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Some nights are just like this. Hours trickle down and I still lay there, eyes wide open in the dark, too afraid to close my eyes and confront whatever waits on the other side.
Most nights, it’s the bloodied body of my father — the first life I took. He thanked me when I ended his agony. Put his hand over mine as I took the dagger, and held it with me to drive it through his heart. The sound of flesh and bone torn apart to lodge the blade screamed mercy. Everything was red, liquid rust gushing out of his chest. I closed his eyes, and he was gone.
Other nights, it’s Kaeya I see. His resigned stare when I drew my sword, my heart howling in anguish, in grief, in the kind of pain I didn’t know existed. His steady hands when he drew his, as though he had expected my reaction. I’m not who you think I am, Luc. My father brought me here for a reason, all the way from Khaenri’ah. I don’t ask for your forgiveness. I will leave, now.
Of course he wouldn’t ask. He knew it was futile. Knew that when I saw red, nothing made sense anymore. I was all feeling, no thinking. Feral like only wounded animals could be.
That night, when Kaeya was crowned with a cryo vision as he revealed his secret to me, I betrayed him. I pointed my blade against my own sworn brother, my best friend, my soulmate. Everything was grey, a colorless world washed away by our tears.
I closed my eyes, and he was gone.
A tremor ripples through me. I turn in my bed, sigh and swallow my sorrow. I haven’t cried in years; I wish I knew how to. Maybe then this heavy burden would melt away and I would feel something again beside this dreary, empty void. Exhaustion weighs under my eyes, but once my mind starts roiling with memories, it’s useless to seek rest. It won’t come to me tonight.
Besides, it’s not like I have nothing else to do, rather than wallow in undeserved self-pity. I dress in the most unassuming clothes I own, grab a cloak and my claymore, and head out of my mansion through the bedroom window. I wouldn’t want to bother Adelinde. Certainly not because I’m scared of being scolded; simply out of decency. Of course.
I find enough hilichurl camps to take down to busy myself with. I’ve wondered before, if there were other ways to stop the Abyss than massacre the monsters, but the answer eludes me. They attack when they see me; it’s enough for me to fight back.
It’s easy to lose track of time, then. Hunting for foes to kill, patrolling in the shadows to help whoever needed it, losing myself to duty.
But there’s only so much to do, and this ache within me doesn’t quell.
Without any task to dedicate myself to, I wander aimlessly, and the minutes stretch beyond my perception. All I know is that the moon is still bright in the sky and no one is awake yet to wonder where Master Diluc went. The vigilante I become when no one is looking doesn’t care what people think of him, but Master Diluc has a schedule to follow and people to protect and guide. I still have some time, though.
My feet lead me to a place I haven’t been to in years. I startle out of my thoughts when the scent of calla lilies envelopes me, fresh and powdery and everything I used to long for. Everything I still long for.
A lump in my throat, I remove my glove and pass a hand on the bark of a tree, feel the callousness of its cold wood, fill my lungs with the earthy scent of dew-kissed grass.
We used to come here as children, Kaeya and I. It was our ‘secret hideout’ as we called it. A small pond near Springvale bordered by hollow trees and calla lilies, with rocks big and smooth enough for us to sit on them and picnic together. My chest nearly caves. We could spend entire days here, eating the snacks Adelinde would make for us, looking for berries and sunsettias to bring back to her for jam and candied treats.
Archons, I miss him.
I want to reach for the hollow of a trunk to check if our ‘treasure’ is still there — a bunch of pretty rocks and trinkets — but then I notice, a little too late, that I am not alone.
He is here, too.
Kaeya. Sitting on the rock where we would lay a blanket to eat sandwiches and hashbrowns while deciding on a game. He is looking at me with a curious gaze. “Well, what do we have here,” he starts, his voice drawling as he gestures toward me. “The Darknight Hero, in the flesh. To what do I owe this honor?”
I flinch, wondering how he guessed who I was — but it’s obvious. No one but the Darknight Hero wanders Mondstadt by night, clad in a cloak and wielding a claymore. With a hiss, I conceal my weapon. “You speak as though you lived here. What, did your ass stamp your name on those rocks?” I say without thinking. I clench my fists as my fingers twitch, cheeks warming in embarrassment. Suddenly I’m thankful for the loose scarf covering my mouth. Please, don’t recognize my voice , I think .
The urge to shut him up was too strong to resist. It’s stupid, but I’m stupid. Our back-and-forths were renowned for a reason; I could never pass up on an opportunity to banter. It’s just that now, I forgot how to be funny, how to make light-hearted jokes, how to tease or pout or shove him with a laugh. Everything I say sounds jagged, caustic. Like the part of me that was kind broke the day I killed my father. Now, everything that comes out of my mouth drips with a venom that festers in me.
I used to feel invincible, confident. I was the Cavalry Captain, the heir of the Ragnvindr, the son of Crepus Ragnvindr and the sworn brother of Kaeya Alberich. I was unstoppable. Untouchable. Strong. Loved and loving. Maybe deep down, I have always been made of glass. So fragile, it shatters under the first stone, leaves nothing but sharp shards to bleed on. Kaeya has lost his entire family, his country, and now — because of me — his only home.
And yet, he still knows how to be kind.
“My ass can do a lot of wondrous things,” Kaeya continues, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. If he notices who I am under my cloak, he makes no note of it.
“It was rhetorical. I didn’t actually need your input.”
Few would laugh like he does after the sting of such a callous reply. I know better than to believe his mirth is purely out of amusement — though it is there, the hints of glee below the smoke screen. Kaeya’s laugh is his deadliest weapon — and not just because I can’t resist it. He knows how to wield it, how to mold it to what he wants. Charming a visitor before a diplomatic meeting, coaxing someone into revealing confidential information, masking his true feelings and thoughts. Seducing a lover. I’ve known him for so long, I can tell what each of his laughs means.
This one is humoring me, cajoling me into a truce. “My, my, there is no need to be so aggressive. I was genuine; it’s rare for one to be graced by the visit of our hero. Am I in danger?”
I dare not reply, at first, lest my voice gives away what my heart feels — relief to see him, ache to touch him, need to punch his stupid face, longing… Just longing. For him. But his smirk gets the best of me. I cross my arms like a petulant child, glaring at him as if he could see me under my cloak, in the dark. “Maybe if you weren’t so inefficient, you wouldn’t need a hero.”
“Eh, I like to think the world could always use more heroes.” He pauses, rubs at his chin. “I should write that down. That was pretty deep.”
The small smile brushing my lips surprises me. I’m glad he can’t see me; I always look too young when I smile. It’s embarrassing. “Why are you here?” I ask after he writes down that line in a journal. Half of the journal is already used; of course Kaeya would note his own witty comebacks for future reference. “I thought the knights were supposed to patrol, this late.”
“I did patrol. I’m done with my shift for tonight, Sir Darknight, but thank you for worrying.”
“Don’t call me that,” I whine.
“How else am I supposed to call you then, love?”
“Not that either, for starters.”
He pats the empty space next to him. “How about you sit with me while you figure it out?”
I hesitate. Kaeya doesn’t know it is me under the cloak of the Darknight Hero. I never asked to be dubbed with such a ridiculous name, but it burns less than being called ‘love’ by the first and only person I’ve ever been in love with. As a knight, it is his duty to apprehend me and stop my nightly stunts lest I put the Ordo Favonius to shame, but Kaeya has never been good at following the rules.
A few small steps and a huff later, I am sitting next to him, at the edge of the rock. It used to feel so big when we were kids, like we had all the space in the world to sprawl all over it and watch the stars together before Father would call for us. Now, we’re both grown. Sitting like this, our arms almost touch.
I want to touch him, but I don’t. I can’t. It’s not reasonable. Sometimes it feels like I am made of thorns. But though I do not reach for him, I do glance at him from under the hood of my cloak.
When I’m Master Diluc, I can’t look Kaeya in the eye without seeing the quiet acceptance for the home he lost, the night we fought. But under my mask, I’m not the boy he grew up with, or the young man who hurt him. I’m a stranger who does his job for him and sometimes stirs trouble for the knights. Without the expectations Master Diluc has to deal with, I find too late that I fell into a familiar comfort around Kaeya. We could sit like this for hours before. Wordless. Being together sufficed.
It feels like that tonight. My chest is full of feelings I can’t name and don’t know what to do with.
“Found anything yet?” Kaeya asks after a while.
Right. I haven’t answered his question yet. “I’m still thinking about it.”
“Let me know when you have a name, precious hero.”
I roll my eyes. “Shouldn’t you be trying to arrest me?”
At that, he snorts. “You make my job easier, why would I arrest you?”
“I break the law.”
“And you do my job for me. I’d say the benefits cancel out the drawbacks.”
“What would the Acting Grandmaster say if she heard you?”
He shrugs. “Who will tell her, you?”
I frown, but I don’t reply.
We spend hours like this. Sitting in silence, with the wind and occasional rabbits our only companions. From time to time, he scribbles in his journal. I simply allow myself to rest. I haven’t sat idly like this in months; the call for panic usually crawls through all my weaknesses when I’m not busy, but tonight, it stays at bay. He always put me at ease, when we were boys. Knew how to calm my tantrums and channel my fire. It’s fitting that he’s a cryo user; he could always understand the burning intensity of my emotions better than anyone else, including me. Maybe that’s how he predicted my reaction, the night he got his vision. Kaeya is always two steps ahead of everyone else.
It is almost dawn when he finally stands, sliding the tiny journal back in a pocket of his shirt.
“Well, it was nice to chat with you, unnamed hero,” he says, walking out of the clearing.
I jolt, resist the need to grab for him and ask him to stay. How hypocritical; it’s always been me pushing him away, too proud to apologize for how I treated him, too shy to admit I wanted him back. “Don’t come back,” I say instead, like an idiot, a blundering imbecile, a fool.
Kaeya laughs. “Will do. Have a nice day, sir hero.”
The following night, I have never been more glad that Kaeya never followed the rules.
“So, have you found how you want me to call you?” Kaeya asks, sauntering into our ‘secret hideout’.
“Not yet.”
“Hmm. Don’t be angry if I give you little pet names, then,” he teases, sitting next to me, at the same spot he did the night before.
There is a faint scent of alcohol on him; I would know, I was tending the bar. I had a feeling he would try to check if I randomly disappeared from Angel’s Share, following the resurgence of the Darknight hero. He is too clever to not consider the idea, but I don’t want him to find who I am just yet. I want to enjoy his company without the mask Master Diluc wears — a polished façade to hide the worlds of unspoken tenderness I carry for Kaeya. That mask is also a shield — an armor against Kaeya’s carefully crafted courtesy. It hurts more than it should when he addresses me as Master , and not as Luc . After all, we used to be so familiar, so close, two sides of the same coin. We could tell each other’s thoughts.
Or so I always believed. In the end, he never told me his deepest secret until he couldn’t keep it any longer — never placed this dangerous, treacherous bird into my hands, and trusted me to keep it safe.
When I remember the clash of ice and fire from that night, I think I understand why.
“So, got any intel for me tonight?” he breaks the silence — and with it, my gloomy spiral. “I would love to know if you… noticed something, during your nightly duties.”
“Not only are you inefficient, you also want me to hand the glory to you.”
“Glory? Oh, come on. There is no glory in doing what’s right.”
I narrow my eyes. The bastard just stole my line. It takes every ounce of will to not be petty and quip back with what he always replied when I said that — “A little glory can’t hurt with the ladies, though” — but I could never make it sound as funny as he did. I used to roll my eyes when he said that, and not because I knew he wasn’t just into the ladies. He would then simply smirk at me with that look I could never decipher.
The same look he’s giving me, right now.
I avoid his eyes. Tame a blush that doesn’t want to be tamed. “The Abyss is preparing something,” I start. “I’ve spotted some camps of hilichurls packing their things and moving closer to the Dadaupa Gorge. As if they were evacuating their kind in anticipation of an attack. I considered extorting information from some of the mages that speak our language, but I doubt they would pipe a word of their plan, and I preferred keeping the edge I have on them. They don’t know yet that I’m onto them.” I glance at him. “And now, you as well.”
Kaeya is silent, eyebrows furrowed together. “Wise of you. We can use any advantage we have against them.” He leans back, exhaling soundly. “I also noticed something strange,” he begins, flipping a coin between slender fingers. “While patrolling on my own, I saw hilichurls collecting pyro and electro slimes.”
“To make explosives?”
“I assume as much. That, coupled with your intel, should be evidence enough that they’re planning a violent attack.”
“Who are you trying to convince? I’m sure Je— the Acting Grandmaster would listen even without proof. She’s one of your better elements.”
“She would listen to me, yes, but mobilizing troops without evidence would put her in an awkward position in front of Varka. It would also essentially leave the city defenseless while the troops nip the attack at the bud, which could be something the Abyss wants.”
“That’s… true.”
“Of course.” He smiles at me. “I may not look like it, but I actually think. Sometimes.”
I smile. He can’t see it under my cloak, but I can tell he guesses it. His gaze softens. A part of me wishes he would look at me like that when I am maskless as well, but I don’t give him a lot of reasons to.
“I’m not fond of working with knights,” I say as I stand up. “But I suppose it cannot hurt to rally more forces against a common enemy. I will let you know if I find more information. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Likewise, dearest hero. The Knights are grateful for your contribution.”
I scoff. I know damn well the Knights of Favonius are anything but grateful for my presence. I do make them look like fools, which is appropriate. But maybe Kaeya is grateful — if only because I make his job easier. I gaze at him, lips parting to say something either mean or unfunny, but I freeze when I catch sight of him staring at me. His eye twinkles in the moonlight, hair spilling like a torrent of night sky over his shoulder.
Archons, he is beautiful.
He is beautiful, and I am stupid in love.
“Shall I see you next time, then? Maybe by then you’ll have a name to give me,” he replies in the stand of me, still staring at me. I don’t know what to do with myself when he is this needlessly charming. It used to drive me crazy when we were teenagers — made my legs feel weak and my heart beat faster and I never for the life of me could figure out why. Now I do, and it does me little good.
“We’ll see.”
I leave before realizing, with more giddiness than I would wish, that he tacitly agreed to a next time.
The ‘next time’ doesn’t happen for a while. I get busy between the preparations for the Windblume Festival at the winery and my nightly missions. A week passes before I can spare to sit at our old hideout, my heart a little hummingbird as I wait for Kaeya.
He doesn’t come the first night, nor the second. On the third, I worry he won’t come again, the chance for reconciliation fleeting through my fingers. I want to clench my fists around it, catch it before it fades. Show up at his door and say sorry and beg him to be my friend again. Screw my pride; the last few days have been the happiest I could be, every day spent hopeful for more quiet moments by his side without the expectations Master Diluc has or the appearances he has to keep. It feels honest, this silence, in a way words can’t be.
But my feet are rooted in place. I’m not sure he wants a reconciliation, and I don’t trust myself to say the right thing. It is selfish to still sit there, my identity concealed. I am nothing short of a coward, but I crave him more than I resent myself.
It takes two more days of gut-knotting anxiety for Kaeya to show up at our hideout. I tried to subtly check on him during the day and was told he and Jean had their hands full, but I didn’t push it lest he figured out who this masked friend he’s been seeing is.
I have rarely seen relief so plainly written on someone’s face — especially Kaeya’s, who’s a master at controlling his emotions. When Kaeya sees me, he doesn’t bother hiding his grin. It makes an indescribable joy bubble in my chest. I’m thankful for the cloak hiding my glee.
“There you are!” he exclaims, then chuckles, dropping next to me with a sigh. “I was scared you wouldn’t show up again, you know.”
“I was here yesterday, and the day before.”
“You’ve been waiting for me?”
“Maybe.”
“How lovely.”
When he sits, his sleeves roll up a little to reveal bandages on his sword hand. “What happened to you?” I ask, surprised by how light my voice sounds, naked without its armor.
“Oh, this.” He lifts up his arm, humming as he examines it — as if he’s just noticed it. “Just a few scratches. Why? Are you worried?”
I was. “Curious, is more like it. Did you clear the camps?”
“Most of them. We had a mage in custody but before we could make him drink a truth serum, he ended his own days.” He shrugs. “If this isn’t proof enough for Varka, I don’t know what will be.”
I nod. It’s unheard of — Abyss mages ending their own days. At least until today. It’s proof it has evolved — from a group born out of chaos gathering mismatched monsters, into an organization with its own subset of rules. One that trains its agents to follow protocols that protect a common goal. The cause before the people, that kind of shit.
“I see,” I finally say. I want to ask him to be careful, to rely on the other knights, to take it easy. I don’t say any of this, too caught up in how to word my thoughts in a way that doesn’t give my identity away. Though I suppose whatever concerns I have would sound abrasive, coming out of Master Diluc’s clumsy mouth, so maybe it’s my best shot at hiding who I am. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“I won’t. Too many people count on me; I can’t afford to be reckless.” He leans back, breathing deep the scent of calla lilies around us. “Jean, Lisa, Outrider Amber. Klee still needs me, and so does Albedo.” My heart gives a little squeeze as he doesn’t mention me, a pang of jealousy echoing in its heartbeats. I shouldn’t be surprised, and I feel stupid for it. I’m the one who shut him out after he left, never apologized, never took steps toward him. “And,” he continues, his gaze growing soft. “Someone needs to stay around to keep Master Diluc on his toes.”
I jolt, almost beam. Archons, why am I reacting like that? Am I sick? “I… I’ve heard of the guy,” I say. Of all things I could have said, there are few things worse. Gods, where is my renowned charisma when I need it?
“Oh, I’m sure you have.”
“Hm. Are you two close?” I feign to ask, but instantly regret it when his joy dims.
“We used to be.” He shrugs. “But you see, I have a tendency to ruin every good thing I touch. You might want to be careful, dear hero.”
I wonder if he senses my confusion, because he throws a curious look my way.
I never thought Kaeya felt guilty. I was the one who wanted to settle things with a fight, right after he entrusted his secret to me. I was the one who didn’t stop him when he moved away, or ask how he was the next day, or the day after, or the one even after. I was the one who abandoned him when I left Mondstadt, even though I had sworn I would always be there for him.
It was all me. Even now, it was me pushing him away, out of some foolish sense of pride.
Why does he blame himself?
“The man has everything one could wish for,” I try, willing my voice to stay even. Neutral. “You didn’t ruin him. Whatever happened between you two is nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“I laughed the day his father died. I did not feel joy, but I laughed still. Some part of me must be rotten. Cursed. Who knows.” He purses his lips. I have never seen him so open, and I can tell he regrets sharing so much.
I myself don’t know what to do with what he told me. I could never forget, of course, watching my brother laugh through his tears in front of Father’s corpse. I thought he was cruel, I resented him.
But people are not perfect. Sometimes they grieve in violence. I learned that the hard way. When people would offer their condolences while I burned to destroy the entire cathedral and bathe in its ashes. When the sisters told me I needed to forgive in order to heal; instead I reveled in my poison, got high off it, used it to seek vengeance. Time and time again, I was expected to be mild, to be kind, to be the bigger person. To scar nicely and prettily because it is what well-raised people do, what good people do. Suffer, but do so in a way that doesn’t inconvenience others.
I am done being nice. Goodness doesn’t always rhyme with mercy and grace. Sometimes it is wrought in riots and dipped in blood.
Kaeya would understand. He knew me in ways most didn’t. No one else could guess that I was a sore loser, never tidied up my room when we were kids, and couldn’t keep a desk organized. When nobody watches, I am resentful and vindictive. I do not feel remorse when I kill Fatui agents, nor do I think myself a sick monster for delighting in their pain. I feel rightful. Objectively, violence is neither good nor just. But I can make it what I want it to be.
“People… are imperfect,” I say, swallowing as I pause to word my thoughts. They need to land true; he’s not the only one who needs to hear those words. “Not everyone grieves beautifully.”
I know what it’s like , I almost add, to make no sense, to grieve messily. At least, four years later, I do. Drawing my sword on Kaeya was never fair, nor did it make sense. I wish I had this insight before I forsook everything in pursuit of retribution.
I wish I had been here for him.
Kaeya gives me a pained look. “Have you lost someone, too?”
“My father.”
He tilts his head back. “Of all things we bond over, it had to be childhood trauma.”
I chuckle. “Pain is a language few can understand.”
“We’re both fluent in it, aren’t we?” he deadpans, his gaze lost somewhere ahead of us. He does that when he’s lost in thought. And as I always did then too, I get lost in his perfect profile. His straight nose, hig long eyelashes, his blue gaze. His lips.
I lower my gaze. Stare at a patch of grass that grew thinner, where we would press our feet while hoisting ourselves up on the rocks, back when we were too small to reach it. He makes me feel wild. Makes me want to take risks, to gamble this newfound truce between us, in the name of reconciliation. Everything feels possible when he is by my side. “My father isn’t the only person I’ve lost,” I confide, and he jostles next to me.
“Who else?”
“My brother.”
“Hmm.” He tilts his head toward me. “Is that so? Define ‘lost’.”
“Excuse me?” I retort, taken aback.
“Is he dead?”
“No, I… Archons, no.”
His smile grows fond, so luminous, it shakes me to my core. “Then you haven’t lost him. Not that I can tell who you’re talking about, since your identity is most definitely a secret,” he continues, making a show of acting as oblivious as possible. God, I want to kiss him, or punch him. Or both. “But, just keep that in mind.”
I stand up, startled by pure, unbridled happiness that bubbles in my chest. I see stars from the sudden movement, almost stumble, but I don’t stop. I can’t take it any longer. Happiness is overwhelming when you’ve been gloomy for so long. Like drawing the curtains and squinting at the sudden sunlight.
“I, uh, thank you,” I offer, struggling to tame the quiver that takes a hold of my hands. “For your company. I’ll see you soon.”
Kaeya doesn’t question my sudden departure.
He simply bids me goodbye with a smile I’d snatch off his face if I could.
With my mouth.
This strange routine continues for a few months. I lose count of the sleepless nights that pile under my eyes, but the exhaustion is so, so damn worth it.
I tell him things I always wished I could tell him, though in underhanded, subtle ways.
“He would be proud of you, even if you became one of those wastes of precious resources,” I once said in a mock-petulant voice, after he told me about his own ‘estranged brother’. “You’re one of the least terrible. Almost as venerable as the Acting Grandmaster.”
“Why, thank you, esteemed hero.”
Another time, I told him I liked his style. He had been more conservative before my departure — my conquest of my own grief. Though I never said anything when I returned, I wasn’t impervious to his… revealing cleavage. He was always the one and only subject of my fantasies — those that used to make me feel ashamed, because I couldn’t name this heat between my legs or this craving for his skin. I was just a teen, a mess of feelings, not all of them easy to talk about.
“Ah, well, I do get a lot of praise for my impeccable fashion. I didn’t know you were a man of culture,” he teased.
It takes another month for me to accept a compliment without fumbling. He said he liked my voice, and I nearly stopped functioning. Still, I accepted it graciously, even thanking him without a witty comment.
The most welcome change takes place during the day. When I am back to being Master Diluc, and I say something the Darknight Hero he sees every night would have told him.
It starts slowly.
I stop dismissing his teasing, and instead just smile. I look him in the eye, without faltering. My witty comments are a little rounder at the edges, a little softer. A bit more and I could almost pretend I have a sense of humor.
Every now and then, when we meet at night, he still teases me that I haven’t told him my name, or found a nickname for him to call me by. “Doesn’t it get tiring to be called ‘dear hero’ all the time?” he once asked, rubbing his chin as he always did when he was thinking.
“I could use some ego-stroking.”
“Who would have thought our hero would bow to vanity. Seeking the glory of heroes.”
“I am just a man, Sir Kaeya.” I shrug. “It sure doesn't hurt with the ladies.”
He bursts out laughing, and I almost melt in place.
I can’t say I ever got used to it. Every night by his side felt like a gift I was unworthy of, and yet I still took it.
I learn, with no surprise, that I still find new ways to fall for him every night.
Winter is upon us. Mondstadt sleeps under a coat of snow tonight, and I shiver on my way to the hideout, my boots sinking into the snow. Today is November 30th. I can’t for any reason miss our rendez-vous.
Calla lilies are the only flowers that survive the cold weather. Impervious to it, they stand tall and fragrant like elegant guardians of our hideout. Their guest sits on the rocks overlooking the frozen pond, humming a song to himself. He traded his fluffy cape for an even fluffier coat, and gives me a funny look when I appear, clad in my usual thin cloak.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asks, as I sit next to him.
“I have other ways to keep myself warm.”
“You mean the pyro vision? Because I know some effective ways to keep warm too, but I doubt that’s what you’re referring to.”
It was not, but my face still warms. I suppose I shouldn’t complain, in this weather. “You know what I meant.”
“You have a lot of faith in me.”
After a moment of hesitation, I finally give him what I came here for. “This is for you,” I say, handing him a bottle of my finest wine along with one of his favorite books — Curses and Doves , a collection of strange fairy tales he’s always been fond of. Adelinde would read the eerie tales to us when we were in the mood to be spooked. “I heard the knights singing about a birthday when passing by the tavern.”
He doesn’t need to know I was in the tavern. Well, he does.
Kaeya takes the bottle, whistling in appreciation. “I sure wonder how you learned of my tastes, dear stranger . You nailed it.”
“Easy to infer,” I quip back. “Alcohol and tacky books. It fits with your persona.”
He chuckles. “Does it, now? I am a lot of things, friend. Some might say I have a hundred faces to choose from, one for each person I want to play with. Which face did you pick to draw my persona?”
“You flatter yourself. Making yourself sound like a manipulative mastermind,” I mumble. He isn’t entirely wrong; he can be manipulative, and cunning, and sometimes two-faced. But I have come to understand that I always knew him better than anyone else, no matter the doubt that once plagued me. Have I ever known the real you? Was it really you by my side, all these years? Yes, yes it was.
I know Kaeya inside and out; the fact that he kept his roots a secret does not change that.
I still know him. The real him.
“You are afraid of spiders,” I continue, pleased as he looks away in embarrassment. “You put salt on your sunsettias, and claim apple juice tastes better when drunk from a wooden straw. You cry when you read romance novels, and sulk when no one wants to pay attention to you. When you’re too hot, you stick one leg out of the blanket to ‘regulate the temperature’, but still refuse to let go of the blanket. You like being called beautiful, thrive on praise, but you don’t know how to act when people say you’re kind. And yet, you still fill the dogs’ plates near the tavern when no one is looking, give snacks to children when they’ve been good, and let them play with your hair on your days-off.”
It is the first time I see Kaeya stunned. He mouths something I don’t get, refuses to meet my eyes. I am gloating when he shifts uncomfortably, sighing. “You sure know a lot about me, for a stranger. One could almost believe we grew up together.”
“We live in the same town, so maybe we did.” I glance at him. “Maybe in the same house. The same bed. The same kitchen where we ate rushed breakfasts before practice. Or the living room where we sat with Father and discussed politics.”
“It sounds… so real. Like something that could be true.”
“It does, right?”
He takes a long look at the wine before setting the bottle down next to him. “I’m grateful for your gifts,” he says softly, staring at me with such devotion, if I were pious, I would call it a blessing. “But, will you allow me to ask for one last favor? It is selfish, I know.”
I nod imperceptibly. It is enough of a cue for him to take what he wants.
When we were children, Father would sometimes bring us gifts from his trips through Teyvat. Delicacies from Sumeru, jewels from Liyue, perfume from Inazuma, silks from Natlaan. Occasionally, some musical scores for the violin and the piano, from Fontaine.
I would ravish the gifts. Took what I wanted without asking, because I knew I could. Everything that belonged to my father also belonged to me.
Kaeya would always hesitate. Afraid to take even what was meant for him. Shy, maybe, that he had been caught wanting something.
So at this moment, I let Kaeya take what he wants. Even when it makes my hands tremble, as he reaches for the hood of my cloak and gently pulls it down, revealing red hair that pools around my shoulders. Even in the dark, I can’t hide the distinctive color.
He sees me as I am then, and for the first time since we started this routine, I am scared. Scared of being seen without my mask, without the safety of my pseudo-cover. The fact that we’ve been tiptoeing around my identity doesn’t mean anything. He was aware of who I was, that wasn’t lost on me. I just can’t pretend anymore, now. No more shields. I am unguarded, and all his.
Kaeya passes a hand through my hair, the back of his fingers brushing my cheek. The gesture is so tender, my eyes well up with tears, years of emotional drought morphing into a deluge.
He wipes them gently. “I’ve missed you so damn much,” he breathes. Looks at me like I am made of sugar and light. Then, he cups my face and kisses me like it is what he was brought up to this world for.
I am filled with a thousand stars when he touches me like that. I remember what it’s like to be overwhelmed by pleasure and desire and joy, to feel them so intensely it brings me to tears. My tears mix with our kiss, a little salt to our sugar, a little gloom to the furnace that lights up in my body.
How is it possible to feel so much for one person?
When he breaks the kiss, panting against me, I notice I grabbed him, fists bundled by his collar to pull him closer.
“I know what I should call you,” he says before he resumes kissing me, his tongue moving with mine in tantalizing, slow strokes that stir a heat in me that leaves me starved. Only he could ever do it. Only Kaeya. The naked hips in my dreams, and the hands that hold my face as he reminds me I can feel, too.
“What?” I ask, closing my eyes as he peppers my face with more kisses, leaving little fires everywhere he brushes my skin.
“Luc. I think it suits you.”
My name on his lips tastes like berries and honey, like jam on our fingers and shared candies after tutoring and ripe grapes stolen from Father’s vineyard. It echoes in my ribs, in my stomach, in my chest, with all the sweet things I always wished I could tell him, little gifts thrown through the thorns all around me.
Tonight, when he spells my name, letter by letter, with his hands caressing me, I think they’ve finally reached him.