Chapter Text
When it starts to rain, everything’s the same.
If Adelinde was more perceptive, she would have noticed Kaeya dipping around the crowd and slipping through the main door.
If Kaeya was more perceptive, he would have noticed that it was not only Diluc who had thought to be outside in the vineyard.
All day, the farmers had been meticulously preparing the Ragnvindr estate for the storm. Moving items uphill, hauling sandbags, digging drainage systems so as to not bring blight to the vineyard. Luckily for Crepus, the invitations he had sent for this particular day ended up in optimistic hands. Nothing that a little rain wouldn’t cancel.
From the moment that Kaeya takes a step outside, torrents of raindrops pelt against his slapping shirt and prick his bitter skin like wet needles. His hair plasters across his face as he moves into the wind, squinting, trying to navigate the small courtyard. Archons be damned, he knows Diluc well enough to be certain he is out in the storm, but if by chance he is wrong, packing his bags and moving to the hot, sunny, Sumeru desert is the only way forward. He has never been a fan of cold weather.
Ducking and sliding around on the mud, Kaeya passes the tall windows that frame the ostentatious gathering. It is so warm inside Dawn Winery. Fire, chatter, and obvious drink. With the moon shadowed by clouds, the firelight was the only source of distinct glow. Kaeya feels not unlike a mewling cat locked out of the house by their neglectful owner - staring and crying through the blurry glass, wishing for attention. Of course, he sympathises, but he chose this.
‘There you are.’
Diluc’s eyes follow the young cavalry knight as he manoeuvres himself under the leaves of an arched grapevine, parting them to the side like curtain drapes. He ends up with a sharp elbow jabbing his arm as Kaeya slumps next to him. The sodden earth slips and squelches and slathers them both in enough dirt to make every housemaid go into cardiac arrest. Kaeya can feel cherry-coloured eyes track his every movement as he tries to find a comfortable position to sit - made slightly more awkward with his hindered depth perception.
When he finally settles, Kaeya speaks.
‘You never pull stuff like this.’
He wipes the mud off of his hands onto his already ruined trousers as best as he can.
‘Leaving a room full of father’s most unbearable socialites. What are you planning?’
‘To run away,’ Diluc grumbles.
‘No you’re not.’
‘No.’
Diluc cracks a smile as Kaeya starts to laugh. It had been hard to remain stoic as soon as he had heard Kaeya round the corner. To contain or suppress a smile around Kaeya is near impossible, he has found. And now water droplets as bright as crystalflies drip down from the vine leaves onto their already drenched hair and the faint glimmer of the indoor light halos soft skin…
‘It’s just pretty,’ Diluc turns his focus onto Dragonspine. ‘I simply like the rain. The bad weather. And it's always a plus to find sanctuary somewhere where there is no one to detest.’
When Diluc looks back, Kaeya stops staring at him.
‘That doesn’t account for you though,’ Diluc says, reaching for Kaeya’s hand.
‘I don’t need an excuse.’ Kaeya watches the vision-bearer gently pick at the remaining dirt on his nails.
‘Just felt like giving Adelinde more grief?’
‘Not particularly.’
It feels somewhat daft to be reminiscing about the past at the ripe young age of seventeen, but as Diluc toys with his fingers amidst the storm, Kaeya is led down a path of thought.
He remembers a book being read to them each night by a late nanny, before they would laugh themselves to sleep, or act a pretence of dreaming every time someone came in to check on them. Being both half-human and half-archon, the protagonist and deuteragonist of the novel appealed in different ways to the boys. Loving the novel with equal enthusiasm, Diluc and Kaeya made it their childhood mission to embody their favourite characters. Whether it be through imitated speech, heroic wooden sword fights, or entertaining the quieter times of the novel when the character-duo would scavenger hunt on the beach and conceal their findings between them, relishing their human sides before their godly parents could take this away from them.
Kaeya savoured these times on the beaches, before too much time was invested into shouldering responsibilities. The salt on the wind, relocating burrowed crabs. Himself and Diluc would roll their trousers up to their knock-knees and wade into the sea on a mission to find the perfect seashell. Every time they would forget about how cold the water was, and every time they would let out a high-pitch scream and run back to shore until they unintentionally entered a game of one-upping each other and (not-so) bravely drudge back in.
When they got back - having walked barefoot through Springvale with makeshift bindles - Adelinde would scold them about trailing sand through the carpet, finding the damned stuff in every pair of shoes they owned for weeks afterwards - or until their next outing at least.
Oftentimes, their behaviour would get too competitive at the estate, and they would find themselves sulking at each other for the next few hours until they grew tired of loneliness - Kaeya would successfully make Diluc laugh and no apologies would be needed. Such were the ways of brothers. But times like now, camouflage in between grapevines, or those evenings on the Windrise sand picking the fireiest cockleshells he could find because he found them the most beautiful—
Kaeya does not think that the raindrops landing on his hand should be warm.
‘Hey,’ Kaeya lulls, pushing strands of Diluc’s hair away from his wet eyes. ‘What’s this about?’
Kaeya disguises the sinking feeling in his chest very well. He has gotten pretty good at that.
Diluc shakes his head as a few more tears trickle down his ruddy cheek.
Why now?
Kaeya opens his mouth to crack a joke, his default, but relaxes his smile after a thought. Better to know the cause first.
He adjusts his uncomfortably damp eyepatch as he thinks. No matter what anyone assumes, he has never known what to do when someone else cries, let alone himself. ‘Would you like me to lea—,’ as expected, the redhead clings to him. Kaeya can feel him shaking.
‘No. Please. Stay.’
And who is Kaeya to ever refuse.
The first day they met, too young to even remember, they could not comprehend each other. They would spend days just staring, trying to figure each other out. What their father told them did not matter to them. They probably did not even hear. Over time, they learned to adjust to the other’s behaviour. For the better. Since they both delved into the role of Favonius knights, it has become challenging, getting worse. Diluc’s inherent nervousness around strangers, their craving to return to a space they both share and find familiar at the end of each day. Those disheartening words of uncertainty, abandonment, that leave Diluc’s lips at night and make him feel rancid in the morning - Kaeya empathises. He would never indulge his brother with superficial comfort, he simply states the truth. His own brutally earnest and defenceless truth. Kaeya has always prided himself on his…integrity.
When Diluc forces himself to live up to Crepus’ expectations he becomes prone to lashing out. When Kaeya forces himself into overconfidence he drags a dagger across his skin. See, they both have their issues. Simultaneously the most co-dependent independent persons to exist.
He ruffles Diluc’s arm through his sopping shirt in an attempt to keep him warm. So cold, like the water in Windrise.
‘For someone with a vision of fire you sure are freezing.’
The smell of newly washed clothes and orange-flavoured toffees stolen from the dining hall have long been replaced with Earth’s overpowering, fresh scent. How long have they been in hiding? The rain has eased off a bit yet still no one has thought to seek them out. Diluc has softened his breathing and now blinks through a blur towards the unusual golden-grey sky. He ignores the ache he feels in his neck because of his leaning position - for a while - until it becomes unbearable.
With a pinkened face peering up towards the other boy, Diluc opens his mouth. And then he closes it silently with a breath. Hesitantly and ungainly. Whether he can physically get the words out or not, Kaeya does not find out. Diluc ups on wobbly legs and scarpers in the direction of a nearby tree. He believes Kaeya calls out but the softened patter of the rainfall drowns out the sound.
The crystalflies - in all of their turquoise glory - fly upwards as Kaeya groans and follows with quickened steps until the sudden weight of Diluc’s toiled strength slams him against the roughened bark of a cedar tree.