.

"Then please, hang on. This—this wasn't supposed to happen." he pleaded, he could see Thoma's vision glowing dully in the corner of his eye. There had to be a way out of this. He wanted to scream that this wasn't fair, he didn't deserve this.

"...Dear," Thoma reached to touch his cheek, Diluc could feel him shaking. He didn't want to look. "it wouldn't happen if it wasn't supposed to."

He gripped Thoma's wrist, he could feel his pulse growing weak.

"Sometimes, fate has other plans." His tone was soft and solemn, Diluc knew it would still be even if he could speak any louder.

He let go of Thoma's wrist, hugging him tightly. Why, why was it that when everything was perfectly pieced together, Celestia decided to strip everything keeping him upright away? He sobbed, he knew his own outfit was ruined at this point, stained forever to remind him of this moment.

"I love you." He said, tone thick with emotion, voice weak from crying.

Thoma didn't respond.

Diluc let go, frantically fumbling around to find his vision.

All that remained was a dull gray, a reminder of what once was, and what was never meant to be.

He registered, briefly, that there was someone speaking to him. He didn't respond, he didn't even hear what they said to him. His eyes were locked on Thoma, pale, bloodied and lifeless.

Diluc decided then and there, Celestia was never on his side. He wept, sobbed, unwilling and unable to process anything going on around him. His head as clouded with grief as his eyes were with tears.

Fate really could be cruel, sometimes.

He stood in front of a tall stone, the last one still remaining as rain poured down around him. Around them.

Thoma's name was etched into it with Diluc's own blade, his expression blank. Inside, he had long come over the sorrow, replaced completely with rage.

These people, the same people who were responsible for his fathers death, they were who caused this.

Diluc didn't care about fate. What he needed was revenge. He gripped the handle of his claymore tightly, vision burning with fury. If the rain hadn't been heavy enough to put his flames out, no grass would have remained on this hill.

He was not going to let them get away with this.