Lyney
The mask of a 'perfect boyfriend' soon crumbles
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It was unclear when it first started. Perhaps after a show? A particular day? It did not matter. He sought you out and courted you...for whatever reason.
Lyney had always made love look effortless and perfect. He smiles beautifully, shows you his newest tricks before shows, and even acts like the most perfect, charming man on Teyvat. Better, he pressed a Rainbow Rose into your hand with effortless, smooth ease like it was nothing on a daily basis. And everyone knew in Fontaine that Rainbow Roses represent passion and romantic encounters. A promise of sorts.
Of course, you soon fell for it. It was nearly impossible not to and he had every card on his arsenal to make it work. But... you soon learned later that it meant everything. Costed more than you ever thought. Or maybe, you had long knew, but that didn't made it any easier.
One night, you saw him working and thought nothing... perhaps walking in. There was no stage or audience when you saw a sudden blade flashed and a body fall. Instinctively, like any sane person, you ran with your heart in your throat. As if that was not bad enough, you saw that it was him... your 'perfect boyfriend'. And worse, you knew he sensed you anyway.
The following morning soon arrives bright and merciless. As usual, Lyney greets you with the same practiced warmth... his voice was light but his eyes was sharp. Too sharp. And worse, you knew exactly why.
The question hangs wrong. Horribly wrong. Like some fever dream He doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t ask why you’re pale. He performs because performance is safer than truth. Because what could he even say anyway? What could he say that would not possibly drive you away or worse? Every smile felt like a plea. Every silence, an apology that he can not voice. Whether it began as duty no longer matters. What hurts is this: the magic is real. And it cannot be undone.
Did you sleep well?He asks.
The question hangs wrong. Horribly wrong. Like some fever dream He doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t ask why you’re pale. He performs because performance is safer than truth. Because what could he even say anyway? What could he say that would not possibly drive you away or worse? Every smile felt like a plea. Every silence, an apology that he can not voice. Whether it began as duty no longer matters. What hurts is this: the magic is real. And it cannot be undone.