Chapter Text
“The breeze is pleasant today,” Kaeya observes, conversationally almost, as though he hadn’t just snuck up upon the artist.
As usual, Albedo is perched at his spot overlooking the winterland of Dragonspine, paintbrush in hand and canvas already flecked with muted shades of colour. He doesn’t startle as Kaeya approaches; if anything, he continues his steady brushstrokes as if he had already anticipated Kaeya’s arrival.
“The others were looking for you earlier,” Albedo says, not turning back. He doesn’t have to. Kaeya takes a seat on the wooden chair Albedo usually keeps around by the fire.
(He’s not cold. The chair just so happens to be right next to the fire.)
“The others?”
Albedo switches to a darker colour, the silhouettes on canvas gradually taking the form of Dragonspine’s crests. “From Mondstadt. They say it’s been a while since you celebrated your birthday.”
“Ah.” Kaeya doesn’t move from his spot. Albedo takes notice.
“You’re not heading back?” It’s phrased half a question and half a statement.
Kaeya shrugs. “I like it here.”
“They came all the way to Dragonspine to look for you.” The way Albedo phrases it isn’t as a suggestion, or a chide, or anything of the sort—it’s a statement, nothing more and nothing less, and Kaeya thinks that’s one of the reasons he likes Albedo so much.
“Why? Trying to get rid of me that quick?” Albedo’s known him for long enough now to pick out the lilting tint to his voice with ease. “I’m hurt, Albedo. But still, I should get to choose who I want to hang around with on my birthday, no?”
Albedo lowers his brush. He works quick, Kaeya notes, and his art is as beautiful as it always is. “You know that’s not what I meant.” Kaeya knows, but the temptation to tease the alchemist a little has always been hard to resist (he doesn’t really try to resist, really). “But many prefer doing something special for an occasion such as their birthday, is that no so?”
Kaeya knows what he’s asking, so he answers. “You’re good company.”
For a moment, Albedo pauses. And then he picks his brush up and begins painting again, a little faster this time. Kaeya catches the faint glimpse of blue. “That’s a rare thing to hear from someone.”
“Yeah?” Kaeya settles back against the chair, the right-side corner of his lips tugged upward. “That makes it all the more special, then.”
There’s a smile in Albedo’s voice. “If you say so, I suppose.”
He’s not avoiding them on purpose—he knows that Venti, maybe Rosaria if she’s not busy, would be more than keen to spend the day with him (not necessarily at the tavern, although that’s become their regular hang-out spot), and he’d normally be more than happy to oblige, too, but maybe not today.
There’s something different about coming here. Maybe it’s a step away from the city, away from the paths that lead to covered footsteps of the years long past, away from the hazy streetlamps a quarter after dark and the chatter of the crowd he’s gotten used to over all the time that’s passed. Maybe it’s a breath of fresh air, something he’s found himself appreciating more and more as his workload piles up; maybe it’s the company. Maybe it’s all of it.
“Say, Albedo,” he mutters. The artist’s brushstrokes slow—not completely, just enough for Kaeya to know that he’s paying attention. “What do you usually do on your birthday?”
“Me?” Albedo’s voice takes on a mix of amused and contemplative, and Kaeya gets the feeling that no one’s ever really asked him that question before. “I suppose it is just like another ordinary day for me. The sun rises and then sets… No more, no less.”
Kaeya can see where he’s coming from. The joy of birthdays had lost its lustre a while back (for reasons he knows full well of, but he’d rather not revisit that here), and while he does appreciate the day off that the Knights of Favonius afford him, Albedo’s right.
No more, no less.
What a deceivingly simple way of viewing life.
He supposes he likes that about Albedo, too.
“But perhaps it depends,” Albedo continues. “An ordinary day could turn special if well-spent, after all.”
Kaeya laughs, craning his head to look up. The skies are a pale milky-grey, characteristic of Dragonspine weather, but the frozen lands seem calmer today. No pawprints in the snow from creatures making a desperate escape from some kind of predator; no spike in elemental energy indicative of another monster camp that had somehow been set up nearby, either.
“You’re right,” he says. “Then this would count as a special day, wouldn’t it?”
It’s a long time before Albedo replies. “Happy birthday, Kaeya.”
Kaeya’s back straightens against the chair. That had come out of nowhere, but at the same time, hadn’t been something entirely uncharacteristic of Albedo. “Thank you.”
Albedo turns, pale teal melting into uncovered blue. It’s the first time he’s turned to face Kaeya since the Knight made his way to the laboratory outpost; Kaeya notes the lack of a paintbrush in Albedo’s hand. He must have finished his painting.
“Truth be told, I’ve been wanting to give you a present, but feared disappointment,” Albedo says. The surprise comes first, elation a moment later, before the two mix and settle into an odd kind of warmth.
“For me?”
Both of them already know the answer to the question, but Albedo nods anyway, gesturing to the painting behind him. “A gesture of appreciation,” he affirms. “You’ve been good company, too.”
It’s not the first time Kaeya has heard that phrase, but it’s certainly a first coming from the alchemist.
Maybe that’s what makes it all the more special.
“I’d never be disappointed,” Kaeya adds quickly, “Promise.”
And he’s telling the truth. He’s always admired Albedo’s artwork (even the “portrait” of Kaeya he’d drawn in three strokes), though he’s never really said it aloud to the artist.
“That’s a relief to hear,” Albedo remarks, standing from his seat, “it’s over here.”
The landscape of Dragonspine had been captured in dashes of blue and clouded grey, a quiet haze settling over the crests just like it is now, moments before evening dusk. It’s a picture of serenity, of the scenery he’s gotten so used to seeing on days he slips out of Mondstadt after work to catch a breather in the place where there’s no one else but him and Albedo, both quiet in their own ruminations.
Somewhere along the way, Kaeya realises he’d grown dependent on this place. Away from the city walls, the place he’s supposed to call home, the winding paths shrouded with ghosts and memories he doesn’t know how to hold.
He’s not running away, Kaeya insists in the back of his mind, he’s not. But there’s something tranquil that Dragonspine has to offer, with all its bleak landscape and biting winds that go hand-in-hand with the warmth of Albedo’s fire and his company.
“I didn’t know if you’d like it,” Albedo says, softly, nodding towards the painting, and Kaeya knows what he’s talking about.
At the right-side corner of the painting, illuminating the snow-dusted hills of Dragonspine with a soft aquamarine hue, are crystalflies in flight. Small, but noticeable; and undoubtedly beautiful. Kaeya feels an ache in the left-side corner of his chest that he hadn’t noticed existed before.
“You told me about them once,” Albedo continues. “How you used to love watching them.”
Kaeya smiles. “I did. Thank you, Albedo.”
Albedo dips his head. “The painting is all yours.”
His footsteps are quiet against the snow as he moves forward, fingers coming up to brush over the dried paint in the shape of crystalfly wings. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Albedo responds, eyes crinkling by the corners for the briefest of moments. “But it’s getting late. Take care when heading home.”
It’s usually around this time that Kaeya heads back to Mondstadt; it’s always been like this every time he’d paid Dragonspine a visit, though a part of him wishes he could stay a little longer today. Yet it’s apparent that Albedo is intending to go back to his research, and Kaeya doesn’t exactly want to overstay his welcome and trouble the alchemist.
So instead, he says, “I will.”
Home, huh?
Albedo tilts his head. “Have I said something wrong?”
Kaeya startles. “What would make you think that?”
“An odd look came over your face when I said that. I thought it may have been something I said.”
He’d forgotten how perceptive Albedo could be. Another trait he admired, though not so much when it came to his own shifts in expression being easily picked up.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he says.
And then, a little hesitantly, “Albedo, what is home to you?”
His fingers brush the crystalflies and the silhouette of Dragonspine’s crests like tears from rose-tinted cheeks.
“A surprising question,” Albedo comments, but he doesn’t pry. Kaeya likes that about him. “Perhaps it was once wherever my master was. But now, I suppose that isn’t possible. Maybe now it is here. Or maybe it is nowhere. I haven’t put much thought into it, truthfully.”
His master. Albedo had told Kaeya about her in bits and snippets before—how he had learnt alchemy from her, how she had taken him to many places. But he’d never really elaborated, and Kaeya had never found it within himself to dare pushing for more, either. “Do you miss her?” Kaeya blurts, out of nowhere.
“If I could describe it, it would be like an incomplete sketch,” Albedo replies. “There are many answers I never got to know of. Some things end too abruptly, but life goes on.”
Some things end too abruptly. He’s right.
But maybe life does go on, Kaeya thinks, looking out at the evening haze settling over Dragonspine. Maybe he’ll find what he’s looking for someday. Maybe he never will.
And maybe, just maybe, that’ll be okay.
(Someday.)
“Thank you, Albedo.” He lifts the painting, arms encircling it securely. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by staying any longer.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” Albedo has shifted over to his alchemy tables, a book filled neatly with research findings already lying open.
Kaeya laughs. “Don’t miss me too much, eh?”
Albedo responds with a faint smile and a shake of his head. “If you say so.”
He’ll be coming back to visit within a few days, anyway.
“Then I’d best be off.” The temperature is starting to get colder now that the sun has set. Not that he’s afraid of the cold. “Take care, Albedo.”
Albedo nods. “Take care.”
And then, just as Kaeya is getting ready to leave, Albedo says, voice barely above a murmur, “September 13.”
He pauses where he stands, arms still wrapped protectively around his new gift. “Huh?”
“My birthday,” Albedo responds, and the way he says it doesn’t come out as a request, or a suggestion. Just a statement.
No more, no less.
The confused downward tug of Kaeya’s lips blossoms into a smile.
“I’ll be there,” he promises, a quiet glow settling in the corner of his chest where his heart is supposed to be.
The warmth follows him all the way home to Mondstadt.